Bye Bye Black, The Uniform Of My 20s Has Finally Met Its Match: Kids
It was fun while it lasted, but my funereal wardrobe has met its end.
A few months ago, my partner and I were evaluating our household workload and how we would divide and conquer it. As we stood observing the mountainous pile of dirty clothes perched atop a working surface next to the washing machine, he expressed confusion. How on earth had we produced so much dirty washing in so little time? Why were most of the clothes mine? And why did I have to wash every single item of clothing after wearing it…sometimes multiple times a day?
After a short pause, I looked at him with a note of incredulity. ‘What do you mean? It’s because we have a toddler, of course!’ I replied, ‘whose sticky hands, snotty nose and yoghurty face are so often wiped on me throughout the course of the day that I spend most of my life looking like I’ve just walked off the set of Get Your Own Back.
But then I stopped for a moment and thought about what I was saying. Why is it that all my clothes get ruined so quickly and my partner’s don’t? After pondering the question for a while, and looking at our two wardrobes engaged in a messy embrace in the washing pile, I had a realisation: he almost never wears black. Or navy even. He is almost exclusively a wearer of…colour.
Fade to black
I don’t really know when or why it started, but during my teens and early twenties, my sartorial colour palette narrowed dramatically from a variety of different — often bright — colours to mostly black and grey, with a touch of navy. Oh and gold, that was allowed.
The Uniform, as I called it, made my life simple because I could pair almost every item of clothing with every other (handy when your low-salaried job doesn’t pay you enough to have a broad range of clothing options). But also, if I’m honest, as my body image plummeted over those years, I made it my business to stand out as little as possible. Oh and (gross) it meant I didn’t have to do as much washing.
Conveniently there was a large swathe of media types who also donned The Uniform, giving it a level of off-hand chicness. As an aspiring journalist who somehow got lost in the corporate world, it helped me feel that I was more aligned with the role I felt I should have, rather than the one I had. Dress for the job you want, etc.
As I moved through my twenties into my thirties it just sort of stuck. Whenever I saw an item of clothing I liked, I’d think, nice! I wonder if they have it in black. It’s a pattern that repeated itself again and again until my wardrobe was wall-to-wall black.
A shock of colour
Until one day, I suddenly had a tiny little newborn person in my keep. A tiny little newborn person who was wont to vomit without much notice and whose milk that my body was producing regularly found its way out of my nipples, through my bra and onto my top — even without a little suckling mouth asking it to. As the (obviously) black tops I’d bought specifically for breastfeeding began piling up in the corner of our bedroom, all stained with indiscriminate whitish substances, I started to wonder if The Uniform was well suited to motherhood.
It'll be over, I thought, after the newborn phase.
WRONG. Yes, the sick largely disappeared, as did my boob leaks. But they were soon replaced with sticky peanut butter hand prints, splodges of paint, smears of yoghurt and banana, copious snot and — on very special occasions — fluorescent yellow eye gunk.
At the same time, I got a great thrill from dressing my little boy in loads of bright colours and fun patterns; dopamine dressing at its finest. I threw out the rule book on gender normative dressing and delighted in buying the lariest items I could find (caring very little that everyone assumed he was a girl — more on that whole can of worms another day). I started to notice that putting together his bold little outfits gave me a great thrill and certainly punctured through the monotony that being alone with a newborn full time can produce. I would find myself planning outfits in advance and taking photos of his little ‘fits. I delighted in how fun and cheerful he looked.
And I wasn’t the only one; people often commented on how joyful his clothes were. I could see their faces light up when they saw him. In turn, I noticed how attracted he was to brighter colours, as most toddlers are, and so he’d get excited to wear them.
I noticed around the same time that I was beginning to feel a pull towards colourful accessories to wear myself; a flouro pink hat first, then a green one, before a pink Uniqlo cross-body bag. Some pink sunglasses. I also experimented with bright, bold nail designs in colours to which I’d found myself being drawn. It felt like a low commitment to leaving behind the ubiquitous black that I’d previously worn; I wasn’t ready for more than that. I noticed, too, that my son would find joy in my colourful nails.
Finding the rainbow
Since then I’ve tentatively added some more bright pieces to my wardrobe: some lilac crocs, an acid green cardigan, a blue denim dress, some white tshirts, a few patterned skirts and dresses. Naturally, these are almost exclusively paired with black clothes, accessories and shoes; I haven’t gone completely mad. I’m taking my time, but it is absolutely evident already that there are many, many outfits that fare much better when toddler taming than a black jumper and black jeans (patterns are handy here). I’m trying to be more conscious of spot washing things that aren’t immediately ruined. I’m finding my way.
One thing is for sure, when I order in a new load of nursing bras and tops for the baby I'm having this summer, they will all be white. It might seem gross aiming to live in less visible filth for longer but, let’s be honest, whatever makes that fourth trimey easier to survive is a bonus.
I don’t know if I’ll migrate back to The Uniform once my kids are out of the ‘everything is messy’ phase but, for now at the very least, I’m enjoying an interlude.
Black was my uniform too and weirdly since having my son, I find it too harsh against my skin 🤷♀️ I’ve moved towards slate grey and khaki; never thought I’d see the day. Also love a bit of white but my son’s chocolate handprints always end up decorating it! Would look to collaborate with you guys in some way on here x