Lately as I’ve answered the “How’s your dress thing going?” question, I’ve found myself amused with the way I feel upon being asked. I start grinning, though I try to hide it. The truth is that I’ve simply grown more comfortable with my response, and I can’t help but be giddy at the changes occurring within me, most of which I did not anticipate.

If you had asked me two years ago what I wanted to fill my leisure time up with, I would have probably replied by saying, “Serious window shopping, a little actual shopping, and eating dinner out.” If you had asked me the same question one year ago, I would have likely been a little frustrated because I didn’t know what to say beyond, “Go out to eat.” My free-time activities, at least one year ago, were few and far between. This was largely due to three reasons: (1) a lack of time apart from work, (2) our attempts to save a little money, and (3) my acknowledged frustration with finding fun, healthy ways to occupy my time apart from buying more stuff.

I didn’t feel completely dull until I gained some awareness, followed by frustration, about my role as a consumer. Only then did I feel dull since I couldn’t see any alternatives to living the life that has always been sold to me.

So began the stage I’m calling “without.” I was without new stuff, without a frequent hobby, without the energy I got from the excitement of being in a mall, without the highs of new purchases, without a lot of stuff that made me—what I thought was—truly happy.

I was, of course, intentionally opting into this phase of “without,” but I still felt dull. The thought of going for a walk, for a bike ride, for a hike, etc.* did not factor into my worldview. Such activities, I thought, were not adequate substitutes for the enjoyment I got out of shopping. Thinking back, my step away from my normal consumer habits was a bit like going through puberty: I was clearly taller and a bit fuller, but I didn’t know what to do with my new self. It just was; I was just there, albeit full of conviction.

The thing is, I didn’t like being bored (who does?!). Frustrated, I decided to outfit myself with one dress every day for a year in order to protest the lifestyle that had me enraptured with consumption for so long, as well as the emptiness it left when I said, “No more.”

Yet what I didn’t anticipate, to get to the point of this post, was the radical ways this would change things for me. It turns out that after just 150ish days I feel like a different person on a number of levels. Rather than share my ideological convictions, like I’m prone to doing on here from time to time, I’ve decided to share some of the more practical, experiential changes that have gone so far to bring more energy and well-being to my once-tired and empty-feeling life.

My ODP has allowed me to feel liberated to take action on important issues, whereas in the past I probably would have done nothing. For instance, last month I decided to not use any disposable cups for the entire month (meaning no Starbucks, no Claire’s, no anywhere unless I had my own contained). Prior to deciding to do this, I thought it was incredibly inane to place such parameters on your lifestyle. I am a coffee drinker. Coffee drinkers buy lots of coffee. Coffee drinkers buy lots of coffee in disposable cups. Coffee drinkers throw away those cups. It’s just how it works. Plus, the thought of not having my coffee struck fear in my heart. What if I needed coffee and I didn’t have my mug with me? What if I was thirsty? What if I was out for coffee with a friend? Wouldn’t it be awkward to not buy coffee because I care about a paper cup? For the first time in my life, on such a mundane issue, I said, “To heck with all that. Let’s just give it a-go.”

Sure, I had to readjust my thought habits to keep from dehydrating myself for the sake of my new worthy cause (note: if you go on a disposable cup fast, always have your Nalgene, Kleen Kanteen, or glass mason jar on hand). I also had times when I went without the almighty coffee shot. But I did it. And like my ODP, it’s made me feel liberated! So much so that today, it makes complete sense that I have hardly any reason to use a disposable cup again, or a disposable utensil of any kind really (though I’m still working on the utensils thing). It just takes determination, care, a healthy compassion for the state of our planet, and some pre-planning (it turns out this isn’t as much of a nuisance as I once thought, especially once you retrain old habits).

It can be that simple. Yet I know it’s not. We have lots of excuses, and incredibly strong routines ground into our mental frameworks that often prevent us from taking the step to put our actions where our hearts are. So many of us care for the earth, yet fall short of reaching our capacity to truly love it by changing our habits in little ways to really contribute to the kind of difference-making that will see us through to the future. Because in reality, it’s not that simple. Yet we’ve also been shown lately that in the stark reality of climate change, deforestation, and rampant pollution problems, it’s worth it.

So it turns out that when we begin acting, our ideas and philosophies can actually be transformed by the ways we live. In this way, as my friend Ched says, we can act ourselves into thinking, which is much more potent than thinking ourselves into acting.

So my question to you is this: what can you do to act your way into thinking? No decision is too small! Perhaps if you’re ODPing this month, you’re currently figuring this out!

* I should also add to this list the fact that I was terrified of spiders and other bugs, so the prospect of gardening has often terrified me. In fact, when I was working outside with my friend Elaine, she informed me that a spider has just crawled into my shirt. I proceeded to (1) freak out, (2) remove my shirt as fast as I possibly could, and (3) accidentally punch Elaine in the face and break her glasses as I removed said shirt as fast as I could. We all got a laugh out of it later, but I enforced a self-imposed restriction from work outside thereafter. I contributed by cooking everyone cookies and granola in the days following.

