1.0Soft Sensibilitieshttps://kimberlypearl.co/blogKimberlyhttps://kimberlypearl.co/blog/author/kimberlypearl-92gmail-com/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="UaRng8g5jP"><a href="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/reality-check/">Reality Check</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/reality-check/embed/#?secret=UaRng8g5jP" width="600" height="338" title="“Reality Check” — Soft Sensibilities" data-secret="UaRng8g5jP" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script> /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js </script> Some days, I can’t help but look at my wardrobe with a wistful longing. There was a time when I dressed up every day of my life and had accumulated entire closets filled with beautiful things—tailored suiting, perfectly cut shirts, evening dresses, archival-worthy vintage, and not to mention, gorgeous handbags for work and play. And now, the majority remains unworn. On occasion, I’ll get a glamorous invite or two (so not all is lost, thankfully), but my reality is far simpler these days. Quarantine was the catalyst; working remotely for most of the pandemic had normalized public displays of athleisure. Moving to L.A.—a city far more casual and unfazed by skin—had certainly influenced my style, too. Even when I was commuting to an office, the clothes I considered laidback for New York were labeled overdressed by West Coast standards. Freelancing since then certainly hasn’t helped my case: working by myself, for myself, has given me the immense privilege of spending most days swathed in a bathrobe. (Tekla makes my favorite.) A large culling is inevitable. All this stuff and I still reach for the same few pieces, time and time again. Like, some version of this outfit—which is sportier than I…https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/casual-ootd-thelinebyk-fion-top-white-uniqlo-x-jw-anderson-jeans-the-row-90s-crossbody-stone-leather.jpg