I was sitting in Lone Pine this summer when a good friend of mine announced that he had made a resolution to not buy a single item of clothing for at least a year. No pants, shirts, shoes, coats, nothing. He explained to us all that he really didn't care about clothes, that they were a waste of his resources. I scoffed so hard I nearly snarfed up my milkshake until I realized, horrified, that he was dead serious. I decided he was misguided and delusional but not beyond help, so thumping a Vogue magazine and quoting heavily from The Devil Wears Prada, I began a fashion intervention.
Cut to two hours later, almost closing time for the Tavern, and all our friends have quietly backed away from the table in fear. Even the Lone Pine staff is too scared to interrupt us to kick us out. Things have degenerated. He's calling me pretentious, "out of touch" and saying my priorities are crazy. I'm yelling that he's the one who's crazy if he thinks that clothes don't affect his life and that fashion hasn't influenced our past and present.
I imagine by now that you, the reader, have formed some ideas about me. Whether or not those ideas are positive depends on your relationship to fashion, but here are some less flattering assumptions that might come to mind. I take an hour to get ready every morning; I rented a U-Haul to bring my closet to Dartmouth; I drop excessive cash on designer labels; I list shopping in my top three interests on Facebook, maybe I even called it a varsity sport. And lastly, you might have decided as my friend did, that I'm image-obsessed, high maintenance and materialistic.
Well, I'm not your average fashion columnist: My mother is a "fashionista," (a person involved in, invested in and maybe obsessed with the world of apparel). In rebellion against hundreds of hours of my childhood spent waiting for her outside dressing rooms, I had a phase where I refused to shop, be trendy or read a fashion magazine.
Years later I have found my own sense of style and an appreciation of clothing. I'm convinced anyone can look and feel 10 times better by tweaking their wardrobe. But it takes me 15 minutes, max, to get ready in the morning. Forget about a U-Haul, I barely fill my dorm closet. When I shop its not a sport, it's a military exercise. I go into the store like a heat seeking missile, knowing my target and I either find it and buy it or I leave. The only clothes I'll spend real money on are classic, timeless items. Anything "trendy" I buy at places like H&M where the prices are great and the clothes are fun but practically disposable.
But what about "image obsessed, high maintenance, materialistic"? When called that by a friend I was quick to defend myself, but in truth while I'm not "image obsessed" I am certainly image conscious.
I am "conscious" that what I wear defines who I am to a stranger, and since I feel I'm the best judge of who I am, why wouldn't I strive to "maintain" an external image that's compatible with my true self by focusing on what statement my "materials"make?
So I finally had to admit that I am indeed image conscious, high maintenance and materialistic. My friend immediately declared himself victorious but it was a shallow victory at best, if anything, I was further convinced that clothes should be on everyone's priority list.
They define us, and by acknowledging that we take control of our own definitions. Besides, I know for a fact that he bought clothes during interim. I'd be throwing all the crap he gave me that night right back in his face, but I don't want to get his new shirt dirty.
