The reset season
The reset season
A collection of fall-ready looks.
This email is packed with looks, so be sure to open the full message or view it in the app to see everything!
If pre-fall is the season of reinvention, then fall undoubtedly deserves the title of the season of reset.
Much like the pre-fall season, fall brings a certain editorial flair to getting dressed. While temperatures are dropping steadily (mornings in the mountains averaging in the low to mid-40s!!!!!) it doesn't mean it's time to pull out those heavy wool overcoats just yet. A simple sweater and a light jacket or knit can still be substantial enough for now.
As the season progresses, the same styling tricks we use for transitional dressing period inevitably need to evolve. That’s likely where my disconnect with my clothes began—or perhaps it’s because I’ve been living out of a suitcase for what feels like two months. After returning from Paris, I started feeling distant from my wardrobe. I found myself staring at a closet overflowing with options, yet thinking, “I have nothing to wear.” If I subscribed to the Marie Kondo or capsule wardrobe philosophy, I might attribute this to having too many choices. And there’s some truth to that. The rising obsession with personal style and the popularity of fashion Substacks focused on shopping and curation likely stem from the overwhelming abundance of options—even for something as simple as a t-shirt. But reducing that feeling of detachment to just “having too much” feels overly simplistic. Perhaps that inner voice saying “I have nothing to wear” is more like a figurative yellow light, signaling that it’s time to reset and refresh.
Last week, I kept feeling like I needed some kind of break—or at least a few hours to just stare at a wall. It wasn’t until a few days after Yom Kippur that I realized this need for a "break" had coincidentally aligned with the High Holy Days—a time of reflection, repentance, and celebration of seeing another year. It’s a period of fresh starts and resets, marking the Jewish New Year. I also didn’t realize until much later that these days always fall during late summer or early fall (or late winter/early spring in the Southern Hemisphere). Even in a spiritual sense, this time is about resetting and reevaluating. So why shouldn't we apply the same mindset when it comes to dressing for fall?
Getting down to the basics
There’s no denying that change can be uncomfortable. When it comes to style, there's often a fear of admitting you’ve hit a creative block, or perhaps it’s hard to accept that both your mind and body are evolving, craving something new.
Although I technically moved upstate about three months ago, I find myself back in the city far more often than I expected. With the constant back-and-forth, I’m always caught in the cycle of deciding what to pack and what to leave behind. I didn’t realize how unsettling it would be to constantly be away from most of my belongings. Of course, this is something I’ll have to work through with time, but being in a constant state of flux is unnerving—especially for someone like me who dresses emotionally and can’t plan an outfit to save his life.
When it came to reintroducing myself to my closet and beginning the process of dressing for fall, I decided to break down the idea of an outfit. At its simplest, an outfit consists of a top, a bottom, and shoes. Sure, you can complicate it with fabrics, colors, patterns, cuts and more (and we could go even further by adding dresses and skirts, but I digress). However, for the sake of this discussion, let’s keep it to those basic three elements.
As I reacquainted myself with my clothes, the outfits I felt most comfortable in were simple combinations like this: a basic top (in this case, a bright blue Cos polo), an easy pair of pants (the High Sport Kick Flares—popular for a reason), and a pair of flat shoes (I usually alternate between the Martiniano glove shoe or the Jamie Haller modern ballet flat). And since I’m prone to chills, I always have a knit on hand. For days on end, I only felt comfortable stepping out in some variation of this look. It felt like a palette cleanser, and I began to appreciate the concept of uniform dressing—the idea that once you've mapped out your formula, you can focus on more important things like, I don’t know, taxes?
Of course, after a few days of parading around in palette cleansing outfits, the Gemini in me started itching for something a bit more adventurous—something weirder, more complex, a little off-kilter, dare I say.
Leaning into the “wrong” thing because it feels just right.
Though my daytime outfits were what I’d consider simple, in the evenings I occasionally got delightfully outlandish. One night, I found myself in quite a row with my wardrobe because nothing I wanted to wear seemed to work together: off-white satin pants, electric blue sandals from The Row, crimson red socks, my reddish-brown braided Charvet belt, and my latest evening obsession (and must have)—elbow-length leather fingerless gloves. I spent an ungodly amount of time in front of the mirror, layering shirts over my t-shirt to try and pull the colors together more overtly. Then, I toyed with adding more red, but that felt overpowering. Finally, I just said to myself, “F#%k it, I really want to wear all these pieces tonight, so who cares.” (Little did I know, a leather jacket was all I needed to tie the colors together, but that's beside the point).
Whenever I’m asked about how to find personal style, I always say it requires experimentation and being comfortable with not always getting it right. Reacquainting myself with my closet felt like going back to square one, forcing me to go through the process of trial and error to find the perfect look. But at the same time, it made me reconsider the idea of getting it “wrong.” What if the wrong thing is actually the right thing to do?
