Rediscovering Old Brands, Part 1

 Sometimes I wonder where the time went, particularly when dipping into older blog entries (both this one and those written by friends that have not been deleted). When it comes to fashion, a couple of things come to mind. First, despite all the well-documented accelerated trend cycles, styles don't seem to have changed that much. Obviously some older clothes from 2005-2013 look just a bit old, not so much tired but more middle of the road, uninspiring and either too fussy or just dull--traits often associated with your typical mid-market department stores. While trends clearly exist (the awful cold shoulders of a few years back, mom/mum jeans, head to toe athleisure), the much vaunted rapidity of fashion seems to lie more in increased production volumes and marketing. The actual clothes haven't really changed except there are more of them and the quality--and inspiration--is often lacking. Secondly, much of the clothing my erstwhile readers and I coveted looks just as good today, particularly the less overworked pieces. Granted some of this might be the decade or so that's passed, that has given us (or me) the necessary distance to reappraise. But I'm not that sure we dress all that differently today. Not just the millenial/younger Gen Xers but the population as a whole 

Maybe we are more into fashion as a conceit, as a mode of self-branding, as diversion than we are into actual material clothing, styles and creativity. Certainly, I think some of this desire is returning but it may be that I'm in a particular bubble, teaching bright, informed and often reasonably wealthy students who have chosen to live and work in New York. But I think this tendancy is more widespread, tmarked by the vintage/resale markets and the rediscovery of older items. 

As mentioned, I'm in the midst of closet-cleaning, reorganising and rediscovery. As I tentatively started in one corner of my not-so large but decently sized wardrobe, I found a few boxes, Inside three were brand new Fiorentini + Baker boots. These have to date from around the time I was pregnant with Severin. My older knee high pair split at the seam, as did a pair of ankle boots (too much wear plus bunions plus pregnancy). I vaguely remember buying one pair (the navy ankle boots). The other two, both knee high pairs, were a delightful surprise, all the more so as (a) they fit and (b) I was thinking about getting some just like these this autumn. Hard-wearing and somewhat of a heritage label in that they don't change styles often, they look just as stylish to me as they would have done in 2012. I likely didn't wear them at the time because new motherhood had temporarily caused my feet to grow a size and because my rapturous but exhausting days with my (soon to be twelve year-old) baby took up all my time and attention. While other similar (and lower priced) brands still capture attention, F + B seem to be forgotten these days so I was able to score another pair of their (used/broken in) ankle boots in a slightly different style for just $50 (including shipping) on ebay,

Other old favourites are slowly coming back into circulation. I'll write about these soon but top of the list is Lyell, even though there is little available used along with Emma Fletcher's Tocca (slightly better but still not abundant). Perhaps the creativity and quality of these garments means that they are not confined to one time, seen in their abundant vintage references, but nevertheless it feels good to have them back on my body rather than on hangers, tucked away from view. If only I could happen on some more of them.

Reflecting on My Wardrobe Cleanout/À la recherche de temps perdus. Part 1: L'Enlèvement

 I have too many clothes. I still acquire more. Yet I'm also dedicated to sustainability. All these statements are true for me and, likely, for a vast percentage of those with interests in fashion (a broad topic that goes way beyond trends, brands, designers). 

Embarrasingly, I have so many that it's hard to see most of them. I live in a NYC apartment so a perfectly curated walk-in wardrobe remains a fantasy. As a result, I hang key items from the knob pulls on my dressers, which leads to yet more repetition of the same core seasonally-appropriate items. My wardrobe has effectively been turned into storage, save the space at the front and centre where I can grab and return pieces that are in semi-regular rotation. 

With winter clothing drives in full force, I decided to tackle the process which has turned out to be more delightful and melancholy than I thought, a return to times past. This is an ongoing and unfinished project that I will discuss again. My primary goal? To find pieces suitable for donation for the new immigrants and poor in our neighbourhood (people who are going to need even more help in the near future, I fear). So I was looking for coats, warm clothing, items I'd bought because they were a good deal but were rarely worn as well as anything that no longer fit and/or was in good shape but would realistically never be worn again (by me). I've done this before, but probably not since Emile was born. 