Welcome fellow protesters!

I could hardly wait for today to get here. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to have some company as a number of you have decided to join me for one month–from June 3rd to July 3rd–in your own unique one dress (or outfit) protest.

So with that, I welcome you, women and men of protest, to a radical journey in minimalism, sustainability, consciousness-raising, and identity challenge. I’m loving my year in one dress; I do hope you enjoy your one-month in one-dress.

Do keep in mind that zero clothing consumption is a very important aspect of what we’re coming together to do this month. During your own ODP, I hope you choose to fast from clothing/fashion consumption as well. What I think you’ll find interesting is that you have ZERO need to consume clothing when you’ve set one dress option for yourself.

I imagine you likely don’t have the time to clear out all the rest of your unworn clothing, but I highly encourage you to think about emptying out the space you are keeping your ODP clothes/dress. It was such a great thing for me to not be able to see any other options from day one. If it’s convenient to empty your closet for the time being, do it — it’s fun to see just one item hanging there for a little while. Or maybe just clear out one drawer and keep your ODP clothes there so that during this experiment you don’t have the clutter of other outfits clouding your experience. I’ve found it helpful to see only the simple option I’ve already selected for myself.

Lastly, if you happen to be a blogger (or you feel like chronicling your experience throughout the month) and write about this, do let me know. I’d love to read along! Or if you want to post random thoughts or photos please do so to the ODP facebook page. And as always, feel free to email me your thoughts, frustrations, experiences.

Now, go forth. Be bold, brave, transparent, curious, self-aware and present in your one dress. And with it carry your voice, message, intention, and of course your protest!

I’m one dress protesting, and you should too! Consider this your formal invitation.

I, Kristy Powell, invite you, female or male, curious and courageous soul, to join me in protest from June 3^rd to July 3^rd.

The stipulations are few and simple.

One dress, one month. That’s it!

But seriously though, I want you to consider joining me for a host of reasons. A few of mine are as follows:

1. To bring a screeching halt to my complicated history with fashion and style for self-examination.
2. To refuse to change my dress despite societal pressures.
3. To experience myself as outside of fashion as possible and to investigate what that means for my identity.
4. To fast from clothing consumption.
5. To provide a specifically allotted time (1 year for me) to consider the environmental implications of clothing production, consumption, and disposal, as well as my participation in this monstrous system.
6. To experience my interpretation of others perception of me with one, unchanging, external presentation of myself.
7. To consider what fashion ultimately means for me going forward.

Of course, there are many other experiences that come with wearing one dress for one year. I don’t doubt that if you take your own month-long ODP on, you will uncover a trove of worthy purposes in your experience.

My primary encouragement is that what you choose to wear should be exceptionally simple and relatively versatile. Consider this an identity challenge, a perception challenge of sorts, a sustainability protest, a cultural protest, an experiment with extreme minimalism, a welcoming of radical simplicity. If you can swing it, keep your accessories to an extreme minimum (including shoes). Challenge yourself. Do something different. Even if this is only feasible with the few items you already own, then by all means, go for it. The intention is not to recreate your external presentation within your one dress, but to do something extreme in order to break the strong arms of the clothing industry that tightly grasp us with the hands of want and habit.

Lots of people have asked about bathing suits (especially now that it’s summer), pajamas, work-out attire, etc. I’ve kept out one bathing suit in the event I need one. I wear pajamas at home, but never when I leave the house. I wear work-out attire to exercise, but I’ve selected a uniform for myself that never changes in these occasions – I wear it then and only then. That is what feels reasonable and authentic to me while remaining aligned with the heart of the protest.

Though I might be running the risk of scaring a few of you off, I want to encourage you to be as extreme as you can manage. I mean, it’s only one month, right? I thought this would be the best month of all for you to join me given the lack of weather variability in most places.

So go forth and consider. Do let me know if you plan to join – I’d love to hear about your considerations, decisions, and ideas.

Until then, I’m looking forward to having some ODP company!

I cannot write a proper ode. I’ve never been much of a lyricist. But if I could… there was a particular day I would have.

I’ve been asked many times if there is any one article or ensemble I miss most. The first time I answered the question in an interview I gave a halfhearted answer just to have something to say. I said I missed my jeans… but I didn’t really. I’m not often inauthentic, but I suppose I had a moment of feeling like I needed to have something to say. I just figured if there was any thing to miss… it was them. For the most part, I’m happy in my one dress. Shockingly, perhaps.

But then, all of a sudden, just a couple of weeks ago, all I could think about was my desire to put on a well-worn grey zip-up hoodie and my one well-fitting pair of dark jeans (both packed away). I’m a little surprised this is the one outfit I’ve missed. I’m not that much of a hoodie-and-jeans kind of girl. I suppose I’m more hoodie-and-jeans than I am yoga-pants-and-t-shirt, whatever that means. Honestly though, I don’t even know what “kind of girl” I am anymore in terms of style. I’m assuming that is consistently changing throughout this year and where exactly I’ll land… I do not yet know.

