I work a lot. Less now than before, but still more than I should. I like work and will probably continue to do some kind of it for as long as I can.

Last fall, I read Walter Isaacson’s biography on Steve Jobs. I’m fascinated by Jobs, and found the book hard to put down. I wanted to better understand the man, and perhaps gain insight into his success. The part that stuck with me, though, wasn’t what I had expected. It was that Jobs authorized the biography so that his kids could know him.

For all the insight into the mind of the consumer, ability to see past the short-sightedness of focus groups, once-in-a-lifetime mix that enabled him to build the world’s most valuable company, he was stumped by the most simple of problems.

If you want your kids to know you, spend time with them. (Biographer unnecessary.)

For a long time, work was my only thing. I worked evenings, weekends, and Christmas. At those rare times when I wasn’t at work in body, I was there in spirit, unable to speak or think of much else. I wanted so badly to climb the mountain that I stopped asking why I was doing it.

I admire Steve for the mountains he climbed. At the same time, I wonder if he missed the whole point, becoming the John Henry of our time. He won the race, but at what cost?

Me? I may turn out to be a failure in business, but I refuse to fail my kids.

I leave the final words to Bill; he says it so much better than me:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMUiwTubYu0

Drawing comes naturally to you. Your friends and family have always told you how good you are at it. You’ll tweak a sketch for hours, and it hardly even feels like work. If only there were a career that would allow you to do this for a living.

You stumble upon some books about designers. This pursuit seems like the perfect fit: the projects seem diverse and the potential for exploration appears to be endless. The work you see showcased is remarkable, and something you know you could do. You imagine your name and work in those journals, as if it were there already.

You begin with research, learning about schools, and reading books on the topic. Eventually, you are admitted to a design program in which you excel—attending classes dutifully, pushing your boundaries, and learning all you can. Finally, you are ready to enter the workforce and join a studio.

This starts well, but the lustre soon fades. There are deadlines and demands, sandwiched between intense schedules and repetitive duties. The hours are long, and Monday morning approaches way too fast. Your ability to do the great design you once planned on seems stymied, and your dreams of having your work lauded by colleagues and peers becomes increasingly distant.

This is the muck. It first presents itself as niggling doubt, which is soon followed by greater hesitation. In time, you’ll ask why you chose this path in the first place.

The muck first appears when the rubber meets the road: when the hypothetical becomes tangible, and your fantasies are forced to contend with reality. It tells you that you’ll need to pay your dues before getting the “gravy,” and will open your eyes to the inordinate amount of sweat required to make things seem effortless.

It plays games and leaves you confused. How can the thing you were destined to do, turn out to be so difficult? Perhaps this wasn’t the right choice. You feel increasingly disillusioned, until you remind yourself: there are so many things you could do; why be limited to just this?

So, you go back to dreaming, soon finding another pursuit that seems much more suitable. It promises to be exciting, fun, and probably what you should have done in the first place. And, it’s free of any real downsides (for the record, muck is a bit like quicksand—you won’t know it’s there until you’re in up to your neck).

This leaves you in a desperate—almost endless—loop, in which you limp from one thing to the next, in hopes of finding the one pursuit that feels “right.” Sadly, none ever will, because (like it or not) everything comes with its own share of muck.

Muck is the buffer between your dreams and actuality. It’s there because time must be invested before one can do something well. It’s also a means of shaking out those who weren’t really worthy of the good stuff. Those with the conviction are unwilling to be stopped by muck. They push through, in turn earning the spoils.

In spite of popular belief, there is no one thing you’re destined to do. Purpose doesn’t happen to you any more than love does. These things evolve when you commit yourself fully to something, or someone, and make the decision to work through the muck.

Many of us wonder about how incredible it would be to travel around the world with our families (at least, we at Deliberatism often do so). Of course, when we start looking at the actual logistics of such a lifestyle, it quickly dampens our enthusiasm, from home schooling to language barriers. We knew there were people out there who are already doing this, however—so, after some digging, we came across Colin and Tracy Burns, who have been travelling around the world with their two young kids, Noah and Hayley, for over two and a half years. This interview comes from Colin and family as they were residing in Queenstown, New Zealand.

