Dear Style Diary, It's December 3, 2023.

Today I'm thinking about being 'in the style zone', my Instagram break, and why I'm always complaining about winter shoes.

Every now and then, although not as often as I’d like, I get ‘in the zone’, where matters of style just magically fall into place. I don’t have to think about what to wear, I put on clothes that I’m happy with, and I somehow just know what works for me and what doesn’t. I don’t buy stupid stuff when I’m in the zone, but great things that I get a lot of wear out of. I’ve decided (oh so many times) that I will never buy anything when I’m not in the zone. Rationally speaking I should recognize where I’m at mentally when I’m tempted to buy something, but somehow I slip out of the zone, I don’t even notice it, and almost everything to do with style becomes a bit of a struggle again. Alas, the zone is fleeting.

Recently while ‘in the zone’: I layered this Watanabe knit with a shirt and felt fabulous.

I’ve been in the style zone for the past couple of weeks. I’ve felt really good in my clothes and examined the contents of my wardrobe with a different type of clarity. I haven’t been tempted to buy anything silly, and I’ve broken my No Buy tactically, for a couple of amazing finds, like a gray Watanabe layering piece I found at the thrift store. But yesterday I went to a fleamarket with my sister and left behind an amazing wool and cashmere column skirt that actually fit me (they never do). I recognized in the moment that this was a great find and I would wear the skirt a lot, but I began to hesitate for no reason and left without it. This might signal the end of being in the zone for me, for now. Oh well!

A few weeks ago I made a quiet return to Instagram. My IG break lasted three months, and until quite recently I thought that I would never be able to go back. I didn’t make a conscious decision about returning, but I just logged in one day and felt okay about it. IG still feels a little weird to me. It’s like an alternative reality, only that some aspects of it aren’t real at all, whereas others feel even more real than ‘real life’. All these people out there, real people, looking to connect with other people, and all of these curated, commercialized fragments of reality that are not real at all, exist side by side on IG. It’s a strange place.

I learned a lot from the break (mostly it comes down to how I want to spend my time) and as a result I’ve pruned the amount of accounts that I follow and I’m in the process of retraining my algorithm so that it works in my favor. I stopped following brands and influencers that trigger a sense of inadequacy in me, and began to follow more accounts that discuss vintage and historical fashion. I’d much rather look at 19th century gowns in my feed than current luxury brands that I couldn’t possibly afford.

Except for a story here or there, I haven’t returned to posting much on IG myself, and I’m not sure if I will get to that either. I dislike the pressure to be relevant and consistent on an app that’s designed to make me spend as much time on it as possible. I’ve abandoned the idea that I ought to keep up with the frantic pace that IG wants out of me, be it as a creator or as a scroller. I don’t work for IG, and I can use it in those moments when it serves me and I will choose to opt out when it doesn’t. I don’t quite know why it was so difficult for me to make the distinction before — maybe I was just too wrapped up in it to see clearly. So far my screen time hasn’t exploded and I haven’t felt the need to log in every spare moment. We’ll see how that goes, I guess.

Winter arrived in Southern Finland, with plummeting temperatures and plenty of snow. I love a proper winter. I know how to stay warm, and there’s nothing more beautiful than that pale, fragile light that mid-winter snow reflects in what feels like eternal darkness this time of the year. It’s not all good news though: winter comes with snow-packed, icy or slushy sidewalks that will stick around until late March. This is a severe complication for one’s footwear and if you are new to this newsletter or my IG, you might not yet be familiar with my severe distaste for modern winter shoes. I will complain about the sidewalks and the lack of good winter shoe options until spring.

Just this week I looked at some winter shoes in my size on Vestiaire Collective. Horror ensued. I know that winter means different things in different climates, but sandals, towering heels, strappy sandals, mules, Birkenstocks, sneakers and regular ankle boots with leather soles are just a really bad joke to me.

‘Winter shoes’ in my size on Vestiaire Collective.

The other end of the winter shoe spectrum on Vestiaire Collective is the padded, shapeless after-ski variety. Can you imagine wearing something like this every single day, for months, with your everyday clothes?

More ‘winter shoes’ in my size on Vestiaire Collective.

It amazes me that warm, functional and aesthetically pleasing winter shoes simply don’t seem to exist. My husband said to me recently that winter shoes just ought to be practical and that people don’t look for pretty shoes for winter — they just want to be warm. I disagree though, because I refuse to believe that I’m the only person on the planet who would like to wear beautiful shoes during the winter months. Seriously, who wants to wear ugly shoes 4-5 months out of the year? I don’t know anyone. I do know that beautiful winter shoes are possible, because we had them in the past.

Finland used to have a wide-ranging clothing and footwear industry that manufactured clothes and shoes for our climate. I often see Finnish-made, elegant warm winter boots with proper soles at thrift stores and flea markets, but sadly they are often so worn that they no longer look nice, and/or they are very rarely in my size. The sad reality is that most winter shoes on the market are now designed and made in places that are not in touch with what winter is. Warm winter shoes with proper traction are made for occasional winter holidays on the slopes while wearing thermal leggings rather than for people who live with winter half of the year.

So the struggle continues. As I’m drafting my wardrobe plan for 2024, I know what my primary goal is: to find real options for winter shoes. Until I get there, I will not stop complaining.