Closet Confessions

Forty-five minutes into the reception, in a champagne-colored gown, I locked myself in a single-stall bathroom and peeled, hiked, and re-peeled sixty dollars of fabric. That was the last wedding I wore that brand to.

For two years I had been telling my daughter no. I had drawers of department-store shapewear that had failed me at every event since my niece's engagement party. Then her wedding got six weeks out. I caved.

My friend posted a photo of me at a rooftop bar. From the side, my stomach looked like a small shelf. My old shapewear had rolled down to my hips so it was basically a belt. I screenshot it and ordered.

I used to think shapewear was for weddings, holiday parties, and the one rude dress. Then I noticed how often I was avoiding the clothes I already owned. The piece that changed the category for me was wardrobe infrastructure.