'I miss the girl who dressed up for everything.'

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There was a time I got dressed with care.

Not to impress anyone, but because it made me feel more like myself.

I'd plan an outfit even for the smallest things — dinner with friends, a grocery run, a quick stop at the office. There was comfort in the ritual: the feel of fabric between my hands, choosing jewellery, catching the faint trace of perfume before leaving the house.

Getting dressed gave my day shape. It made life feel deliberate.

Planning an outfit for every occasion has always been therapeutic. Image: Supplied.

Somewhere along the way, that version of me slipped away.

It didn't happen all at once. It was gradual, almost invisible.

At first, I stopped wearing lipstick at home because it felt unnecessary. Then I began avoiding jeans that didn't stretch. Slowly, I replaced fitted clothes with softer ones, muted colours, things that could be thrown on without a thought.

My wardrobe became practical, full of comfort and convenience. It suits the life I have now, but sometimes I look in the mirror and feel like I've disappeared into it.

When my daughter was born, ease became everything. I dressed for what made sense: what was simple, what could survive spills, what wouldn't feel like effort. The silk dresses and tailored trousers that once made me feel put together stayed folded in drawers. They belonged to a woman who had time to get ready, who had places to be.

I didn't resent it. I love this phase of my life — the slower pace, the mornings spent at home, the work that fits around my daughter's naps. It's softer and more grounded, and I'm grateful for that.

But every so often, I catch my reflection and feel something tug at me. A memory of the woman who used to get dressed for the joy of it. The one who wore gold hoops on a Tuesday, who found small satisfaction in matching her bag to her shoes, who saw getting ready as an act of optimism.

I miss her. Not because she was better, but because she cared in a way I've forgotten how to.

Watch: Would you rather be overdressed or underdressed? Two fashion experts weigh in. Post continues below.

A few weeks ago, while unpacking boxes, I found a floral wrap dress I used to wear all the time. It wasn't special, but I loved it — the way it moved, the way it felt like me. I tried it on, half expecting it to feel like a costume from a life I'd outgrown.

It didn't. It felt familiar.

It looked different, of course. My body has changed, my posture too. But for the first time in a long while, I felt awake. I wore it for the rest of the day while I wrote, made lunch, and played with my daughter. No one saw it, but it didn't matter. It wasn't about being seen. It was about seeing myself again.

That's what I miss most — the small sense of intention behind it all. The woman who got ready even when she had nowhere to go. The one who believed a little effort could change the mood of a day.

Lately, I've been trying to bring her back in small ways. A gold ring with my morning coffee. Perfume before I sit at my desk. Lip balm with colour instead of clear.

They're small things, but they make the day feel lighter. They remind me that care doesn't have to be grand to matter.

Rediscovering my personal style after motherhood. Image: Supplied.

I don't want to go back to who I was before. This life, with all its quiet routines and small joys, is one I've dreamed of. But I do want to carry her spirit into it — the girl who dressed up for everything, who treated effort as a form of joy.

Because even now, in the calm and the repetition of home, I still want to feel like I'm part of the world.

Getting dressed helps me do that. It's not about beauty or being noticed. It's about remembering that I exist outside of responsibility and routine.

I miss the girl who dressed up for everything.

But I think she's still here, somewhere between old habits and new priorities, waiting for me to reach for her again.

And maybe tomorrow, I will.

Not because I need to.

But because I want to.

To read more from Basmah Qazi, subscribe to her Substack here.

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Feature image: Supplied.