I only wore black for the entire month of October – this is how it made me feel
With 31 black dresses already in my wardrobe, I was all set for ‘Blacktober’ with something different to wear every single day leading up to Halloween, writes Victoria Richards. But would the thrill of acting like my Goth hero, Morticia Addams, wear off?
“Darling, I always wear black.” So says Morticia Addams – and she’s long been one of my idols. In my gothic opinion, nothing says glamour like Anjelica Huston poured into a black fishtail ballgown with swooping, draping batwing sleeves; or Catherine Zeta-Jones’s version in Wednesday with her killer curves, melancholic pallor and blood-red lips.
But black doesn’t always have to mean Elvira – take the ubiquitous and iconic “LBD” (little black dress), worn most memorably by Audrey Hepburn, Coco Chanel and even Princess Diana. This year, black became the IT colour of the cool-girl summer and who can forget how Marlene Dietrich brought new meaning to the word “sexy” in a black top hat and tails in Morocco in 1930 (though I, sadly, was always a lot more like Winona Ryder playing Lydia Deetz in Beetlejuice in 1988, with her split fringe, funereal clothes and wide-brimmed hat).
Black – specifically, wearing it – has been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember. But I also do a healthy amount of “dopamine dressing”, too; which fashion psychologist Shakaila Forbes-Bell says can both boost your mood – and make you feel powerful.
“It’s the psychological theory behind the ‘look good, feel good’ concept,” she says. “So when we feel happy, when things are going well for us, you get that rush of the neurotransmitter dopamine, which makes us feel pleasure. That’s something we constantly seek, because it makes us feel good.”
So, while black is always sophisticated and stylish – could it backfire mood-wise, and even age wise. Some stylists warn women over 40 away from black saying it can emphasise shadows and make the skin look paler. We are meant to “go navy” for a softer, kinder shade. At 44, is there such thing as “too much black”? Or could I make like Morticia and wear nothing else for an entire month? I decided to find out...
Out for dinner
On 1 October – my first day of debuting my new, black-only wardrobe, I went out for dinner with two of my oldest friends. I wanted to dress up in something nice, but I also had to make it work from the office to the dinner table. Their reaction when they saw me in a black-and-gold dress with velvet trim that I once found in a charity “bargain bin” and paid £2 for? (Full disclosure: it’s actually three sizes too big, too; so I cinch it with a waisted belt). To roast me in the way only friends who have known you for 35 years can get away with: “You look like Morticia. Who died?” Seeing as that was my goal in the first place, I’m taking that as a win.
On the school run
I’ve been known to wear ballgowns with Converse trainers on the school run in the past, so I imagined – optimistically – nobody would bat an eyelid. I was right – if anything, wearing black (and I’ll confess that on days “working from home”, the temptation to stick to black Adidas tracksuit bottoms or leggings and oversized jumpers is strong) was a bit like wearing an invisibility cloak – people are so used to me being a bit “out there” that I don’t think they recognised me. One mum even asked if I “still had Covid”, though – so maybe being washed out by black when you’re over 40 is a thing?
At work
You know you have good colleagues when they feel able to roast you (to your face) – and “it’s not Halloween, yet!” when I walked in wearing a black velvet dress from The Vampire’s Wife pretty much summed it up – thankfully, they’re all used to me doing various mad and different things so telling them I was only wearing black for all of October was met with a barely raised an eyebrow. I, in fact, was the one who had to follow it up with: “It’s for a piece” – otherwise I’m fairly sure it would’ve been put down to being “one of Vix’s funny fads”. Fair (but it’s for a piece).
On a date
Black is synonymous with sexy, so I didn’t feel too many qualms about wearing black for a first date (to a poetry gig). I did, however, dither over what type of black, from dresses (loose or wafty; bold or plunge-cut); to trousers (skinny or barrel; dungarees or leggings) or even skirts (denim or velvet; skater-cut or pencil)?
In the end, given we were going to be sitting in the basement of a theatre, listening quietly to people performing, I went for a casual T-shirt dress, which was definitely the right choice, but the date – sadly – was a disaster. Next!