So, how did this entire journey begin? How did you prepare your family for life on the move before you left?

Colin: This is actually an interesting story. We spontaneously decided to start traveling in the middle of September, 2009. We booked flights and gave ourselves 6 weeks to sort everything out, sell off some of our gear, and pack the rest into storage. We also had to break the lease on our apartment we had been renting, but were having a really hard time finding someone to rent the place. Then, a week before we were due to leave, Tracy was diagnosed with thyroid cancer.

Luckily for us, thyroid cancer is generally very treatable—3 months and two surgeries later, we were off. Because no one had taken over our lease, we were simply able to keep on living in the place until we were ready to leave. So in the end, our initial misfortune of finding it hard to find someone to break the lease worked perfectly for us.

That said, we had taken a couple of family holidays in the 6 months before our decision to see how the kids reacted to travel. The idea was always at the back of our minds, it just wasn’t until 6 weeks before that we realized we could actually do it.

Most of our preparation took place on the road though. We had these grand travel plans to cover all of Asia in a few months, but once we started traveling, we realized our children needed more time to adjust to life on the move. So, we slowed down, stopped for 2 – 4 weeks in one location, and even retraced our steps back to locations we’d visited before so the kids had a sense of familiarity.

How did the kids adjust to a nomadic lifestyle? As a parent, what can you do to help your kids adjust?

Colin: When we started travelling, my daughter was only 2 and a half years old, so she became more and more worn out as the months drew on. The best advice we can give to parents of toddlers, or even older children wanting to live this lifestyle, is to take your time. Don’t try to cram everything in.

In some places, you’ll only get to see one or two things rather than the 5 things that you would see if you were on your own, or without the kids. Travel days wear kids out very quickly (even if they are just sitting in a seat playing the iPad for the entire trip). Take time to recover from travel days and try to enjoy the time with the family; teach them some card games and play them together. You’ll need to learn to push the guilt or resentment of not seeing everything in a particular place aside and enjoy the things you can enjoy with your kids. You can always come back to Bali or Thailand or France and see those things again on another trip, but you can’t revisit the age that your kids are now, so let go of the guidebooks and enjoy family time.

What have been some of the biggest challenges to date? I imagine home schooling in particular must be difficult at times.

Colin: Home schooling is by far our biggest headache, and the thing that causes the most angst in our family. We are currently in Queenstown, New Zealand for 6 months, so the kids can go to school here, rather than home schooling like in Malaysia. I can confirm that after 2.5 years, we still haven’t found the right formula for our family. Every family, and every parent in particular are different—we all have different strengths and weaknesses when it comes to home schooling. We just haven’t found our mojo yet. Tracy has written about this quite a bit on our blog. The kids and Tracy love New Zealand and the schooling, and I am finding New Zealand incredibly beautiful, but I get very itchy feet even knowing we are only staying here until the beginning of December.

How do you balance your interests (e.g. hiking, sightseeing) with those of your kids (e.g. dinosaurs, naps)?

Colin: It’s hard at times.

Generally the kids’ almost always come first. On occasion my wife or I will go and do something we want to do while the other stays with the children. Alternatively, you take opportunities as they come. In 2010, the children’s godmother traveled with us for 1 month in Cambodia. This allowed Tracy and I to have a couple of date nights, while another time Tracy and Sara would head out to Angkor Wat and take photos while I looked after the kids. Generally, I have work to do, so I will often head out to work while Tracy looks after the kids. After 2 years of that, we are really enjoying having both kids in full-time school for the first time ever.

Are there any real dangers of traveling with kids to keep in mind?

Colin: I don’t think there are any more dangers traveling with children than there are living at home with children. We did almost lose our daughter on a train in Athens, but that could have just as easily happened catching the train back in Brisbane.

