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Today’s guest is stylist, writer, and creative consultant Fanny Adams of Always Overdressed. We connect over losing touch with our preppy roots while in art school, plus Fanny provides a bit more detail on her concept of the ‘Emotional Support Outfit.’

This episode touches on some tender topics—grief, body changes, and navigating personal style through it all. If you're having a tough week, know that we go there—but we also find some lightness and laughter by the end. Enjoy.

Episode Transcript

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

You're listening to Intuitive Style, where we believe that everyone has style. In conversation with fantastic guests, we explore how to tap into that intuition so we can dress authentically and live fully.

Today's guest is Fanny Adams, a stylist, writer, and creative consultant with nearly twenty years of experience in fashion. She's also an outfit repeater and the brains behind the Substack newsletter Always Overdressed. Fanny, welcome to the show.

Fanny: Thank you so much for having me. I'm excited to be here.

Maureen: It's nice to sit down and talk together. For anyone who hasn’t had a chance to read your column yet, can you share what got you started writing on the platform?

Fanny: It had been in the back of my mind for a few years, but what really prompted it wasn’t a happy reason. My dad died a year and a half ago. I not only lost my sense of self but also my sense of style. I had a lot of thoughts on grief—how it affects you inwardly and how it impacts your outward presentation.

I had this essay in my head for a few months. I was also looking to go out on my own as a stylist, and Substack felt like a nice complement to building my brand. That essay, combined with launching my website, got me out there.

Maureen: I'm genuinely sorry for your loss. How did the process of writing relate to your experience of grief?

Fanny: I had the honor of writing my dad’s obituary. That was my first experience writing to process loss, and it was really sad but meaningful. Last summer, while quietly building my Substack page and thinking about my first post, I made a promise to myself: I would get dressed every day.

Something as simple as putting on real clothes—not just sweats—became a way to work through grief. It gave me a small, manageable goal. Sometimes even the smallest tasks feel enormous when you’re struggling.

I started putting on what I call my "emotional support outfits"—simple, comforting clothes. Then I started documenting them. Some friends encouraged me to post on TikTok, so I did, mostly to hold myself accountable.

At night, I'd think about things I wanted to write about—not just grief, but other style topics. That’s how it all began.

Maureen: I love that. Having a small goal like getting dressed can give you confidence to do other things. Is that how it felt?

Fanny: Definitely. Getting dressed was the first step to getting the day started, then moving on to harder tasks. It also became a form of self-care.

During the year after my dad’s death, I gained weight. So part of the process was giving myself grace—finding clothes that felt and looked good enough for where I was at.

It helped me feel more presentable while also rediscovering pieces I loved. At one point, I realized, "I need new jeans." And that was okay. We’re allowed to gain or lose weight. Our bodies change all the time—monthly even.

So I gave myself permission to buy things that fit. That made the experience much more enjoyable.

Maureen: It can be hard to give ourselves permission to buy clothes that suit where we are now—especially when we’re trying to be mindful consumers. What did it change for you, having clothes that fit?

Fanny: I learned not to immediately get rid of clothes when my size changes, but I’m still guilty of it. Giving yourself permission to buy clothes that fit your current body is self-care and self-acceptance. It’s about meeting yourself where you are.

I’m a millennial. I grew up with specific body ideals, and I’ve worked really hard to unlearn them. But it’s tough when you’ve worked in fashion and retail. That pressure is everywhere. Why make it harder?

At one point, I bought jeans from Zara. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be this size, and they were a good, affordable option. Honestly, I now swear by Zara jeans—they did what I needed them to do. They helped me stay on track with this daily dressing practice.

Maureen: I saw you recently posted that you’d fallen off the dressing routine.

Fanny: Yeah, I’ve slipped a bit. It’s just life—nothing traumatic, just busy.

But last summer, those pieces really helped. They were a bridge. Over time, I’ve invested in higher-quality pieces that fit me now. But Zara jeans were the perfect in-between step. They helped rebuild my confidence.

