Me-Made-May Recap Omnibus

May! My favorite month. What child isn’t predisposed to prefer her birth month above all others? May’s so great weather-wise that I’ve continued to like it even in spite of my birthday. Or Mother’s Day. Or the 50,000,000 things that crowd the familial calendar leaving me to wonder when I’ll ever find the time or energy to keep things afloat. Still: May! Yay!

May! Me-Made-May! I didn’t have it in me to formally sign up this year. Buuuuut I got to wondering if I could wear a me-made every day without repeat, so I made that my loosey-goosey unofficial unadvertised goal. No selfies, just flat-lays to keep a log.

I can hear what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “But all you have to do is go to your closet and count your me-mades to know if you have enough to wear a month without repeat!” Not so, my friends. Just because I have the thing doesn’t mean I wear it. Some me-mades I need a little reminding to wear; some I need a little cajoling; some I avoid entirely; and some I probably should avoid (threadbare gray bird-print blouse I’m looking at you).

Without further ado, here are the mostly terrible flat-lay photos I took of my me-mades either wrinkled from wear or wrinkled from the washer. I forgot a few. The weekend of June 1-2 was so so fine I wore a couple me-made dresses I hadn’t during May and threw them in the collage to make up for the photographic lapses.

This experiment made me think of my my-mades in a different way than I usually do. Typically I’m getting dressed to have clothes on; I’m not thinking about why I wear the things I do or, more illuminating, why I’ll wear some things I don’t feel great in and why I don’t wear the things I don’t: fit, color, style, lifestyle, weather, weird personal associations. I was reminded of how great a dress fits that I rarely wear because of the color; how much I love the style of a particular blouse but never wear because it’s a smidge too small; how much I absolutely love camp shirts and should really just make 5,000 of them and have a personal uniform; and, finally, how even though I bang on about needing to make more bottoms in my heart I really have no interest, at least not right now, and I’m giving myself permission to cross them off my to-make list and stop feeling guilty for making the things I like instead of the things I think I should.

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