I used to wear lots of different styles. I’ve always been one to dress according to occasion. I’ve always admired people who wore and exuded their style across all types of circumstances. At the same time, I can remember a time when Russ’ style was more homeless-esque and I had no desire for him to boldly exude this style everywhere we went. In fact, I was embarrassed by it. And this is likely a window into why I dress so variably according to the occasion… to avoid embarrassment.

Meet Russ:

Meet Russ during his homeless-eque phase:

I went looking for an old photo to provide an example and (not so) shockingly there were very few from this time. This was the closest I could find… I’d say the upper half was a good indication of the whole. And no, he was not “on drugs.”

Always dressing appropriately was kind of exhausting for me, as I’ve mentioned previously here and here. I just always wanted to be appropriate. And of course, I thought I was doing it “my way,” but still… linen and crisp with some folks, sandals and long skirts with others. And I felt these appearances were all “me,” so to speak. I suppose I’ve always felt a bit multi-faceted in my personality, which I figured is the reason I’ve been such a chameleon with my clothing all these years.

I say all this because I think all this time I may have just been multi-influenced, multi-subconsciously-imposed-upon, multi-unconfident-and-unclear-of-myself. Even as I write this I want to say to myself, “No, you’re plenty confident and self-aware, at least enough to not seem so all over the place.” And who knows… maybe I was, but for whatever reason that never translated into a consistent style.

I suppose at this point my “style,” if you will—that is, if I were to wear more than one dress every day—would be dictated by simplicity and fit. And future clothing consumption would be filtered first through a lens of ecological soundness.

Being ecologically mindful is the primary consideration when faced with a need to consume an item at this point. The implications of actually consuming an item are enormous. Don’t trick yourself into thinking, “It’s just one item, I’m just one person.” These are lies we tell ourselves to make what we want permissible… when it really isn’t. I know that’s a bold statement, and a bit more personal than some would like to hear, but I’ve meant it went I’ve written in the past:

With the violent impacts that the clothing industry inflicts upon the earth, we simply can’t excuse ourselves from engaging these questions any longer. The pains of the natural world cry out for us to finally wake from our slumber, open our eyes, and deal with the messes we’ve made.

So this is me, practically, boldly stating, that our consumption is having a horrific impact on the earth and all of its inhabitants. And you and I are the cause.

Some have enough money to shield themselves from said impacts, but the impacts cannot be ignored for much longer. All of creation is groaning and if you choose to listen, it is unbearable to hear. One cannot sit idly by, or ignore, or pacify, or make things permissible any longer.

I’ve struggled with the balance of keeping this blog a descriptive account of my experience, and to let it dip into prescriptive advice for other “consumers.” Yet due to what I’ve learned and the new ways I’ve become convicted about the ways we must begin to see through the foggy haze of the planetary mess we’ve made, I just can’t adhere to the descriptive silence too much more. We simply have to stop consuming the ways we are. And by we I mean me and you.

Now, to move on to the next point, which includes the ideas of simplicity and fit as they relate to fashion. When you live on less and you don’t intend to consume beyond need, you keep things simple, interchangeable. And clothes that fit well are the most flattering and confidence enhancing, in my opinion.

Clothes that fit according to modesty level are primary. Clothes that fit according to body size/shape are really luxuries to be quite honest, but truth be told, they are luxuries I intend to consider more carefully going forward. Previously, if an article of clothing was “soooo me” (i.e. I really want it and I will be more of ‘myself’ because of it) it just had to fit, as in, go on. It didn’t have to really fit me well. Because let’s face it, I’d only be wearing said item a few times—it would be too special and seemingly noticeable to wear more frequently. Rather, the best place for it would be stored in a stuff space (i.e. closet) to only see the light of day every 4^th date I go on. No more!

From here on out I want few options, which are simple, that fit, that I already own or are consumed with careful consideration for source, material, and production. And that may sound like too much work, I know at one point it did to me too… but it is no more or less time consuming than “window shopping” through malls and online retailers. It’s all what you want to spend your time doing. I want to spend mine doing less harm and more good, and not feeding my consumer-based self-confidence.

So back to the one outfit I’ve missed. I miss it because it’s comfortable, and sometimes I certainly do miss having nicer stuff for nicer situations, and more casual stuff for climbing trees and running errands and sitting around the house without having to be in pajamas. But missing these items, and doing my one dress protest have been invaluable in that they’ve afforded me the opportunity to reorient my desires in terms of clothing, consumption, and style. And this article is an example of my processing that.

Thank you for journeying with me. Perhaps you’ll join me and journey yourself to unanticipated conclusions June 3^rd to July 3^rd with your own one dress protest. I’ll post thoughts on joining me  later this week, stay tuned.