Maureen: I really resonate with that. We all define mindful shopping differently. For me, my size is changing constantly right now.

My approach is to buy fewer items and wear them to death. That’s how I justify buying from places like Gap. I’ve tried more expensive, more ethical jeans, but they don’t fit the way I need—or they don’t carry my size.

We don’t need to defend our choices. What works at one moment might change in another. Right now, I’m buying Gap jeans. Not too many. I’ll wear them as long as I can, and one pair will become shorts for summer.

The reason I bring it up is because I’ve been feeling tender about some things I’ve read online—posts that unintentionally shame people for shopping certain brands.

When we’re already carrying heavy emotions—like grief or major body changes—we don’t need to add shame on top of that.

Fanny: Absolutely. I think there’s a lot of pressure put on consumers, and I don’t think it’s fair. It’s all about balance. Like, giving up plastic straws isn’t solving the environmental crisis, but it’s something I can do.

The same goes for how we get dressed. “High-low dressing,” for lack of a more current term, is a realistic way to shop. I don’t think it’s feasible—even if you’re a gazillionaire—to wear only designer or fully sustainable brands.

We all make trade-offs. I buy four Uniqlo t-shirts at a time. It’s not the most sustainable choice, and Uniqlo, while more responsible than other fast fashion brands, is still fast fashion. But those are the shirts that fit me best, and I wear them nearly every day.

I’m not going to spend $95 on a sustainable t-shirt that doesn’t fit or hold up the way I need. As consumers, we need to: shop for what fits and feels good, and do the best we can

We’re part of the system, but we’re not the sole cause. Our wallets matter, sure, and it’s important to think about where we shop. But it's unrealistic to expect everyone to wear only organic, sustainable clothes—especially when you factor in size and price point.

We need to be gentler with ourselves and each other, especially when we have a platform. We're already our own worst critics. Adding judgment from peers, writers, or creators only makes things worse.

Maureen: I really appreciated your note on Substack about not feeling the joy of getting dressed right now. I related to that. Sometimes getting dressed is self-care, and sometimes it’s not. Sometimes, it’s the hardest part of the day.

When we’re not distracted—when we’re alone in our room choosing an outfit—that’s when all the feelings we’ve been avoiding can bubble up. It’s not always about the clothes, but they can be the trigger.

So hearing that from someone like you, who’s always overdressed and who works in fashion, helps bring balance. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to not always feel excited about getting dressed.

Fanny: Thank you. Part of why I posted that was to let people know I hadn’t disappeared—I just wasn’t in the right headspace.

I plan to write more about it this week. Going back to the idea of the emotional support outfit—some call it a uniform, but I think it’s either a step before or a step beyond. It’s a formula: something you can throw on without thinking too much, something that feels good enough.

When my dad was sick, that outfit was jean shorts, a t-shirt, and Birkenstocks. I wasn’t working much—just helping my family and caring for my kids. That outfit made me feel comfortable and fine.

Now that I’m consulting and meeting people in person again, I needed an updated version. I found that for me, it’s a button-up shirt, jeans or khakis, and loafers or ballet flats. That’s my current version of an emotional support outfit. I can throw on a sweater or a jacket, but those three pieces make me feel polished and comfortable.

I’m literally wearing it right now—button-up shirt, jeans, and Birkenstocks since I’m at home. It helps me feel confident and presentable, even when clothes aren’t my focus.

We all need to know the combination of items that helps us feel good enough to move through the day—whether we’re parenting, working, or just getting through it. We want to feel great, but that’s not always realistic.

These past two weeks, I found myself repeating the same shirts because it worked. I was seeing different people each day, so no one noticed. But it made me not want to take outfit pictures—it was basically the same look over and over.

Still, it was good to have that fallback formula. It kept me moving forward even when the joy of getting dressed wasn't there. And I still felt good leaving the house. It wasn’t exciting, but it worked.

It’s like how Obama wore the same suit-and-tie combo daily—it reduced decision fatigue. There are times when, even if you love clothes, they can’t be your top priority. Having an emotional support outfit takes away the shame of not feeling your best.

