As much as I admire Allison Bernstein, the three words repel me for the reasons you mention. (I admire her because I think she is the most sustainability minded social media stylist and she shares advice in an empathetic, thoughtful and practical way.) Who cares what my three words are? I feel best and look best when I intuitively put things together without much thought and contrivance. Similarly as much as I admire Amy Smilovic’s style, “chill, modern and classic” makes me want to run away as if I dodging a cult.
The root cause, I believe, is that never have so many had so much access to garments and so much visual stimulation on social media. This has left most people rudderless, looking for a mantra on their own personal style.
Your skirt operates in another echelon. One can only imagine its origins. It might have been the only garment the original owner acquired that year. She might have thought about it for months, and intimately collaborated with her seamstress on execution. Or she might have sewn it herself, stitch by stitch. With such care and deliberation, you could not possibly come out of that with a disposable garment you were destined to become indifferent to.
I think you're absolutely right that the type of access we have to clothes is nothing we've ever seen before. So many options, shopping through the screen... and we have all this freedom to wear what we want. We need structure to figure out how to navigate all this, and people like Allison and Amy give us tools to figure these things out. There's a lot of value in that. The danger is, of course, that we fail to think for ourselves and as a result we might just end up buying more and more stuff because we want someone to give us all the answers. It's a very human thing to do, and I get that.
I fully agree with Your massage. I think a lot of people overanalyze their style to death, without being helped. Amy does write a lot of helpfull things, but these 'rules' can also kill creativity. For myself, I've never tought about 'my adjectives'. I just feel what attracts me of the newly presented fashion ideas/pictures all around and get inspired. If I look back at my IG-diary about 2 years ago, there are not many looks I feel that I would like to rewear but I remember I often felt like myself in the outfit, which in my opinion is the most important thing when it comes to putting together an outfit don't You think? I unfortunately don't manage to have exactly the same clothes and for a longer period, although my style has been quite the same throughout my adult life.
Your point on "analyzing our personal style and our creativity to death" is spot on! These systems of rational style analysis have become another commodity to sell women (apps, templates, courses, services), whereas forging emotional connection to clothes is personal, slow, and impossible to package up.
I've been thinking about the different ways we engage with fashion and clothing beyond dressing for practicality. Styling seems to be about image-making, with you as the subject and clothes ancillary to an overall creative vision. Then there is appreciation of clothing as art, where you respect and embody the spirit of spectacular garments that stand on their own.
These two approaches influence how people shop, from hunting for dupes to complete an on-trend look to curating pieces with integrity and heirloom potential. Ultimately, to be a conscious consumer, both perspectives are important. Otherwise, you may find yourself shopping without care or collecting without wearability.
I'm definitely "guilty" of collecting without wearability. I have a thing for inanimate objects, I always did, so I have the tendency to collect and to appreciate clothes from an emotional angle. I just finished reading Irene Kim's great series of posts about building a foundational wardrobe, and it made me reconsider some of the things I wrote in this very newsletter, because like you said, shopping for practicality has great value as well. The two poles (clothes as objects and clothes as subjects) needn't be mutually exclusive. I tend to move between the two poles fairly dramatically, and the pendulum has clearly swung to me wanting to experience clothes as something almost spiritual. The emotional dimension feels more important to me right now, perhaps because the personal style discourse seems so one-sided at the moment.
Oh wow, what a find. I loved reading about your experience wearing this skirt and how you're interacting with it - these days clothing is often described in the context of an aesthetic and how we connect emotionally to that aesthetic or visual of ourselves, but there's so much to learn from how and why an item of clothing was made, and your skirt feels like such a great example of it. What a great gift to yourself! (It also looks really good on you.)
Recently I contemplated buying a very simple wool jacket from the 1980s by Zoran, simply because I was curious if the minimalist construction of his clothing is as sublime as fashion writers have described. It was more a curiosity about the garment rather than a desire to wear it, and it reminded me of the times I have gone to museums to look at clothes, and left feeling enriched, and without the urge of needing to buy something. I miss these increasingly rare moments.
