How I Discovered My Style After Having Two Babies—Reflections on My Body, My Wardrobe, and Navigating Life Changes

      Eugénie Trochu is a Who What Wear editor in residence recognized for her influential work at Vogue France and her Substack newsletter, where she chronicles and shares emerging trends, her straightforward perspective on fashion and style, along with other reflections. She is also preparing to launch her debut book that delves into fashion as a realm of memory, projection, and transformation.

      There is a clear distinction between before and after. It’s not a revolution or a downfall; it’s simply a shift—a genuine change in the center of gravity. After two pregnancies, the body doesn't revert to its previous state. It situates itself differently, with wider hips and a pelvis that grounds itself, while the stomach begins to narrate a new tale. This isn’t tragic or sad; it’s simply that things don’t fall the same way anymore. When you've dedicated a significant part of your life to considering proportions, volumes, and cuts, this shift is far greater than a mere change in one denim button.

      I've been collecting jeans since I was 16—Levi's 501s, low-rise Diesels, ACNE Studios, and even a couple of pairs from Loewe. I have clung to them due to superstition and loyalty. One morning, it hit me that I wouldn't fit into them again, not even close. It’s not about weight; it’s about structure. The pelvis has opened like a door that never truly closes. Even if I lost weight or ran 10 kilometers daily, I wouldn’t regain that original form.

      So, I started seeking new inspirations: jeans that fit without constricting, high-waisted styles that shape without limiting, mom shorts that pair well with cropped tops or a scarf used as an impromptu shirt. At times, I opt for low-rise jeans again, enjoying the comfort and that slightly relaxed, cooler vibe.

      The biggest challenge isn't the body shape; it’s the societal reflection. Am I still able to wear minishorts? A crop top? Loafers with white socks without appearing like a late adolescent? I wish I could answer yes without a second thought, but at times, while looking in the mirror, I find myself questioning if this is still me or if I’m trying to be who I once was.

      We convince ourselves that motherhood shouldn’t bring about changes, yet the reality is it alters everything—our gait, the way we place our hands on our hips, the way we cross our legs. It even transforms our perception of sexiness, shifting the focus from seduction to feeling comfortable in a body that has fulfilled its purpose.

      I once adored short dresses. I still do, but I wear them differently now—paired with a long coat, a soft trench, or something that smooths out the lines. I cover more, yet I also find ways to make it more flattering.

      I’ve come to appreciate the art of layering: a shirt knotted over jeans, a scarf draped over a dress, or a soft cardigan thrown over shorts. It's not about concealing; it's about creating balance and shadows, lending movement and dimension. The silhouettes become richer and more intriguing.

      There is a subtle joy in coordinating my attire with my baby’s—almost instinctively. Think striped shirts from La Veste, beige trenches, and matching Bobo Choses booties. It may appear intentional, but in truth, it's merely continuity.

      The topic of stroller style is rarely discussed enough. It's a distinct category focused on silent adaptations. Bags must be worn crossbody, jackets should allow for easy bending, and shoes need to withstand navigating three flights of stairs without an elevator. Chicness is now defined by resilience.

      I've become proficient at identifying essential pieces: sturdy shirts that resist wrinkling, jeans that remain in place while crouching, and sunglasses that mask sleepless nights. Elegance shifts to practicality—a hat that shields from the sun while salvaging a bad hair day epitomizes post-maternity style, representing a grounded form of glamour rooted in daily life.

      I rarely wear makeup. I prefer to invest in quality beauty products that deliver real results, even on four hours of sleep and while neglecting a bottle of micellar water. I have my little rituals: an eye serum that refreshes my gaze, hydrating masks that simulate rest, and rich creams applied to still-damp skin. This is my interpretation of makeup—essential yet invisible.

      What captivates me today isn't merely the lack of sleep; it's the allure to "correct." Botox, fillers, and laser treatments offer promises of instant radiance. I observe it all with a blend of curiosity and caution. In Paris, the choices are infinite, which paradoxically makes them both enticing and daunting.

      Some women, like Kris Jenner, have taken it to extremes and appear 30 at 60. It’s intriguing yet somewhat disconcerting. I haven’t yet determined if I want