You can still do the things you need to do—school drop-offs, work meetings—and feel pretty good about yourself.

Maureen: And maybe you’ll touch on this in your post, but I think the hardest part can be figuring out what that uniform even is when you’re stuck. Do you have any suggestions for that?

Fanny: When you're really in the thick of it, figuring out your “uniform” can be hard. It’s a bit of trial and error. But if you’re trying to identify key pieces—your hero pieces—you can fall back on, one technique I love is setting aside a section of your closet. If you have a rolling rack, great. If not, just use one area.

As you wear things throughout the week, move them into that space. After a few days, you’ll start to see what you’re actually gravitating toward. We all have full closets but usually wear the same handful of items. Seeing them set apart can help you recognize patterns.

You might realize you keep wearing a pair of jeans—not because you love them, but because they fit right now. That insight can guide you to find a pair you actually love. Or maybe, like me, you’re reaching for a button-up, a sweater, and jeans every day. That tells you something.

This exercise helps cut through closet overwhelm. I’m not saying you have to get rid of everything else, but knowing what your go-to items are is powerful. Maybe it’s a favorite cashmere sweater—then you know it’s worth taking good care of and making it last. Or maybe you realize you keep reaching for a blazer but don’t have one that fits or feels current. That helps you shop more thoughtfully, instead of just saying, “I have nothing to wear” and heading straight to the store without a plan.

I use this with clients too. It’s not just about finding your formula—it helps you sort through what you already own and identify what’s missing. Wardrobes are works in progress. Our lives change, our bodies change, our needs change.

You might also start noticing color preferences. I recently realized I don’t wear much black anymore—except for one sweater and some accessories. It’s not that I dislike black, but it’s not where I’m at right now. So I know not to keep bringing more black into my wardrobe.

These kinds of observations can be more helpful than arbitrary “style rules.” I don’t love the word “rules” in fashion anyway. I prefer “formula” or “guidelines.” They give you structure without boxing you in.

Maureen: I love that, and it actually reminds me of the design process in my work. I’m a user researcher and designer in the software world, and what you just described sounds like a discovery phase.

You don’t start with the solution—you start by understanding the problem. And shopping is often treated like the solution, but without understanding what’s not working, we could be solving the wrong thing.

It’s not that shopping is bad—we just want to make informed decisions. Use the data from your own wardrobe before clicking “add to cart.”

Fanny: Exactly. And hey, we’re still allowed to shop for the dopamine hit once in a while. I’m not anti-shopping. But if you want a wardrobe that’s cohesive and makes you feel confident, you’ll get further by shopping with a purpose.

And it’s tricky because for many of us, browsing is a form of relaxation. It’s part of the culture. Instagram has become a marketplace, and sometimes you end up on a brand’s website without even realizing you clicked through.

Browsing is okay. But having a working shopping list in mind while you’re browsing helps. It lets you consume more consciously—better for the environment and your budget. Especially right now, with financial uncertainty, it’s a good time to get creative with what we already have.

Historically, moments of constraint lead to creativity. So I’m curious to see what comes out of this period, too. People might not want to shop as much, and that discomfort with consumption might be where some of the criticism and shame comes from.

Choosing not to shop is a political act. Our wallets speak volumes. But we’re also human. Clothes wear out, and if we’re shopping mindfully, that’s okay.

I don’t think clothes are frivolous. For me, dressing is one of my truest creative outlets. To say fashion doesn’t matter discredits how we present ourselves to the world. Not everyone has to love fashion, but everyone has style. Everyone has preferences. It’s just a matter of how much attention and time they give it.

Maureen: That’s so important. One of the main ideas behind my platform is that everyone has style. We’ve just lost the ability to center our own preferences and trust that they’re valid.

People say, “I don’t have style,” but their closet is full of choices—choices based on what they like, or what they think they should like. Either way, it’s valid. It might be survival, it might be self-expression, or a bit of both.

It’s not a binary—you have style or you don’t. Everyone gets dressed. We just need to expand what we think “style” is.