In lieu of writing up a digest of my experiences over the past month, I’ve made a video describing how my fourth month has gone wearing just one dress. Enjoy!

(For mobile users, click here to view.)

I have avoided writing this post for over two months. I’ve truly not wanted to share this with you for fear that that would either hold me accountable when I didn’t want to be, or in fear of being found out. That is, found out that I was considering purchasing a pair of shoes. Found out that I was breaking my own rules. Found out that I was a fake. Found out that you had been had.

I realize that this seems a little extreme but that’s what it has felt like. Yes, it is over purchasing a pair of shoes. Not a particular pair of shoes, not a fantastic pair of super-snazzy-designer-shoes that have stolen my heart and whisper to me as I attempt to stand my moral ground. Rather, it’s just any ‘ole pair of shoes.

Let me explain. This whole wear one dress thing, accessorize minimally only according to what the season requires, and consume no clothing has not been all too difficult, at least four months in. As I anticipated, this has been more about a personal journey toward experiencing myself apart from fashion and clothing consumption. And what I mean by that is that this has hardly been an exercise in self-deprivation. I understand that that may seem odd, given the radical clothing limitations I’ve set for myself. But this has been exceptionally liberating for the most part.

In preparation for this year I consumed a very few things. I didn’t do much “stocking up” as I’ve read others do when they’ve taken on a zero-consumption challenge for a period of time. In my case, I knew I was choosing to live on so little that there would really be no point (plus a clothing binge would kind of be contrary to the entire message, so I didn’t want to self-sabotage my intentions from the outset of the project). So prior to starting ODP I purchased:
- my dress
- a pair of super-comfy-cute (at least I think so) pair of vegan, black, ballet-flats
- a knitted scarf and sweater (previously mentioned on ODP)

Considering I already owned shoes before ODP, I figured I’d just keep out what worked with my dress and pack the rest away. But as I said, I did purchase that one pair of ballet-flats. I intended for these to be my primary shoes throughout the year, with the exception of any fancy occasions when I would wear my black heels I had kept out.

I thought I’d look pretty cute in my new vegan-flats, if I’m honest. I mean, they matched my moral-intentions, plus I picked them out because I liked them. I ordered them from a really rad Etsy seller. (Though I know her by name, I’m choosing not to share. It’s not that I intend to say anything negative, but I don’t want to say anything about them that isn’t 100% helpful to their business.)

I received my shoes just days prior to my protest beginning. They were so cool! Only one problem: they were cloth bottomed. That means no rubber, no bottom to keep out the wet, no bottom to handle the outside, no bottom to last through a week’s worth of walking, no bottom to keep me from slipping in the hospital in which I work. Needless to say, my super cute, ethically-fantastic shoes that I intended to wear throughout this venture were nothing more than bedroom slippers I could wear out to dinner on the occasion when we take the car (which is becoming rarer these days). And that’s not to mention that for me to wear said vegan shoes the ground has to be dry, I can’t walk very far from the car to the restaurant, and if we have to wait for a table, we can’t take a walk around outside.

As you can imagine, this has posed a few problems. Thus, here is the course of events that has followed in my attempt to amend the shoe-issue. First (after kicking myself), I re-looked at the Etsy shop to re-read the fine print to see if I had missed the fact that these shoes came with cloth bottoms.

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter whether the shop stated that the bottoms were cloth or not. I wouldn’t have been a wise enough purchaser at the time to notice and think through it enough to have made any different decision than I did. Plus, aside from how cute I thought they were, I just saw the word VEGAN… I was sold. And I still am… they are cool shoes, and the construction is great. And if you don’t intend for them to be your primary footwear, they really are fantastic. All that to say, intentionality and research are key when living with less based on the ethical restrictions you place upon consumptive habits.

But when I went to look at the shop again I saw that she had just released her shoes with rubber bottoms. WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me?!?!

I emailed the shoe-maker asking if I could return my worn-twice-indoors-shoes to have rubber bottoms added to them. I was hopeful. Unfortunately, she didn’t think this was a good idea for some understandable reasons. She knew of my protest and in support of it she graciously offered me a pair—with rubber bottoms—for half off. It was February 14^th, a month and 11 days after my self-imposed fashion fast.

And that is how long I have been avoiding writing this post. I immediately told her I couldn’t take her up on the offer.

Since then, I’ve had to wear other shoes I didn’t intend to wear during this protest that had been initially packed away. I got through most of the winter in Ugg boots – footwear I hadn’t intended wearing this year. Since it has become just slightly too warm to wear those I’ve begun wearing tennis shoes to and from everywhere. This is odd as I’ve NEVER been a tennis shoe wearer, unless I was at the gym.

Also, I already had a pair of black patent ballet-flats that have become my primary footwear at work. These clearly weren’t intended to be worn as frequently as I have (see: planned obsolescence) I now have holes around the entire perimeter of the foot and the heel has come off on one.