I feel that all the personal style thoughts has made me a better shopper (in that I know how to buy what suits me) but it doesn't do much to deepen my appreciation of fashion (both its history and its relevance to current times). I wouldn't say one is more important than the other but I feel like both are necessary for me to feel like a complete and balanced human being. There's something about personal style discourse that can feel almost claustrophobic and "inward looking" sometimes, and I feel like I need to be able to interest myself in other things without making it all lead back to me, if that makes any sense.
Makes perfect sense to me! The personal style rhetoric leans on highly individualistic and borderline self-centered. Maybe even a little bit toxic..? And I get that, because we're all just trying to figure out what the heck to wear and we want to feel good about your clothes, but there's also something troubling about it. It makes us think that we have all this agency and all we need is introspection, but that's not really true. Our clothes are never just about us. They're also about who made our clothes, who got the shorter end of the stick, what's your standing in society, how much privilege you have, and so many other things we don't seem to have time or the attention span for. It's complicated, for sure.
That's funny you should mention Zoran, because I've been looking into his pieces, too, recently. Not because they'd be my style necessarily, but because I've seen him referenced several times when fashion fans talk about The Row. I find it really interesting that I guess he just ended up dressing very wealthy people, almost in secret, like it was a strange cult for people with a ton of money. Seems to me that perhaps The Row and Phoebe Philo are leaning toward that path. It's an odd direction to take, in this day and age.
Yes, the question of privilege and who made our clothes is so overlooked in all these discussions about personal style! So glad you mentioned it, it's been on my mind as I think about some of the things I've considered buying this year so far, and what they say about me...
I'm pretty sure I started reading about Zoran too after it was mentioned on social media, but I always see Zoran on eBay and Etsy (must be the things I search for) and they're always priced quite low, which made me curious as it seems so different from the clientele he served. It says a lot about the way fashion is valued I suppose ( (one pure wool jacket I considered buying was $70, and that's cheaper than what you find in fast fashion store these days). I feel like luxury brands are trying to prove their worth with outlandish pricing and by limiting access, and it just makes me feel so meh. Not because I can't afford it but because it seems like such a boring thing to aspire to (to be "elite" or "exclusive"). Everything, no matter how beautifully made, is starting to feel like "merch" and that's so depressing for the world of fashion design and craftsmanship.
Fully agree about everything starting to feel like "merch". The Phoebe Philo drops in particular have that vibe. It seems to me that the conversation that could be had about this type of business model, not to mention the type of disposable money and the people who buy these products would be just as divided as the access to these things is, so no real conversation will ever follow, and the chasm between the haves and the have-nots just grows wider. It's really off-putting.
I appreciate so much the idea of heirloom clothing! I have been thinking about creating a Romanian blouse from scratch, starting with picking a beautiful plain linen cloth that I then embroider with symbols that resonate with me, and then I cut and sew into a blouse. It might take me a couple of years to finish. I would love to wear it myself but also ultimately leave it as a heirloom to my children. I am uncertain that they’ll appreciate it, so maybe I’ll be doing it just for me. Would it still be worth all the hours and effort? I don’t know. I’ll probably embark on the project anyway to see what I learn as I do it.
You should absolutely do it, for yourself. I guess no one really knows in advance whether something will become an heirloom, so eventually it would be up to your children to figure it out. I suspect they'd come to appreciate it, if they witnessed the love and care you put in making the garment. I can only imagine what an amazing, emotional journey it would be for you!
Tiia, I cannot tell you how much I've enjoyed today's newsletter! You're absolutely spot on on the disposable character of our clothes today, we don't care about them, so therefore they say nothing about us.
"Our bodies are a beacon and wearing clothes is about broadcasting stories" - a fantastic way of putting it, which I will be writing down for future reference.
You raise some really interesting points - I’d be curious about the approach to building that depth and emotional connection. Often that happens from when/where/how I acquire the item, the ritual of putting it on (repetition is important), and then the occasions or moments it’s present for. This can be a double edged sword when you’re trying not to hoard every thing you’ve ever owned.
