Have a Daughter? Irene Chen's Advice Is Must-Read.
Plus, a wake-up moment for Leah and great #ChanelCore jackets from J.Crew and, drum roll, Abercrombie.
Picking Contentment Doesn’t Just Work Here and There
My life outlook was challenged, which shook me right up for the better. Words by Leah Melby Clinton
My husband challenged me the other day, when we were having one of the conversations that has always passed as a version of a “fight” in our relationship.
“You’re always talking about the idea of radical contentment and how much you live that way, but sometimes I don’t feel like you’re content at all.”
That really made me stop in a way that his responses or counters in these moments typically don’t. In emotionally charged back-and-forths, the default is often leading with your heart, speaking immediately with whatever feels natural, regardless of whether that’s right. I hate arguing—the raised voices, the quickened heart rate, the way no one seems interested in actually considering the other point of view as much as taking time to share their own.
Even though it seems like the direct opposite of what’s supposed to be happening in those types of conversations, I’ve found both parties tend to wrap it up when they’re too exhausted, or frustrated, to talk more. Rarely is there a significant perspective shift.
Yet this challenge to the idea of contentment, something I have talked about again and again here, in writing, and with him and other people close to me, made me stop and think.
If I’ve found such clarity and power in framing moments around the idea of contentment, not happiness, why do I occasionally let that filter fall to the wayside?
In practice, I’ve thought about it most in terms of activities and experiences, not objects. The whole idea of replacing “am I happy?” with “am I content?” has been a simple-enough swap when it comes to considering where I’m at in a moment of time. In terms of my motherhood experience, it’s a been a game-changer, allowing me to understand and accept that while I’m not wildly happy when I’m sitting on a bench at my toddler’s swim lesson or going along with a vague Barbie storyline under the demand to “make her talk!”, I am quite content.
The idea has been harder for me when it comes to stuff, the physical things that make up the framework of our day-to-day lives. I look at the landscaping in the backyard, the scuffed floors in our basement, the weird paint color in our powder bath (an odd pea-green-meets-yogurt that I can’t understand the former owners picking), and I see something I want to be more beautiful. Not for others or to impress anyone, but to enrich my aesthetic experience in the everyday.
There’s nothing wrong with that (as I try, again and again, to explain to my husband). I think we all sit on a spectrum of beauty, where some don’t even clock the external trappings and others are set to be hypersensitive to the shapes and lines and colors around them. I’ve always thought that so long as my fixes aren’t huge cost investments—I’m talking wallpapering a bathroom, not a renovation—it’s fine. But the conversation with my husband, which perhaps not surprisingly took place midway through a home project, made me reconsider.
The freedom I’ve found in chasing contentment, not happiness, and the positive way it’s affected how I live my life would only multiply if I could apply it to my physical things, too. If I can rethink the way I look at my home and wardrobe, might it rewire my relationship with consumerism and always wanting something more or prettier or better?
As much as I hate admitting he’s right, he is, kind of. I haven’t been all that content when it comes to looking at the clothes hanging in my closet or our kitchen cabinets, even when I absolutely should be. They’re all fine, if not better than fine—and by striving to make them better, I’m putting myself right on that hamster wheel I so giddily stepped off of when I found the “content” trick.
My closet and my cabinets and my powder bathroom could always be better or prettier or chicer or more expensively finished—but I’m either content or not with them, black or white, yes or no. And for the sake of my sanity (and my wallet), I’m taking his words to heart and starting to live the contentment I pledge so earnestly.
Borrowing from Leah’s #ChanelCore, pretty spring things, and Easter finds.
I’ve been fully influenced by Leah’s #ChanelCore vibe and on the hunt for my own tweedy jacket to wear with jeans and ballet flats. I just clicked purchase on this one and can’t wait to wear it with slightly distressed denim and a white tank. (It's also currently on sale.)
I recently added the gorgeous Asscher cut earrings to my collection of Dorsey, and suddenly I’m an earring girl. As with all Dorsey, the quality and shine is brilliant, and they make everything I wear feel that much more elegant.
While on the hunt for sweet Easter and Passover dresses for my daughters, I landed on these pretty sundresses. I adore the Hillhouse Home pieces for adults, but there’s something more adorable about the tiny details on the dresses for little girls—the smocking and the bright florals. They’re girlie, but not fussy; special without being too precious.
I’ve been on the fence about the mesh ballet flat trend, but this take on a classic silhouette in a cool neutral feels like my speed. They’re also well made but not so expensive that you’ll regret spending money on them a few seasons from now.
After a few years of Easters spent away with family, we’re waking up in our own home for this one, and I wanted to mark the occasion with monogrammed baskets that we’ll use again. I love that the size of these means they’ll be easy for my girls to tote on their own. xHannah
Every good conversation starts with a single question. Whether it's wondering how, why, or what, it's the place we jump off from—and into the moments where all the good stuff happens.
As part of a larger story coming in issue no. 8, Hannah asked Irene Chen, founder of Parker Thatch, about the challenges and the lessons she’s learned raising her daughter.
Hannah: I'm always looking to women a couple steps ahead of me and how they’re raising their children, particularly their daughters.
It’s impossible to distill an entire relationship with your daughter, but if you had to think about a philosophy or something that has guided you at the forefront of your relationship, something you've had on your mind as you've raised your daughter, is there something you come back to, a truth or a tentpole that you think about in terms of what's most important?
Irene: I do. Girls are met with so much pressure—more so than I think when [I was] growing up, because we never had all these pressures from social media, and what things should look like and what you should be like. The main thing that guides me is how to just do things and be imperfectly perfect. Life is not perfect, and that [idea] takes the fear out of trying things.
My [daughter] is now done with the college application process. It’s been a real learning experience. She's going to college, and we’re really excited about that. But I think that kind of [approach that says], “Hey, you know what, let's just jump into it. It doesn't have to be perfect and it might be really messy” has always helped me when we're trying to give her advice.
You don't need to be perfect, just try it. That's where I find you do try it and take little steps.
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