Anyhow, I don’t like any of this for a few reasons. I feel like my winter boots and tennis shoes are looks unto themselves. Then I’m changing shoes when I get places, which means I’m wearing a second look each day. This year I planned to look the least variable as possible. When you wear one dress every day, changing your shoes multiple times throughout the day is noticeable (to me, at least).

All that to say I’ve contemplated taking the Etsy shoe-maker up on her offer many, many times. Also, the only time I’ve looked at clothing/wearable items online (as I haven’t been to any stores since last year) was when I looked through a few websites for a pair of reliable, ethically created, durable, multi-use shoes that could be worn at work, or during transit. My husband, who is great at holding me accountable, endorsed my purchasing a pair of shoes. He’s said on more than a few occasions, “You just need a pair of shoes. I think you should purchase a pair. Really, I do.” I’ve seriously considered it… a lot.

I even considered asking you all what you thought I should do. I suppose I feared either answer – to either purchase or to make do.

For the time being I’ve decided to continue to make do with what I’ve got for as long as I absolutely can, even if that means I change my shoes twice a day.

And maybe I took the less transparent and slightly easier option by waiting to share this with you until some resolve had been reached. Of course, my intention was to be transparent with you whether I chose to purchase shoes or not. But this isn’t about setting limits on myself and proving to you all that I can do it, and that if I can’t then I’m a faker. Rather, this is me wearing one dress every day for a year to make a statement about consumption and its environmental implications that I believe in with my whole heart. So at the end of the day, for now I’m choosing to live with the limitations of not having the most ideal scenario in terms of shoes for the sake of maintaining my fast and upholding the intention of this endeavor.

In the end I suppose my fear of being found out was more about not believing my own message enough to sustain it.

Where to start…?

Well, first off, my sincere apologies for my lack of online presence. I know I haven’t blogged or twittered (or is it tweeted?) or much of anything with the exception of replying to those of you who write me via email (although I’ve replied with exceptional delays).

It’s been an overwhelming few weeks, to say the least.

In effort to keep this from being a forum where I write about my life outside of ODP I’ll keep the going-ons-of-late to a minimum. I can say, however, that one thing that has kept me exceptionally busy is the recent realization of a long-time goal of mine. Other not-so-wonderful-things have filled my mind and time as well.

But regardless, ODP continues to exist as a part of my everyday life. My one dress wearing, my engaging those around me about my protest, my personal experience of it goes on, and has done so without ceasing. Each day I’ve woken up, put on my dress and gone out into the world to be present and meet, welcome, or endure whatever has come.

With the complete lack of time to do anything outside of what has required and consumed my time these last few weeks I’ve run into a few laundry issues. Twice during this time I had to wear my shorter dress while the other was drying. Also, the one I wear every day is shrinking, little-by-little, despite never having met the inside of a dryer. I stretch it out and hang it to dry every single time. This has been a nice little lesson in careful material selection when narrowing your wardrobe so extremely (Kristin and Shannon of All of Us Rev, take note). I didn’t realize it had shrunk so much until my giddy-for-spring self wore it with tights underneath (rather than leggings) to work. Not the best option for work at present. This brought on the immediate necessity to get a second dress lengthened. So I took my other dress to my local seamstress… more to come on that debacle later.

I certainly have a few things to share with you in the coming posts. Weeks can’t pass wearing one dress every day without thoughts and experiences to share.

One thing I’d like to share now is about how I’ve felt about my dress and what it has provided for me over these past few weeks. But first I must address a comment I often receive when someone first comes to know about my ODP. It is most frequently stated, “Wow, how easy it must be now to get dressed.” Or, “It must take you no time or effort to get ready.” Or… some less gracious way of saying, “Good job being lazy. You must enjoy being lazy so much. What a silly thing to do to get away with being lazy.” And while I usually smile and say “sure” to any of these, I often cringe on the inside because while this is about having and doing less, it isn’t about being lazy. I’m not simply looking to cut down on my getting-ready time. I’m not simply looking to narrow my options and reduce the stress that comes with dressing myself. To me, these are fantastic bonuses, but far from a main goal of my ODP.

If you’ve been following for long you know that the personal goals of this for me include attempting to have an opportunity to present myself apart from clothing; to experience my interactions with the world in one, simple, unchanged item. To meet new people, to go through everything that each season may bring; to cry, to rejoice, to create, to grieve, to breathe, to move, to eat, to walk through life as apart from fashion as I can manage. And in the last few weeks, I’ve done every one of those things.

So while these last few weeks were an absolute failure on the blogging front—and I feel like I’ve let myself down and possibly a few others—my one dress protest has existed within that short period of time as a relative success, on a personal or private level.

But back to the lazy comments and how my one dress has carried me through each of those experiences. My dress has certainly simplified my day-to-day existence, at least in terms of clothing and my external presentation to the world. And I have particularly appreciated, after-the-fact, its predetermined place in my life as the clothing I’ll wear each day. The roller-coaster of the last few weeks has welcomed the simplicity the dress has afforded me.

