How an extreme wardrobe makeover impacted my life

“THIS is not just a wardrobe. This is energy.” Meet the style guru who charges thousands to tell women what to wear.

Personal branding expert Colette Werden says style has nothing to do with fashion trends.

DRESS for where you’re headed, not where you’ve been.

That’s the motto of personal branding expert Colette Werden, the Melbourne style queen who charges thousands of dollars to tell women what to wear.

First impressions are everything, Werden says; within seconds of shaking your hand, assumptions are made about everything from your education level and economic status to your competence, honesty and credibility.

And most of this comes from visual cues, she says, with clothing playing an unavoidable role in the process.

Yikes. As someone who hates clothes shopping, and only does so when necessity calls — there’s an event coming up, my clothes are falling apart or don’t fit me anymore — I’d fallen into a wardrobe rut.

No longer a skinny young thing, each dreaded trip to the shops felt like more of a chore than the one before.

Style took a back seat and my approach to buying clothes centred on buying whatever looked roughly appropriate.

So when offered the chance to test drive Werden’s three-day personal branding process, I figured I had nothing to lose.

PART 1: WARDROBE EDIT

“Pieces of fabric are affecting us in so many ways,” Werden says. “I’ve got clients who say ‘I don’t want to get my photo taken’, because they don’t feel confident.” Boy, can I relate.

Along with her assistant Dee Dedusenko, we’re sitting in the lounge room of my friend’s St Kilda apartment.

We’re about to launch into part one of the process, the get-to-know-you where I’m asked about what I do, where I’ve come from and where I’m headed.

“We are going to be like your best friends,” Dedusenko promises. Werden reassures me that “we hate shopping too, believe it or not”.

With their matching, shiny red lipstick and all-black ensembles, they are walking advertisements for personal branding, the approach that ties success with the art of self-packaging and image projection.

‘We’ll be your best friends.’

I explain my career trajectory and the loose, eclectic dress code that prevails in the newsroom, and bring up the Pinterest board where I’ve been instructed to compile looks that appeal to me — regardless of whether they suit my body shape.

“We hate rules,” Werden says. “If you want to wear an orange hat to work, you can — as long as you make that a part of your brand.”

There’s no bold headwear on my mood board, which is largely made up of black and neutral-toned outfits worn by the likes of Angelina Jolie and Victoria Beckham.

Werden instructs me to look at each image and analyse what message it is sending, comparing it to a list of descriptors like “smart”, “tailored”, “stylish” and “effortless”.

I tick the words that apply to each image, then Dedusenko adds up all the ticks and narrows it down to the six top characteristics. It’s that simple.

Then Werden asks to see my existing clothes, and things get brutal.

THE CULL

Flicking through the representative selection of clothes I’ve brought down to Melbourne, Werden swings into what I later discover is a well-practised spiel.

“This is not just a wardrobe,” she says, tracing the outline of the clothing rack with her hands. “This is energy.”

When the unenlightened open their wardrobes, she explains, a process occurs that can drastically impact on their reality.

“You flip through and say to yourself: ‘This is old’. ‘Too tight’. ‘Worn out’. ‘I need to lose weight’ ... It affects how you hold yourself, your body language, your confidence, how you interact with people and what opportunities you allow yourself.”

Werden play-acts a woeful party scene in which the aforementioned drab wardrobe causes our heroine to flounder, go home early and just generally feel crappy and awkward.

Before: Only the Nikes will survive.

After: Ticking all the boxes.

I take her point, then she asks my permission before ruthlessly dissecting my choices, consigning most of the items to the scrap heap.

In the end, all that remain on the rack are a pair of black Nikes, a felt hat, a grey wool jumper and poncho, plus a coat that will eventually be discarded as “inconsistent”.

Having wiped the slate of my ego and relieved me of my worldly possessions, Werden turns to my assets.

“Your waist is tiny!” she exclaims, and launches into an explanation of her trademarked “ratio system”.

My thick-rimmed Prada glasses will form part of my brand, she declares, along with the gap between my teeth, which I’m told represents prosperity in some cultures.

While she rejects the traditional concept of dressing for your body shape — the word “pear” is banned — Werden advocates using hemlines, scarfs and accessories to draw the eye to the silhouette’s narrowest point.

High-waisted jeans that taper at the ankle, cropped jackets and dangly necklaces are used to this effect, while pointy-toed shoes add length.

PART 2: SHOPPING LIKE A VIP

It’s time to tackle my most hated chore: hitting the change rooms.

As the Uber approaches the Chadstone Shopping Centre, I’m hit with flashbacks to previous, stressful expeditions to the sprawling, 13ha retail mecca. But I’m about to have a completely different shopping experience.

