i'm not supposed to be here right now

and don't call me a fashion person

I’m supposed to be on my August pause from writing right now, but the recent conversations about fashion Substack have my brain firing and I’ve had this draft half written for at least 6 months, so here you go. 

Years ago, before the pandemic, I was shopping in one of my favorite designer consignment shops. I’d become friends with the owner of the shop since meeting her at a local fashion event. We were both there to network (can I tell you how much I hated “networking” and that I’ll never do it again?) as I had just launched mindful closet and she’d just bought the store. That day, I tried on a beautiful dress by the designer Ruben Ruel. It was bright, bold, and dramatic with a full skirt and structured collar. At that time, I lived in the midwest (still do), had a very spirited 5 year old and a 1 year old baby, and was just trying to keep my mental health stable. Occasions to dress up were almost non-existent in my life.

apologies for the photo quality, it was a long time ago with a not very advanced phone 🤷🏻‍♀️

The dress fit, it was beautiful, but it really had no place in my life. When I said as much, my friend said, “but you’re a fashion person, you’ll wear it!”. 

I’ve thought about that conversation many times. Being categorized as a “fashion person” felt absolutely wrong to me. I’ve always been intimidated by fashion people. I grew up in Alabama without much money and saw that as another world, albeit one that I loved and was fascinated by. My parents were union organizers and later my mom was an elementary school teacher and they never made much money. Not only did we not have money, we were actually taught to demonize the upper class (clearly my parents were ahead of their time 😬). 

I never felt comfortable talking about that love of fashion until I was in my 30’s. People certainly knew that I loved clothes and putting together fun outfits, but when I started a fashion blog in 2013 (cringe), I was certain people were laughing behind my back, saying “who does she think she is to talk about fashion?”

In my styling business, I was intimidated by the few clients I had who had lots of money and went to fancy events. I wanted to focus on “real women” (obviously those wealthier clients were “real” as well), people like me who were just going to work and needed help getting rid of things so that it would be easier to get dressed in the morning. I wasn’t interested in helping people pick out a thousand dollar dress to wear once to a gala. And if I had wanted to work with those women, I would have needed to start going to galas myself. As an introvert, I couldn’t think of anything worse than dressing up in fancy clothes I couldn’t afford to talk to people I didn’t know. I assumed they’d look at me up and down and find my hair/clothes/makeup/my very being lacking. 

So again, when my friend called me a “fashion person”, my negative reaction was visceral.  

This is all a very long drawn out explanation for why I relate so hard to what

Corinne Fay

and

Kelly Williams

and

Zoë

have said recently here and here and here (am I leaving anyone out?). I guess I’m in the fashion space because I don’t really have a better term for what I do than personal stylist, but I definitely don’t feel connected to that industry. I work with clothes and even I am alienated by these fashiony newsletters (btw, I’m just grouping a bunch of nonspecific newsletters together into this category because I don’t actually follow any of them). I often wonder about some of these writers’ perspectives - do they really live in some sort of high fashion bubble where everyone is thin and has the ability to drop $900 on a pair of pants? And if so, do they realize that that is not the case for most people? Or do they just not care? 

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Also, why are we just now interrogating this approach (thank you Corinne!)? There’s long been criticism of fashion magazines for this size and class elitism, but was this not the case with blogs over the last 15 years (remember Sea of Shoes)? Is it that Substack really is a magical place for critical thinkers and that those who wouldn’t normally seek out these publications are being exposed to them unintentionally because of the ecosystem? Either way, I love it. 

Ultimately, you can just decide whether or not to read these newsletters, but I’m glad they’re getting called out for their narrow lens on what fashion is and can be. And I promise, as I have done from the beginning of this newsletter, that every link I share will have the brand, size range, and price up front before you even have to click.

P.S. leaving commenting open for all subscribers today