I've also recently lost some 30lbs or so (all the (post) baby weight, all the pandemic pounds and maybe some more) and don't want to backslide, so time for the larger sizes to find new homes. I'd like to be another 10-15 lbs lighter if possible, but that may not be attainable.  While I was pregnant and breast-feeding, my wardrobe became more basic, dull and washable--front opening Boden and Gap dresses, J Crew cotton dresses etc--items, I've folded away with a slight sense of nostalgia. I loved those time of being close to my babies, even if the 6 months of morning sickness and the years of sleepness nights were hard. Truthfully, I'd do it again in an instance, but it's no longer my time and I doubt my two would be particularly happy if I did.

While searching, I inevitably found so many pieces that I thought would be staples, many unworn, some with tags, most of them way more expensive than I had remembered. In the flurry of Mayle panic buying I must have spent thousands of dollars on pretty piecces that were quickly forgotten in the years shortly afterwards when I got pregnant and became a mother. 

So, this morning, as I took a break from grading, I tentatively tried on some of my old dresses and blouses. All fit, some better than before, some for the first tme although the oldest were perhaps way too small. It's an odd index of my body's changes. Dresses from perhaps 20 years ago? Too tight, mainly in the chest (chalk that up to post-baby shifts in my body). From 15 years ago? The same or maybe a little looser. The Rachel Comeys from 13 years ago (before Severin, before pregnancy)? Way looser. I'm currently 14 lbs (a full stone!) lighter than I was when I got pregnant and at about the weight I must have been at the apex of the Mayle/Lyell days--maybe slightly smaller? 

Pragmatically, this has paid dividends. I can wear three pairs of practically new jeans that I bought just before the pandemic when I was around the same weight as I am now. But my trip down memory lane--of which more in a following post--has also shown me that some of my silky Mayle dresses are still werable and can be added into my rotation. Others will just have to remain souvenirs of moments that remind me of good friends, much missed these days, and the community we shared at a time of great joy but also great longing. 

Time

The pace of everything seems to have accelerated this week in the thoes of the (near) end of the semester and cyber week shopping/last minute grading. Amidst all this, I was fortunate enough to spend two afternoons with my old university friend, Tim, who was in NYC for work this week. He's one of the nicest people in the world, a positive force, full of joy, decency and positive energy. It was a true pleasure to spend time wandering around the city with him, sharing meals, and ssheltering from the cold, over cappuccinos in Maman. As we were walking down (or up) Elizabeth Street in the suddenly biting cold, the kind of NYC weather that I thought climate change had forever changed, I looked carefully at each tiny storefront north of Kenmare, scrutinising each one to find the space that used to house Lyell. I think I found it, but with different paint jobs and the passing of time, it wasn't quite the same. Rather than spending time in Nolita visiting clothes, I now go down there for French conversation classes, which is probably a more productive use of my time.

It's bitterly cold here right now, the kind of dry, windy cold that cuts through you as it funnels through the urban canyons. For the first time in several years--for probably most of my life as a mother of two--I dug out old tank tops to add more layers. At this time of year, thoughts naturally turn to nostalgia, which manifested itself for me, this week, in old friendships, the ghosts of shops past and the very materiality of clothes as a shelter against the elements--and as a way to softly coccoon myself during these frantic final days of the semester. Amidst the frigid weather and in the spirit of old friends and old passions, I dug out my old, warm and barely worn cream-coloured Mayle coat (I think it was Olympe) and remembered to be more kind to my younger self and my former obsessions.

Black Friday

Yesterday Severin and I went Black Friday shopping. With two children whose birthdays fall just after Christmas, I'm usually stuck for inspiration and wary of buying something for the sake of it. Both boys' lists are surprisingly modest (Legos, books, Pokemon--for S, toy guinea pigs--for E and various branded sports clothing) so I was also hoping to observe and react to the things that caught his eye. In dire need of new Crocs, Severin was insistent we get them in store which turned out to cost about 30 percent more than online. Still, it was nice to spend a day with my almost 12-year old, even as he summarily told me I could not attend the birthday party he's going to today. Understandable at this age-- I'll take the mum and son bonding when and where I can even if it costs me a little more money and a sushi lunch.