Honestly I’ve wondered if the disconnection is actually perpetuated and compounded by our digital hoarding. Think about it - taking a photo with a Kodak disposable camera was limited and you didn’t know if it would be good, so you were careful with how many photos you took and there was anticipation in getting them developed. You took a few photos on vacation and savored them. Our parents and precious generations collected hand crafted pieces from their travels and took the time to create photo albums for their coffee tables. Now our homes are sterile and all our sentimental photos and memories are displayed to any and all.
Where’s the intimacy in that? Ironically our photos are more disposable than the Kodak cameras.
Yes there’s the history and the craft, but there’s also the modern context and application.
You're right about digital hoarding (the term really says it all!) and the effect it has on us. I miss physical photographs. They had meaning because they were, like you said, limited. Perhaps it's somewhat impossible to nurture depth and emotional connection in the world we live in. It takes work, for sure, and maybe a conscious decision to become a bit of a luddite. We know that the infinite scroll is making us feel untethered and addicted, and our sense of focus is disappearing. It makes sense in that context that the ones who seek to slow down and to find emotional connection will be somewhere on the outskirts of the Zeitgeist. Having to jump off the wagon might be necessary, and it's also a privilege to opt out.
I find it interesting that there's a small movement in Finland where young people and teens have abandoned smart phones and they use old cell phones instead, the ones without internet connection. Interest in analog photography and collecting LPs is also becoming a thing here. It's a fringe thing for sure, but it makes me feel at least a little bit hopeful about the future.
I loved reading this so much--your writing is so beautiful and resonant. Your way of describing the skirt made me think of how special I feel when I wear my favorite piece of clothing (this gorgeous charcoal Anne Klein jumpsuit that my mom bought in the 80s and passed down to me). It's so much more powerful than a look or a vibe or a pricetag. It's about memory and feeling and something that is unique to you. Also, so funny--my first piece on Substack also referenced the Wim Wenders doc :)
Wow so much in here I’m going to have to re-read this to let it really percolate. I love your point here: “The vast majority of current clothes are silent. They have no stories to tell, and even if they did, we’re not attuned…”, and about analyzing our style to death.
I’ve been thinking lately about how people used to own so little clothing, and they surely did not spend so much time thinking about their “personal style.” The freedom of dress we have today comes with a lot of good but combined with a rapid trend cycle can really feed into over-consumption. For me personally an unofficial uniform of sorts has been the most effective at reducing my clothing consumption, but it requires thinking about clothes less. It made me a little sad to think I couldn’t “enjoy” style in the same way. Maybe I just need to reframe my relationship with my old favorites. A little animism might just be a path to reducing consumption!
I, too, often find myself thinking about how little people used to own, and also how much of a bigger portion of people's income would be spent on clothing. People had less, but better. It just seems that we're being pulled to a million directions right now. We're consumers first, and people second. It's a scary thought. I feel like we're so conditioned to think about personal style as this weird material extension of our identity. Even people who shop very little and have minimalist style seem to often embrace it from the (anti-)consumerist side of things.
This was such a lovely read, Tiia. As someone who has been on a rational wardrobe-building endeavor as a long term project and also loves the labor intensive, emotionally thrilling process of vintage shopping, I feel like I engage with and utilize both of these 'modalities' of buying on a regular basis, toggling between the two as appropriate. I'm hesitant to elevate one approach over the other, only because a fetishization of the past sometimes can be as limiting as the lack of curiosity or appreciation of the historical. To your point about the slippery solipsistic slope of personal style, I just wrote about my notion of a 'self-centered' wardrobe, though my take on it is to use one's self as a clarifying, intuitive anchor to navigate the ever-present external influences and noise of our modern world. For me, the goal is always to try to access that feeling of "you just know" without too much second-guessing. I've noticed that sometimes it's easier to tune into this instinct when buying something vintage/antique. Much more food for thought here than this comment box allows! At the end of the day, I try to remind myself that all of this (having the time and resources to contemplate and procure these unnecessary beautiful objects) is a massive privilege, and aim to exercise this privilege with as much gratitude and enjoyment and thoughtfulness as I can. PS: The skirt is a true gem of a vintage find — it's of its historical time and yet perfectly modern and relevant ... the best of all possible worlds!
