How I Built My First Capsule Wardrobe
Ah, the capsule wardrobe: Where Marie Kondo meets Tan France in a minimalist, structured shirt-jacket dream.
As someone who feels inexplicable anxiety from having a surplus of random shit, I’ve always been drawn to the “less is more” mentality. Less to keep track of, fewer things to have to clean regularly… I even had weird habits as a child wherein I’d constantly take inventory of everything I owned, as if to make sure it was still all there. I can’t explain it. Mental health matters, yes?
Anyway, this tendency actually jives pretty well with intentional frugality. I’m not the type of person (anymore) who goes into a boutique and loads up on candles and decorative knickknacks, and the same goes for my wardrobe.
While I’ve been paring down over the years, I hadn’t yet actually attempted the elusive perfect capsule wardrobe. (Though, when I moved into our current rental home, I decided to do an experiment: I put a collection of roughly 12 frequently worn items in my “upstairs closet” in our bedroom and the other 90% of my wardrobe downstairs in the basement. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve gone downstairs to retrieve items.)
Step 1: Identify the key pieces for my capsule wardrobe
The crucial thing about my capsule wardrobe is that I’m going for a very distinct vibe: I work from home, so I want to look and feel put-together without awkwardly becoming that type of person who wears hard pants to sit on the couch.
After doing some research and pairing it with the reality of my body (petite; 12-year-old boy), I settled on a list of things that I’d start looking for:
A structured white tee
A neutral-colored tank top
A graphic tee of some sort (something with a print; shall we venture into camouflage?)
A crewneck sweater (preferably cashmere – we’re going for quality over quantity)
A blouse-type top (also preferably neutral)
A button-up (preference is linen, as linen just oozes class)
Shirt dress
T-shirt dress
Linen dress
Leather leggings
Distressed jeans
Trousers (also preferably linen – are we sensing a theme?)
Comfortable denim shorts (keyword: comfortable. Anyone else remember those hellish low-rise Hollister days?)
Leather jacket
Chunky sweater (whether that’s open-faced or not remains to be seen)
White sneaker
Chunky, Doc Marten-style boots
Slide sandals
Mules of some sort (I may use my cheetah print Birdies for these)
Versatile scarves that can be used in hair or around neck
Statement earrings (preferably a few)
There you have it – 21 things that should, theoretically, satisfy an array of different outfits that I won’t get sick of and will class up my “everyday work from home” vibe enough to be transitional for doing things like going out to dinner or traveling.
One benefit? Simplicity. Call me Steve Jobs, but I don’t want to have to think that hard about getting dressed. I want to have #options, but not so much that opening my closet stresses me out.
Step 2: Choose the store
Call it another weird idiosyncrasy, but I’m really into consistency. There’s a reason why my entire workout wardrobe is from lululemon – I found one store that I liked and stuck to it.
After doing some research, I decided to choose Madewell as my source for this new capsule wardrobe experiment. (I even DM’d them incessantly trying to flex my blogger perk for free clothes. They didn’t respond, so know this is a genuine – albeit resentful – endorsement.)
Why? Well, I want clothes that are going to last. The main idea here is that I can buy quality stuff that won’t break down, even if I’m wearing it all constantly. I want classic staples that may cost a little bit more upfront, but won’t require replacing next year.
Sadly, there weren’t any Madewells in Fort Collins (I really didn’t appreciate the shopping in Dallas, people), so I had to structure my capsule wardrobe shopping bonanza around a trip to Denver to visit family. I blocked out an entire afternoon for it.
Step 3: Assess what I already own, and hate all of it
Even though this is a finance blog, I have to be honest – I’m 50 shades of sick of most of what I already own, and I’m not terribly interested in “making it work” in my new capsule wardrobe.
To be fair to myself, though, almost my entire wardrobe is 5+ years old – things are getting a little (how do I say this gently?) ratty.
The intent of this exercise wasn’t to repurpose a bunch of my existing clothes, it was to acquire new, “once and for all” pieces.
That meant a massive purge session for a lot of what I already own.
Because parting with all of it all at once felt a little bit daunting, I decided to ease into it:
Little by little, I’d pluck things off hangers that (a) I was objectively tired of, (b) had something wrong with them, like holes or big stains, or (c) were never very good quality to begin with (basically, everything I’d ever purchased from Shein that made it through two delicate cycles before almost falling apart).
Then, I’d fold it up carefully and store it in a bag in the downstairs closet where I couldn’t see it anymore. One step closer to being gone for good – but still technically under my own roof.
This process was cathartic, in a way; it was like taking a walk down memory lane as I remembered all the times I wore some of the stuff. It gave me the sense that I was making room for something new, which really tickled my neuroses.
The only items that made the cut into my new #Capsule were knock-off leather leggings (since I couldn’t find any new ones on my shopping trip), a chunky white sweater that I still really like, and two striped T-shirts from J. Crew that go with everything and were still in good shape.
Step 4: The budget – or lack thereof
I'm sure there’d be some ceiling I’d put on this exercise, but frankly, I didn’t go into it with a budget. I haven’t bought new clothes (in earnest) in several years, so I’m not entering into my capsule wardrobe experiment with a limit in mind. We’ll just say I’m going to approach it “reasonably,” yes?