Werden and Dedusenko have been here for hours, selecting items for me to try on and hanging them in each store’s changing room for me.

Before: Shapeless knits.

After: Embracing the jumpsuit.

“I see rolled-up sleeves as being part of your brand,” Werden says, adjusting me in the mirror.

They whisk me from store to store, carrying my bags for me and keeping tabs on how much I’m spending.

I’ve given Werden the relatively modest budget of $2500, so we won’t be going designer.

The most expensive store I set foot in is Saba, and even that’s a bargain with Werden’s stylist discount.

I develop a new-found appreciation for Sportsgirl and Forever New, where we stock up on basics, while Witchery is a goldmine of flowy blouses, statement waist belts and tapered black pants.

True to their word, my support crew are behaving like my most loyal and supportive friends, high-fiving me and doling out compliments.

And I’m amazed by how much I like the clothes they’ve picked out for me — items I’d never have uncovered on my own.

Buoyed by cries of “You’re nailing it!” and “Everything looks good on you!”, the hours fly past. Bottled water and Lindt balls appear at just the right moment to stabilise my energy levels, and Dedusenko expertly lugs my now-bulging suitcase.

The ex-designer is “a leather expert”, Werden says, persuading me to step into a navy leather skirt at Portmans.

Together, they manage to push me right outside my comfort zone with items I’d long since relegated to the “doesn’t suit me” category: jumpsuit, leather jacket, low-cut tops.

Astonishingly, almost every item they select is the right size and fit — and actually looks flattering. My usual success rate is something like five per cent, so I’ll pretty much do whatever they say at this point.

Before: Whatever fits.

After: On point and on brand.

We go well over budget, with the total closer to $4000. Werden pulls me aside to check in and make sure I’m not going to be overwhelmed with regret when I see my credit card bill.

We’ve already returned a few items and consolidated down to what seems like a coherent selection. I’m committed.

And anyway, the clock is ticking. With 20 minutes to go until Chadstone closes, we race around the shoe shops in search of a pair of low, black pointy-toed heels that don’t slip off when I walk in them.

Mission accomplished, Werden kindly offers me a lift home in her new Mercedes. Black, of course.

THE VERDICT

As far as the shopping experience goes, I’ve already given it five stars.

But what will the practical impact be? This stuff is supposed to be life-changing, after all.

Werden’s service comes with three months of “coaching”, which means I can text message her at any time to seek advice about what to wear, along with a PDF “look book” with images of all 67 outfit combinations (day three is spent flat laying these on a white canvas and photographing them).

My first outing in my new clothes is to Werden’s Melbourne seminar, the first in a planned “national roadshow”.

I’ve been instructed to wear the most Kardashian-esque outfit in my new wardrobe: black jumpsuit, heels, leather jacket.

The crowd is a sea of black capes and cropped blazers, with the odd statement hat, and one stylishly dressed woman in a hijab.

I’m surprised at how natural it feels to be wearing what I would have previously lacked the confidence to wear — let alone how effortlessly I’m gliding along in these heels.

I feel like I’m a member of the club, and when a tall, shy woman approaches I strike up a conversation.

She’s tells me about her unsuccessful styling session at a major department store, lamenting: “I spent $5000 and ended up with a bunch of suits I never wear.”

You can pick which members of the audience have been through Werden’s process, and which ones are the raw gems still waiting to be polished.

During her presentation, Werden calls on her previous success stories, with one woman announcing that a recruiter has bumped up her expected salary from $30,000 to $90,000 after she overhauled her personal brand.

“My skill set hasn’t changed — only my clothes have,” the woman declares.

Laying it all out.

My new wardrobe.

Back home, I’m on high alert for signs of a personal transformation.

I’ve kept my makeover on the down-low so as to assess whether I’m treated differently around the office.

The lifestyle reporters are the first to notice, and I’m forced to spill the beans. Over the coming weeks, they’ll fawn over me on an almost daily basis, wanting to know where each outfit came from.

News.com.au’s commissioning editor moves into the desk beside me, and after a few days she eyes me and asks: “Did you go shopping in Melbourne?”

Another day, a stylish male colleague comments: “You are so on point today.”

Outside the office, a newish acquaintance stares at me and say “I never noticed before that you’re quite pretty.”

I’m still waiting for my $60,000 payrise, but I have to admit that I feel different. I walk a little taller, which makes it easier to navigate the peak hour crowds at Central Station. Bus drivers are nicer to me. And, best of all, getting dressed in the morning is a breeze.

Now to pay off that credit card.

Colette Werden’s The Art of Authentic Personal Branding seminar will be held in Sydney on October 8 and Brisbane on October 15.

Note: this reporter experienced Colette Werden’s service free of charge.

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Originally published as How an extreme wardrobe makeover impacted my life