Fashion, for me, has always been about the experience of moving through the world. How does it change when you’re dressing for yourself alone?
Rachel Syme
With age, clothes have become less of a way to move through the world and more of my way of asserting independence from ideas I don’t like. Whats more anti-fast-fashion than personal uniforms and a reverence for patina ? Whats more anti-patriarchy than saying no to clothes not designed for women’s comfort and mobility ? Whats more ‘I don’t care what you think of my body’ than not asking “what do you think of this outfit”, ever. The ‘personal’ in personal style seems to grow stronger, the ‘style’ strings along.
-me.
How do you differentiate between what you want to be true to what’s true ? Experiments, data and science of course ! I always wondered to the extent of truth in my personal style. How much, of how I dress, is for myself ? How much for the world ? If the world at large faded, would I be dressing the same ? If the agony of 2020 and covid lockdowns had a silver lining, it’s a window of solitude amidst the loneliness and boredom. This period of my life may be the closest to resembling a controlled experiment to test the hypothesis : “I dress for myself”.
“Style means no shield at all. Style means no front at all. Style means ultimate naturalness.”
– Charles Bukowski
I was by myself for a pretty long time. I needed to do that. I think everyone that I know has wanted to do that or needed to do that at some point. I think when you spend enough time when it’s quiet around you and you don’t open your mouth for three or four days, there’s parts of your brain that can kind of rest. I think when we’re out in the world and we have to talk to people, we edit ourselves. You know, we have to like, act a little bit. As honest as we may be as humans, when we’re out here, we’re all kind of wearing mirrors on our faces. You know, constantly reacting to how to react to the people around you. And I think when you’re alone for a long enough time, you can feel a lot more peace.
― Justin Vernon
Month 1 of stay at home :
“I can finally wear t-shirts and boyfriend jeans every day. We will go into a 14 day lock down and beat this virus at its propagation game. It will all be done by the end of this month. I am glad I don’t have to go to the office for a week or two.” #howNaive
Month 2 :
The political madness related to pretending there is no virus is crazy. I always assumed this sort of thing only happens in history books. This is happening to me. This virus is going to steal our lives. I will wear maxi dresses everyday during the lockdown. I cant believe I once used to be a zero waste householder. I now order everything online packaged, create piles of trash and don’t leave the house.
Month 3 :
Finally started to understand the Black Lives Matter movement and white supremacy as an idea that can dominate every aspect of living. Bought an ikat maxi dress after reading about how we culturally glorify whiteness and white wash our brains in pursuit of it’s beauty standards. My mother bought me a blouse in bandhini print, a childhood fav, for my birthday. Thrifted a white maxi dress and tried dying it pink. I tried to wear more pattern ….. I started rolling my eyes whenever I heard “This is how they do it in Europe” or “stories of folks in your community garden are fine but have you gone to <insert a vacation in Europe> to experience culture?” If we sucked a ton of CO2 every time one says/hears this sort of thing, we might stay under 1.5C. There is no “personal” personal style. We should be constantly moved by the world around us, shouldn’t we ?
Month 4 :
Time started to dissolve. Deadlines were passing by. It was the start of what became one long fall/winter. Some of it is solitude, some of it loneliness, lot of yearning of humans, lot of conversations in my head on what I want out of life. Bought a pair of vintage denim on Noihsaf Vintage Bazaar out of curiosity. They quickly became denim pajamas and will stay that way till I can get them to a tailor. Am glad that I was in my 20s when skinny jeans were the norm. My 30s body refuses to comply with the skinnies and I welcome relaxed fit denim.
Month 5 :
Stopped looking in the mirror when and after getting dressed. It’s been liberating and joyful. No unwanted comments from the strangers, friends and family on my appearance. No un-necessary commentary on my body from myself. This is peaceful. Can we keep this personal liberty, post-covid ?
Month 6 :
Do I need fashion ? I seem to know what I want to wear, without the stimulation by the season. I seem happy. So why do I need it ? Haven’t I learnt enough fundamentals from all these years of grazing fashion ? Isn’t personal style enough ? I need less inspiration from the commercial enterprise of fashion, and more perspiration in my own clothes.