Keeping your children safe while you travel is just about being sensible and being prepared, the same as it would be if you were going on a day trip back home. You just have to be a little more prepared. We always have a basic medical kit with us, while my over cautious wife generally knows what kind of medical facilities are available in the next location we’re heading to and where the nearest emergency train brake is (luckily!). When you are changing countries and locations all the time, you can’t just teach your kids your home phone number. But you can make sure they know their parent’s full names, the name of hotel that you are staying at and what to do if you get separated from the rest of the family. If your children are too young to remember this information, you can get ID bracelets or write your contact details inside your kid’s jackets, but we find the easiest thing is to take a business card from your hotel or hostel, and put it in their pocket.

If you could redo this incredible journey, is there anything you would consider doing differently?

Colin: Not visit Vietnam in the height of summer perhaps! Honestly though, I really don’t know.

Which countries were most enjoyable to visit with your kids? Did any countries surprise you in particular?

Colin: Just the other day when Tracy and I were debating what our next steps are after New Zealand, one of our friends asked us “Where were you the happiest?” It was a simple question, but it really hit a chord. There I was, being all analytical and calculating, trying to work out things like cost of living, potential for schooling, etc. and then I realized that wasn’t really the point… “Where have we been the happiest?” is the point.

The answer to this is probably three countries that you wouldn’t expect. We had an incredible time in Bulgaria at the beginning of the year, and in our first year of travel we had an incredible two weeks in Laos. The third place is Penang, Malaysia, where we’ve made some great friends and get a lot of visitors from some of the families that have contacted us through our websites. Laos and Bulgaria were two places that really surprised us. They were originally both just short stops that we weren’t expecting too much from, but if the opportunity presented itself, we’d move to either country in a heartbeat.

That sounds incredible. What have been some of the best experiences that you’ve had with your kids so far?

Colin: There have been so many amazing things that we’ve been able to experience together. There was the time in a Bulgarian Ski resort where we all finally skied and snowboarded together down a run for the very first time (it took until the last day of our stay for this to happen). There was the time we spent visiting museums in London, or showing the kids the Eiffel Tower. More recently, it was watching the kids compete in their New Zealand School’s cross-country race. It’s incredibly fun to watch how they adapt every day to the new experiences we throw at them.

See what else Colin and his family have been up to on their travel blog: Our Travel Lifestyle

During the second world war, both Japanese and Allied troops descended upon the islands of Melanesia. This arrival rocked the realities of the local indigenous populations, which had until then been sheltered from outside influence.

Instead of being slowly introduced to technology and modern conveniences, these things fell into their communities, quite literally, out of the sky. Massive amounts of cargo, ranging from clothing and headphones, to canned food and medicine was suddenly just there, with little explanation of its means of creation.

With the conclusion of the war, this came to an end. The troops packed up, the planes took off, and the materiel dried up. This left the locals back where they started. In spite of how they had grown to enjoy these things, they had little understanding of modern technology and manufacturing. In fact, they found such notions so unimaginable that they instead believed these things to be other-worldly and divine.

A few of the more industrious individuals were able to convince their peers that the supply of these gifts could be restored by following certain practices they had witnessed amongst the soldiers. They then codified rituals based on what they had seen. They imitated military drills and landing-strip procedures. They also created effigies to radios, aircrafts, and rifles, using only primitive materials to do so. Imagine: an entire population playing a strange kind of dress-up, hoping that in doing so the airplanes would return with their precious cargo.

This makes for a rather powerful analog to our own culture.

We witness successful individuals, but fail to understand what made them so. This leads us to fall victim to a logical fantasy, in which we imitate what we see, hoping it will bring the same ends. We buy lovely watches and beautiful garments. We drive remarkable cars and dedicate enormous energy to decorating our houses appropriately. We accumulate markers of success, sometimes becoming lost in the process of doing so.

A Rolex doesn’t bring respect; an Armani suit doesn’t turn you into a model; a Mercedes doesn’t generate wealth; a well-designed home doesn’t result in a more interesting life. While these things can lend pleasure and utility, they are most certainly not causation of success.