I think I am currently invested in the emotional side of clothes because so much of the style-focused media space seems to be devoted to the analytical approach. I am a bit of a contrarian and I struggle to find balance, so in some ways it makes sense for me to go "all in" with what you very accurately described as "fetishization of the past". At some point I'll bounce back again, and maybe one day there will be balance between the two poles.
I know what you mean re: "you just know"! I agree that it seems to be easier to get there with vintage clothes -- I wonder what that's about? There are times when I'm in the zone and I can tap into the sentiment and I make great choices. Other times I'm not so successful and I fuss and freak out and just can't seem to have faith in myself. Oh, to one day to have balance and wisdom to always "just know"!
I totally hear you on the contrarian response to the current data-centric approach! I've been thinking about why vintage shopping elicits such a different response/approach and your post really illustrates that so well. Will write more about this soon :)
Tiia, echoing the sentiment of so many voices here: Once again, such a beautifully written, thought-provoking article. I love your take on clothing, purchasing, style, and meaning. Your emphasis on making relationships with our clothing, the subjective experience of what it's like to actually wear a particular piece and what it feels like over time to relate to and with that piece. Your posts always deepen my feelings about clothes to a level that gets missed (or quickly alluded to and then skipped over for something more hip) in the more central clothing/style/fashion conversations of our time, causing me to pause, think, feel, experience.... Wonderful.
As much as I admire Allison Bernstein, the three words repel me for the reasons you mention. (I admire her because I think she is the most sustainability minded social media stylist and she shares advice in an empathetic, thoughtful and practical way.) Who cares what my three words are? I feel best and look best when I intuitively put things together without much thought and contrivance. Similarly as much as I admire Amy Smilovic’s style, “chill, modern and classic” makes me want to run away as if I dodging a cult.
The root cause, I believe, is that never have so many had so much access to garments and so much visual stimulation on social media. This has left most people rudderless, looking for a mantra on their own personal style.
Your skirt operates in another echelon. One can only imagine its origins. It might have been the only garment the original owner acquired that year. She might have thought about it for months, and intimately collaborated with her seamstress on execution. Or she might have sewn it herself, stitch by stitch. With such care and deliberation, you could not possibly come out of that with a disposable garment you were destined to become indifferent to.
I think you're absolutely right that the type of access we have to clothes is nothing we've ever seen before. So many options, shopping through the screen... and we have all this freedom to wear what we want. We need structure to figure out how to navigate all this, and people like Allison and Amy give us tools to figure these things out. There's a lot of value in that. The danger is, of course, that we fail to think for ourselves and as a result we might just end up buying more and more stuff because we want someone to give us all the answers. It's a very human thing to do, and I get that.
I fully agree with Your massage. I think a lot of people overanalyze their style to death, without being helped. Amy does write a lot of helpfull things, but these 'rules' can also kill creativity. For myself, I've never tought about 'my adjectives'. I just feel what attracts me of the newly presented fashion ideas/pictures all around and get inspired. If I look back at my IG-diary about 2 years ago, there are not many looks I feel that I would like to rewear but I remember I often felt like myself in the outfit, which in my opinion is the most important thing when it comes to putting together an outfit don't You think? I unfortunately don't manage to have exactly the same clothes and for a longer period, although my style has been quite the same throughout my adult life.
Your point on "analyzing our personal style and our creativity to death" is spot on! These systems of rational style analysis have become another commodity to sell women (apps, templates, courses, services), whereas forging emotional connection to clothes is personal, slow, and impossible to package up.
