You know that friend who posts the most incredible outfits on Instagram but when you hang out with them, they’re wearing the same three t-shirts on rotation? Well, turns out fashion editors are basically that friend on steroids. I learned this the hard way during my brief stint helping out at fashion week a few years back – watching editors transform from street style peacocks into comfortable humans the second the cameras stopped rolling.

I was volunteering backstage at this designer show, totally starstruck watching this editor I’d been following for months. Her Instagram made it look like she existed in some alternate universe where every day called for architectural sleeves and statement earrings. But by hour three, she’d swapped her impossible shoes for beat-up Adidas and rolled up those dramatic sleeves because, and I quote, “I can’t actually function in this stuff.” It was like seeing the wizard behind the curtain, except the wizard was wearing Target joggers under her designer coat.
That reality check stuck with me. Fast fashion Instagram tells us we need constant newness and visual drama, but what do people who literally work in fashion actually wear when nobody’s watching? A few weeks ago I got my answer when I ended up at this industry mixer thing (long story, involving a friend’s friend and too many glasses of wine). fashion editors use to make Zara look like Madison Avenue” data-wpil-monitor-id=”19″>After enough drinks, the conversation turned to what we were all secretly obsessed with but would never post about.
“Black Levi’s 501s,” this editor named Keisha blurted out. “I have four identical pairs because when jeans actually fit your body right, you don’t mess around.” This from someone whose feed looks like a Technicolor fever dream of pattern mixing and vintage finds. “I get them hemmed to the exact same length at the same tailor. It’s the most boring shopping habit imaginable but I’d have a breakdown if I couldn’t find them anymore.”

Then this guy Marcus, who I’d seen in street style blogs looking like he stepped off a Milan runway, goes, “Uniqlo Heattech everything. I layer that stuff under literally everything all winter.” The idea of this incredibly elegant person being secretly dependent on mass-produced thermal underwear was somehow hilarious and deeply relatable at the same time. “Nobody sees it but I’d rather die than be cold at shows.”
Once the confessions started, they couldn’t stop. White button-downs. Plain cashmere sweaters in the most boring colors possible. Seamless nude underwear. Basic black ankle boots. The kind of stuff that makes absolutely zero content but apparently keeps the fashion world functioning. It was like discovering that your favorite restaurant’s secret is really good salt – completely unglamorous but absolutely essential.
This got me thinking about my own wardrobe and what I actually reach for when I’m not trying to create content. Spoiler alert: it’s not the vintage blazer that photographs beautifully but requires constant adjustment, or the interesting pants that look amazing but need to be dry cleaned after every wear. It’s the same five pieces, on repeat, that make me feel like I have my life together even when I absolutely don’t.

I started asking around more deliberately after that night, promising people I wouldn’t use their names if they told me what basic items they were genuinely obsessed with. The responses were both surprising and completely predictable once you think about it. The most common answer? Plain white t-shirts. Not vintage band tees or cropped versions or anything with interesting details – just perfect, boring white t-shirts.
“I have a subscription service for white t-shirts,” one fashion director told me. “They show up at my apartment every few months like clockwork. I replace them before they can get yellow or stretched out because a perfect white tee is the foundation of like 60% of my outfits.” She mentioned Petit Bateau specifically, which made me laugh because I’d been buying the same ones without realizing we had identical taste in overpriced basics.
Another editor swears by men’s white undershirts from Amazon. “Six-pack for twenty bucks, they wash perfectly, and they look exactly right with everything from suit pants to slip skirts. I’ve tried the $80 designer versions and honestly? These boring ones look better.” I actually tried this after she told me and she’s completely right – sometimes the least fancy option just works.

Black ankle boots came up constantly too. Not trendy ones or ones with interesting details, just simple, walkable boots that go with everything and never steal focus from an outfit. “I’ve been buying the same Acne Jensen boots for seven years,” one stylist told me. “When they wear out, I buy the exact same ones. They’re my secret weapon – they make everything look intentional without ever being the thing people notice.”
I get this completely. I have these basic black boots from Everlane that I’ve probably worn 200 times in the past two years. They’re not exciting enough to ever be the star of an outfit post, but they’ve carried me through client meetings, dates, grocery runs, and that time I had to walk 15 blocks because the bus broke down. They’re like the Swiss Army knife of footwear – completely reliable and slightly boring, which turns out to be exactly what you want in shoes you wear constantly.
The black pants thing was another revelation. Multiple people mentioned having several identical pairs of well-cut black trousers that form the foundation of their work wardrobes. “I have five pairs of the same black wool pants from The Row,” one market editor confessed. “I got them on discount through work three years ago and they’re still the cornerstone of my professional wardrobe. Nobody on Instagram would care about black pants, but I wear them at least twice a week and they make me feel instantly put-together.”

