I Don’t Want a Damn “Capsule” Wardrobe — Minimalism vs. “Maximalism”

stories & musings
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Title graphic for Hillary Weiss blog post titled I Don't Want a Damn "Capsule" Wardrobe — Minimalism vs. “Maximalism”.

I don’t want a capsule anything.

The worshipful admiration of reduction as a status symbol bores me to death.

Soft, blank woods and all-white bedsheets and neutral beiges and entire closets all in one color and blank marble slabs where a kitchen counter should be, all with exactly one fern in the mix are sterile wealth signifiers I have absolutely 0 interest in.

Mind you – the world of fashion and style is an inherently wasteful one. I know that, and thoughtfully indulge accordingly.

But in a more perfect reality?

I Wanna Share My Dragon Hoard!

I still want my closet bursting with every color and texture so it brings me joy just to throw the doors open and run my hands over the fabric.

I want an entire room dedicated ONLY to shoes and bags, high brow and low brow, for every occasion and mood I can think of and then some.

I want so much jewelry that I could dig my hands into a pile and let gold and precious stones flow between my fingers like sand and STILL know the story and name of every piece.

I want everything I own to light up imaginations like fireworks, and to have so much that I “lend” people things that are just right for them with no expectation of return, only to see them sporting it years later with a guilty smile telling me they just couldn’t give it back, and they wear it all the time!

True Freedom Doesn’t Always Mean “Less”

I want to overwhelm your eyes, to be so dazzling I’m hard to look at. To have a home so covered in every inch of my aesthetic you’d know it was mine from 50 miles away.

I have no interest in impressing you with my restraint and curation.

I’d much rather shock you with my abundance and my chaos.

Not to “fill a hole inside me”, or whatever tedious assumptions are made about maximalism.

But to adorn my fullness and my happiness, loudly and publicly. And to allow myself every radically joyful stylistic expression I could ever wish to embody.

So give me excess.

Give me more than is necessary.

Give me too much.

Give me delightful things I love, spilling out of every drawer and closet and box, as full as my heart.

Freedom doesn’t always have to mean “less”.

Sometimes, it’s more.

Big Love,

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