Fanny: Absolutely. And honestly, I find that people who don’t work in fashion often have the most interesting, authentic style.

My dad worked in construction later in life and wore jeans and polos every day, but when it came time to dress up, he wore custom suits. My mom’s an artist.

Fashion was important in our house—not in a designer-label way, but in a creative, expressive way.

Some of the most stylish women I know are doctors, lawyers—people whose jobs don’t involve fashion at all. I actually think the more limitations people have, the more creatively they dress.

Kids in school uniforms figure out how to express themselves through socks or accessories. Adults do the same—doctors might wear bold glasses or jewelry. You find ways to express yourself within constraints.

So when people say they don’t have style, I think they’re actually discrediting themselves. They just might not feel fashionable, but they definitely have a style.

You don’t have to be a “fashion girly” to have good style. In fact, sometimes those of us deep in the industry get so caught up in consuming the same media that our ideas start to blur.

It’s often people outside the echo chamber who are coming up with the freshest, most thought-provoking takes. Fanny: The subject matter overlaps a lot—we're reading the same magazines, watching the same fashion shows, following similar creators. Even though we have different points of view, there's still this shared pool of inspiration.

Sometimes I wonder, “If I publish this, will people think I’m copying someone?” But it’s just that the content we’re consuming is so pervasive across every part of our lives, it’s natural there’s overlap. Sorry, that was a bit of a tangent.

Maureen: No, I’m with you the whole way. I’ve been thinking a lot about how far I want to go with this because, if I’m being honest, fashion is one of my favorite things in the world—right up there with my family and marine mammals.

But I don’t work in fashion, and even though I love writing and talking about it, I sometimes hit a wall. I wonder, “How do I make this about more than just clothes? How do we have real conversations about our lives? How do we see clothing as just one part of a full, complex personhood? That’s actually why I started my Sunday Reset newsletter series.

Fanny: I love that series so much. That first one you sent really connected with me.

Maureen: Thank you! I really appreciate that. I had this moment where I wondered if it would be interesting to anyone because it wasn’t strictly about fashion—or if it would come off as preachy. But I approached it like a note to myself.

When I feel burned out from consuming too much fashion content, I need some kind of personal practice. I want to make space for inspiration that comes from outside the internet—and also from within.

I’m not going to stop reading people’s posts, but I want to be intentional about reminding myself that’s not the only place to draw from.

Sometimes we get into this all-or-nothing mindset: if I’m burned out, maybe I should stop writing entirely. But maybe it’s not that. Maybe it’s just shifting focus for a bit. I guess I’m grappling with whether turning something we love into a chore is just inevitable when we spend too much time on it.

Fanny: Yeah, I think it can happen. When you're burnt out or feeling stuck, the things we usually love can start to feel like chores.

And I don’t think you can always stop that from happening. The real question is how you move through it—maybe it’s by taking a break, leaning on outfit formulas that make you feel good without much effort, or finding new sources of inspiration. That’s why your Sunday Reset newsletter has felt so refreshing. It’s a reminder that inspiration outside of fashion is just as valuable.

Maureen: I appreciate that.

Fanny: I’ll admit I’ve struggled to finish a book in the past few years, but when I find one that really grabs me—usually not fashion-related—it’s such a good reset.

Same with going to a museum, or just getting outside now that the weather’s nicer.

It’s not about quitting fashion or getting dressed or writing. It’s just about focusing on something else for a while, and then letting that bring you back around to fashion in a new way.

Maureen: That’s really helpful—and thank you for reading. I appreciate you going with me through this conversation. I always hope these talks feel uplifting and light, but sometimes they go into heavier territory.

I’m just really grateful you were willing to go there with me today. Sometimes, that’s just where we are—and I think it’s important to name it rather than pretend everything’s fine.

Fanny: Absolutely.

Maureen: So, shifting gears a little—I’d love to talk about one of my favorite posts of yours. It felt a bit more upbeat, and it was about reconnecting with your preppy style roots.