This hit close to home because I do the exact same thing with navy pants. I found this one pair from COS that fits perfectly and makes my legs look longer, so I bought three pairs. It felt ridiculous at the time – like, who needs three identical pairs of pants? But turns out, me. I need three identical pairs of pants because when you find something that works with your body and your lifestyle and your budget, you buy multiples and you don’t apologize for it.
Cashmere sweaters in the most boring colors imaginable came up repeatedly too. “I have a collection of navy, black, and gray cashmere crewnecks that I’ve been building for years,” said one senior fashion editor. “Some are expensive, some are J.Crew on sale, but they all do the same job – they’re the perfect backdrop for more interesting pieces. I probably wear one three days a week but I’d never post just the sweater because it would be the most boring content ever.”
The underwear conversations were particularly passionate, which makes sense when you think about how much bad underwear can ruin an otherwise perfect outfit. “Seamless nude underwear is more important to my job than any statement piece I own,” one stylist told me. “We’re always talking about which bras don’t show under anything and which underwear disappears under white pants. It’s professional knowledge but it’s too boring to write about.”

The leggings thing was funny because everyone mentioned them with this defensive tone, like they were admitting to a terrible secret. “I would never say this professionally, but good black leggings are essential to my survival,” one fashion director said. “Not as pants – I’m not completely lost – but for layering under dresses when it’s freezing, for long flights, for working from home. The Lululemon ones have gotten me through so many fashion weeks in cold cities.”
I totally relate to this defensive attitude around leggings. In my early twenties I was convinced that wearing leggings as pants would somehow disqualify me from being taken seriously, but then I realized that comfort and practicality are actually pretty sophisticated concepts. Now I have nice leggings for under-dress layering and cheap ones for working out and medium ones for grocery shopping, and I refuse to feel bad about any of it.
White button-downs showed up constantly in these conversations too. “There’s nothing more luxurious than a perfectly oversized white button-down,” noted one stylist. “I buy men’s oxford shirts and get them tailored slightly. With jeans it’s my weekend uniform, with black pants it’s my work uniform. Nobody wants to see a white button-down on Instagram but I feel naked without one when I travel.”

Even socks came up, which honestly surprised me until I thought about how awful it is when your socks don’t work with your shoes. “I have a subscription to nice merino socks,” one menswear editor revealed. “They arrive quarterly. It’s the least flashy fashion purchase I make but probably the one that affects my daily comfort the most.” This feels very on-brand for menswear people – they always seem to have figured out the invisible details that make everything else work better.
What really struck me about all these conversations was how much money these fashion insiders spend on multiples of basics versus how much they agonize over statement pieces. “I’ll debate for weeks about spending $300 on an interesting top that everyone will notice,” one fashion news director explained, “but I’ll unhesitatingly spend that same amount on three perfect white t-shirts because I know I’ll wear them constantly.”
This completely changed how I think about building a wardrobe on a budget. Instead of trying to buy one perfect version of everything, maybe the move is to find affordable basics that actually work and buy multiples. Like, instead of having one black sweater that I’m precious about, what if I had three cheaper black sweaters that I could wear without stress?

When I asked about social media habits around these basics, everyone admitted to deliberately leaving their most-worn items out of their content. “No one follows me to see black pants and white shirts,” said one editor. “They follow me to see the one day a month I wear something photographically interesting. It’s performance, not a documentary of how I actually dress.”
This isn’t dishonest exactly – it’s more like the difference between what you serve dinner guests versus what you eat for lunch on Tuesday. Both are real parts of your life, but they serve different purposes. The problem comes when we start thinking that the performance version is supposed to be our everyday reality.
I’ve definitely fallen into this trap myself, feeling like my wardrobe was somehow inadequate because it wasn’t Instagram-ready every day. But talking to these industry people made me realize that even fashion professionals save their most dramatic pieces for specific occasions and rely on boring basics for actual daily life. There’s something really freeing about that.

The reality of working in any creative field is that practical considerations often override aesthetic ones. When you’re on your feet for 12 hours or running between meetings or need to focus on your actual job instead of your outfit, you want clothes that just work. The most stylish people I know aren’t necessarily wearing the most interesting clothes every day – they’re wearing carefully chosen basics with occasional statement pieces mixed in.
Think about it like interior design. You need the perfect sofa before you worry about interesting throw pillows. The sofa does most of the heavy lifting in terms of how the room looks and functions, but nobody’s going to post photos of just the sofa because it’s not visually exciting on its own. Same logic applies to wardrobes.
What’s interesting is that when brands actually look at their sales data, the boring core products always dramatically outsell the runway pieces that get all the press attention. “For every statement earring we sell, we sell dozens of simple gold hoops,” one jewelry designer told me. “The basic pieces financially
Madison’s a Portland-based designer who treats thrift stores like treasure hunts. She writes about dressing well on a real salary—think smart buys, affordable finds, and brutal honesty about what’s worth it. Stylish, broke, and proud of it.



