There was a time when I wore a feather boa as though it were a tiny necklace. Flamboyant was my inner directive. My style is somewhat tamer these days, although leopard print remains my love language.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the art of overdoing it. Who decides what’s too much?
Coco Chanel is famously credited with advising women to look in the mirror before leaving home and remove one accessory. I know a woman who wholeheartedly disagrees.
The Art of Overdoing It
“More is more, darling,” she declares.
She’s a self-described maximalist who dresses fabulously, often extravagantly, and wears it all beautifully. Her husband waits until she’s chosen her outfit before selecting his own. He likes to complement what she’s wearing. Together, they’re a wonderfully coordinated pair.
I’ve never considered myself a minimalist or a maximalist. As I see it, I’m a just-enough-ist, although what constitutes enough changes with my mood and the moment.
Years ago, a beloved teacher visited Gary’s home and then mine. She suggested that both needed more warmth and accessories. We had accessories. We had artwork thoughtfully arranged. What we didn’t have was visual clutter.
Her idea of just enough was more than ours.
Enough isn’t a number. It’s a feeling.
A felt sense. Personal, subjective, and subject to change. What feels right today may not feel right tomorrow, and what suits one occasion may be entirely different for another.
The Last Little Thing
My new love of painting has given me another playground for exploring this. I build layers of color, texture, and dimension, wondering whether the next addition will enhance the work or overwhelm it.
When I’ve gone too far, I might paint over it, add another layer, or take the work somewhere unexpected. Sometimes the answer to too much is more!
I’m learning to ask the work itself, What do you want? Would one last little thing give you oomph? Or are you fabulous just as you are?
And I suspect the same is true of getting dressed, decorating a home, or creating anything that reflects our personal taste.
Less is more. More is more. Or maybe neither.
Sometimes the last little thing is one thing too many. Sometimes it’s the very thing that makes everything sing.
And sometimes, darling, it’s a feather boa.