I've been thinking about the different ways we engage with fashion and clothing beyond dressing for practicality. Styling seems to be about image-making, with you as the subject and clothes ancillary to an overall creative vision. Then there is appreciation of clothing as art, where you respect and embody the spirit of spectacular garments that stand on their own.
These two approaches influence how people shop, from hunting for dupes to complete an on-trend look to curating pieces with integrity and heirloom potential. Ultimately, to be a conscious consumer, both perspectives are important. Otherwise, you may find yourself shopping without care or collecting without wearability.
Yes, yes, to all of this. Great points!
I'm definitely "guilty" of collecting without wearability. I have a thing for inanimate objects, I always did, so I have the tendency to collect and to appreciate clothes from an emotional angle. I just finished reading Irene Kim's great series of posts about building a foundational wardrobe, and it made me reconsider some of the things I wrote in this very newsletter, because like you said, shopping for practicality has great value as well. The two poles (clothes as objects and clothes as subjects) needn't be mutually exclusive. I tend to move between the two poles fairly dramatically, and the pendulum has clearly swung to me wanting to experience clothes as something almost spiritual. The emotional dimension feels more important to me right now, perhaps because the personal style discourse seems so one-sided at the moment.
Oh wow, what a find. I loved reading about your experience wearing this skirt and how you're interacting with it - these days clothing is often described in the context of an aesthetic and how we connect emotionally to that aesthetic or visual of ourselves, but there's so much to learn from how and why an item of clothing was made, and your skirt feels like such a great example of it. What a great gift to yourself! (It also looks really good on you.)
Recently I contemplated buying a very simple wool jacket from the 1980s by Zoran, simply because I was curious if the minimalist construction of his clothing is as sublime as fashion writers have described. It was more a curiosity about the garment rather than a desire to wear it, and it reminded me of the times I have gone to museums to look at clothes, and left feeling enriched, and without the urge of needing to buy something. I miss these increasingly rare moments.
I feel that all the personal style thoughts has made me a better shopper (in that I know how to buy what suits me) but it doesn't do much to deepen my appreciation of fashion (both its history and its relevance to current times). I wouldn't say one is more important than the other but I feel like both are necessary for me to feel like a complete and balanced human being. There's something about personal style discourse that can feel almost claustrophobic and "inward looking" sometimes, and I feel like I need to be able to interest myself in other things without making it all lead back to me, if that makes any sense.
Makes perfect sense to me! The personal style rhetoric leans on highly individualistic and borderline self-centered. Maybe even a little bit toxic..? And I get that, because we're all just trying to figure out what the heck to wear and we want to feel good about your clothes, but there's also something troubling about it. It makes us think that we have all this agency and all we need is introspection, but that's not really true. Our clothes are never just about us. They're also about who made our clothes, who got the shorter end of the stick, what's your standing in society, how much privilege you have, and so many other things we don't seem to have time or the attention span for. It's complicated, for sure.
That's funny you should mention Zoran, because I've been looking into his pieces, too, recently. Not because they'd be my style necessarily, but because I've seen him referenced several times when fashion fans talk about The Row. I find it really interesting that I guess he just ended up dressing very wealthy people, almost in secret, like it was a strange cult for people with a ton of money. Seems to me that perhaps The Row and Phoebe Philo are leaning toward that path. It's an odd direction to take, in this day and age.
Yes, the question of privilege and who made our clothes is so overlooked in all these discussions about personal style! So glad you mentioned it, it's been on my mind as I think about some of the things I've considered buying this year so far, and what they say about me...
I'm pretty sure I started reading about Zoran too after it was mentioned on social media, but I always see Zoran on eBay and Etsy (must be the things I search for) and they're always priced quite low, which made me curious as it seems so different from the clientele he served. It says a lot about the way fashion is valued I suppose ( (one pure wool jacket I considered buying was $70, and that's cheaper than what you find in fast fashion store these days). I feel like luxury brands are trying to prove their worth with outlandish pricing and by limiting access, and it just makes me feel so meh. Not because I can't afford it but because it seems like such a boring thing to aspire to (to be "elite" or "exclusive"). Everything, no matter how beautifully made, is starting to feel like "merch" and that's so depressing for the world of fashion design and craftsmanship.
