I am not a natural gardener. I want to be clear about that. When I started my little Brooklyn garden five years ago, I thought you just put plants in the ground and they figured it out. That is not how it works.
The first year, I bought six rose bushes. Pretty ones. Expensive ones. I planted them all in one afternoon. I was so proud. Two weeks later, three of them turned yellow and died. I cried a little. Not kidding.
The second year, I tried again. This time I read books. I asked questions at the nursery. The man there looked at me and said, "you're planting too early." I didn't listen. More dead roses.
The third year, I finally slowed down. I waited until the soil was warm. I put the roses where they actually wanted to be, not where I wanted them to look pretty from the kitchen window. I watered less. I stopped fussing.
They lived.
That same year, I bought a coat I wasn't sure about. Cream wool. Oversized. Expensive. I tried it on at the store and felt nothing. But something made me buy it anyway. I hung it in my closet for six months. Looked at it. Walked past it. Wondered if I had wasted my money.
Then one cold March morning, I put it on. And it worked. I don't know what changed. Maybe the fabric relaxed. Maybe I relaxed. Maybe both.
The Mistake I Made Over and Over
Here is what I used to do. I would see something I liked—a jacket, a pair of shoes, a plant—and I would want it to work immediately. Right now. Perfectly.
When it didn't, I would get frustrated. I would return the jacket. I would throw out the plant. I would blame the thing instead of my own impatience.
My neighbor across the street has the most beautiful garden on the block. I asked her once how she got it that way. She laughed and said "ten years." Ten years. Not one season. Not a weekend project. Ten years of showing up and paying attention.
That stuck with me.
What Works in the Garden Also Works in Your Closet
Here is what I have learned. Only took me until my late forties.
You cannot force a season. You cannot wear a summer dress in February and feel good about it. You cannot make a spring bulb bloom in December. Some things just need to wait their turn.
Too much water is worse than too little. I killed more plants by over-caring than by ignoring them. Same with clothes. I used to buy everything that looked interesting. Now I buy less and let things sit. If I still want it after a month, I go back.
Not everything survives. Some plants just die. Some shirts never fit right no matter how much you want them to. That is not your fault. Let them go.
The best things take time to settle. A rose bush does not look good in year one. It looks awkward and small. Year two, better. Year three, you start to see what it will become. Good clothes are the same. That coat I mentioned? I almost returned it three times. Now I reach for it more than anything else.
The Rose That Almost Broke Me
There is one rose bush in my garden that I almost dug up twice. It is a pale pink variety called 'New Dawn.' The first year, nothing. Just sticks. The second year, two small flowers that looked sad. My husband said "maybe it's not meant to be." I almost believed him.
Third year, it grew up the fence. Fourth year, it covered half the wall. This summer, it gave me more roses than I could count.
If I had given up in year two, I would have missed all of it.
I think about that rose when I try on something new and it doesn't feel right immediately. I think about it when I buy a piece and hang it in my closet for months before wearing it. I think about it when I feel like my style is stuck or boring or not working.
Some things just need time.
What I Am Still Bad At
I still buy things too fast sometimes. Last month I bought a pair of sandals online because they were on sale. They arrived. They hurt. I should have returned them. I didn't. They are sitting in my closet. I will probably never wear them.
I still over-water my herbs sometimes. My basil looks sad right now. I am ignoring it. That is hard for me.
So no, I have not figured everything out. The garden is still messy. My closet is still messy. But I am slower than I used to be. And that helps.
If you are trying to figure out your style and it feels like nothing is working—give it a season. Put that jacket back in the closet. Wait. Stop fussing.
Some things just need to sit there for a while. Then one day, for no reason you can explain, they work.
That is not magic. That is just patience. And I learned it from a rose bush.