I’ve never viewed it as laziness before; after all, it isn’t easy wearing the same thing every day. Sure, it’s easy to put it on, and the decision is made for me each day. But going out into society wearing the same exact thing, the same exact ways, every single day… takes effort, on some level. If nothing else it has asked of me some level of psychological fortitude.

While all this could be viewed as “lazy,” it certainly hasn’t felt so. It has actually felt quite intentional: intentionally simplifying one thing so as to give as much of myself to everything else that is currently asking so very much of me.

Moreover, I’ve been exceptionally appreciative of my dress’ unquestionable presence, reliability, flexibility, and dependableness. I realize my dress itself is an inanimate object, but another goal is to appreciate all things for what they are, for where the came, and for where they may one day go. Currently I find myself doing just that, appreciating my dress for all that it can and is being. It is sustaining my life in terms of clothing and affording me extreme simplicity in a time where I can’t imagine focusing on much more.

I couldn’t be more thankful to know that tomorrow I’ll wake up to a simple black dress to put on, yet again, to go out into the world and hope that me, Kristy Powell, is enough to take on, welcome, and endure whatever life may bring.

As for the ongoing frequency of my posts, I have a goal to post once per week. It means an exceptional amount to me to continue to participate in and lead this conversation with you all.

Prior to starting my one-year fashion-fast I had little to no skills to contribute to my slow fashion ventures. In short, when it comes to making clothes, I can’t really make anything.

But as a past-life ballerina, I am familiar with a needle and thread. I’ve sewed many a pair of point shoes in no time to attach the ribbon and elastic before rehearsal. I’ve also mended and “pinched” leotards, closed holes in tights, etc. And once upon a time I even crocheted leg warmers.

Yet somehow along the way I did not expand upon these once thrifty skills. And though I don’t own a sewing machine (I stand to inherit my mom’s someday – gentle reminder here, mom), at present all I can really do when it comes to maintaining my clothes is reattaching a few buttons here and there.

While I don’t think I’ll ever want to produce my own wardrobe (though I feel great about supporting others who have such aspirations to create mindfully sustainable garments), I would like to be able to mend or refashion garments myself so as to extend the life of my families’ clothing. I’d also love to learn to knit so as to contribute warm weather accessories, sweaters and dresses, or even children’s clothes, i.e. easy stuff through those years when they sprout like weeds.

Hence another hope I have for this year is building on some of these skills. Relative self-sufficiency is the greater vision, but in the meantime I realize I need to start with the basics.

So for Christmas Russ surprised me and gave me knitting needles and the most beautiful yarn. He knew I was particularly eager to learn to knit. After a couple busy months, this past weekend we finally set up a knitting lesson for the both of us at our local knit shop here in New Haven. Yes, we both learned to knit!

We had the greatest time learning this new skill. Russ has mentioned how great it would be to be a family of knitters who quietly pull out our yarn and needles on airplanes rather than a jumbled mess of electronics to occupy our impatient children. (Note: those of you with children, let us dream for now; we know reality will find us somewhere along the way).

On Friday, I walked into the shop with my beautiful Christmas yarn and needles in my bag and quickly realized that I had to pick out some basic yarn to learn with. The lovely women at Knit New Haven informed us that we wouldn’t be making anything definable for some time. I questioned, “A scarf?” They replied, “No.” “A pot holder?” “No.” Laughingly I said, “Okay, a coaster?” They replied, albeit reluctantly, “Maybe,” and made their hands into a small square to show what I could hope for. Halfway through my lesson I said, “Fine, a bookmark.”

Russ went in hoping to eventually make a cat blanket (called a “ki-b” in our house, or pronounced, “key bee”). It’s okay. You can judge us. But he, too, quickly grasped the concept that we wouldn’t be making anything all too soon.

Our teacher, Stacy, commented that some knitters are process knitters, and some product knitters. She understandably pointed out that I was a product knitter, and Russ, process. She’s right. But I also immediately felt self-conscious of the label. I want to be both. I love the dance of each knit. I also happen to want to make stuff.

Yet little does Stacy know I happen to be well on my way to an oversized potholder.

Anyhow, I immediately was fond of my new skill. I think it may be the dancer in me but the pattern of steps you perform to knit was immediately tattooed in my brain and ever since I’ve found myself practically waltzing through the steps in my mind. I dreamt about it the night I learned and I woke up plagued by the pattern of compact and nimble hand movements. I must say, though, that I’m a much better knitter at this point in my head. In my mind my fingers move gracefully, sort of like how I dream at night of dancing beautifully romantic and moving ballets to the sounds of Sigur Ros. Yet just like my leg that is violently convulsing in bed rather than swaying to the fluid motions of my dreams, my fingers are still a bit of a mess when it comes to moving through the knitting motions.

