Editorial: Halloween approach to dressing?

SIMPLE: Much like Batman, Rosie “only works in black. Or sometimes very, very dark grey”. PHOTO/FILE

I'm not convinced about Halloween. I think it's partly because I was raised Catholic, so was always told it's all bollocks.

But really, now that I think about it, of all the Hallmark holidays, Halloween is probably the easiest one for me to get behind.

I already love sweet treats and always wear black. It's like it was tailor-made for me. Along with the rest of my wardrobe.

You see, when I say I always wear black, I genuinely mean it. I'm not one of those people who exclaims "oh, I always wear black" then turns up to a summer barbecue in a hot pink dress. No, sir, not me.

There's a scene in The Lego Movie where the lead character, Emmet, asks Batman if he could make a Batplane in orange. "I only work in black. And sometimes very, very dark grey," Batman responds.

I remember sitting at the movies, seeing this, and sensing my husband turn to stare at me with a knowing look and comically-raised eyebrow. It has since become one of my trademark expressions to explain my sartorial choices.

Except that there's much more to my monochromatic wardrobe approach than a simple superhero comparison.

I wasn't always this way. In fact, I used to wear a lot of colour. I didn't set out to go all black, all the time, but more and more I found I felt my best in black. So I just embraced it.

It definitely makes sparrow's fart starts, when you're fumbling about getting dressed in the dark, much less harrowing. There's an ease to knowing that you can throw on any old thing, walk out the door and arrive at work looking cohesive and well-put together. It's almost like a uniform. In fact, it's exactly like a uniform.

And I'm not the only one embracing a uniform. From the tech set to fashion's super-powers, uniforms are everywhere once you start looking - Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Grace Coddington and Karl Lagerfeld all rock a uniform. Even Barack Obama wears only blue or grey suits.

There's actually a science behind the simplicity. Obama told Vanity Fair he does it to pare down decisions. "I don't want to make decisions about what I'm eating or wearing because I have too many other decisions to make."

He mentioned research that shows the simple act of making decisions degrades one's ability to make further decisions. So fewer decisions about mundane things means more brainpower for decisions about things that actually matter. He's totally right, of course.

And while I may not be deciding the future of mankind, having a uniform does make my morning routine much simpler. When everything you own aligns with singular stylistic approach, you quickly find all the items in your wardrobe go with each other. There are fewer restrictions - and thus fewer decisions.

Even shopping is easier now, because I know exactly what will work with everything else that's in my wardrobe. Plus, I can sneak new items in there and my husband doesn't even notice. Despite his acute design eye, there's only so many floating, black capes one can discern.

And now I'm considering simplifying further, beyond just eliminating colour. I'm becoming addicted to my pared-back style.

I've decided to limit the number of coathangers I own. It'll be like the Six Chair Challenge on The Voice, where there are only so many hangers and if a new item is to enter the sacred wardrobe space, another item must be discarded or, preferably, sold or given away.

When I voiced my thoughts on Facebook last week, responses varied from enthusiastically supportive to outright horror. "This whole idea is making me irrationally upset. I think I might be a clothes hoarder," one friend said.

It doesn't terrify me at all. In fact, I'm excited by the challenge. Life is hard enough without having to agonise over what to wear as well.

And, if nothing else, it means I never struggle for what to wear on Halloween. BYO witch's hat.