dress like nobody's watching

fashion lessons from my husband

I took in my husband’s outfit as he walked out of the grocery store in Portland on our trip earlier this summer. Black jeans, patched in several places. A black workout tank top, layered underneath a striped button down I’d thrifted for him. Mustard yellow socks under black Merrell Hydro Mocs, the back strap missing from one. I told him he looked like the sartorial equivalent of the phrase “Dance like nobody’s watching”—and I meant it as a huge compliment.

Unlike my outfit that day, this was not the result of careful packing, deliberation, or the desire to make any particular statement. This was what was clean (probably) and at the top of the suitcase. Even not while traveling, my husband dresses with the same level of cavalier ease. A typical summer outfit for him is a pair of Patagonia baggies, sneakers he has both worn to the beach and to a wedding, and a black t-shirt with holes forming at the pocket corners, so old and faded the dye has begun to bleed and separate as if on a chromatography strip. At any point he might go to the beach, or out to dinner, or play a pickup game of soccer, or take the dog on a long walk to the park. Even the airport for a last-minute flight is not out of the question! And for him, this outfit will suffice in any of those scenarios.

Of course, there’s immense privilege in being able to show up exactly how you want to and being taken seriously when you do. But it’s also a reflection of how he sees the rest of the world, with a refreshing lack of judgment (sartorial or otherwise). He shows up exactly as he is, no artifice, trusting that others will be as open to him as he is to everyone around him. His work occasionally puts him in spaces with the rich and famous (and sometimes entitled), and I think part of the reason he gets hired over and over again by the same clients (besides his talent and work ethic!) is that he truly does not care about impressing people with anything other than his ability to show up and do his job well.

I should take a couple lessons from him. Trust that there will be laundry wherever you’re headed. That you won’t feel underdressed, that black goes with anything, and that a pair of running shorts and a pair of jeans can cover you in almost all types of weather. But more importantly, what matters the most is your comfort—not impressing someone. How do you feel in what you’re wearing?

(I told him I’d let him pick out my outfits for a future post—stay tuned!)