So naturally I’ve been thinking of the relationship a knitter or clothes-maker develops with the garments they produce. When I think of one day giving someone something I have knitted it makes more sense to me to feel as though I am giving that person a piece of art I have crafted, rather than something I simply bought (though buying stuff can certainly be a gracious act of gift-giving, too). Surely I’ll knit with greater speed overtime and it won’t take a week to make a 6×6 item, but still, it’s no fast process.

It’s really exciting to think of the actual time in someone’s life given to the garments they’ve slowly crafted or all the things that have been slowly made that I’ve purchased in the past. I must say, I wore my knitted sweater even more proudly this weekend with all the more appreciation for the amazing work that Hailey did in making it for me.

So tell me, do you knit? Do you want to? What’s your relationship with the stuff you’ve made vs. the stuff you’ve bought? Or your appreciation for items you own that you know were produced slowly?

Lent, a season of intentionality and sacrifice in the Christian tradition, began last Wednesday. Each year, many Christians decide that for the season of Lent–a period of forty days leading up to Easter–they will intentionally abstain from one thing they value as a deliberate attempt to quiet their lives to better focus on the love and will of God.

Aside from when I was a little kid and gave something up for Lent to go through the experience with a friend I had, I’ve never really recognized or participated in it. (Oh, and there were those couple years in high school that I attempted to use Lent as a means to dieting.) But from what I can tell, it’s actually pretty standard to come across Christians who don’t actively take part in Lent each year, which is fine; no one mandates that Lent be observed from year to year. Yet those that choose to do so often give up something like meat or chocolate or coffee or… well, in my experience it’s generally been food-related. And that seems fine, too.

As you might imagine, though, this year–the one in which I’m “fasting from fashion”–I’m approaching Lent in a bit of a different light. In truth, this year is something of a perpetual Lent for me, wherein I’ve removed clothing consumption from my life in order to better understand who I am apart from my wardrobe, particularly in relationship to God.

So as Lent quickly approached this March, I actually greeted it with a strange familiarity, almost as if I said to myself, “Oh, Lent? Yeah, got that covered.” It took me a few weeks to recognize how terribly I was missing the point.

So Lent, as I understand it, is meant to commemorate the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness. There he fasted, prayed, and gave himself to preparation for the purposes and mission of God. Furthermore, in the wilderness he was tempted with desires of the human heart: comfort, prosperity, power, etc. After forty days and nights in the desert, Jesus was starved and vulnerable, reduced to a shell of the man he was before. And in that state, he saw most clearly the will and light of the One who loves and governs all.

Hence, Lent, as I take it, is to somehow signify, to some extent, our willingness to become less of who we are with the comforts and luxuries of daily life and more of our genuine and given self.

The more I think about it, the more of Lent’s significance begins to shine through to me. Thomas Keating, the great Trappist monk and spiritual teacher, once wrote that Lent is a time of “confrontation with the false self.” His idea was that in our normal day-to-day, we are prone to adding innumerable things to our lives to make living more bearable, to keep up with whatever standards we’ve set for ourselves, to better adhere to cultural norms. In short, to diminish our vulnerability as people, we add layers of stuff to ward off the painful bits of real life.

The problem is this, though: when we add lots and lots of stuff to ourselves and our lives, under all those layers we forget who and what we really are. Under the clothes, the food, the house, the car, the job, the roles, the political ideologies, etc, we forget that our true self is covered up by mistaken impressions of what makes us… us.

If this is starting to sound a little familiar, namely to those of you who read the ODP blog with any frequency, then you’re seeing what I’m getting at. Lent isn’t just some tired old ritual where we are to give something up because religion somehow mandates that we endure adversity every now and again. But it rather urges an immediate confrontation that we can have when one or more of our false layers are removed and we are left to stare down who we are apart from the self we have constructed.

This has been a major lesson for me in my “fast from fashion,” since for as long as I can remember in my own life, fashion has been a thick blanket I’ve thrown upon my life to keep from confronting who I am separate from what I can look like. In a sense, it’s kind of interesting how our clothes not only cover our nakedness, but construct who we want to be in the eyes of the world. Thus in so many ways they can become extra layers covering our true selves.

The intent of Lent then, is precisely what I’m after through ODP. I desire to rid myself of false layers and impressions and discover the more-true self hiding beneath.

Women who color their hair often say when asked about their natural hair color, “I wouldn’t even know, I’ve been coloring it since I was a young woman.” It’s a curious thing how we’re so accustomed to that which is not really who we are. Yet opportunities like Lent provide us a chance to begin to know ourselves a little better; to confront the aspects of our life that may have a hand in forming that “false” self. I, for one, desire to know my true self apart from fashion and to the greatest extent that I can.

What are the “layers” in your life that contribute to the sense of your “false” self? What could you remove so as to reveal who you really are? And can a period like Lent be a good opportunity for discerning just what that true self looks like?