I also had my umpteenth covid booster, largely because I don't want to get sick and pass anything onto my mum or Evan's parents. I'd thought about not having another one as I always get the most atrocious side-effects where I end up in bed with a flu type reaction that lasts a few days. As predicted, that's where I am right now. 

I can't really sum up the enthusiasm to prepare classes or send emails, so I spent the day going back in time, reading friends' old blogs. Apart from my sheer disbelief that all those events/purchases/reflections from 2006-2008 took place 16-18 years ago when my students were so small and my sons just a fantasy surrounded by desperation and hope, I was struck again by the differences between social media and blogging. This is not to say the line between the forms is absolute (how could it be?) but rather to point out the tendency whereby the former is often imbricated in the neoliberal logic of self-branding/work/profit while the latter acts more as community where like minded souls in the same liminal space of youngish adulthood collaborate, confess, reflect and help each other.

I'm also shocked how much we spent on single items of clothing, even those I (we?) still wear. As I've realised so many tmes, clothing is not an investment vehicle. It loses economic value even if it keeps its use, expressive and emotional worth. While it was surreal to think that those select Lyell and Tocca pieces that I still search for were relatively freely available, that all those brands and blogs were just a click away, it's also shocking to see how clothes that once retailed for $300-500+ may now struggle to reach $50 on ebay/poshmark/therealreal. Clicking on dead links, looking for defunct brands from my bed while I shiver away (and Severin tells me point blank how awful I look) shows me how those portals to our past may be tantalisingly close but ultimately, those doors are gone forever.

As for my purchases. A Lyell dress arrived today ($12 from Mercari plus postage--the red cotton frock from the S/S 2005 lookbook). It's a size 2. I can get it on but the ties that button at the back are a hair too short but hopefully by summer, that won't be an issue. It's not a replacement for the one I already have (size 6, purchased from the brand's legenday SS 2005 sample sale) but more a younger sister, less faded and somewhat more svelte. 

For me, I stocked up on discount make-up, particularly Victoria Beckham beauty--sparkly soft eyeliners, shiny eyeshadow and flattering lipsticks in beautiful tortoishell packaging. I use the event more to save, to purchase on a years' beauty products while they are fleetingly on sale. 

Eh bien. Demain, il va falloir que je fasse mes devoirs de français et écrive une lettre de recommendation. I'm just hoping I have the energy to do something. 

Updates

On Tuesday, one of my students mentioned that the 2010s were really coming back in style. 

Of late, my mind has turned to this decade, one that changed my life (for the better) as I became a mother, found stable employment and settled into what is probably adult life. By happenstance, I found an image on Pinterest, clicked on the link, and, to my surprise, it took me back to this long-abandoned blog. From there, I traveled back in time, courtesy of my blogroll, to the lives of those who didn't close down their personal narratives from the late 2000s to early-middle 2010s. What surprised me? How much I have forgotten and how, yes, indeed, the 2010s are definitely coming back in style.

I have no illusions that anybody else will ever read this entry but I'm again taken with the idea of an online diary, with its musings on both everyday minutae and much bigger things in a world saturated with images. In an attention economy that tries too hard to hail (and commercialise) the public, there was something reflexive about a blog--a moment out of one's day that preserved quotidian rituals, questions, pleasures and stresses. While social media always has to work too hard, always in thrall to the desire to capitalise, monetise and brand, blogs represented a pause, a moment to communicate, preserve, ponder. I regret that I didn't jot down the many small moments that surrounded the big things in my life that this blog never witnessed, most notably the birth of my second son nearly 8 years ago on a dark snowy January night. I'll always remember the serenity of our first hours together, but I'm sure I've forgotten the kind of details and opinions I'd have preserved here--other than the taste of the orange jelly I ate after his birth. Brought to me by a kind nurse, it was the only thing they had to eat on the ward and it tasted delicious, becoming part of my reverie. Today, my dear boy is neither calm or serene but a bubbling energetic ball of joy, love, intelligence, laughter and cuddles. However, our first nights together were indeed a wonderful pause, transporting me to a calm where just the two of us existed under the long night skies, woven together in another dimension, if only for a few short days.