At a ‘day rave’
If being “washed out by black” when you’re over 40 is inevitable, then so, too, is going to a day rave – because who wants to get home past midnight when you have to get up early to take the kids to three football matches, two birthday parties and a playdate?
I opted for tights, boots, shorts and a sequinned shirt with a slogan on it in yellow (and hoped I wasn’t breaking my own rules). The only snag: I had to borrow my teenager’s black school jumper as an extra layer, so ended up going “out out” between 3-8pm in an M&S cotton V-neck, age 12-13. I was relieved, when I got there, to see every single other mum was also head-to-toe in black, too. They just didn’t have to be. What does this say? That we like to blend in with the crowd in our forties? Or that black – as we have long suspected – is flattering and slimming and sexy? I have a feeling it’s all of the above.
Performing at a poetry gig
Disclaimer: I write poetry and sometimes I even perform it, but haven’t performed for almost two years… so I needed to power-dress, somehow, in black-only for a bunch of Shoreditch hipsters. Hmmm, a snag. I did not know what to go for – for this type of thing usually, I’d wear an “out there” vintage kaftan, something with big sleeves, maybe in bright red, emerald green or patterned with both at once (as per the 1970s). This time, though… I had no choice but to opt for casual black denim dungarees and a Nick Cave T-shirt. Can anybody tell I didn’t really want to be noticed?
Going to see Kamala Harris
What do you wear to meet Madam Vice-President; one of the most famous women in the world; an icon? When I was getting dressed to take my daughter and her friend to see Kamala Harris “in conversation” at the Southbank Centre, I didn’t actually know we would be granted a surprise five minutes with her backstage – or that I’d be taking a photo I would want to frame and hang on my wall forever.
If I had, I might have worn nicer boots – but instead opted for a sheer satin shirt, a leather jacket and woefully thin leggings. In the end I was starstruck enough that it didn’t matter – Harris, on the other hand, wore a pinstripe suit, proving women can dazzle in black at 61, too. It was an important lesson in worrying less about age and reaching for success – and stilettos.
At an art gallery
Okay, I confess: I’m getting bored of black, now. It’s a beautiful autumnal day – even the leaves are yellow, gold and red, the sky is a crisp blue and the sun is shining. I have a week to go and I don’t want to wear boring black for a “friend date” at the Tate Britain. We’re going to the Lee Miller exhibition, followed by a stroll along the Thames to the BFI to drink martinis – and I want to wear something cozy: a bright scarf, a beanie, layers in interesting, colourful prints.
Sure, what this month has proved to me more than anything is that black can be interesting too – if you focus on texture (velvet, lace, satin) over colour. But I’m feeling a bit mopey and pre-menstrual, so I could really do with boosting my mood. In the end, I go for a black dress with puffed sleeves and pearl buttons… but I don’t mind admitting I’m grumpy about it.
A day out with the kids
In my defence, it’s almost Halloween – which perhaps explains why I was trekking to west London for a “wizard afternoon tea”, complete with “potion-making” (spooky gin for mummy, please). For this one, I leaned in: teaming a black beach dress I usually wear in summer with tights and heavy boots to make it suitable for October, plus a red and black cowboy shirt underneath to satisfy my urge for the tiniest flash of colour (I did wonder if this was against the rules – then remembered that I made the rules).
I added one vital accessory: a tall, black witches hat. It is weeks before Halloween and I am getting strange looks, but what can I say – I’m nothing if not committed to the bit. At Victoria station, a lady remarks to her husband: “Aww, they’ve been to see Wicked!” and I don’t correct her. I’m taking it. Hiding in plain sight.
Out for cocktails
I want to wear something pretty to meet a friend for cocktails and have been saving my “best black” for last – I’m going head-to-toe in lace. I feel different in this one and it’s got nothing to do with colour – it’s because it’s luxurious, it makes me feel good.
Black October: Overall
The lesson I’ve really learnt from wearing only black is that it’s got nothing (really) to do with colour – and everything to do with how you are feeling to begin with. When I’m in a good mood, not even black can pull me down. But when I’m low, it only exacerbates my “base layer” and enhances my misery. I still love black, but I’m itching for something different – the thing I’ll be wearing on November 1? Red...
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments
Bookmark popover
Removed from bookmarks