Fully agree about everything starting to feel like "merch". The Phoebe Philo drops in particular have that vibe. It seems to me that the conversation that could be had about this type of business model, not to mention the type of disposable money and the people who buy these products would be just as divided as the access to these things is, so no real conversation will ever follow, and the chasm between the haves and the have-nots just grows wider. It's really off-putting.
I appreciate so much the idea of heirloom clothing! I have been thinking about creating a Romanian blouse from scratch, starting with picking a beautiful plain linen cloth that I then embroider with symbols that resonate with me, and then I cut and sew into a blouse. It might take me a couple of years to finish. I would love to wear it myself but also ultimately leave it as a heirloom to my children. I am uncertain that they’ll appreciate it, so maybe I’ll be doing it just for me. Would it still be worth all the hours and effort? I don’t know. I’ll probably embark on the project anyway to see what I learn as I do it.
You should absolutely do it, for yourself. I guess no one really knows in advance whether something will become an heirloom, so eventually it would be up to your children to figure it out. I suspect they'd come to appreciate it, if they witnessed the love and care you put in making the garment. I can only imagine what an amazing, emotional journey it would be for you!
I think it absolutely would!! Anything that brings slow joy is worth it. 🖤
Tiia, I cannot tell you how much I've enjoyed today's newsletter! You're absolutely spot on on the disposable character of our clothes today, we don't care about them, so therefore they say nothing about us.
Thank you, Patty! I really appreciate it!
"Our bodies are a beacon and wearing clothes is about broadcasting stories" - a fantastic way of putting it, which I will be writing down for future reference.
I love this article! 🖤
Thank you so much, Holly! I'm so glad this resonated with you.
You raise some really interesting points - I’d be curious about the approach to building that depth and emotional connection. Often that happens from when/where/how I acquire the item, the ritual of putting it on (repetition is important), and then the occasions or moments it’s present for. This can be a double edged sword when you’re trying not to hoard every thing you’ve ever owned.
Honestly I’ve wondered if the disconnection is actually perpetuated and compounded by our digital hoarding. Think about it - taking a photo with a Kodak disposable camera was limited and you didn’t know if it would be good, so you were careful with how many photos you took and there was anticipation in getting them developed. You took a few photos on vacation and savored them. Our parents and precious generations collected hand crafted pieces from their travels and took the time to create photo albums for their coffee tables. Now our homes are sterile and all our sentimental photos and memories are displayed to any and all.
Where’s the intimacy in that? Ironically our photos are more disposable than the Kodak cameras.
Yes there’s the history and the craft, but there’s also the modern context and application.
You're right about digital hoarding (the term really says it all!) and the effect it has on us. I miss physical photographs. They had meaning because they were, like you said, limited. Perhaps it's somewhat impossible to nurture depth and emotional connection in the world we live in. It takes work, for sure, and maybe a conscious decision to become a bit of a luddite. We know that the infinite scroll is making us feel untethered and addicted, and our sense of focus is disappearing. It makes sense in that context that the ones who seek to slow down and to find emotional connection will be somewhere on the outskirts of the Zeitgeist. Having to jump off the wagon might be necessary, and it's also a privilege to opt out.
I find it interesting that there's a small movement in Finland where young people and teens have abandoned smart phones and they use old cell phones instead, the ones without internet connection. Interest in analog photography and collecting LPs is also becoming a thing here. It's a fringe thing for sure, but it makes me feel at least a little bit hopeful about the future.
I loved reading this so much--your writing is so beautiful and resonant. Your way of describing the skirt made me think of how special I feel when I wear my favorite piece of clothing (this gorgeous charcoal Anne Klein jumpsuit that my mom bought in the 80s and passed down to me). It's so much more powerful than a look or a vibe or a pricetag. It's about memory and feeling and something that is unique to you. Also, so funny--my first piece on Substack also referenced the Wim Wenders doc :)
I love the relationship you have with your Anne Klein jumpsuit. It's how we should feel about most of our clothes, I think.