At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’m thinking about this a little bit like a transition for me from my role as president of the “Leggings ARE pants and no, I haven’t brushed my hair today!” club to membership in the “Wow, look at that respectable young woman who definitely manages her own 401(k) plan,” committee.
Mentally, I set a general limit of $2,000 – but as I was shopping, I noticed an interesting phenomenon (more on that below). I did create a new category in my Copilot app called “Clothes” for the month, and while I didn’t really pay attention to the limit, I used that category to track my new purchases throughout the day so I could see how they stacked up against the rest of my (normal) spending and keep tabs on the whole.
I have to be honest: Despite my reckless commitment to buying everything Madewell sells in a size S, Copilot did give me a sense of control throughout the day as I swiped, inserted, and tapped with all the enthusiasm of my old self traipsing around Neiman Marcus tap-dancing through the sale women’s shoes racks. I liked it because I was using different cards but the app was aggregating all the “Clothes” purchases in one place that I could check as I shopped, vs. the mental calculator game that almost always results in me underestimating by no less than three digits.
If you’d like to try Copilot, the code KATIE2 will double your free trial. You can download Copilot here.
They say you should dress for the job you want and ma’am, I want to start feeling like an adult woman! (Even if I am just working from home.)
Step 5: Actually buy the clothes (pictures and prices included)
Behold, my new wardrobe:
There were a few pieces I didn’t end up buying:
A graphic tee of some sort (ended up keeping my existing J. Crew tees)
T-shirt dress (probably the wrong season, but I couldn’t find one)
Leather leggings (couldn’t find them; using my existing ones until I can find a better pair)
Comfortable denim shorts (ended up keeping my existing Urban Outfitters denim shorts for now until it’s summer again and the selection is better)
Leather jacket (uh, it was $500 – so I passed)
White sneaker (I didn’t really like any of the sneakers I saw; I’m still on the fence about whether this is chic or corny)
Slide sandals (not the right season; probably have to wait but would love to invest in really great leather sandals next summer)
Mules of some sort (ended up using my Birdies for this item)
The other 11 things? Throw ‘em in the bag.
I discussed the experience in depth in this podcast episode, but for the sake of brevity: Buying a whole new wardrobe in one day after not shopping for 4 years felt really, really weird.
Rather than looking at price tags and scouring sale racks, I was looking at the fabric tags. I tried to stick to real fabrics: 100% cotton, cashmere, denim, leather, linen, etc. I probably did 12 laps in that store to ensure I didn’t miss anything.
In the previous 4,000 shopping trips in my life, I doubt if I’d checked a fabric tag at all.
The intent behind this trip was clearly far different, and the energy was different, too. It was cool – and it felt like the reward for not shopping for years. Ever gone on a shopping spree when someone else is buying? It felt like that, except… I was my own sugar mama.
The irony? The exercise was intended to ensure several more years of not shopping: Getting all the pieces I needed (with intention) so I wouldn’t have to shop again for a long time.
The receipts & the clothes
Yes, I kept the receipts (and obviously, tracked the expenses in Copilot so they’re forever memorialized in October 2021).
Completely unbeknownst to me, Madewell was actually having a sale. I overheard the employee telling another customer, “Yeah, if you spend over $200 you’ll get 30% off everything.”
I practically leapt over the jeans I was sorting through: “Wait, 30% off the entire purchase?”
Yep. Score. So that was cool!
Here’s the Madewell receipt:
There you have it – $898.58 of clothing. The blue cashmere sweater was the single-most expensive piece clocking in at $135, and the jeans were a close second at $128.
And without further ado, here’s the capsule wardrobe in all its glory:
How to create a capsule wardrobe yourself
I think the first step has to be get a sense for your existing situation. If you’re someone who spends hundreds of dollars a month at the mall, this is probably not for you (unless you’re really committed to turning over a new leaf).
Before you purge everything you own and spend $1,000+ on new clothes, use Copilot to track your Clothes spending for at least 90 days (3 months). If you’re truly not constantly acquiring new things for sport, a capsule wardrobe may make sense for you. If you do just really enjoy shopping, this is likely just going to be an expensive addition to your hobby, but not fulfill its actual purpose as a stopgap.
But if you’re not a shopper (or have intentions of scaling back), follow the steps above: Start with taking inventory and purging what you’ve got, creating a list (you can use mine!), then blocking a day to get it. It’s euphoric, in a way, but it’s also not something I’d rush into unless you’re really sure that you’d like wearing the same things every day for a long time.
I was already doing that – just with clothes that I really didn’t like. I knew I could rotate through the same 12 pieces for years (because I had been), but I wanted to revamp and refresh the vibe for a new chapter.
The other benefit of creating a capsule wardrobe is that it cuts back on fast fashion – I’m pledging to never visit Shein.com or Lulus.com again, my old stomping grounds for going-out outfits that I was replacing each and every week so I could have a new $18 pleather mini skirt to wear to the bars.
It’s called #growth, people.
Disclaimer
I reached out to Copilot and asked them if they’d be willing to sponsor this post. They had no input on the content in this post.
