Wearing only black for October changed my mindset deeply

Victoria Richards, The Independent

“Darling, I always wear black.” So says Morticia Addams — and she’s long been one of my idols. In my gothic opinion, nothing says glamour like Anjelica Huston poured into a black fishtail ballgown with swooping, draping batwing sleeves. But black doesn’t always have to mean Elvira — take the ubiquitous and iconic “LBD” (little black dress), worn most memorably by Audrey Hepburn, Coco Chanel and even Princess Diana. This year, black became the IT colour of the cool-girl summer and who can forget how Marlene Dietrich brought new meaning to the word “sexy” in a black top hat and tails in Morocco in 1930 (though I, sadly, was always a lot more like Winona Ryder playing Lydia Deetz in Beetlejuice in 1988, with her split fringe, funereal clothes and wide-brimmed hat).

Black — specifically, wearing it — has been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember. But I also do a healthy amount of “dopamine dressing”, too; which fashion psychologist Shakaila Forbes-Bell says can both boost your mood — and make you feel powerful. “It’s the psychological theory behind the ‘look good, feel good’ concept,” she says. “So when we feel happy, when things are going well for us, you get that rush of the neurotransmitter dopamine, which makes us feel pleasure. That’s something we constantly seek, because it makes us feel good.”

So, while black is always sophisticated and stylish — could it backfire mood-wise, and even age wise. Some stylists warn women over 40 away from black saying it can emphasise shadows and make the skin look paler. We are meant to “go navy” for a softer, kinder shade. At 44, is there such thing as “too much black”? Or could I make like Morticia and wear nothing else for an entire month? I decided to find out... On 1 October — my first day of debuting my new, black-only wardrobe, I went out for dinner with two of my oldest friends. I wanted to dress up in something nice, but I also had to make it work from the office to the dinner table. Their reaction when they saw me in a black-and-gold dress with velvet trim that I once found in a charity “bargain bin” and paid £2 for? (Full disclosure: it’s actually three sizes too big, too; so I cinch it with a waisted belt). To roast me in the way only friends who have known you for 35 years can get away with: “You look like Morticia. Who died?” Seeing as that was my goal in the first place, I’m taking that as a win.

I’ve been known to wear ballgowns with Converse trainers on the school run in the past, so I imagined — optimistically — nobody would bat an eyelid. I was right — if anything, wearing black (and I’ll confess that on days “working from home”, the temptation to stick to black Adidas tracksuit bottoms or leggings and oversized jumpers is strong) was a bit like wearing an invisibility cloak — people are so used to me being a bit “out there” that I don’t think they recognised me. One mum even asked if I “still had Covid”, though — so maybe being washed out by black when you’re over 40 is a thing?

You know you have good colleagues when they feel able to roast you (to your face) — and “it’s not Halloween, yet!” when I walked in wearing a black velvet dress from The Vampire’s Wife pretty much summed it up — thankfully, they’re all used to me doing various mad and different things so telling them I was only wearing black for all of October was met with a barely raised an eyebrow. I, in fact, was the one who had to follow it up with: “It’s for a piece” — otherwise I’m fairly sure it would’ve been put down to being “one of Vix’s funny fads”. Fair (but it’s for a piece).

Black is synonymous with sexy, so I didn’t feel too many qualms about wearing black for a first date (to a poetry gig). I did, however, dither over what type of black, from dresses (loose or wafty; bold or plunge-cut); to trousers (skinny or barrel; dungarees or leggings) or even skirts (denim or velvet; skater-cut or pencil)? In the end, given we were going to be sitting in the basement of a theatre, listening quietly to people performing, I went for a casual T-shirt dress, which was definitely the right choice, but the date — sadly — was a disaster. Next!

If being “washed out by black” when you’re over 40 is inevitable, then so, too, is going to a day rave — because who wants to get home past midnight when you have to get up early to take the kids to three football matches, two birthday parties and a playdate? I opted for tights, boots, shorts and a sequinned shirt with a slogan on it in yellow (and hoped I wasn’t breaking my own rules). The only snag: I had to borrow my teenager’s black school jumper as an extra layer, so ended up going “out out” between 3-8pm in an M&S cotton V-neck, age 12-13.