We might chuckle at how these pre-industrial tribal societies responded to something they didn’t understand; but, we seem less able to recognize similar tendencies in ourselves. Have we become victims of our very own cargo cult?

Notes

1. I’ve simplified a little, in order to keep the post succinct.
2. The Pacific cults of WWII that I’ve described are just one of a number of cargo cults.
3. Thanks to Jo Hund, who introduced me to this metaphor.

Following her recovery from a devastating illness, Barbara Weibel left her successful but unsatisfying corporate career to pursue her dream of traveling the world. Initially setting out on a six-month solo backpacking trip, she has now been traveling full time since 2009.

What pushed you to leave your career and start traveling? How did your illness impact your decision?

Barbara: I spent nearly 35 years working in corporate jobs that made me miserable, but I kept slogging along because it’s what was “expected” of me. When I got extremely sick with chronic Lyme disease, I reassessed my life and realized I could die without ever doing all the things I had dreamed about. I promised myself that if I recovered, I would quit my job and hit the road, with a goal of recreating myself as a travel writer and photographer, the only things I had every really wanted to do.

Did the people around you support your decision? How did you handle their response?

Barbara: A few of my friends supported me, but in general, the reception to my decision was less than enthusiastic. I was told that I was “throwing my life away” and that at 54, with no portfolio or experience, it would be impossible to break into the travel writing industry. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t take “no” for an answer, and when you tell me something can’t be done, I’ll do it just to spite you. Family members kept telling me I had to be realistic; that few people “make it” as writers. Whenever this happened, I said aloud, “Cancel, cancel, cancel.” I refused to allow the negativity of others to seep into my psyche. Having dealt with a serious illness that could have been fatal gave me a certain freedom to walk away from everything I’d built and run toward my dream.

What would you encourage others to do if they want to make a change, but receive little support from those around them?

Barbara: Be your own person and trust your gut; you are the only person who knows what is best for you. Fifty years from now, you don’t want to look back and wonder, “what if?” As for others, there’s a saying that is perfect for this situation: “What other people think of me is none of my business.”

How did you prepare for traveling? What did you need to think about before you left?

Barbara: For my initial trip, I purchased a round-the-world airfare ticket that required me to plan each leg of my six month journey. Thus, I knew my exact route, how long I would be staying in each place, and had even pre-booked most of my hotels. In retrospect, that was probably wise; though I had traveled all my life, the bulk of my travels had been domestic, and I was a bit intimidated by six-months of overseas travel to places like Vietnam and Cambodia. As a result, I took extra precautions, such as getting backup debit cards; setting up two separate checking accounts – one for business and the other personal, with the ability to transfer funds between them; arranging for medical evacuation insurance; and thoroughly researching each destination. These days, my mode of travel is much different. I buy one-way tickets to a continent and plan nothing, staying in a destination until I am ready to move on. Often, I even arrive in a country with no hotel reservations and just figure things out when I get there. Having a few years of perpetual travel under my belt has taught me that there is nothing to fear.

If you could do this over again, is there anything you would do differently? Or, is there anything you wish you had known before you left?

Barbara: I’m tempted to say that I wish I’d done it years before I did, but there were no blogs back then, and blogging is how I make enough money to stay on the road perpetually. Plus, everything I’ve been through in my life made me the person I am today, so I think everything has happened just as it was meant to.

How do you balance your writing and work while traveling?

Barbara: Ach! This is the very biggest issue in my life. As a perpetual traveler, time is a precious commodity. I spend my days touring, interviewing people, looking for feature stories, etc. In the evening I have to download, organize and backup the 200+ photos I take each day; answer the 100+ emails I get each day; take care of my social media obligations; manage the advertising on my blog; manage the blog technology and design; produce videos; research articles; and plan for my upcoming travels—all before I write the first word. Many a night I exist on four hours of sleep per night. Frankly, I work as many, if not more hours than I ever did in corporate life. The difference is, I now love what I do.

What has been your most memorable and rewarding experience to date, if you could only pick one?

