The thirty pieces that cover almost everything

Most wardrobes aren't too small. They're full of things bought for a life nobody actually lives — an occasion that never came, a colour that goes with nothing, a size that's aspirational.

A capsule fixes that by starting from what you actually do in a week, and buying for that.

Start with your real week

Write down your last fortnight. How many days at work, what kind of work, how many evenings out, how many at home, how much travel, what weather.

Then build for that ratio. A woman working four days in an office and one from home needs a very different wardrobe from someone on her feet in a school, and both are badly served by a magazine list written for neither.

The thirty

Adjust for climate and for your actual week. The principle is that everything goes with almost everything.

Foundations (8) Two pairs of well-fitting trousers in a neutral. One pair of dark, well-cut jeans. One skirt you can sit down in comfortably. Two dresses — one that works for the office and one that works for dinner. One blazer. One pair of tailored shorts, if your climate wants it.

Layers (8) Three plain t-shirts or fine-knit tops in colours that go with everything you own. Two shirts. Two knits — one light, one warm. One cardigan or overshirt.

Outerwear (3) A coat for the cold. Something waterproof. One lighter jacket — denim, leather, or a trench.

Shoes (5) Trainers you'd wear out of the house. Flats or loafers. One boot. One heel you can actually walk in. Something for the weather.

The specific ones (3) One thing for a formal evening. One thing for a funeral — black, plain, and in the wardrobe before you need it at forty-eight hours' notice. One thing for whatever your life throws at you that the other twenty-nine don't cover.

Accessories (3) A bag that holds what you carry. A second, smaller one. A belt.

The rules that make it work

One neutral base. Navy, black, grey, camel, or olive — pick one and let it carry the foundations. Two competing neutrals halves the number of outfits the same pieces produce.

Fit over everything. The single best money you'll spend is a tailor. Taking in a waist or shortening a hem costs very little and changes a garment completely. Almost nobody does it, and it's the whole reason expensive clothes look expensive.

Fabric matters more than brand. Natural fibres, or good blends. Hold it to the light: if you can see through it, it'll look cheap after three washes. Check the seams — straight, dense stitching and finished edges outlast a label every time.

One in, one out. Once the capsule is built, buying means replacing.

The part people skip

Get rid of the things that don't fit or that you don't wear.

Not "store them in case". A wardrobe full of clothes for a different life makes getting dressed harder every single morning, and none of those garments are doing you any good in there.

Give them to someone who will wear them.