Late last year I set out on a mission to figure out my fashion uniform—that signature outfit that people will recognize me for. I pledged to not buy any new clothes in 2019 (with a few exceptions, like underwear), a decision that stemmed both from my concerns about climate change and my desire to lessen my waste impact on this planet. There were other rules: If I were to purchase something, it must be second-hand (except, you know, underwear); I would donate and recycle everything I didn’t wear anymore (which was a lot), and would work with what I have left (which, honestly, is still a lot.) The way I saw it, having a uniform would mean I’d be less inclined to mindlessly shop for things I might wear and more likely to only acquire things I actually will wear.

As an indecisive Gemini, I’ve always long admired people who uniform-dress. To me, women who have a uniform know exactly what they want in life—they’re assertive, strong-willed, and motivated. But at the same time, as an indecisive Gemini, I get bored easily, which makes me fearful that I won't make it through the year without shopping.

I’m all about self-expression through clothes, and I love tinkering with my personal style. I grew up on fashion magazines in my teens, and street-style blogs in my 20s, so I've believed that to be considered even remotely stylish, I had to be wildly unpredictable and eccentric with what I wore. That meant that, for a while, I'd fill my closet with ridiculous thrift store finds and overstock from the bargain basement of Urban Outfitters, sheer babydoll dresses with flared jeans; longline bralettes over men’s undershirts; big flannel nightshirts with ratty boots—all items that were disposable to me by the following year.

Those days are over. Now it's much more important to me to have my wardrobe be reflective of my values than to be swept up by the latest trends. What remains after purging my wardrobe are primarily jeans (I have a 24 pairs), sweatshirts (16), T-shirts (50+), and street sneakers (8 pairs). By default, I’m leaning into the whole jeans-and-T-shirt look—it’s kind of basic and doesn’t feel like a real “uniform” to me yet, since a T-shirt, jeans, and sweatshirt are what most people wear casually, anyway. But it offers me the comfort and peace of mind I always imagined came with uniform dressing: I don’t have to overthink getting dressed, nor do I have to worry about whether something “works” for my body type—these are pieces that survived a dramatic closet edit for a reason, after all.

While there’s an obvious monotony to uniform dressing, it isn’t boring or uncreative by any means. Some of our greatest fashion icons subscribe to wearing the same thing every day: Grace Coddington with her all-black; Victoria Beckham with her coordinated separates; Stevie Nicks with her witchy-bohemian dresses. A uniform helps you get on with your days—and it can help you communicate your values just as strongly.

There are a myriad of reasons why women choose to uniform-dress: some because their career or line of work requires it, others because it makes their mornings a breeze, and then there are those who simply find joy in wearing their favorite thing on the daily. I’m still trying to figure out what my “uniform” is, but there are plenty of women out there who’ve mastered the art form. I spoke with 11 'uniform" dressers on how they arrived at their trademark aesthetic and how it has changed their approach to fashion.

Jinnie Lee is a freelance writer in New York City.