ON GRACE AND GETTING DRESSED

On Grace and Getting Dressed

It started as a passing thought while getting dressed one morning, but it’s been quietly sitting with me ever since: the way we dress and how much it shapes not just how others see us, but how we feel in our own skin.

Style isn’t about putting together a look to impress. It’s not about being noticed. Not really. Looking sharp, being taken seriously, maybe even standing out — those things can happen, sure. But for me, that’s not the point.

It’s about feeling grounded. It’s about grace.

And grace, as I’ve come to understand it, isn’t loud. It doesn’t demand attention. It’s not showy or dramatic. Grace is quiet, but unmistakable. It’s that soft kind of presence that comes when you're truly comfortable with yourself, when what you're wearing isn’t a performance or a mask, but just... you.

When I wear something that feels right, not fancy, not trendy, just right, something shifts. I stop adjusting. I stop wondering how I’m coming across. I move more easily, more fully. I can just be.

That’s grace to me.

It’s not about chasing a look. It’s about building small, grounding rituals that remind you of your worth. And getting dressed — yes, even on the most ordinary Tuesday morning — can be one of those rituals. It’s not just about getting out the door. It can be a quiet act of self-respect. A way of saying, I want to feel at home in my body today.

I learned that from my grandmother. And from my mother.

My mother has this quiet elegance that never tries too hard. She doesn’t follow trends or chase compliments. But she always looks like herself, put together in a way that feels intentional, but never loud. There’s a softness to the way she moves through the world. A calm. A confidence that doesn’t come from trying to impress

anyone, but from knowing exactly who she is.

When I was little (10), I used to watch her get ready in the mornings. She never rushed. She never did it for anyone else. She just moved with care. A scarf tied at the neck. A spritz of perfume. Her hand smoothed over the fabric like it was a little love note to herself. As if to say: This is enough. I am enough.

That stayed with me.

And it reminds me that grace doesn’t have a uniform. It doesn’t always look like a blazer or heels or anything, especially “elevated.” Sometimes, it shows up in your softest T-shirt. Or the jeans that have molded to your shape over the years. Or the silk scarf you wear when you want to feel like you put in that tiny extra bit of care, not for anyone else, just for you.

I think we’ve all had those moments where we didn’t feel quite right in what we were wearing. I remember a friend telling me about a date she went on, where she spent most of the evening not focusing on the person in front of her, but worrying about how she looked. Was her lipstick smudged? Was her outfit too much? Not enough? She even excused herself from the table at one point just to check her thoughts.

We’ve all been there.

But on the flip side, there’s such a difference when you put something on and it just feels like you. Not necessarily the most flattering or fashionable, but honest. Aligned. You move differently. You breathe easier. You stop performing.

That’s the kind of wardrobe I want to build. One that helps me show up fully. That doesn’t shout, but speaks clearly. That makes space for softness, for stillness, for strength that doesn’t need to prove itself.

So if you’re in a season of rethinking your style or even just feeling a little off in your clothes lately, maybe start there. Not with what’s trending. Not with what looks impressive.

Start with what makes you feel most like you.

That’s where grace and dressing well begin.