I’ve had plenty of arguments with my teenaged children, but never about clothing. That’s because I have only one clothing rule for them—well, actually it only applies to my daughter, not my son. The purpose of the rule is to keep her safe and it is this—she cannot wear anything that I decide is too skimpy.

Having only one rule means that a) I can never be accused of being overly restrictive (at least in this arena), and b) my kids get to learn what styles they like and dislike. I do offer my opinion about quality and fit, but my kids are entitled to ignore me if they want to.

I’m relaxed about their clothing choices partly because the majority of what they wear comes from thrift stores and costs next to nothing, but also because there are so many other battles that are so much more important. They pick out something made out of cheap material? The price is three dollars, so who cares? They’ll learn something about fabric when it develops pills after they wear it two times. They want to wear only black? Gee, so do a majority of women who work in the fashion industry. They’re drawn to a pair of pants that I think is unflattering? Why is this my business?

Teens need to make good choices about things that matter like sex and drugs. They won’t learn how to best decide the important stuff if they aren’t allowed to choose the inconsequential stuff. The clothes just don’t matter.

Award season is here and so are the shows featuring fashion editors who critique celebrity outfits. So-and-so’s hair looked shellacked, somebody else’s shoes were so last year, and (I love this the best) that celebrity always plays it safe and needs to try something more daring. Of course she’s playing it safe, I say to myself, she wants to blend in so that you don’t pick at her.

I believe that this institutionalized sniping is a kind of bullying that creates a general fear of taking chances when we get dressed. If celebrities get criticized for their clothing choices even though they have teams of people helping them to look so fantastic, the rest of us must be getting it wrong all the time. Better to just blend in and never try anything new. When the fashion industry tells us to wear purple this season, better to just wear it. This is great for the industry, but very bad when it comes to our personal style because style is fearless. It means going out on a limb with your clothing, and taking your own counsel when it comes to what looks good on you instead of just dressing like everybody else.

Those of us who joyfully wear a secondhand wardrobe are less willing to follow fashion dictates. You have to rely on your own creativity when the items in your closet come from various sources and time periods. 

I often tape awards shows and watch them in fast-forward to see the pretty dresses. And I also sometimes watch the sniping shows that follow. They give me the chance to see the dresses all over again and then yell at the TV when I think the commentators are getting mean.

The other day a friend of mine asked me what she should do with her daughter’s wedding dress. The marriage was brief and unhappy. The daughter doesn’t want the dress, of course, and the mom, my friend, also doesn’t want it, but it’s been hanging in her closet for years now. She’s been hoping to give it to somebody who could really use it.

I suggested that she donate it to a thrift store, where lots of people can try it on. It’s much more likely that someone who needs the dress, loves it, and just happens to fit into it will discover it there than if it stays in her closet. She can get those bad memories out of her house, get a tax deduction and provide the thrift store of her choice with something that they can sell.

It seems that every time I go into a bookstore, I see another volume about how to start off with a basic tee shirt and then slice, dice, knot and sometimes sew it into a one-of-a-kind garment. Of course, this is the sort of project that lends itself beautifully to the secondhand wardrobe because the thrifts (and maybe even your own closet) are loaded with give-away tees.

My favorite book that takes the reader step-by-step through the slice-‘n-dice process is called Generation T: 108 Ways to Transform a T-Shirt, by Megan Nicolay. She shows the reader how to turn an oversized, boxy tee with advertising slogans and logos into a decorative addition to your wardrobe. So grab those tees that are from the company picnic, your last 10k run or your neighborhood hardware store opening, consult with Megan and make them into a little halter top, skirt, or maybe even a wedding gown.