Prior to my trip, I forced myself to consider some really important questions.

Where would I stay?

How would I get around the city?

And what was I going to wear?!

Earlier in the year, my wardrobe underwent a complete overhaul with the goal of dressing for the woman I want to be.

It started with an honest look at my personal style, lifestyle and stage in life and concluded with discarding ninety items that no longer represented who I was striving to become.

The next step was a shopping spree, naturally.

I searched for versatile, timeless pieces and addressed glaring gaps in my wardrobe, including a lack of foundational items. Then, I committed to actually wearing my new clothes, going so far as to separate what I called my capsule wardrobe from the remaining pieces that had survived the overhaul.

My trip to Barcelona would be the ultimate test.

Would I have enough combinations of tops and bottoms for an entire month of dining out, museum touring, neighborhood wandering, errand running, beach bumming and cocktail drinking?

And most importantly, would these clothes feel like the more polished version of myself I wanted to be?

I was pretty intentional about everything I packed for a month in Barcelona. I brought one large suitcase and one small carry-on, thoughtfully leaving space for overseas purchases.

Now that the suitcases have been unpacked, I can reflect on what earned its space, what could have stayed home, what I bought and everything in between.

If I had to designate an MVP of the entire lot, I can’t think of a single item—or pair—more worthy than the Quince Italian lug-sole fisherman sandals.

They were a last-minute purchase after I began questioning whether my FitFlop sandals would be supportive enough. I even had to ship them directly to my dad’s house to receive them before my departure across the Atlantic.

After spending three days breaking them in—and suffering a few minor friction blisters around the woven straps—they transitioned from a nice addition to a necessity. I wore them almost daily, walking upward of 18,000 steps and, at times, fifteen flights of stairs.

The Aritzia Effortless crepette mini shorts had already become a foundational piece in my summer wardrobe before the trip and Barcelona reaffirmed this. I almost wish I had gotten a third pair.

The mini length is sexy but still appropriate, and the chocolate and metropolis colors paired with almost everything I brought. I particularly liked them with a white T-shirt—something that has become a metric for me when considering new purchases.

The Calvin Klein loose-fit T-shirt dress was also infinitely reliable. It worked for running to the market, eating a casual lunch, hanging around the apartment and serving as a beach cover-up in Mallorca.

Rounding out my star players was the Naked Cashmere “Jenna” silk midi dress.

Although I was already in love with it, I wasn’t sure how I would feel wearing a black silk dress in the middle of the day. I thought I might feel overdressed for a Gaudí house or terrace lunch, but by the second week, I was reaching for it regardless of the time or destination.

Nothing felt more chic and effortless than this dress with my new favorite sandals. By the end of the trip, I had worn it at least six times.

Frankly, it might have been more, but it’s dry-clean only.

As far as accessories go, I used the Inicat Amazon crossbody anti-theft bag almost daily. It held a small book, water bottle and phone without feeling cumbersome.

I encountered two other women carrying the same bag, both equally pleased with its design. While I award no points for originality, I award nine points for functionality.

The missing point is because the leather occasionally left a grease-like residue on light-colored clothing—not ideal when working with a European washing machine that took two and a half hours per cycle.

While every cast has its stars, it’s the supporting players who create cohesion and add variety.

A white sweater vest, coffee-colored tank top and beige linen vest became frequent guest stars, pairing easily with the Aritzia shorts and my two midi skirts—one black linen and one rust satin.

I was surprised by how much I gravitated toward the skirts. I have a proclivity for short things, but I felt attractive in both. They worked for daytime and nighttime activities, and the linen skirt was especially breathable in the heavy heat.

A more surprising supporting cast member was the olive tube top, which I wore around four times.

It demonstrated versatility and earned its place in my capsule when I paired it with the black linen skirt and left the apartment for a full day. I started at Sagrada Família, adding a tan cardigan to adhere to the dress code, before heading to the Disseny Museum and then the lunch of a lifetime at Berbena—cardigan-free.

It even served my friend Irene well when she borrowed it for an evening of bar hopping.

The Quince European linen white button-down also earned its keep as a lightweight cover-up when the evenings became cooler later in September.

And then there were the bench warmers who rarely, if ever, saw the outside of my temporary closet.

While I do not regret purchasing the Madewell relaxed linen beige blazer, I regret using precious luggage space to bring it abroad because I never wore it.

Not once.

On top of the warm weather, I was too nervous to press it with the questionable, archaic iron in my Airbnb, rendering it wrinkled and unwearable.

