It started innocently enough. There I was, scrolling through my feed, bombarded by fashion gurus, stylists, and well-meaning influencers all preaching the same thing: You NEED a pair of tailored trousers. A classic. A must-have. The backbone of an elegant, effortless wardrobe.
In this new part-time office job, where I sit for long hours, I was craving another pair of high-waisted loose trousers, like the black ones I have, to easily ride to the office on my bike and be sitting for hours.
And so, I caved.
I found the perfect pair—or so I thought. They were high-waisted, wide-legged, in a beautiful shade of grey and made in a superb fabric, all the checks were ticked. On the hanger, they exuded sophistication. On Pinterest boards, they screamed effortless chic. In my mind, I was about to become one of those people—the ones who throw on a simple white shirt, tuck it in ever so nonchalantly, and look like they just stepped off a Vogue editorial.
I even went to the shop and tried them on. They fit perfectly. But I did not make the purchase.
And like the wardrobe edit, freaky/scared to overload my wardrobe as I did in the past person that I am these days, I carefully thought about it for about two weeks. I could not stop thinking about THE trousers.
After carefully considering the right inspiration for them to style them, I ordered them online.
And so they arrived.
But when I try them on again with my clothes, in my environment, moving around in the house with them. Something was truly off.
Instead of looking like a Parisian muse, I looked like a lost office worker from the early 2000s. Or like I borrowed my grandpa's trousers, and I was trying to make them work for me. They swallowed me whole and turned my usual energy into something that felt… borrowed. Like I was playing dress-up in someone else’s life. No matter how I styled them—heels, sneakers, belts, cropped tops—they just weren’t me. And I hated them for it.
So back they went.
And here’s the thing—this wasn’t years ago, back when I was still figuring out my style. No. This was recent. Even as a fashion consultant, someone who preaches personal style over trends, I still fell for it. The idea that some wardrobe pieces are "universal" is so deeply ingrained that even I momentarily believed it. It was humbling, frustrating, and honestly, kind of funny.
The worst part? It wasn’t just a pair of trousers I returned; it was the realization that I had bought into a lie.
The idea is that a single, universal list of "classics" applies to everyone. That fashion has a rigid set of rules we all must abide by. That my personal style—what actually makes me feel good—should take a backseat to what’s deemed essential by someone else.
And here’s the kicker: this happens all the time. Social media is a powerful force. It makes us feel like we’re missing something, like our wardrobes are inadequate like we’ll finally be stylish if we just buy that one last thing. But in reality? True style isn’t about filling our wardrobes with what’s trending or what’s labelled as "classic." It’s about knowing who you are, what you love, and what makes you feel amazing every single time you wear it.
So, if you’ve ever stared at a so-called wardrobe essential and thought, Why don’t I love this?—you’re not alone. And if you’re ready to ditch the one-size-fits-all approach to fashion and finally discover what truly suits you, I will be waiting for you.
My Style Breakthrough sessions are ready for February in the web and designed to help you uncover your unique style DNA.
No more forced classics, no more impulse regrets, just a wardrobe that feels like you. Because the only essential piece in your wardrobe? The one that makes you feel like your best self.
Ready to find yours? Let’s make it happen.
¡Cuánta razón!