When Did You Stop Dressing for Yourself?

I used to have a walk-in closet — not because I needed more clothes, but because fashion was my way of self-expression. My pleasure. Every season offered a new opportunity to show a different side of myself, to play, to feel alive.

But then one day, everything I owned had to fit into a single suitcase.

My husband and I left Toronto with dreams of travel. What we imagined as an exciting chapter turned into more than four years of living out of a suitcase.

People often said, "You're living the dream." And in many ways, they were right. I witnessed sunsets that once only lived in photos. I wandered streets I never thought I'd see. I experienced cultures that expanded my heart and mind. Those years gave me so much, and I am deeply grateful.

But while I was discovering the world, I was quietly losing a small but important part of myself — the simple joy I found in the everyday ritual of dressing.

Each morning, I unzipped the same suitcase and pulled out the same handful of clothes. There was no spark, no excitement, no moment of asking, Who do I want to be today? I dressed only for survival — weather, comfort, and whatever I could find to endure another day.

It sounds simple, but I missed having choices. I missed opening a wardrobe that felt like me. I missed dressing with the seasons. I missed slipping on something just because it made me smile and lifted my spirits.

Without realizing it, I had stopped dressing for pleasure.

At the same time, my body was changing in ways I didn't yet understand. I was entering menopause, though I didn't know it at the time. My clothes no longer fit the way they used to, and every change felt like a quiet reminder that the woman I saw in the mirror was shifting — sometimes in ways I wasn't ready to face.

As a stylist, that was hard to admit.

I kept hoping the right outfit would bring me back to myself.

But what I was really searching for wasn't an outfit. It was the feeling of being truly myself again.

Looking back, I see that I didn't lose my style — I lost the rituals that gave me comfort and confidence. The rhythm of the seasons. The feeling of home. The quiet satisfaction of expressing who I was without a second thought.

When we finally made our home in Europe, something unexpected happened.

As I slowly rebuilt my wardrobe, it wasn't about replacing what I'd lost. It was about reclaiming a relationship with myself. Every piece I chose became less about fashion and more about recognizing and honouring who I am now.

Bit by bit, I started asking a new question:

If there's one thing I've learned, it's this: life's seasons may shift us, but within us lies the power to rediscover happiness and confidence — one small choice at a time.

Today, when women tell me they've lost their style, I understand they're rarely just talking about clothes. They're talking about seasons of life that ask them to put themselves last.

A move.

A career change.

Parenthood.

Grief.

Illness.

Menopause.

Life has a way of quietly pulling us away from ourselves.

And sometimes, our wardrobes become the proof.

But finding your style again isn't about buying something new. Sometimes, it's about giving yourself permission — to come home, to embrace joy, to recognize the woman looking back in the mirror.