7 Universal Styling Tricks I Didn't Learn Until I Was Pregnant

Here's the thing about maternity clothes. The cheap stuff is usually terrible, and the good stuff ain't cheap. I didn't want to spend my future daughter's college fund (which, um, we don't quite have yet) on a very temporary wardrobe, so I had to be really smart about the clothes I already owned that did fit. When that leaves a handful of maxi dresses, a few oversize sweaters, and two pairs of leggings, you have to get creative. I took the "one dress, seven ways" philosophy to a whole new level with the help of layering pieces like vests and cardigans as well as accessories . . . and many different statement necklaces and scarves.

Those close to me who got wise to the fact that they'd seen me in that striped shift dress twice in one week actually made a point to tell me how impressed they were with my ability to make one item work multiple ways, and it's inspired me to keep challenging my favorite pieces to do double (or more like quadruple) duty in the future.

Annoyingly, my feet started to swell just as flip-flop season was coming to an end. I couldn't fit into a lot of my favorite boots and slip-ons, so on one particularly cold day, I had little choice but to attempt a somewhat polarizing trend. I channeled all things "normcore" and wore my Tevas with socks. (I know. Thankfully the ugly-shoe movement is still a thing, but it made the experience no less nerve-racking.)

The hidden benefit? I first spent a good hour clicking through street style photos for styling inspiration, and it made the whole process feel a lot more creative. In fact, I once paired them with denim overalls, another reemerging '90s trend, and I still think it was one of my coolest maternity style moments. Sure, it was no Kerry Washington Prada crop top, but now I see why she did it. Because she could.

Very early on, before there was much of a bump at all, I was in need of some retail therapy and went out shopping. I felt silly even trying on clothes, and knowing that whatever I bought was going to be virtually unwearable in a few short months made me a better decision-maker. Plenty of impulse purchases I'd normally ring up at the register were left in the fitting room. What I did buy was a $250 oversize chambray sheath dress. How'd it make the cut? I used the good old cost-per-wear calculation (divide the total cost of the item by the amount of times you plan to wear it) to deduce that it was enough of a staple that I'd be able to don it more frequently (see lesson No. 1!), and it had enough wiggle room thanks to a handy drawstring that I'd be able to fit into it longer. At this rate, the dress has only cost me $12.50!

All this thought to purchase one dress might seem a bit intense, but if I were this practical when it came to shopping fleeting trends, I'd have a closet with a lot more investment pieces than the one that currently includes overalls and Tevas, as great as those are.

I've always hated getting dressed in the Winter months. Why? Because none of my clothes ever fit quite right. It wasn't until being pregnant that I realized all my Winter clothes were the same size as my Summer clothes, but not in years has my Winter body been the same size as my Summer body.

One of the best maternity shopping tricks I learned from a friend was to skip the maternity section entirely and just find whatever you like and buy it one size up. This has opened up my wardrobe to some of my favorite pieces that I know I'll be able to wear well after my baby arrives, and it's a trick I plan to use whenever it's August and I'm shopping for the just-released lineup of chunky knits or tailored trousers that I won't be wearing until I've packed on some inevitable holiday pounds.

Call it being comfortable or stuck in a rut, but prepregnancy, I shopped at a lot of the same places . . . Gap and J.Crew for staples, ASOS for more statement-making pieces, and sample sales for designer discounts. When I started expanding, many of my old standbys were not going to cut it.

It was around this time that my mom called me from Walmart saying the store had a bunch of maxi dresses for $10 a pop. Since it's not a retailer I frequent, normally I would have politely declined. But I was feeling a bit desperate, so agreed to try them, and guess what? They were perfect $10 maxi dresses. They did the job. Same went for a thrift-store find from a relative. It wasn't exactly my style, but it fit, and with a little belting and layering, I made it work. Before, I had surprisingly strict guidelines for where I got my clothes, but now I won't be so quick to judge where a piece is coming from.

A major perk of pregnancy is how nice everyone is to you. But a few times, a disparaging comment would slip in, and I'd be taken aback. While walking with a friend, we happened upon a store window, and she said, "Ugh, that dress would make me look pregnant." Sure, she didn't mean anything by it, and of course when you aren't pregnant, you don't set out trying to look pregnant, but it still bummed me out. In fact, it made me remember all the times that similarly unintended digs would affect my self-image: a co-worker saying how much she hates the exact top I just ordered online, or trying on a jacket I loved only to get a friend's disapproving head-shake.

The next time someone offered up a choice remark — when my dear dad, moments before I was out the door to attend my baby shower, said, "That dress is too short" — I didn't care. And, long after I'm pregnant, I don't plan to care either.

And not what you wear. Listen, the first three months of my pregnancy, I resisted buying those elastic-band maternity jeans and instead just didn't zip up my pants. I even MacGyvered a hair tie to help keep the top button closed. Although I doubt Rachel Bilson is employing such an ingenious strategy here, my version of the loose-top-over-denim-shorts look came off just the same. And that's because I walked tall . . . and maybe had some pregnancy glow working for me too.

So (pardon the impending corniness), as my mom would always tell me and what I'm sure to tell my little girl when she starts thinking about clothes, it's not what you wear but how you wear it. Baby bump or not, confidence is the ultimate accessory.