I spent less on clothes once a stylist told me what to wear

A wardrobe full of clothes and nothing to wear? Meeting with a stylist cut my spending, stress and decision fatigue.

Until very recently, I didn't realise how stressed clothes were making me.

My wardrobe might have been bulging, but I felt I had nothing to wear. Rarely did I feel comfortable in my clothes.

On more than one occasion, I'd put on an outfit in a rush, only to catch myself in a mirror later in the day and wonder if I'd had some kind of cognitive lapse while getting dressed.

Can your wardrobe impact your career?

This, I suspect, has done me no favours in my career - or my finances. While it may feel superficial, there is a growing body of research suggesting clothing meaningfully affects how we're treated at work.

Studies in psychology and organisational behaviour have linked dress to perceptions of competence, confidence and leadership, as well as to how seriously someone's contributions are taken.

But it doesn't just stop there. Research into "enclothed cognition" (including an oft-cited 2012 study by Hajo Adam and Adam Galinsky) even suggests clothing can influence how the wearer both thinks and performs. Dressing for the part might, in fact, make you more suited for the part.

That's great news for those who are seemingly born with natural style. But what about the rest of us?

Why doesn't shopping solve the problem?

Like many people, for me clothes shopping only seemed to exacerbate the situation. Australians are big consumers of clothing.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, the average Aussie spends $2288 a year on footwear and fashion each year. Certainly my spending matched or even exceeded this figure.

I knew I needed help. One day, feeling particularly overwhelmed before an important overseas work trip, I finally committed to seeing a stylist.

This decision measurably improved my life. If any of the above resonates with you, it could change your life as well.

What does a stylist actually do?

Fernando Kularatne is the owner of Riley and Sons Artelier.

I meet him for my first consultation at his tastefully decorated office in the heart of Sydney on Elizabeth Street.

Until this point, my only exposure to stylists has been from reality television, which is probably why I was expecting no-nonsense, tough-love advice. Thankfully Fernando's approach is different.

"It's not look good, feel good," Fernando says. "I think that's a crock of shit. If you're trying to look good to feel good, you're using that as a crutch, as a costume."

Instead, Fernando works to understand and overcome his client's specific style problems and insecurities. This is often vulnerable work.

"Sometimes we play a therapist role where we are building someone's confidence back up and helping them identify with themselves," he says.

"A lot of the clients that come through are going through a transformational stage, and this process helps them. So it could be after a promotion, going through a divorce, or going through weight loss."

We then discuss my problem: I have a cupboard heaving with clothes and no idea what to wear for an important work trip.

Fernando asks a lot of questions, talks through my wardrobe, and gets a sense of my inherent style. I didn't realise I had one.

I then receive one of the best professional gifts of my life: a clear, unambiguous uniform. For me, it's high-waist slacks which skim past my thighs into a straight leg, a neutral blazer, and a number of interchangeable tops. As I'm packing lightly, we settle on professional-looking black sneakers for the trip.

It sounds absurdly simple.

But being told clearly what to do, and knowing that I'll look good, was an enormous weight off my shoulders.

Even better, I owned most of the pieces for the outfits Fernando put together. Only the shoes, pants, and one shirt were bought new.

Not every stylist works in the same way.

Fernando's approach blends psychology with style. He wants his clients to think about who they are, as much as how they dress. After that's settled, he'll plan a shopping trip for clients where suitable pieces are set aside ahead of time.

For stylist Nat Jacobson, she begins at home.

"I start in everyone's wardrobe, do a little edit if that's what they want, a styling session, then I make a list of gaps. Then we either hit the shops together, or I do it on my own or online, and then we come together back at their house."

Frankly, the thought of having Nat in my apartment, which is cluttered and confused on a good day, makes me anxious. Her taste is immaculate. It's no surprise she's amassed more than 100,000 followers on Instagram. Social media is where she now gets most of her clients.

"If people like [my] style, that's how I get business."

How much does a stylist cost?

Going to a stylist can be a significant cost outlay - anywhere upwards of $1000 before a single item of clothing is purchased. If you're starting from scratch, a new wardrobe can cost upwards of $5000 for mid-tier clothes.

But Nat believes it's worth the investment.

"I think it's the best money that you can spend. A lot of women literally have no idea. They just buy, buy, buy, buy, buy... but they have no idea how to style."

This isn't necessarily a personal failing. Styling and fashion are both specialist areas - it makes sense to seek out an expert.

"Everybody has a job for a reason, you know?" Nat says.

How can you find the right stylist for you?

Finding the right stylist for you can take a bit of research. A lot of people turn to Instagram and social media to find people with an aesthetic that resonates with them. Nat thinks this is a good place to start.

"Try and find someone who's projecting what you would also like."

Fernando's approach is a little different. He tries to uncover you want to be, and why, and assembles a wardrobe that matches your vision. Of course, there are no right answers. You just have to find a philosophy that best resonates.

But there are red flags to watch for.

Stylists with lucrative brand affiliations may have their advice subtly skewed. Sometimes that works in your favour, earning you discounts on pieces that genuinely suit. Other times it means the stylist is double-dipping: charging you for their service while also taking a commission on everything you buy.

It doesn't hurt to do some research, ask some tough questions, and find someone you trust.

For me, the benefits were immediate. With clear direction, the desire to aimlessly shop has disappeared, and I've donated a bulging garbage bag of clothes to charity.

Fernando and I are now looking to slowly build a small, but well-made, capsule wardrobe that will complement my personality and last.

My only regret is not having done this sooner.

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