What You Wear When Your Taste Finally Slows Down
There was a time when my taste moved fast. Too fast, actually.
I’d save screenshots of outfits I thought I needed to become. I’d buy things because they represented a version of myself I hadn’t fully grown into yet. Loud pieces, sharp edges, colors that wanted to be noticed. I thought taste was supposed to keep up with whatever version of me felt newest.
At some point, that urgency disappeared.
Not because I “figured myself out,” but because I stopped needing clothes to explain me. My taste didn’t disappear — it slowed down. And that changed everything.
When your taste slows down, you start choosing differently. You reach for things that don’t rush you. Pieces that feel familiar even when the day doesn’t. You stop asking what something says and start noticing how it feels to exist in it.
I realized this one morning without meaning to. I was late, slightly tired, and not in the mood to curate anything. I grabbed the same hoodie I always do — not because it was exciting, but because it didn’t interrupt my thoughts. No mirror check. No adjustment. Just something that belonged to the day as much as I did.
That’s when I understood the shift.
Slower taste isn’t about minimalism or maturity. It’s about comfort without compromise. About wearing something that doesn’t require maintenance, approval, or a reason. Clothes stop being a decision and start becoming background.
And honestly, that’s when they start lasting.
I used to think repeating outfits meant stagnation. Now it feels like trust. Trust in how something fits, how it holds up, how it lets me move through errands, long drives, quiet nights, and days that don’t deserve a highlight reel.
There’s a certain peace in owning clothes that don’t beg to be replaced.
I’ve noticed that the pieces I keep now all share something in common. They’re not tied to a moment or a phase. They don’t age badly. They don’t belong to a trend cycle I’ll cringe at later. They exist comfortably in the background of my life.
That’s probably why I’ve grown more attached to understated, emotionally neutral pieces — the kind you forget you’re wearing until you realize you’ve had a good day in them. Brands that lean into that feeling tend to stand out quietly. I came across G59 Merch during this phase, not because I was looking for something new, but because it fit into what I already was.
No announcement. No shift. Just something that made sense.
When your taste slows down, you stop dressing for an audience. You stop collecting clothes as proof of progress. You stop needing every piece to mean something. And ironically, that’s when what you wear starts to feel more personal.
It’s not about dressing down. It’s about dressing honestly.
I don’t think slower taste means your style disappears. It just becomes less reactive. Less performative. More rooted in how you actually live — not how you imagine yourself being seen.
These days, I value clothes that can disappear with me into a day. Pieces that don’t ask questions, don’t demand energy, don’t require a mood. Things that stay consistent while everything else keeps changing.
Maybe that’s what slowing down really looks like.
Not caring less — just caring differently.
