Phew, okay, sorry, I had to get that all out of my system. It's not that I no longer care about fashion—I do, very much—it's just that the concept of "fashion" has become so nebulous and theoretical as to be basically meaningless.
For context, I grew up in a time when there were maybe a dozen ascendant fashion houses—Chanel, YSL, Ralph Lauren, Versace, and Calvin Klein come to mind—and each year, the major fashion magazines would get together and proclaim plaid to be in and menswear to be out, or hemlines were up, or down, or some other variation on some other theme. But you could pick up a handful of September issues and be like, "ah, a trend." The boutiques and department stores would then offer some passable facsimile of the runway version, and you would buy it and be fashionable. It was simple!
But all of this took place well before fast fashion like H&M or TopShop; before the rise of streetstyle blogs; before the diversification (and appropriation) of fashion houses to allow hip-hop influences; before the global fashion markets exploded; before the accelerating fashion cycle made seasonality defunct, and before the pandemic and normcore and Acting Basic.
Now, what we're left with, is a fuzzy squint of fashion. Everyone wears everything, all the time. There seems to still be trends—skinny jeans are out, wide-leg pants are back, and flares are in limbo, cowboy boots are everywhere—but the fashion trend and/or designer has been dethroned. And we are left to sort through the pieces, going, maybe a red boot? Could that be a thing?
The 90s is our fashion nostalgia moment right now, but I truly believe everyone is getting it wrong. Sure, some of us were wearing flannels and ripped jeans and were cool; when I was twelve, I literally wore a navy-blue blazer to the first day of grade six, and I do not see that being replicated anywhere (thank god) (this summer, all the cool teens wore sweatshorts with crop-tops and crocs; everyone looked like a tall sexy toddler and it was fucking weird). I remember when highwaisted straight-leg midwash jeans and an oversized Bart Simpson t-shirt were the only option for either gender, and I do not remember it fondly.
The best I ever looked was probably 2003-2012, which is when the Marc Jacobs version of the 1980s was everywhere—the era of the scene kid, the hipster for which this very blog is named! I remember a lot of denim miniskirts and Converse shoes, little sundresses, and a lot of American Apparel. Am I conflating this fashion cycle with the hotness of my 20s in general? Maybe, yeah! But it was also a time before leggings were a going-out pant. The standards were different!
Now I'm in my last year of my 30s, and I've spent most of the last decade in a post-partum body: chubbier, fatigued, a bit paunchy. It's a body type that might have been fashionable in 17th century; today, when we're steeped in wellness culture and the legging is, indeed, a going-out pant, it's less so. I find myself bobbing between not wanting to ever be perceived, and wanting to be the hottest bitch at the school pick-up. When my body isn't willowy or cute, I still give it a go through fashion.
And look, I am not one of those innately stylish people. I own some truly spectacular garments, including a sequinned bomber jacket and a refrigeration suit. I keep wearing blue blouses and black tank tops and navy shorts. Yawn. I have friends of all ages, sizes, and income levels who can assemble A Lewk without breaking a sweat. They can pop on a bracelet, shrug on a cardigan, slip into the right shoes, and they look great! I am missing some key styling component, like bravery or a sense of adventure, and so I need inspiration. I need trends, stories, personas. I need to be able to look at someone else and be like, "I'm going to steal that for me." I know that is basic fashion, in all senses of the word, but I'm just being honest.
Here is my very short list of things I'm turning to for fashion inspiration: solarpunk; Appalachian hellbillies (male variant); my friends Emily and Kat, who always look fucking cool; Ojai visual artists; my Patagonia fleece, which I describe as "spendy ski bum." The vibe I want to cultivate is "the chillest exchange student at IKEA" or "someone who has read the Dr Bronner's bottle" or "the aging Canadian equivalent of the skateboarding Bolivian girls" or "could conceivably do some light homesteading, on a whim" or "Arconia resident (non-murdered variant)" or "can do a downward dog, no problem."
The current vibe I give off with most of my clothes is "This person is a mom," and that is so BORING. If nothing matters and there is no trend cycle, then theoretically, anything I wear could be perfect. Why doesn't it feel like that? I'm a try-hard (see: that navy blazer), and fashion is supposed to be effortless and personal.
Am I telling on myself when I say it's hard right now? That I don't feel cool? I feel like I missed the memo about which windbreaker jackets are okay and which ones are actually frumpy. I wear puffy vests. I don't look good in a boilersuit. I am not the hottest bitch at school pick-up. But I want to be! I want to be.