The breathtaking view from the dinner mentioned below — Oak View, CA

This is a much more personal post, shared with the hope that it may encourage you to move beyond the walls restricting your own passion for change to delve further into the world of hard, messy, exciting, experimental decisions.

In the months leading up to ODP and during the two months its been underway, many with concern in their voices and an attempt to sound non-judgmental have asked, “How did this happen?” as if to suggest, “How did it get this far?” By “this,” I of course mean my wanting to take such drastic measures to address some critical problems I was perceiving in my life and the world. Indeed, the questions I’ve gotten have run the gamut – “Why such extreme measures?” “Is your purpose even worth doing something this strange?”

It’s funny because I can understand where a lot of these questions come from—it wasn’t so long ago that something like ODP would have seemed extreme to me, too. Yet in the last couple years I’ve begun settling into more intentional, “smaller” ways of living life. Coming through my 20s, this seemed like the natural, adult thing to do. That said, I’ve quickly realized this is far from the case, mainly based on how often I’ve come across those who think I’m somehow eluding adulthood by making such “radical” life decisions.

As I was saying, after two full months, wearing one dress no longer feels that extreme. Russ is inclined to remind me every so often that deciding to wear one dress every day for a year in protest is, in fact, a pretty radical choice. But sometimes I worry – is the radical nature of what I’m doing actually turning people off to the message I’m hoping to spread?

Don’t get me wrong, I can deal with people’s judgmental concern. But I also don’t want people labeling ODP as just some “phase” that will ultimately pass, as if I’m in the midst of some awkward experimental time of adolescence. I’m a 26-year-old woman. I’m relatively settled with a family and a place and a people that are important to me. I work multiple jobs that support us. And most importantly, especially as it concerns OPD, I’m trying to make responsible, bigger-picture choices for my life and family.

This is not a phase.

Quite simply, I’d like to receive a little more respect than that. While I’m on the younger end of the adulthood spectrum, and slowly gaining in wisdom, if “growing up” somehow means fading into the landscape of what’s considered normal behavior by the greatest amount of people, then count me out.

What makes it weird to take a stand? To be different? To begin swimming upstream? And why are people castigated or lampooned for doing it?

But those questions pale in comparison, at least in my opinion, to this one: Why is the draw to be like everyone else so extraordinary? How does it exert such a force upon the most fervent passions we have for doing what’s right?

Recently (as in before ODP), I’ve not been one to step up and step out, so to speak. But if you’re curious to learn how I’ve ended up here, wearing one dress for one year and making the conscious decision to have my voice heard, I’ll tell you.

My “gateway drug” to living beyond being “normal” was food. More specifically, it was the ethics of food. In truth, I really just jumped on the bandwagon a couple years ago of asking where in the world my food was coming from, questioning everything from the way my food was produced to how the animals it came from were being treated. “Do no harm” is the ethical imperative of every good therapist and I began to understand this in terms of the food I consumed. Russ and I became very serious about vegetarianism, about migrant workers’ rights, about eating “whole” foods, etc (and that’s not intended to mean food from Whole Foods, mind you).

We had our food under control. We were becoming responsible consumers. We were “voting” with our dollars to change the system, so they say.

Then along came my inspiration for greater and more radical change. Last summer, Russ had the opportunity to live out in Oak View, California with Ched Myers and Elaine Enns of the Bartimaeus Institute. Ched and Elaine are theologians, activists, surfers, gardeners, nourishers of the soul and makers of mean tacos – all around amazing people. I came out to California to visit for a week while Russ was there.

One night out on the patio where Ched and Elaine eat their dinner before a gorgeous, sprawling mountain vista, they brought something up to us that was truly piercing. They asked why people of our generation seemed so jazzed and active in food politics while many of the other pertinent justice issues of our time don’t receive the same sort of fervor.

By this time I had become familiar with the sort of activism Ched and Elaine were apart of, and quite honestly, the protests they led or participated in were incredibly unsettling to me. Even more honestly, the thought of being criticized (or even arrested!) for doing what I thought was right and standing up for justice—as Ched and Elaine have devoted their lives to doing—scared me. It made me nervous to know just how much their roars of outcry at injustice trumped my mumbled meows of what passed across my plate.

Although at first I felt quite justified in how neat and orderly my food awareness was, under the surface something was beginning to quicken in my soul.

I went home and back to my life, but I was different. In the various corners of my thought, I started recognizing the places I could begin speaking out on issues that mattered to me, like sustainability and the state of the fashion world. And though I’m not ready to roar, with ODP I’m beginning to attempt to meow a bit louder, and in front of a few more people.

I was ready to protest, to be bold, to be radical, to seem strange, to be perceived as extreme. Though my gateway drug was food politics, my catalyst was a relationship with two very inspiring individuals. And now, I only anticipate using my voice more and making it louder.

Have you had an experience like mine? What stage are you in at present when it comes to speaking up about justice issues that are important? What challenges have you encountered? Can you identify a gateway or catalyst present in your life?