Barbara: I have to say being adopted by my Nepali family was the most rewarding experience of all my travels. My mode of travel had been gradually changing, slowing down prior to this, but they really taught me the value of connecting at a very deep level with people in the countries I visit. As a result, these days I rarely spend less than a month in a county, and I almost always try to immerse in the culture of the places I visit.

Do you have any advice for others contemplating leaving their career to pursue their dreams?

Barbara: The question I am most often asked is, “Aren’t you afraid?” I tell people there is nothing to be afraid of. Educate yourself about the scams and ways in which travelers are sometimes targeted and be aware of what is happening around you at all times. But in the end, just do it.

Read more about Barbara’s adventures on her travel blog: Hole in the Donut.

Over the past weeks, a couple of folks have sent emails to us. They’ve wondered who’s writing these posts, and have asked about the story behind Deliberatism. I’ll respond to these questions today, and then move on.

I’m Eric. I have a very long last name, therefore, some call me karj. I like making things. Doing so is the one thing I think I was meant to do.

I studied as a painter in the early 90s and worked as one for a short while. I enjoyed this, but missed the experience of working with others. This led me to start a design company with my friend Eric Shelkie.

We sacrificed some comforts to follow this dream. We began without clients or industry experience. This necessitated living on very little. (During our first year, we earned around $7,000 each.) Since then, we’ve learned a lot, and our agency has been recognized for some of its projects.

At times, smashLAB has demanded more from us than we should have given it. At others, it has simply been fun. We employ a group of people I like seeing every day; we do work we’re proud of; meanwhile, we interact with organizations, whose people have become like family. Admittedly, it isn’t a bad way to make a living.

Our company also affords a means of acting on our ideas. For example, we started Design Can Change, an initiative that encourages sustainable design practices. After that, we became interested in content communities and social networks, so, we built MakeFive. (Around 3 million people visit it every year.)

I enjoy writing. Through our venture, I’ve had the opportunity to author the blog ideasonideas and the book Speak Human. We’ve also created technologies like shiftCMS and Guuda. I’m grateful to have had a good partner to work with, and for our opportunity to explore.

Over the years, though, my priorities have shifted—as they do for many of us.

I’m married to a lovely woman named Amea. We have two boys. These three people have affected my life dramatically. I used to enjoy making things so much that it was all I wanted to do; they’ve changed that. Nothing I’ve done professionally matches the profound impact that they’ve have had on me.

Every morning, I have an espresso with my business partner. During this time, we discuss the day ahead, our business, and where we’re headed. We often end up talking about the environment, and how dangerous of a course we all seem to be on. We also ask questions about the lives we’re living, and whether we’re making the right choices.

These themes: how to create a post-consumption society; and, what one is supposed to do with their life; are the ones that led to Deliberatism. We feel that they’re important things to be asking questions about.

Perhaps I’m the wrong person to write this blog. While I’m living how I want to live, I’m not the model citizen for sustainable, or minimal, living. Actually, that’s part of why I feel compelled to write this: in doing so, I have to live up to the ideals I espouse.

For me, Deliberatism is about making clear choices about one’s life. It’s about existing harmoniously in this world. It’s about being connected to one another, and the planet, and acting with these interests in mind. It’s about getting rid of stuff that distracts/encumbers, and instead seeking out things and experiences that enrich our lives.

You’ll interpret Deliberatism differently. That’s a good thing. I don’t intend to prescribe a lifestyle—even when I write somewhat provocatively. I’m just encouraging you to get as much from life as you can. How you do so isn’t my affair.

For the record, I have no intention of writing this personally again. I don’t think it’s what Deliberatism is about. For that matter, I try to keep myself out of these posts (to the point of rewriting any sentences that utilize the word, “I”). There are already lots of bloggers who write about their personal journeys to minimalism, self-discovery, and/or sustainable living. Many of them do so well. There’s little need for me to do the same.

With Deliberatism, I intend to present ideas that result in discussion. In a best-case scenario, they’ll challenge some of the ideas we’ve come to see as normal. My hope is that it is a positive contribution.

