It’s said you should dress for the job you want and the life you live. Well, my closet reflects my disillusion that I live in Paris or Provence, rather than where I really reside; a small town outside of Portland, Oregon as a stay-at-home mom. Regardless of the local popularity of athleisure draping many women my age, it’s a look in which I’m quite uncomfortable and gravitate towards something a little dressier.  It wasn’t until my 40’s that I owned a personal style that I wear confidently. While an outfit can be considered just a set of clothes, its impact holds more weight than many like to admit for its potential frivolous reputation. Personally, I approach my day differently when I feel thoughtfully dressed.  I strive to not let my busyness reflect in my appearance as both my grandmother and mother instilled the mindset in me that one’s presentation is a sign of respect to those around you.

Like for many women around the world, Parisian street style is my muse.  They own the idea of a capsule wardrobe, another concept I was taught at a young age. Quality over quantity is key and taught me to own good basics and knowing how to elevate them through accessories.  Examples are quality denim or slacks, tops and sweaters made from sustainable material with timeless silhouettes, and shoes that will last years. The fun part is the accessories. I’m known for my weakness for jewelry, handbags, and as of the last few years, scarves.

Scarves vary in all shapes, sizes, patterns, and materials. Being on the petite side, larger scarves can look overwhelming on me, and as a result, end up feeling fussy. While I like to air on the side of dressy’ish, I avoid fussy. This is where the twilly comes into play, which is a long and narrow silk scarf. Hermès invented this in the 1930’s and while a twilly by no means needs to be Hermès, or designer for that matter, its versatility quickly brings down the cost per wear.

On a recent summer trip to France, my former French roommate and I met up with both of our families. Her style reflects her culture, naturally exuding that French je ne sais quoi. We met up in Lyon, where we lived together while studying. When she walked into the restaurant for dinner, her black dress effortlessly flowed behind her. It was simply sophisticated, but the real statement was the Hermès, orange-hued twilly wrapped around her wrist.  It was the perfect pop. Even my husband remarked on his fondness of the unexpected accessory. Apparently, so much so, he surprised me with an Hermès twilly on his return from a business trip, later that year.

On our next trip to Paris, I acquired another twilly at Le Bon Marché. I’ve worn both frequently: on my wrist, around my neck, or wrapped on a handbag. I love the subtle statement it makes no matter how it’s worn. Every time I style it, it not only holds a sentimental reminder of it being gifted, or souvenir from a trip to Paris, but makes me feel more polished, which directly affects my mindset and reflects how I present myself.