You mentioned earlier that you’d tried to fit in with the hipster art kids in Silver Lake during school, and as a design school grad myself, I really relate.

Can you talk a bit about how you found your way back to that preppy part of yourself and learned to embrace it?

Fanny: Sure. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, which isn’t usually associated with preppy style—but the area I was in definitely leaned that way.

Portland often gets grouped with Seattle and thought of in terms of flannel and grunge, but my neighborhood was a bit more waspy. There was definitely a strong prep influence.

And like I mentioned, my dad wore a polo shirt every single day. That was his uniform. So it was just part of the style environment I grew up in.

I also went to an all-girls Catholic prep school for high school, which added to that aesthetic. Portland, especially at that time, had a naturally sporty, preppy vibe. And being so close to Nike and Adidas, that made sense.

There’s just an inherent sportiness and preppiness to Portland that’s different from Seattle. So going to art school was a bit of a shock. I was kind of a pretentious turd about it—I insisted on going to a school with a foundation program because I wanted to be a “serious” art student.

But the takeaway from that program wasn’t color theory like I’d hoped. It was more like learning how to use an X-Acto knife to cut foam core perfectly. Foundation year almost broke me, and it’s wild to think that’s what I based my college decision on.

Art school is, pretty universally, a place full of kids smoking cigarettes, being pretentious, thinking they’re the best. After foundation year, my confidence was really shaken.

Then I entered the fashion program, which was incredibly intense. Even while I was trying to fit in with the hipster crowd, I was in survival mode—just wearing jeans and a tank top to get through 10-hour days of class and hours of homework.

I lived on the East side, had great friends, but style-wise I was the outlier. My instinct, like many young adults, was to try and fit in—especially because I was struggling so much with the workload. My program was very illustration-heavy, and while I had strong design ideas, my illustration skills weren’t on the same level as others. That hit my confidence hard.

Looking back, it’s fine—but in the moment, it really shook me. I wanted to belong. I loved the neighborhood, still do when I visit, but I didn’t quite fit in. I was too tall, too well-fed, too blonde. I even let my hair go dark and dyed it red for a few years, trying to blend in.

This was during the Jenna Lyons–era J.Crew revival, so preppiness was starting to trickle back in. After college, I moved to Paris for a bit and did a program there. I interned for a while before returning to the U.S. Paris at the time still had a hipster vibe, like Echo Park or Silver Lake, but it was different. There was a tailored, elevated element to how people dressed—clean straight-leg jeans, ballet flats, blazers. Those preppy elements were mixed in and felt more natural to me. French style and preppy style are different, but they overlap: the tailoring, the understated hair, the natural highlights. It reminded me of preppy style in a grown-up way, and I felt like, “Oh, this is me.”

It was nice to feel like my instincts made sense again. Dressing that way in Paris felt right in a way it hadn’t in LA. I leaned into navy and brown instead of the black and gray everyone wore in LA.

When I came back to LA, I was a bit older—not 19 or 20 anymore. I had gained confidence from dressing in a way that felt like myself during my time in Paris, and I kept that going. I no longer felt like I stood out in a bad way. I felt like myself. Now that I’m older, I’m maybe less adventurous, but that’s because I know what I like. I still try trends, but I trust what feels good. Even if it makes you different from the people around you, that’s okay.

A lot of that comfort comes with age and experience—from being 19 to 24 to 35 and now 40. It gets easier to know and accept what you like, even as your body or life changes. I don’t ever want anyone to feel “less than,” but I think it’s normal to go through phases where you feel like you don’t fit. You learn from those experiences—they help you figure out what’s actually you.

Back then, I was trying to present as someone I wasn’t. I wasn’t a music expert. I loved cigarettes, but I wasn’t that person. And I wasn’t friends with them because I was like them—I was friends with them because I brought something different.

Since moving back to Portland about ten years ago, I’ve embraced that I love blazers, button-up shirts, loafers, ballet flats. I didn’t stop wearing ballet flats when they went “out”—I leaned into loafers, and now that ballet flats are “back,” it’s fun to see the trends cycle around.