You can add the Panama hat to that list as well – though that was not due to the iron. I have recently accepted that I just cannot pull off wearing a hat.

The Calvin Klein chunky low heels also remained in the closet for all thirty days. Between the uneven surfaces and the three-story ascent to my apartment, I repeatedly decided against them.

You could say I learned a lot in Barcelona. For example, did you know there’s a rule that when you travel abroad, you must fill any free space in your luggage with new purchases?

Okay, so that’s not true. But the space I had purposely left unoccupied gave me the perfect opportunity to shop while keeping my newly established criteria in mind.

Does it fill a wardrobe gap, or is it a duplicate of something I already own? Can I immediately think of three outfits to wear with it?

Before departing, I had identified a need for layering pieces. I owned a few jackets, but they performed best as solo artists. I needed outerwear that would complement an outfit, not compete with it.

A little research led me to a shop called Sueños near Passeig de Gràcia, where I found a chocolate-brown corduroy jacket with hidden snap buttons that gave it a monochromatic, rich appearance.

It was reasonably priced, too, at 50 euros.

I left feeling good about my purchase and made my way toward Mango.

I might get some flak for this, but as an American, I was really excited to visit the flagship Mango store. Even in Los Angeles, the only Mango location is at the Beverly Center—and no one wants to go to the Beverly Center.

Yes, I know it is a mass-produced brand, but Mango originated in Barcelona and was on my must-visit list.

It was challenging not to splurge on every cute thing I saw, but I focused on what I actually needed, including a replacement for my thirteen-year-old leather jacket.

I found a faux-leather jacket with a minimalist design, collar and zippered pockets. The material felt soft and, most importantly, didn’t invite the question, “Where did you park your Harley?”

I could immediately picture at least three outfits, so it passed my test with flying colors.

Another problem plaguing my wardrobe was that I didn’t own a black crossbody bag.

Despite browsing designer options over the previous year, I hadn’t pulled the trigger. Sure, a YSL or Chloé bag is beautiful, but I wanted something that every woman in Los Angeles didn’t already have.

As it turned out, the solution was right around the corner from my Airbnb.

But it was more of a slow burn.

For almost three weeks, I had walked past a leather shop approximately seventy meters from my doorstep. Each time, the bags caught my attention, and I would glance inside to see the same gentleman diligently working at his machine.

After looking at the website to determine the general price range, I finally went inside and met Artém, the owner of Artém Atelier and the gentleman I had seen working day after day.

I asked about a Penta crossbody bag from the website, and he asked how much longer I would be staying in Barcelona.

When I sheepishly told him seven business days—instantly regretting not coming in sooner—he gestured that the timeframe wasn’t a problem and led me to the available fabrics.

I chose soft pebbled black leather, tan suede and gold hardware, paid a 50 percent deposit and practically skipped back to my Airbnb.

A few days later, I received a WhatsApp message from Artém with a photo of the individual pieces of my custom bag laid out for construction.

When I returned to collect it, I could not have been happier. The shape and two-tone design were unique but understated, allowing it to function as an everyday black crossbody while still feeling undeniably special.

By the end of the trip, the empty space in my suitcases had been filled, and I had officially become a woman who uses a set of criteria to vet potential purchases before tapping Apple Pay.

While shopping will always have a place in my heart, what has changed for good is my approach.

Barcelona ended up being the perfect test of both my wardrobe overhaul and my new approach to fashion in my late thirties.

Overall, I believe I was successful.

In the beginning, the desire to look effortless, polished and chic simultaneously had felt aspirational at best. I worried my new clothes would feel like a costume, but that fear quickly disappeared as I got dressed each day and walked around Barcelona feeling confident, stylish and, most importantly, like myself.

Whereas I once saw my new wardrobe as my “adult clothes,” now I just see my clothes.

I’m proud to say I’ve been 167 days crop-top-and-denim-short free—aside from bartending, of course—and I can’t imagine going back.

There was, however, one moment in Barcelona when I craved something from my past that my capsule didn’t offer: a mini dress.

Luckily, Irene had one I could borrow.

As I stood in front of the mirror in my Airbnb, I thought about how funny it was to have made all this forward progress only to find myself wearing someone else’s dress and pregaming to go to a concert at a club with a girlfriend as though we were twenty-one again.

Still, I don’t believe one mini dress equals regression.

Because sometimes, regardless of where we are—or where we are in life—the right outfit is still short, fun and borrowed from a friend.