Once our basic needs are satiated, we look for meaning. This can lead us to seek out interesting pursuits that will captivate us and lend a sense of purpose.

Due diligence is where most start: surveying the landscape. This takes shape in looking at others’ lives and then imagining ourselves within them. While this approach may seem sensible, it is in fact deeply flawed. We lack objectivity, and therefore only witness the rewards reaped by others, failing to recognize the practice and sacrifice involved.

If you want to find something you love, you may need to change your search criteria.

Finding an endeavor that fulfills you, is like finding a good friend or life-partner. It doesn’t “happen” to you, nor does it arrive with an announcement. Instead, it presents itself quietly and develops over time.

Think of your closest friends. At the beginning, you probably didn’t know they’d turn out to be great comrades; instead, you noted some common interests, visited a little, and slowly built a relationship. Life passions are like this too. It’s rare for them to be clear to us early in life, but can seem more obvious as we grow older.

Your passion may be found as a filmmaker, mother, or while trekking in foreign lands. The important note here is that you find your passion, even if it makes little sense to others. There are builders, nurturers, explorers… just to scratch the surface. Measuring your passions against those of others is a wasted exercise, akin to comparing a boat to a chicken.

The shortest path to finding one’s passion, is to look close to home. Consider what you do already—particularly the activities you gravitate to with no sense of payoff or external reward. Do this more, and see how it feels. It won’t be easy or perfect; then of course, nothing is. That said, should you find yourself “lost in it” at times, you may be on fertile ground.

It’s improbable that you are destined to do any one thing. There are a multitude of options from which you may choose. Choose you must, though. Not doing so will leave you bouncing from one thing to the next, leaving you with only surface level experiences.

Each one of us gets one lifetime: no more, no less. It can be spent in a multitude of ways, but it would seem foolish to squander it. Sadly, many of us learn that we have.

At our worst, we are fatigued, dissatisfied, and unhappy. We chase things we’re supposed to want, and race past what really matters. What if it isn’t about things or achievement? Should we instead focus on personal exploration and fostering meaningful connections?

Deliberatism is about living one’s life consciously. It’s about taking the time to ask questions now, so that we don’t miss the important stuff. It’s about removing conditioning and ego, in order to chose the things that really make us happy.

While the opinions here are presented emphatically, Deliberatism is not dogmatic. Good conversations seem to come from passionate argument; as such, this is what we aim to facilitate. Take from it what’d you like, and disregard the rest. (Or, argue the points presented.)

There are a number of wonky measures used to evaluate the suitability of a potential life partner. Some employ a predetermined criteria, while others look to their peers for feedback. Meanwhile, many lie in wait for some magic moment. (Popular film favors this latter scenario.)

The problems associated with these notions are many-fold. The first introduces an overly rigid set of requirements that makes the process much like shopping for a car. The second is dependent upon others’ value-systems—which likely aren’t an exact match with yours. The third is so vague and mystical that it becomes difficult to identify such moments should they actually come to pass. It also tends to be confused with excitement, which isn’t necessarily a good sign.

In lock-step with the “magic moment” hypothesis, is the notion of “The One.” The One is a mythic creature… much like the Yeti. It persists in popular culture in spite of any evidence of its existence. The search for it consumes entire lifetimes, rarely to any avail.

As a culture, we continue to invent ways to complicate this process. It needn’t be this way.

If you’re single, you probably won’t be for long. There are 7 billion people on the planet, and many of them are looking for a companion. Sidestepping this biological imperative to pair-bond is simply against the odds. Equally so, is the likelihood of there being one perfect person pre-ordained to be with you, and you alone. There are many compatible candidates; it’s really more a matter of determining who you fit best with.

While peers can provide words of encouragement or caution surrounding a potential partner, this feedback shouldn’t be taken too seriously. We don’t ask our friends to choose our meals; why would we trust them to determine who we live with? Long, fixed lists of eligibility criteria also shouldn’t be given too much weight. The qualities and characteristics we think we want are often quite different from those we actually do.