It’s affirming when something you’ve always worn comes back in style. Rediscovering my preppy roots came from getting so far away from my authentic self that I had to boomerang back. In the process, I found a balance. I still love a graphic tee. I’m not wearing distressed denim right now—it doesn’t suit my lifestyle—but I still love it. I still wear Converse. I ended up back where I started—not just geographically, but stylistically. In high school, I had five different colors of the same fitted Gap button-up. Now, I’m back to wearing button-ups and jeans—it’s just the grown-up, more sophisticated version.

When you get far from your style, it’s only natural to find your way back. You just have to be patient and trust yourself. It sounds hokey, but what feels right to you is right for you.

Maureen: I feel like we could talk forever! What advice would you give to someone who’s trying to build a wardrobe that feels intuitive and authentic?

Fanny: I’d go back to the idea of separating the clothes you’re actually wearing, so you can identify patterns—what you like, what feels good.

Don’t hold onto things that don’t feel right. If a pair of pants hasn’t fit in over a year, maybe it’s time to let them go. It’s okay to keep sentimental pieces, even if you’ll never wear them again. But identifying what you love and why—material, cut, color, texture—that’s powerful.

Then ask yourself: why am I not wearing this? Is it uncomfortable? Too tight? I’ll never wear tight jeans again. I want comfort. Knowing what feels bad is just as important as knowing what feels good. From there, you can work with what you already have and fill in any missing pieces.

Also, just because something isn’t on trend doesn’t mean it’s wrong. When ballet flats went away, I didn’t stop wearing them—and look, they came back. What’s great about 2025 is that everything is available. Whether new or vintage, we have so much access now. Despite all the waste in fashion, people are better about caring for and reselling clothes.

You’ll likely be able to find what you love—it just takes patience. And that’s the key: patience. People think hiring a stylist or doing a closet clean-out will fix everything overnight. But it’s a process. Building a thoughtful wardrobe takes time. Shop slowly, wear things intentionally, and experiment with pieces you love. Maybe you just needed to try it a new way—or maybe it’s time to let it go. This isn’t a quick fix. It can take years to develop a wardrobe—and a level of confidence—that really feels like you.

Maureen: That’s such great advice. And realistic too—people know what they’re getting into. Thank you so much for joining me. Where can listeners find you?

Fanny: You can find me on Substack—it’s called Always Overdressed.

We didn’t really touch on the name, but here’s the backstory: Portland is a pretty casual city, and I’d often say to my husband, “I feel like I’m more dressed up than everyone else.”

And he’d say, “Just because they don’t look good doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

That’s not the nicest thing, but it was his way of cheering me on—to wear what I want, even if no one else is.

I’m also on Instagram and TikTok under Fanny Adams. I’ve really enjoyed being part of the Substack community—it’s full of interesting voices and people I connect with. It’s been such a pleasure to talk with you.

Maureen: Thank you for being here. I’ve loved getting to know you beyond your writing.

Also, I’m now 100% thinking about how I can find ballet flats, loafers, and a crisp white button-down. Okay, I was already thinking about them—but now I’m really thinking about them.

Fanny: Good!

Maureen: Thanks again—and I hope you have a great rest of your day.

Fanny: You too. Thank you.

Outro

Thank you to our guest, Fanny Adams, for joining us today.

Intuitive Style is produced, edited and hosted by me, Maureen Welton. Our theme music is by Noir et Blanc Vie.

In case you missed it, Intuitive Style, the podcast, is an offshoot of Intuitive Style, the Substack newsletter. Head on over to Substack, search Intuitive Style, to see the newsletter, which includes thoughtful reflections on what’s happening in the fashion world, guest features, and my encouragement that you can create a wardrobe that fits your life as it is now, no judgement, no rush.

If you enjoyed this episode, please take a moment to rate and review on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, or share this episode with someone you think might enjoy it. Don’t forget to subscribe, as new episodes drop weekly on Fridays and you can listen wherever podcasts are found.

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