So I was scrolling through my phone the other day, waiting for my coffee to brew – you know that weird limbo where you’re too tired to do anything but too awake to go back to bed? Anyway, I stumbled upon this old photo from last summer. Me, in that ridiculously oversized denim jacket I swore I’d never take off, standing in front of some random street art. It got me thinking about how my style has shifted since then. Not in a dramatic, ‘I’ve reinvented myself’ way, but more like… my closet has slowly accumulated pieces that just feel right.

Take last Thursday, for example. I met up with Alex at that new bookstore café downtown. You know Alex – always late, but always with a good excuse. While I waited, I found myself people-watching. There was this guy in the corner, totally absorbed in a thick novel, wearing the coolest pair of vintage-looking boots. They weren’t flashy, just… solid. It reminded me of these chunky loafers I picked up on a whim a few months back. I almost didn’t get them because I wasn’t sure how to style them, but now? They’re my go-to for lazy weekends. I just throw them on with some relaxed-fit trousers and a simple tee, and somehow it works.

Which, funny enough, ties into something I’ve been tinkering with lately. I used to just buy things and hope for the best, but recently I started keeping track of it all in this digital notepad of sorts. It’s not anything fancy – just a way to jot down what I own, what I’m eyeing, and how pieces fit together. I call it my Basetao spreadsheet, though it’s less about strict budgeting and more about visualizing my wardrobe. Sometimes I’ll open it up when I’m bored and just rearrange things, almost like a puzzle. It’s weirdly satisfying.

Like last week, I was trying to decide if I needed another white shirt. Spoiler: I probably don’t. But instead of just guessing, I pulled up my spreadsheet and scrolled through my ‘tops’ section. Turns out I have three already, all slightly different cuts. Seeing them listed out like that made it easier to remember what I actually wear versus what I think I wear. It stopped me from buying a fourth one that would’ve just collected dust.

This system has also been great for those ‘I have nothing to wear’ moments. Yesterday morning, I was running late (shocking, I know) and just blanked on what to put on. Instead of frantically digging through my drawers, I glanced at my Basetao spreadsheet template on my tablet. I’d recently added a column for ‘easy combos’ – basically, outfits I can throw together in under five minutes. I spotted one I’d forgotten about: that olive green utility jacket layered over a grey hoodie, with those black jeans that fit just right. It took me two minutes to get dressed, and I felt put-together all day.

It’s not just about clothes, though. The other day, I was cleaning out my desk and found a stack of old receipts – from coffee shops, bookstores, even that plant nursery I went to once. I almost tossed them, but then I thought, why not add a section to my spreadsheet for little life things? Nothing detailed, just a note here and there. Like, ‘bought a new fern, named it Steve’ or ‘tried the lavender latte at Café Miro, 8/10.’ It makes the whole thing feel less like a chore and more like a casual journal.

What I like most about using this spreadsheet method is how it removes the noise. Fashion can feel overwhelming sometimes, with everyone shouting about the next big trend. But when I look at my own list, it’s just… my stuff. The beat-up leather backpack I’ve had for years, the striped sweater my sister gave me, those corduroy pants I found at a thrift store. They’re not the coolest items on the planet, but they’re mine, and they tell a story.

I was reminded of that this afternoon. I took a long walk to clear my head, no destination in mind. Ended up at the park, where I sat on a bench and watched dogs chase each other. I was wearing my favorite pair of socks – the ones with tiny pineapples on them – peeking out above my sneakers. No one could see them, but I knew they were there. It’s those little things, the pieces that make you smile for no reason, that really stick. And maybe that’s the point of keeping track of it all: not to have a perfect wardrobe, but to remember what makes you feel like you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my coffee’s finally ready. And I think I’ll go update my spreadsheet – just remembered I never logged those socks.