I haven’t had this much fun shopping since neon was a neutral and you were nobody if you didn’t own at least one pair of studded epaulets. The thing is, I’m buying white blouses and grey jackets and blue jeans – the tofu equivalent of clothing (which is to say, only really good when peppered with the right dressing. Pun so intended) – and feeling really full (RT @myself, pun so intended).
How great is that? To find ardor in the very items we just last week, in a nod to the teardown of investment shopping, designated as “boring”?
Even better, that demonic hankering to consume or at least peruse new items has finally resurfaced, having been oddly absent since, yes, the epaulets. (In fact, it just occurred to me that the reason I am such a Yoox-zealot is because it provides me with the opportunity to go back in time to the merrier days of fashion’s (mis)adventures where I can retrieve that which I foolishly missed.)
And while those have-to-have-you-or-I’ll-die butterflies are coming back, I’m still somewhat unsure about why.
On the one hand, fashion is at the helm of its most recent renaissance, finally terminating the percolation period and allowing The Era of Minimalism – and the white turtlenecks and crepe pants (sometimes with fringe detailing) that come with it – to settle on our body parts.
But wait a second, when has a pair of high waist, light wash flare leg jeans ever looked this fresh? Especially when paired with the most prosaic of black sweaters? When have either items ever elicited an un-ironic “hooray!”?
It seems like individual articles of clothing are being given their shining moment. An opportunity to speak for themselves rather than the larger picture (e.g. the mixed bag of nuts, layers) and stand out for no reason other than the fact that you’re wearing three garments instead of sixteen and therefore, spectators have nowhere else to look. Though it should, of course, be noted, that with fewer layers comes better attention to detail which is where the oohs-and-aahs of craftsmanship can really flourish. Is there really enough excitement in that, though?
I want to liken my relationship with this new era to the way I feel about David Sedaris’ writing. Why? Because what you read is what you get and when you’re done, no jokes, innuendos, or author-inflicted opinions have gone misplaced. His vocabulary is robust but never too ambitious. The stories are alluring but never too complex and when he’s headed toward a punchline, you’re always right there, headed toward it too. After reading Sedaris, the overall affect is that you’ve become a clearer, more fluid thinker yourself. Such is his power.
Now, if you’re wearing the Sedaris equivalent of an outfit (see: a double breasted blazer, high waist pants and a grey sweater) the point still applies. The outfit says what it needs to. But what is most valuable is what incites your wearing said outfit, which is a streamlined, clear-cut vision of what you want to look like. Without options in a million and one different fabrications and silhouettes running amuck, you are given the opportunity to very clearly hand select who you want to be without erring. And because you don’t have to focus on the direction you’ll take as a dresser (there is only one…direction, that is), there’s more time to hone in on the substance of your premeditated identity.
See, you’re articulating an already fleshed out point now, instead of just finding yourself dropped at a cross-road, left to tinker with some tofu.
Images Courtesy of Vogue.com