Cashmere, Ecru, and the Discipline of Becoming
There is a particular kind of quiet that settles in during transitional weather. Not winter anymore, not fully spring. The air carries a softness, but it hasn’t committed. The light lingers longer in the evening yet still feels delicate in the morning. Everything feels suspended — as if the season itself is deciding who it wants to be next.
I’ve always been drawn to this space between. It mirrors growth. The recalibration before acceleration. The moment when you are no longer who you were, but not yet fully arrived at who you’re becoming. And I find that I dress accordingly.
Right now, that dressing begins with cashmere. The Row’s cashmere top has become a kind of anchor for me in this in-between season. It isn’t loud. It doesn’t rely on embellishment or overt detail. It is cut cleanly at the shoulder, falls with intention along the torso, and carries just enough weight to feel grounded without feeling heavy. The fabric does what the best materials do — it holds warmth quietly.
There is restraint in that design. Cashmere, when executed with precision, doesn’t beg for attention. It doesn’t need contrast or layering tricks to justify its presence. It rests on proportion, line, and the confidence of subtraction.
And that’s what transitional dressing demands.
In winter, a coat can carry an entire look. In summer, skin and ease do the work. But in between seasons, your silhouette must hold itself. There’s nowhere to hide. The fabric is visible. The line is visible. The intention — or lack of it — is visible. That’s why I pair the knit with Toteme’s ecru wide-leg trousers.
Ecru is a color I return to often. It absorbs light rather than reflecting it sharply. It softens the overall palette without losing strength. It feels calm without being passive. The wide leg introduces movement — not theatrical volume, but quiet length. The fabric falls deliberately, creating a line that elongates without exaggeration. When I walk, it moves. When I sit, it settles. It feels architectural in the most understated way.
Together, the pieces create balance.
Softness above.
Structure below.
Texture above.
Line below.
This is not an outfit assembled for attention. It is an outfit assembled for alignment.
There was a time in my life when I layered more. Structured blazers over fine knits. Belts that defined the waist sharply. Stronger contrasts. Louder accessories. I was building then — building credibility, building authority, building something visible. Now, I build differently. Now, I refine.
Motherhood changes your relationship with clothing in ways that are subtle but profound. You become acutely aware of comfort, but not in a careless way. You want pieces that move with you. That hold you when you’re carrying more — physically and emotionally. That don’t require constant adjustment. Cashmere does that. It warms without constricting. It softens without slouching.
There is something grounding about wrapping yourself in fabric that feels considered. It creates a sense of steadiness before the day begins. My mornings are not chaotic, but they are full. There are rhythms to follow, energy to manage, transitions to navigate. Transitional dressing mirrors that — it requires adaptability without losing structure.
This pairing — The Row and Toteme — allows me to move from early morning quiet at home to focused strategy sessions to stepping into the city without changing my energy. It carries across contexts. And that, to me, is power. True authority rarely announces itself loudly. It is felt. It is consistent. It is grounded.
In the same way, this palette does not shout. Cream against soft camel tones. No harsh contrast. No competing statements. The restraint becomes the statement.
There is maturity in knowing when to subtract.
When I think about the work I do — helping founders and executives recalibrate how they are seen — I often come back to this same principle. Most visibility problems are not solved by adding more. More press. More content. More noise.
They are solved by clarifying structure. Transitional dressing operates the same way. You edit down to essentials. You rely on silhouette. You trust proportion. You let the fabric carry the story.
The Row’s cashmere top holds its shape without rigidity. Toteme’s trousers extend the line without exaggeration. There is harmony between them. Neither overwhelms the other. That harmony is what I want more of in this season — in wardrobe, in work, in pace.
Transitional light teaches patience. It asks you to observe before reacting. Transitional dressing asks you to consider before layering. I find myself drawn to neutral tones not because they are safe, but because they create space. Visual space. Mental space. Emotional space.
In a world that rewards speed and volume, restraint feels almost radical. Cream. Camel. Cashmere. Line. There is nothing accidental here.
Even the choice of wide leg over slim cut feels intentional. It allows for movement. It creates presence without aggression. It signals confidence without tension. And perhaps that’s what this season represents for me.
Not urgency. Not striving. But becoming. Becoming more refined in how I show up. More deliberate in how I speak. More thoughtful in how I structure both business and life.
The beauty of a piece like this cashmere top is that it doesn’t date itself. It doesn’t belong to a single season or trend cycle. It will feel just as relevant next year as it does today. The same is true of a well-cut wide-leg trouser. Timelessness is not accidental. It is constructed through discipline.
Transitional weather reveals the pieces that truly belong in your wardrobe. There is no heavy outer layer to distract. No bold summer palette to carry momentum. The foundation stands alone.
I appreciate that exposure. I appreciate the honesty of it. This is an outfit that doesn’t perform. It holds. And in this season — in this in-between space — that feels exactly right.
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