The Art of Dressing Alone

As she left her marriage behind, a muumuu became symbolic of this writer’s newfound freedom.

- SHAYLA LAWSON

The art of newly single dressing is a Law of Dianes-Diane Keaton, Diahann Carroll, Princess Di, Diana Rossnotoriously untethered icons whose effortless glam ranges from intellectual chic to gala spectacular. No matter the look, the theme is always clear: I did this all myself. I don't need a partner.

I wanted to look like a mid-40s divorcée vacationing in Maine who owned a drawer full of designer sunglasses that some soon-to-be-ex was still paying for. I wanted to be drenched in unwrinkled bleached linen from head to heel. But I was 31. I'd comfortably settled into the status of my married wardrobe-a collection of skinny jeans and dinner host dresses and a life I thought was finally beginning; I was not prepared for this new ending. And definitely not new clothes. I was living in Bloomington, Indiana. We had a T.J.Maxx and one boutique. So I settled for a bold substitute: the muumuu.

The muumuu is the epitome of rich-auntie chic. I'd learned this from my mother. For years, she and every other rich-auntie-vibes adult I knew stumbled around the house on weekends in a big square sheet of fabric with two seams, prancing around, turning pancakes, listening to Patti LaBelle.