So, you hear about the “reformation cami,” right? Or just, you know, that whole vibe. The effortlessly chic, sustainable, put-together thing. I totally fell for it. I thought, “Yeah, that’s what I need. One perfect cami, and boom, my life, or at least my closet, will be reformed.” Sounds simple, huh?
Well, let me tell you, it wasn’t simple. Not for me, anyway. It became this whole thing.
My Grand Plan and The Mess It Became
First, I dove deep into the internet. Looking at all these perfect, minimalist wardrobes. I decided I was going to “reform” everything. Out with the old, in with the… well, less old, but more expensive and “thoughtful” stuff.
My practice went something like this:
- Pulled every single piece of clothing I owned onto my bed. It was a mountain. Seriously.
- Tried that whole “does it spark joy?” thing. Spoiler: a lot of my comfy, ugly sweats sparked joy, but that wasn’t the ‘reformation’ look, was it?
- Bought a couple of “investment pieces.” You know, the kind that cost a fortune and you’re scared to actually wear. One was, of course, a cami. Not THE Reformation one, because, oof, the price, but a close cousin.
- Attempted to create a ‘capsule wardrobe’. Which basically meant I had, like, five things I could wear, and I was bored in a week.
It was a proper mess. My bedroom looked like a charity shop exploded. I spent money I probably shouldn’t have. And the worst part? I still felt like I had nothing to wear. It was like trying to patch a leaky boat with designer band-aids. All these different ideas, all these “must-have” items, just became a jumble. A total hodgepodge in my closet and in my head.
The So-Called ‘Epiphany’ (More Like a Facepalm)
You wanna know how I snapped out of it? It wasn’t some zen moment of clarity while meditating over a linen shirt. Nope.
I was wearing one of my new, “reformed” tops. This lovely, delicate camisole. Feeling pretty good, actually. I went to make a quick sandwich. And my kid, who’s usually pretty good, decided that was the exact moment to practice his abstract art skills with a jam-covered spoon. All over my pristine, “reformed” front.
I just stood there. For a good minute. Staring at this sticky, red smear on this top that represented so much effort and anxiety. And then I just… started laughing. It was ridiculous.
All that pressure I put on myself. To be this perfect, curated version of a person. All for a top that was inevitably going to meet real life. My real, messy, jam-covered life.
What ‘Reformation’ Actually Means To Me Now
So, that “reformation cami” journey? It didn’t end with a perfect closet. Not even close. My wardrobe is still a bit chaotic. I still have clothes I don’t wear enough.
But the real reformation, the one that mattered, happened in my head. I stopped chasing some ideal. I started buying clothes, including camis, that I actually like, that feel good, and that can survive a run-in with a toddler or a spilled coffee without causing a meltdown.
It’s not about the perfect cami. It was never about the cami. It’s about being okay with things not being perfect. It’s about practicality over some influencer-fed dream. I still like nice things, but they don’t define me, and they certainly don’t reform me. Real life does a much better job of that, jam stains and all.
And honestly? I’m way happier getting dressed in the morning now. No grand plan, just what feels right for the day. That’s my kind of reformation.