Month 7:
Lived in a Buddhist monastery meditating 8 hours a day. Packed 2 of my least fav sweaters to wear them out and to get rid of them before I come home. Never felt such immense gratitude for the existence and my ownership of those two sweaters. I don’t think I ever enjoyed any garment more than when I was there and wearing those sweaters. I saw and experienced a different side of being alive. Couldn’t throw them away after I returned home. Lost 10 pounds and started fitting into all my old clothes from grad school.
Month 8 :
Just for the sake of it, wore garments that don’t match and shouldn’t mix. Observed what happens in my head. Will I fixate on the perceived ugliness and irritate myself ? Or can the meditation calm my mind ? ( Vipassana meditation works.)
Month 9:
Still no desire to buy sweatpants. I sat cross legged in the monastery in jeans for 8 hours a day. I was the only one dressed like that. Which category do I fall into : the woman who has found comfortable clothing without needing sweatpants ? or the fashion victim, the last woman who held on to her corset thinking she is comfortable enough, refusing the other choices coz she though the silhouette was sloppy ? ( Maybe meditation doesn’t solve every thing instantaneously.)
Rest of 2020 to Biden’s inauguration :
A haze of political ugliness. I wanted to dress up to keep my spirits up, but couldn’t muster the effort. The season finale of American election, the ultimate reality tv show, was a teeth clenching drama. Fashion had long slipped away from my mental real estate. When I saw an influencer pose in the middle of the street with a bag and a belt with the Gucci logo, I wondered ” has the pandemic ended in her community? Ah, the streets, how I miss them”. The Youtubers seems to be playing an adult version of doll-house-closet : shopping, re-arranging, renovating, … Very entertaining but a parody of our former selves.
The inspiration void was single handedly filled by the two images above. I studied this image of Kate Winslet a lot over the years – the texture of the sweater, the not-done-up hair, denim comfortable enough to cross your legs in, a woman at her work, a woman just being … I have been working on developing versions of one algorithm for the last one year, one percent more accuracy with each iteration. It’s boring and tedious. I thought about the work of Margaret Howell who re-designs the same clothes year after year to perfection. I rotated between 4 sweaters through and through this winter. They pair well with my books and laptop. They remember my fav tunes from the years past. They catch the bread crumbs, spilt tea and puppy fur with elegance. They became my fireplace preserving the warmth within. Clothes do help me, in-spite of my impulse to trivialize fashion at every turn of life.
Around now :
There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I cant wait to get vaccinated. I am getting ready for life post lockdowns and return to office. I want to change jobs. I want to move again. I want to go visit my friends and family. I want to get my visa issues fixed. I want to keep drinking the whiskey. I may not have solved the mysteries of my true personal style during this lockdown, but I do want to blog more. Moving forward in whatever way, is the plan.
“We designers started as couturiers with dreams, with intuitions and with feelings. We started with,’ What do women want? What do women need? What can I do for women to make their lives better and easier? How can I make a woman more beautiful?’ That is what we used to do. Then we became creative directors, so we have to create, but mostly direct. And now we have to become image-makers, making sure it looks good in the pictures. The screen has to scream baby — that’s the rule. And loudness is the new thing. Loudness is the new cool, and not only in fashion. I prefer whispering. I think it goes deeper and lasts longer.”
— Alber Elbaz,
What next ? A different world is being born post-covid. We have tasted relaxed clothing and wore our loungewear for a year straight. We lived a year with out peer pressure on how to dress. Feminism has evolved. Social revolutions have happened. Political change is being demanded from the left, right and center. Remote work is now a real option. If the industry tried to uphold the same stale sartorial ideas from pre-covid era, I would be disappointed. The usual sources have become inadequate with providing me the answers I am seeking : how do we move forward from here if I didn’t like the normal ? I don’t want to be sold luxury bags to pair with poorly made clothes. I don’t want to see so many collections. I don’t want us women to buy new clothes season after season. I hate social media algorithms designed to fuck with our minds. I don’t want influencers, I want peers sharing their stories. Where do I go to read the artists, thinkers, leaders, women who are as eager for a different normal to reset to ? Every war and pandemic in the past jumpstarted change and shifted power structures. Will the old guard come back with a vengeance, double their marketing budgets and siren us back into the fast fashion consumer world as I remember it ? Dear reader, if you are a dreamer, do write about the world of sustainable fashion you envision post-pandemic.