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Skort WHAT? (My Year-Long Experiment in Simplicity)

MY RULES FOR ONE YEAR:

1. Black golf skort every single day (I have several.)

2. No clothing purchases (exceptions: shoes, accessories, outerwear & underwear)

3. Comfortable shoes only (I mean it: if a shoe so much as pinches a toe, it is dead to me.)

In my closet, exquisite tweed blazers hang next to cheap leopard-print sequined blouses. I have amassed my collection of wedges and boots in a constant, careful attempt to make my legs appear longer. I am as enchanted by the September issue of VOGUE as I am by my habit of pillaging thrift stores for affordable, Vogue-worthy fashions.

I have spent years of my life worrying about what to wear.
I have spent years of my life in shoes that cripple my feet and undergarments that stifle my breath.

At the ripe old age of 45, I have discovered the practical, perfect beauty of a well-constructed black golf skort. I have spent a season in footwear that does not bind my toes or make my arches ache. This, I realized, is the revolution. I think more clearly, work more efficiently and enjoy my life more when I am comfortable in my clothing. Who knew?

I started thinking, what if? What if I wore a black golf skort and comfortable shoes every day of my life? In the name of comfort and clear-thinking, what if I wore something almost uniform-like? What would happen if I no longer had a constant, nagging worry about What to Wear? How might it change my life?

I don’t think of it as giving up, exactly — I still intend to look adorable and appropriate every time I leave the house — but the concept has already ignited a flame of self-acceptance. Maybe these are the fruits of growing older. Worrying less about my daily costume is already producing less worry about the length of my legs, the size of my arms, the skin on the back of my thighs . . . I can move in these clothes, and moving reminds me of my real beauty. My body works. For the most part, I am healthy. I like to bend, stretch, walk, run, ride my bike, climb, jump, dive, stand on my head. In a black golf skort, I can do all of the above, and I look pretty cute doing it.

On April 1 — no joke — the experiment begins in earnest.