I just adore that Wim Wenders documentary! I keep rewatching it and I always find something new in it.
Wow so much in here I’m going to have to re-read this to let it really percolate. I love your point here: “The vast majority of current clothes are silent. They have no stories to tell, and even if they did, we’re not attuned…”, and about analyzing our style to death.
I’ve been thinking lately about how people used to own so little clothing, and they surely did not spend so much time thinking about their “personal style.” The freedom of dress we have today comes with a lot of good but combined with a rapid trend cycle can really feed into over-consumption. For me personally an unofficial uniform of sorts has been the most effective at reducing my clothing consumption, but it requires thinking about clothes less. It made me a little sad to think I couldn’t “enjoy” style in the same way. Maybe I just need to reframe my relationship with my old favorites. A little animism might just be a path to reducing consumption!
I, too, often find myself thinking about how little people used to own, and also how much of a bigger portion of people's income would be spent on clothing. People had less, but better. It just seems that we're being pulled to a million directions right now. We're consumers first, and people second. It's a scary thought. I feel like we're so conditioned to think about personal style as this weird material extension of our identity. Even people who shop very little and have minimalist style seem to often embrace it from the (anti-)consumerist side of things.
This was such a lovely read, Tiia. As someone who has been on a rational wardrobe-building endeavor as a long term project and also loves the labor intensive, emotionally thrilling process of vintage shopping, I feel like I engage with and utilize both of these 'modalities' of buying on a regular basis, toggling between the two as appropriate. I'm hesitant to elevate one approach over the other, only because a fetishization of the past sometimes can be as limiting as the lack of curiosity or appreciation of the historical. To your point about the slippery solipsistic slope of personal style, I just wrote about my notion of a 'self-centered' wardrobe, though my take on it is to use one's self as a clarifying, intuitive anchor to navigate the ever-present external influences and noise of our modern world. For me, the goal is always to try to access that feeling of "you just know" without too much second-guessing. I've noticed that sometimes it's easier to tune into this instinct when buying something vintage/antique. Much more food for thought here than this comment box allows! At the end of the day, I try to remind myself that all of this (having the time and resources to contemplate and procure these unnecessary beautiful objects) is a massive privilege, and aim to exercise this privilege with as much gratitude and enjoyment and thoughtfulness as I can. PS: The skirt is a true gem of a vintage find — it's of its historical time and yet perfectly modern and relevant ... the best of all possible worlds!
I think I am currently invested in the emotional side of clothes because so much of the style-focused media space seems to be devoted to the analytical approach. I am a bit of a contrarian and I struggle to find balance, so in some ways it makes sense for me to go "all in" with what you very accurately described as "fetishization of the past". At some point I'll bounce back again, and maybe one day there will be balance between the two poles.
I know what you mean re: "you just know"! I agree that it seems to be easier to get there with vintage clothes -- I wonder what that's about? There are times when I'm in the zone and I can tap into the sentiment and I make great choices. Other times I'm not so successful and I fuss and freak out and just can't seem to have faith in myself. Oh, to one day to have balance and wisdom to always "just know"!
I totally hear you on the contrarian response to the current data-centric approach! I've been thinking about why vintage shopping elicits such a different response/approach and your post really illustrates that so well. Will write more about this soon :)
Tiia, echoing the sentiment of so many voices here: Once again, such a beautifully written, thought-provoking article. I love your take on clothing, purchasing, style, and meaning. Your emphasis on making relationships with our clothing, the subjective experience of what it's like to actually wear a particular piece and what it feels like over time to relate to and with that piece. Your posts always deepen my feelings about clothes to a level that gets missed (or quickly alluded to and then skipped over for something more hip) in the more central clothing/style/fashion conversations of our time, causing me to pause, think, feel, experience.... Wonderful.