One might determine that the most sensible way to find a potential mate is to increase opportunity, limit criteria, and open up more to possibilities—particularly those close at hand.

Opportunity is increased by situating oneself in environments within which there are a higher number of eligible people. (While this may seem obvious, few seem willing to accept such straightforward notions when it comes to these matters.) Avoid bars and nightclubs as they are largely an urban mirage. Instead, join running groups, take evening classes, and go online. It’s helpful to choose places where you can actually talk with people (and hear their responses).

At the same time, one needs to thin their list of requirements to a very small number. This requires putting aside petty biases. For example, physical characteristics may seem relevant, but ultimately amount to very little; therefore, they shouldn’t be given much credence. On the other hand, it’s highly important to be with someone who’s nice and can hold a conversation. After the initial thrill wears off, these are the sorts of things that actually matter.

Additionally, while you’re looking off in the distance for someone remarkable to appear, perhaps also open up to the possibilities right in front of you. While some feel strongly about not dating those they see as “just friends,” they often miss out on the possibility of being with someone great who they already share common interests with.

While some find the acquisition, curation, and maintenance of clothing to be bothersome, few take time to think about it deliberately. Failing to do so leaves many making decisions in haste—often around a sale rack that offers “good deals.” This results in further lost time and overflowing closets.

To take command of one’s wardrobe, it’s imperative to make clear decisions before buying another garment. The benefits in doing so are numerous: purchases are made simpler; money is saved; getting out of the house in the morning is faster; even packing is easier.

The following provides one perspective on how to achieve hassle-free dress. It is by no means definitive, but does work. It’s a minimal wardrobe concentrated on utility, and comprised of basic items.

At the heart of this system are two pairs of jeans. Denim is durable and—if carefully chosen—can be worn in a multitude of settings, ranging from business meetings to weekend outings. The rules: Choose dark denim, as it’s easy to pair and largely neutral. Select plain cuts as they are less likely to seem outdated. (Unless you work in a really dirty setting, I suggest only washing them once every three to four months, in cold water, hanging to dry. Doing so will leave them looking new for years.)

Next, three black T-shirts. These need to be free of prints, patterns, and logos, as such affectations tend to crack, wear, and grow tired. Besides, you aren’t a billboard, so why be treated like one? Then, two charcoal colored hoodies. Hoodies are surprisingly functional, and dark grey is an adaptable color, as it doesn’t fade or stain as easily as other tones.

Underwear and socks are items I don’t want to put an iota of time into. I just need these areas covered, and I’d rather avoid mismatched socks. As such, pick a shop that consistently carries one style (free of stripes, patterns, textures) and then buy only these. Doing so will avoid having to match them after washing, or discard of ones that no longer have a mate.

For outer layers, a plain black waterproof shell can be worn in almost any setting, at any time of year. One pair of light, neutral, and easy to pack shoes is also a nice alternative to a closet bursting with outdated footwear. (I’m quite happy with Vans’ hemp shoes, which are lightweight, and made with a focus on sustainable/recycled materials.)

That’s it.

I should, however, note that the above can easily be dressed up for more formal occasions, with the addition of a single well-tailored grey blazer and one wrinkle free button-down shirt. The essential wardrobe should be free of anything that requires an iron or visit to the dry cleaner—both of which make for tedious and unnecessary work. Key to this approach is the minimization of such nuisances.

With this in mind, locate garments and shops that you can rely on, when you wear these things out. Doing so will reduce the task of procuring clothing to a few moments, every year or two. Ultimately, you should be able to order another item online, or by phone, without even stepping foot in a shop. (I have seen Hell, and it is a shopping mall.)

Of course, this is just a set of suggestions, and you’ll likely change it to fit your needs. Perhaps you prefer plain knit sweaters over hoodies, or, grey t-shirts over black. It doesn’t really matter. The purpose of this exercise is to reposition clothing as a purely functional item, instead of a statement of self-worth.