When you think about q***t l****y and this universal quest for good taste, it’s clear how much it has influenced both style and our perception of it. In many ways, it has made personal style feel prescriptive and formulaic (white T-shirt layered under sweaters, casually half-tucked + paired with a baseball cap + flip-flops + a beat-up Kelly bag= a good outfit). This taps into what Leandra Medine Cohen discussed in her Letter of Rec #083. It seems we’ve lost the urge to embrace a bit of messiness, which is precisely why I’ve become enamored with Hanuk’s Instagram account.
I don’t know much about Hanuk beyond the fact that he was a street-style photographer and is now, perhaps, a painter. But what I do know is that his Instagram is filled with photos dating as far back as 1997, with most from the 2000s and early 2010s. These snapshots feature world-renowned stylists, editors, PR mavens, and designers, captured at various parties, shows, and even a few luncheons. Yet, at the time these photos were taken, they hadn’t yet achieved those titles—they were, in a sense, just kids.
As I scroll through image after image of these notable figures, what strikes me is the palpable sense of ease and unfiltered fun radiating from them and their outfits. Their hair may have been a bit tousled, their clothes perhaps impractical for a nightclub, or overall slightly disheveled—but the mood was clear: they were enjoying themselves. Their looks seem to ask, "Why not?"
To which I ask the same question- why not?
Why not wear work boots with a silk evening dress?
Or as a matter of fact why not wear three belts over your Mrs. Robinson leopard print coat?
And for good measure have you thought about turning your earrings into brooches?
Yet, this concept of "wrong" isn’t solely about how you wear the clothes—it also extends to the items you’re buying into. When I use the word “wrong” in relation to specific pieces, I don’t mean to suggest these items shouldn’t have been designed or created. Rather, I’m referring to what might be considered "statement pieces"—like the tinsel-green Dries Van Noten slippers, the Dauan Jacari boxer skirt, or the Tove scarf blazer.
I also believe that the notion of investing in the “wrong thing” only adds more justification for stocking up on Romeo Gigli.
What does it mean to dress like a man.
To be honest, I’ve always been somewhat hesitant to fully dive into menswear—perhaps because, subconsciously, I felt that embracing it would be fulfilling the expectations my family had for me, and in some ways, probably still do. But in the spirit of approaching things with fresh eyes, I’ve decided to quiet any fears about looking more traditionally masculine. Of course, the question of what it truly means to “look like a man” or “dress like a man” is a much deeper conversation. But as I prepared for fall, I tried to reflect on what that concept means to me personally, at this stage of my life. When I really thought about it, I boiled menswear down to two key components: precision in fit and layering. Of course, there are plenty of other qualities that define menswear, but for my wardrobe, I decided to focus on those two elements.
When it comes to fit, this really struck me during my made-to-measure experience at Charvet. I’ve had other items made-to-measure before, but perhaps it was the allure of Paris that heightened this particular experience. Watching the tape measure dance around my body as Redah took note of details—like which wrist I wear my watch on, the placement of the monogram, and the shirt length to ensure it could be worn tucked or untucked—was undeniably magical. There’s a distinct luxury in having clothes made just for you. It’s not only about the cost, but the way well-fitting clothes instantly make you look more polished. It’s something I’ve always been aware of, but I think I always pay more attention to it in the fall versus the summer.
When it comes to layering, a quick flip through Images of Man will show you that the possibilities are endless. Think two shirts in contrasting shades layered over each other, maybe under an anorak or a gilet. (I’m still regretting not picking one up from a shop in Paris that had rows of them!)
A trench coat layered over a knit, secured at the neck with a scarf (a styling trick I picked up from one of the most stylish men I know!).
I could have easily included many more looks, and perhaps there will be a part two, much like I did for summer dressing. Ultimately, what I hope everyone takes away—not just from this newsletter, but from my newsletter in general—is that getting dressed is one of the most sacred acts we perform each day. So, I encourage you all to enjoy it and cherish the ritual of getting dressed.
XX
JJ
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What a beautiful mix of looks- this is the Fall inspo I needed!
Unrelated….but your skin looks so dewy and bright and gorgeous- I have enjoyed you sharing your skincare regimen with us and it absolutely is working 🥰
What a fabulous post, Jalil.💕 I LOVE your style (that suit, I swoon!), how you put all these beautiful pieces together. I love that your clothes feel like you’ve accumulated them over years, and are old friends.
“What if the wrong thing is actually the right thing to do?”
This entire paragraph resonated with me. Your bold approach is inspiring. I would love to hear more about dressing as a man but wearing feminine pieces.