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.