After twenty years as a stylist, I have tried aa lotof clothes. Some good ones. Some are questionable. A few may have stayed on the rack. And after all that time I’ve been dressing women for a living, I’ve become very clear about what I will never put on my body again. Pull up a chair, because I’m wasting it.
The older I get, the more honest I am with myself about what really works for my life versus what looked good in the dressing room or what I saw on an influencer. I’ve become more ruthless about planning, and I’ve stopped fighting endless battles in my favor. Below is my personal short list. And if something on this list is your favorite to wear, ignore me completely.
Why I Don’t Wear Capri Pants
This is an idea I’ve had for a long time, and I’ve become more confident about it.
Capri pants are tricky because of where they hit. Most end at the widest point of the calf, and when the pant ends at the widest point of anything, it makes the whole look read wider. That break also disrupts the leg line and tends to make the silhouette appear shorter. It strikes twice, and even women with good proportions can feel like something is off without being able to pinpoint why.
Pants, crops, and skirts are more flattering when they end where the leg narrows, not where it’s full. This is why cropped pants that end above the ankle work best. The leg is narrow there, the line is clean, and the whole silhouette looks long. Full length works for the same reason.
And since pushers with pedals only have a second, it’s good to talk about why they can be tricky even though they end when the leg is reduced. The cutting point is below the knee, which, on the contrary, makes the thigh look wider and heavier. You draw a horizontal line that reads like the bottom of the thigh, and everything above it looks bigger. Shoe selection is also critical for pedal pushers. A flat shoe loses all the length from the knee to the ankle and can make the leg look short and stocky. A pointed heel or toe helps, but that limits how flexible they are.
Why I Don’t Wear Leggings (Even for Pilates)
Leggings are everywhere, and I find them. They are comfortable, easy, and when you walk out the door, the appeal is obvious. But they’ve never really been my thing, and to be honest, the older I get, the less I want to wear them anywhere people can see me.
Here’s the truth: leggings don’t leave much to the imagination, and I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m just not interested in sharing much with the general public. I feel better with pieces that offer more coverage and structure. Even in Pilates, I wear joggers. It’s just easy to get in, a little more comfortable on the leg, and I don’t mind how everything looks when I bend over.
Most women feel amazing in leggings and wear them well. This one is personal. I just made peace with the fact that they don’t want me.
Why I Wear Natural Fibers
I’ve bought a lot of cheap acrylic and polyester pieces over the years. Usually, because the style was right and I didn’t care too much about the label. And almost every time, I regretted it. Those fabrics trap heat, stick to odd surfaces, and lose their shape quickly.
Now I choose to make natural fibers whenever I can. Cotton, linen, wool, cashmere. They breathe better and hang naturally on the body. I’ll still wear blends if it makes sense, but I’ve stopped talking about cheap fabric just because the cut is good. It probably doesn’t work.
Getting older has made dressing easier, honestly. I stopped trying to make things that didn’t feel like me and started paying more attention to fit, fabric, and whether something supported the real life I was living, not the one I thought I was going to live when I bought it.
Here’s what I want to take away from this. Everything on this list fails me for the same reason: it works against my body instead of with it. Capris cut the leg to its width. Leggings leave nothing to the imagination, and frankly, some things are better left to the imagination. Cheap fabric fights your condition all day long. Tight clothes draw attention where you don’t want it.
Once you understand why something isn’t working, you stop blaming your body and start questioning the outfit. That change changes everything about how you shop. You enter the store in a different way. You stop talking yourself into things that wouldn’t work and you start going with pieces that actually work.
And if you take nothing from this, take this: your clothes should work for you, not the other way around. You have better things to think about than the fact that something has changed when you sit down.
My list is the result of many observations and a fair amount of trial and error. Yours may look completely different, and that’s perfectly fine. I encourage you to wear what looks good on you and makes you feel confident.
I’d love to know what’s on your no-wear list.