From the vault: the temporal nature of clothes
everything changes
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the two binaries that we think our wardrobes should fall into. Either it’s cheap fast fashion and it’s bad and falls apart after two wears, or it’s an “investment” and needs to be something we must wear for the next twenty years. (FYI, hate to take this shopping excuse away from you, but clothing is never an investment. Unless it’s one of a very few designer bags, no fashion purchase is ever going to make you money, you just may be able to recoup a little bit of what you spent if you resell it later.)
The truth is that most things will fall somewhere in between and we could stress a little bit less about our clothes if we didn’t expect perfection from every clothing item. Yes, you want things you like and that fit and that feel good, but can you take the pressure off of everything to be a perfect purchase that lasts forever?
This makes me think of my favorite designer, Elizabeth Suzann. She always talked about how she wanted her clothes to last, but not FOREVER. Clothes that literally last forever are plastic fabrics that will never decompose.
(photo by Cassidy Parker Smith)
When we put pressure on ourselves to find clothes that we’ll wear forever, we don’t allow for change. For our bodies to change, for our lifestyles to change, for the environment we live in to change, for our preferences and tastes to change.
This is coming up a lot for several of my one-on-one clients right now. They’re wondering if it’s worth spending money on clothes if their body will be changing in the next year.
My answer is yes, and within that, I acknowlege the financial and size privilege required. If financial resources are scarce, it doesn’t have to be a lot, you don’t have to buy many pieces, and you can try thrifting and clothing swaps. It’s harder for those in sizes that are already hard to access. But if it’s possible, committing to having clothes that fit right now is an important part of body acceptance.
Y’all know me. You know that I’m a proponent of ethical fashion (FYI, that post is from 2013 and could use some updates regarding privilege). I’m not advocating for wearing things once and discarding them. I just want to move away from more pressure to make perfect choices which often stops us from making any decision at all.
What do you think? I know it might seem scary and irresponsible, but could you start to think of clothing as what works for you right now?
This resonates. A year or so ago, I was really happy with my body and also with my wardrobe. Then my body changed. In needing to buy new clothes, I felt so much guilt: Guilt about spending money (even though I technically had the money, I didn't want to spend it on this); guilt about being wasteful with clothes, some of which were quite new; and guilt about my body changing. But getting rid of the old clothes and feeling good in clothes that fit really is, as you say, a step towards body acceptance and the reality of perimenopause, which we women often have to navigate on our own - it can be a lonely process (very different than my experience with pregnancy).
I struggle with this. Most of my favorite clothes in the past have been hand-made by me. Numerous pieces have worn out, to the point where the fabric is so threadbare it will no longer hold another seam and isn't strong enough to be patched. That kind of wear is what I think of when people say "wear it out". My style is not for everyone but it's made for and by me in quality fabrics and durable construction and it worked for a long time.
Then menopause.
This will be the third year in a row I'm scrambling to buy something, almost anything, to get me through four different seasons of three days of office work. The home situation is hardly any better. Among the things I have grown out of are every pair of pants I own, all of my non-elasticized skirts, most blouses, athletic skorts, bras, panties, the clothes I use for cleaning the house and gardening, t-shirts that used to be loose, a raincoat that was trustworthy for a decade, the essential winter down coat, the list goes on. I have a de facto uncoordinated capsule wardrobe because items of clothing keep dropping off of my "can be worn out of the house without looking like a stuffed sausage" list. The range of feelings is intense--grief for my style, frustration that I don't have the time to create enough fast enough to express myself, rage at the invisibility of post-menopausal women, anger at medical professionals who just shrug and say "well at a certain age..." as if now my only option is to stop being athletic, give up on having a waistline, and don decorated sacks.
The idea of embracing "clothes for now" makes me almost want to cry with relief. I will figure this out, I won't be wearing plain machine made whatever forever, there is a new style that's truly mine waiting for me somewhere past this hump of despair and frumpiness. I hope.