So now I have two boys. I'm happy at work, although there is always too much to do. I still love clothes which led to a detour where I now mainly teach fashion related courses. I'm working on a second book (not on fashion) and I'm trying my hardest to be fluent in French (truly fluent, native fluency which only seems to get further away the more you know). I still buy clothes but mainly resale these days for the environment, the bargains and for the fun (and frustration) of searching for some of those key pieces I missed and couldn't afford back in the day. I also feel I missed several years of style as I grew and nursed babies, leaving me no real time to shop for a body that was leaky and shape-shifting.

And, in a weird cyclic way, that's how I ended back here a few nights ago. Recently, I have been recaptured by my love for an old favourite. No, I was not looking for Mayle but for Lyell and Emma Fletcher's Tocca whose minimal 70s does 30s style seems as compelling as ever but even more difficult to find. I regret missing out on so many pieces for so little money on ebay and Poshmark, but fashion does, indeed, travel in waves. Plus there was the small matter of fit. A year or so ago, I bought one of her peacoats from 2005 whose name I long ago forgot. Even though it was a size 10, I knew it wouldn't fit but it was pristine and the price was right. I was also right about the size, but recently, I've lost over 30lbs so I can indeed wear it, along with many other such fripperies--that is if I can ever find the pieces I want. But I'm also trying to be strong. As I once stated in a post here, I can fall into the rabbit hole of brand obsession, So this time, I'm reminding myself. I'm not a collector and it's perfectly OK to say no, even to a defunct brand. Or a (once) defunct blog for that matter. 

End of another semester

I felt--and still feel--broken today. I alternate between wondering why this bothers me--why can't I be a person who thinks politics doesn't matter--and feeling fury at a variety of parties for the selfishness, stupidity, greed, short-termism or blindness that shaped their vote. While the vile Conservatives and their neo-con press baron pals like Murdoch are mostly to blame, I feel deep anger for the selfish and stupid conduct of the SNP, who cannot see that if they get what they want they will destroy all the British economies and services. They should have supported Labour to the hilt and steered them further left but instead they leave us with an evil, far right government.

But a bright spot emerged--a busy teaching and advising filled day that reminded me, yet again, how great our students are. Bright, hard working, creative, intelligent and full of integrity--I am so lucky to participate in their education and work with such wonderful young women and men. And this year as every year, I'm so proud to see them graduate but also sad to see them move on.

Betrayed

A couple of days ago, I finally thought that a Labour coalition would just squeeze in to form a government and was shocked by the exit poll that had to be wrong. I don't have much faith in the electorate--any electorate in the western world--blinded by spin, innuendo, negative campaigning, selfishness and ideologically suspect "common sense" easy solutions (like austerity which only serves the rich and costs more in long term human, economic and social costs). But the idiocy of my country's electorate stunned me, as did the selfishness of the idiotic Scottish nationalists who shot everybody in the foot to make a dated jingoistic point wrapped up in pseudo socialist rhetoric.

My only joy is seeing the Lib Dems wiped out and that monster Clegg resigning as their leader. Betraying the students and their voters on a never before seen scale, they deserve to rot in hell. I'd like to see an energised proper socialist Labour party (think Tony Benn, Aneurin Bevan and other such men of integrity--heroes of mine who crafted the worlds's best welfare state and did more for social mobility than any other party or force).But instead we'll see more consumerist policies, encouraging selfishness and blindness until yet another set of social institutions are rent asunder.

I'm heartbroken and livid and hope those people responsible for voting this lot of plutocrats back into power realise what they have done in time to correct course and send them to the political oblivion and the deepest circles of Dantean hell where they belong.