Garden-wear
The style review that no one asked for: Dressing for farm chores.
When my husband and I first moved to our 10-acre property, I no doubt had some grand ideas. We’d build our barndominium, which would tidily contain our things while Kyle built the farm/business—his reason for moving Upstate (we met three days later). We’d build a mid-century ranch on the hill with a long, tree-covered driveway leading to the doorstep. I’d have chickens and goats and an orchard of fruit alongside the many rows of vegetables and flowers. And I’d dress like Meryl Streep in It’s Complicated while gardening, draped in light layers of linen.
Did I necessarily expect all of this to pan out? Of course not. I know what they say about those who assume, thank you. While we do have chickens, and the fruit bushes are currently in containers waiting to be planted, the barn is a hot mess, and the looming recession has caused us to cautiously pivot to building an addition rather than a house on the hill.
One incidental change that has been less feather-ruffling, however, is my wardrobe. It didn’t take long to realize that linen is always wrinkly and solid whites would be reserved for special occasions, despite the cottage-core reels on Instagram. I ended up wearing several not-so-special things I already owned over and over, and when I recognized I was doing this, built out my closet to contain more clothes like them. I wouldn’t say that I think through my daily outfits much—items hardly match, and Kyle often jokes that I look like I teach ornithology at a liberal arts college—but I somehow have gotten dressing for farm chores down to a system.
I could honestly have divided this into every category of attire, down to undergarments, but to streamline the process (and spare you from bra analysis—although, by all means, if you want my two cents, let me know), I grouped my thoughts into the upper (tops, outerwear, hats) and lower (pants, footwear) halves.
The upper half
It's been an offensively rainy spring in Upstate New York, with temperatures ranging from mid-forties to eighty degrees. One of the things this kind of spring (and, to be fair, fall) weather teaches us outdoor folk is that layering is your best friend. In early spring, which tends to still feel like winter, this means having various forms of outerwear. Other than an essential rain jacket (my pick, in a cheery yellow that’s no longer available), I like to have several vests on hand, preferably a tighter one that can be worn under said rain jacket and a looser one to go over sweaters or long-sleeved button-downs.
On that note, the loose button-down has become the single clothing item I rely on most, for two reasons: it carries me from early spring through late fall, and, more importantly, it is easy to quickly take off and put back on. A sweatshirt or hoodie provides a similar layer of warmth, but there is nothing worse than having to pull something over your head (which I likely have a hat atop) when you’re in the middle of seeding, planting, weeding, etc. I have amassed an ever-growing collection of button-downs that range from Kyle’s old, cozy flannels to weightless, barely-there weaves. It’s rare that I buy new clothing these days (the thrifting high is unmatched, in my opinion), so I most often nab button-downs in thrift stores or on Poshmark, searching for old (like, the older the better) L.L. Bean, Orvis, J.Crew, and so on.
Under a button-down, I’m almost always wearing something somewhat cropped, since my lower half is bound to be high-waisted (why yes, I am a millennial). I said I wasn’t going to get into bras, but, for now, know this: I hate them. I love a hardy tank top or a long-line bra (basically a tight, very cropped tank) so that I don’t have to layer a bra under a shirt (read: one less thing to put on in the morning). A cropped tank like this or this long-line bra are staples in my dresser. While I love a good tee, I hardly wear them outside because I need the button-down layer on top, and, if it gets warm enough to remove it, I simply don’t want a tee-shirt tan line. Sue me.
I couldn’t conclude this section without talking about hats. One of the main pieces of advice for those of us living with retinitis pigmentosa is to protect our eyes outside. For me, unless I’m seated or hardly moving, sunglasses present the problem of a darkened environment, which is already an RP struggle. Wearing a hat blocks harmful rays while not dimming my sight—and it protects my skin, to boot. My hat collection is growing even faster than my button-downs. I have endless baseball caps and half a dozen wide-brim hats that are easy to grab whenever I’m headed out to the fields. My most-used is this one from Terrain, which never seems to leave their website due to popularity.
The lower half
Seasons also play a big role in what I choose to wear on the bottom. If it’s cool out, I wear full-length pants, and have come to prefer a sort of swooshy, elastic-waistband style like these Koen’s from Prana. If it’s my favorite kind of weather—somewhere between 70 and 80 degrees and at least partly sunny—I wear shorts and the aforementioned tank with button-down layer, which will likely end up tied around my waist in the height of the day. On these days or warmer, when wearing shorts, I make sure to use sunscreen and bug spray, as I’m an unfortunate magnet and bites swell to the size of golf balls on my skin. As far as shorts go, I have forever been a fan of Patagonia Baggies with the five-inch inseam, as their boardshort-esque nature gives me peace of mind from water and dirt. I also have a bunch of old cut-off Levi’s and Wranglers that get the job done.
On the topic of footwear, I don’t have as much to say as you might expect. If it’s cold and/or wet, I turn to my Blundstone Chelsea boots. I know the price tag is a bit high, but I get more use out of these than any other shoe on earth; I’ve had my current Chelsea’s for at least eight years, and I promise you I’ll always own a pair. I won’t get into socks here, but wool or wool-blend are 100% worth it. If it’s warm or dry, I confess to wearing Crocs or just going barefoot to get some contact. I have toyed with expanding my collection to include these clogs from The Gardenheir and a pair of the ugly-but-beloved Keen Whispers (I swear by their Targhee Mid hiking boots and sometimes will use them when doing tough tasks like broad-forking), but haven’t pulled the trigger on either. If you have personal experience, please leave me a comment.
Thoughts on overalls
I feel this deserves its own small section. I’ve had people ask me if I wear overalls or what my favorite overalls are, and I hate to disappoint when I admit that I really don’t like wearing overalls when working on the farm. This honestly came as a surprise to me, as I had overalls for every occasion as a child—from khakis and jeans to corduroys and my favorite baby blue velvet pair. When I first started gardening, before I met Kyle, I had a pair of denim “shortalls” that I wore to my plot. Not only did everything in the chest pocket fall out when bending over, but going to the bathroom was an actual chore. It’s like taking off a one-piece swimsuit but worse, since you can’t just move the cloth of your swimsuit to the side if you’re desperate (call it TMI, but ladies will know what I mean). I do have a couple of long and a couple of short pairs of overalls in my closet, but I tend not to wear them when working for these reasons. If you truly want to wear overalls, you can overcome the pocket obstacle with this pair of Carhartt’s, which I appreciate for their chest zipper and also durability.
Like I said earlier, I tend not to put a lot of forethought into these outfits, mainly because no one besides Kyle is likely to see me in them. But generally, I tend to stick to a palette that is colorful but earth-toned—rust, deep turquoise, forest green, mustard yellow, dusty rose, and browns all tend to play well together. For this reason, you won’t find me in anything too bright or bold like fire engine red, fuchsia, or neons. At this point in my life, I can hardly remember the last time I purchased an item of clothing not conducive to working outside, which is kind of a relief for my wallet.
I want to know what you consider closet staples or no-go’s when working outdoors. Please let me know below, and I hope this was helpful!