self-esteem

on postpartum wardrobe renaissance -- find me in my woolen winterskies

In idle moments in the past week or so, my mind keeps drifting toward clothes. After a year of dressing like an absolute postpartum slob (if I do say so myself), it’s like I woke up all of a sudden and realized that I do have a personal style, and it is not milk stained t-shirts worn to bed and then continued to be worn all day long.

It started with the acquisition of a new babaa sweater. At this point, my very small collection of beautiful knitwear made by babaa, a spanish brand, are the gorgeous and expensive cherry on top of my mainly thrifted, cheap, and handmade wardrobe. The babaa sweaters hold it all together, elevate every outfit they are added to. I sold the third and least worn of my three babaa sweaters, and replaced it with a new secondhand babaa cardigan no.61 in a thrilling electric blue color called “winterskies.” The poet in me shivers with delight. The sweater is everything I dreamed it would be, and, as I expected, fits and suits me perfectly. Suddenly wearing something that felt exactly right made me want the rest of my clothes to feel exactly right too.

It’s not about the clothes (although I have historically loved and cared deeply about my clothes, and the physical objects certainly do matter, as I have explored frequently in my work) — it’s about selfhood. Throughout this postpartum year, I have returned over and over to the idea of self-esteem. Often, I have noticed myself feeling a distinct lack of it, not being able to find my way back to myself. In hard moments this year, I have thought badly of myself — holding my own precious self in low esteem, holding my babies in much higher e. This is how I knew I was experiencing something in the realm of postpartum depression.

Beginning to care about my clothes again so much feels like an outward expression of the inward experience of self-esteem coming back to me. Truly getting dressed in the morning, brushing my hair, taking care of my skin — liking myself, and tending to myself the way I tend to my children — it’s a small but meaningful shift, almost alarmingly simple. Now that I’m here again, I’m remembering this same impulse after my first baby’s birth too, though it came a little earlier than I’m finding it now, at more like six months instead of 14 months postpartum. I remember suddenly shopping for and then wearing a few new pieces of clothing that really made me feel good — a pair of beautiful blue jeans that fit my changed body, a chartreuse wool cardigan, my first red babaa sweater that I’ve worn so much since. I remember feeling a little weird about spending the money on clothes, but the change felt non-negotiable to me. I needed it in some deep and surprising way. Shopping for and wearing those special items was really important to me — I can feel it now in my emotional attachment to those specific garments. Those new clothes helped me understand myself and find myself beautiful within the context of my new life and all the ways it and I had changed. And now, I feel that same itch again to gather some new clothes like talismans, a way to wrap myself in confidence and esteem as I move through my days and through the world. My tolerance for ill-fitting not quite rightness vanished basically overnight.

Oh, just let this be an essay about how gnarly postpartum is, and how long it takes to feel like you understand the shape of your life. About the different angles we take to take care of ourselves, gather ourselves up in our arms. I’m still reeling, over a year after my second-born’s birth. I’m still trying to catch any sort of thread from the frayed edges of my selfhood. This comes out in the urge to shop — sudden and strong. Shopping is a very clarifying and self-affirming activity for me, especially secondhand shopping. Take me to a thrift store, that is where I know who I am and what I like. Today, when I should have been working, I went to the local consignment “cottage” (that’s truly what it’s called, “the consignment cottage,” I’ve been shopping there since my babyhood), and tried on nearly a dozen articles of clothing, none of which I ultimately decided to buy. Still, it felt so good to pick them out from the racks, to try them on, to make fast and easy decisions about what suits me and doesn’t, yesses and no’s. When I emerged from the fitting room empty-handed, the lady who worked there said, “You went in with all of that and came out with nothing?!?” I felt a little embarrassed, and couldn’t tell from her tone whether she was annoyed with me or simply surprised, but I just said, “there were a lot of ‘almost’s’!” and walked away with my dignity after peeking at the jewelry and making sure I hadn’t missed some spectacular pair of size 5.5 shoes.

To walk away from those “almost’s,” to know that I couldn’t possibly buy or wear those clothes even though they were “almost” right, felt so distinctly good. Just that simple action of spending time with myself, deciding what I like. Clothes are such an easy way to lift the ship. To wear beautiful, well-made clothing, natural fibers, pleasing shapes, to feel good in one’s clothes is an underrated good thing about being alive. It can become such a hysteria, and I definitely have to rein myself in from getting obsessive and overly fixated on clothes, wanting to buy too much. I don’t have much money to spend on clothes, and I definitely own way more clothing than any one person needs. But, I see this impulse to look to my wardrobe as a tool in my self-esteem toolbox, one that is almost entirely good. It’s why I started sewing my own clothes years ago, which led to so much good artistic work for me, a sewing pattern small business, even my second book. It’s been a big part of my coming of age, actually, teasing out my own personal style, and wearing the clothes that suit me out in the world. Being visible, feeling clear to myself. It doesn’t feel that different than writing, actually. I will put this particular word on the page, tell this particular story, wear this particular garment. It’s about dignity, and choice, and selfhood. It’s about self-esteem — feeling worthy, feeling good about who you are, what you choose. The choosing is the thing, and then wearing those choices out into the day. I know that every time I wear my winterskies cardigan, I will feel that choosing, that self-actualization. This is a little nod toward who I am and what I like. I have changed so much, have carried so much, and I remember myself. Meet me here, in blue.

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On an unrelated note — if you are local to Pittsburgh, I would love to invite you to a poetry reading tomorrow evening! We will celebrating the release of my second full length poetry collection, Broken Waters, with a poetry reading, some q+a, some snacks, and a fun short ekphrastic poetry workshop since we are being hosted by an art gallery with an incredible show created and curated by mother-artists up right now. I’m so excited! Here’s all the information! You can register here if you’d like to attend. Or just show up! I would love to see you there!

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Did you buy a super special piece of clothing while postpartum? What was it? I would love to hear about it, and any other thoughts you have in the comments!

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