I find the transition from summer to autumn particularly tough. I've realised it has less to do with the change in weather and more to do with the change in pace.

Summer is pure pleasure. And whilst I look forward to welcoming my focus back come September, I don't appreciate all the things that come with it, the school playground, routine over rhythm, the time constraints, the hustle and bustle of juggling. The seriousness and the rules - especially these! I can feel slightly trapped by an existence that leaves less room for the things that make me feel really alive.

September calls for a quicker pace of life. School run to work, work to home, home to pick-up and then on to clubs. Efficiency and practicality suddenly matter more.

My clothes become part of the transition between all these different roles. Sometimes quite literally. Taking off my work clothes at the end of the day allows me to leave my work persona with them. If I stay in them too long, I can feel strangely stuck there too, constricted, unable to properly relax and move into whatever comes next.

Perhaps you know that feeling too. When what you're wearing seems to hold you in the version of yourself you needed to be a few hours earlier. Clothes can be surprisingly good at carrying a role.

There naturally feels less time for creativity, curiosity and fun, which leaves me leaning far more into practicality than I personally feel is good for me.

Too much practicality steals some of the spontaneity, fun and freedom I need. There is something to be said for efficiency, but I don't want to optimise every part of my life. Sometimes a small moment of pleasure is worth the extra thought.

So at this time of year I find myself leaning into comfortable formulas I can repeat with ease. Pieces that work hard and move dynamically with the demands of my day. I'm looking for formulas that support the season beyond the weather.

I need clothes that can move through the day with me, practical enough for the school run, appropriate for work, comfortable enough to move in and still considered enough to feel like myself. And details that bring pleasure. I'm not just dressing for the weather, I'm dressing for everything the day is asking of me.

For me, a formula isn't an exact outfit. It's the relationship between pieces that I already know works. The individual pieces can change while the underlying feeling stays the same.

Most of us probably have these combinations without necessarily calling them formulas, the things we reach for when there isn't time, or inclination, to think too hard.

For me, a great weekend base might be a baseball tee and jeans, casual, practical, easy. From there, it's the jackets, jewellery, accessories and shoes that give it personality. Boston clogs will make it feel different to trainers, boots will change the attitude again.

The same foundation can become something quite different depending on what I put around it. That's where the creativity comes in. I'm not reinventing the outfit every time. I'm changing the expression of something I already know works.

Loving style in the way that I do, it feels good to return to these formulas. I can revisit the same easy, throw-on looks with a little creativity, updating them without rewriting the book.

That familiarity feels like self-trust unfolding.

Repeating what feels familiar can become a little returning of self. I'm not asking whether something suits me or whether I should be wearing it; I'm returning to something I already know feels like me. There's something embodied in that familiarity too, knowing how the clothes sit, how they move and how I feel when I'm wearing them.

Looking back, the actual clothes have changed enormously, but the underlying code hasn't all that much.

I've always loved denim. The silhouette has evolved, but the denim itself, the texture, the patina, the way it gets better with wear has remained.

Maybe you have your own version of this. Something that has survived every iteration of your wardrobe, even if the version you're wearing now looks nothing like the one you wore twenty years ago.

My clothes have always needed some combination of nonchalance, timelessness and a bit of bite. I've always loved the tension between sensuality and boyishness. I return to simplicity, texture and ease. An ugly, grounded shoe - always. Intricate jewellery. And enough breathing room to move.

I've never felt like myself when things become too prim or too done. I feel confident when I feel natural.

Perhaps repetition is part of what makes personal style recognisable. We repeat certain proportions, textures, silhouettes and ways of wearing things until they become a little code. The clothes themselves can change, but something underneath remains familiar.

And the beautiful thing about knowing what we return to is that often we're returning to the elements that make us recognisable to ourselves.

What feels recognisable will be completely different for each of us. It might be a particular waistline, the weight of a piece of jewellery, an oversized silhouette, bare skin, a certain fabric or simply the way something moves.

For me, being recognisable to myself feels easy, comfortable and breathable. A kind of natural certainty rather than something I've had to construct.

Most of us probably know the disappointment of loving something on somebody else, trying our own version and wondering where all the magic went. Sometimes it's the piece. Sometimes it's the proportion. Sometimes there is absolutely nothing wrong with it, it just doesn't feel like us.

We've borrowed their code rather than returning to our own.

So perhaps this autumn I'm not really looking for reinvention. I'm looking for the familiar pieces, proportions and combinations I already trust adjusted for the life I'm living now.

A little creativity without rewriting the book.

The clothes change. The code remains.

Autumn Code: