The Meaning of Material Things
One person's holy grail is another person's spring cleaning.
A few weeks ago, I stopped by a vintage store to shop a sale featuring items from a stylist and editor’s personal archive. One of the people I was with, not being a self-professed clothing freak, expressed sticker shock at the prices for the clothes given that they were, you know, used. Anyone who has exercised a spring cleaning urge on their own closets knows how rare it is to get close to the price you paid for designer clothing when going re-sale. Accessories from highly coveted brands typically retain their value, but clothing often does not. There are a few exceptions among brands; I myself would pay close to original retail should certain old Céline pieces that I missed on their first appearance resurface, and I know others who have alerts for Prada skirts or Alaïa dresses they still covet after many years. Occasionally, one person’s holy grail is another person’s spring cleaning.
Given the prices of luxury goods and the desire to consume in a more mindful way, shoppers often ask what pieces are worthwhile investments and I find that editors, retailers and stylists are quick to highlight the same items: cashmere knits, leather jackets, Hermès bags, Chanel shoes, etc. I have nothing against any of these items and think that frequently they make excellent investments in one’s perennial wardrobe, but I take issue with the idea that everyone needs the same oatmeal cashmere knit, camel Kelly bag and Chanel two-tone flats in beige/black. When building out a wardrobe of essential items, personalization is key. Here is an opportunity to exercise and stretch one’s sense of style. My “wardrobe essentials” may not be and ideally, are not, the same as yours, but are unique and meaningful to me. Material things can hold meaning and resonance for us for many reasons: often they remind us of a particular moment or person in our lives or an achievement that we chose to celebrate with a purchase. Sometimes they are meaningful for the exact opposite reason: they are so universal and integrated into the minutiae of our everyday existences that they remind us of nothing and no one but ourselves.
Like many of my fashion friends, I have a tendency to buy a few (I may be underselling that number…) new items each season and wear them into the ground for six months, by which time I have determined that I “have nothing to wear” and need to buy new clothes. These statements typically elicit (deserved) eye-rolls from anyone who has seen the stacks of color coordinated sweaters in my closets or rows of pants and skirts on my clothing racks, but they stem from my propensity to organize my wardrobe around my essential items and then purchase new things that I use to update, reuse and reinvent my essentials across seasons or years. Because of my somewhat uniform style of dressing, those pieces that are unique or special, perhaps through silhouette, color or fabric, are the ones that have typically become my most valuable and those that I have continued to wear even as my taste has evolved or the trends of the seasons have shifted. Today I want to focus on some of my perennials, and illustrate that the best investments are the ones that reflect your personal sensibility rather than ones dictated by an arbitrary “capsule wardrobe” or deemed classic by someone with no knowledge of you and your aesthetic inclinations. If you’re a repeat reader (thank you!), you know that I could have centered this entire newsletter around a wardrobe of sweaters but I am challenging myself and am only allowed one knit item (I am human after all).
My Wear With Everything Boots:
I bought my first pair of these Ann Demeulemeester boots over twelve years ago while working as an assistant buyer in designer shoes. This was during the golden age of Christian Louboutin, when almost everyone on my team regularly wore 110mm (about 4.5 inches - that’s no joke!) shoes not only around the office but to vendor appointments all over the city. Spending much of my time staring at the boards full of photos of beautiful shoes did impact my footwear visual language, and as a new team member, I did my best to integrate with my colleagues and wear ridiculously high shoes. I quickly learned, however, that I have neither the fortitude nor the willpower for uncomfortable shoes. I can’t remember how much thought I gave these boots when purchasing them, and I did not anticipate how integral they would become to my uniform over the next ten years, but, given the forgiving shape of the last (the shape around which they construct the shoe), and the ideal heel height, I was able to wear these for hours and miles at a time without having to bring a change of shoes or think about my feet. I wore them with skirts, jeans, dresses - basically everything, and in both formal and casual contexts. Even now, one of my former coworkers will ask me where my Ann boots are if he sees me wearing anything but these. This is my third pair and I have had them rebuilt countless times. I mostly wear them now when I’m looking for a bit of height with an oversized pant. The shoes both remind me of that time when I accepted that I was never going to be able to run around the city all day in spindly heels, Carrie Bradshaw-style, and feel universal to me because they have seen me through so many events and phases in my life.
My Original Double Sweater:
I have already waxed rhapsodic about layering sweaters so won’t go into too much detail on that again, but I will say that while I was wearing sweaters as scarves before I saw this double sweater, this is the item that crystalized the coordinating dual-sweater look for me. The sweater is from Phoebe Philo’s last collection at Céline and I have worn it consistently since I bought it without feeling like it is dated or out of fashion. Others may disagree and see it as too representative of that particular collection or trend, but I adore this sweater. As somewhat of an expert on multi-sweaters, I can confirm that it’s the perfect weight for a double sweater: light enough to wear in the fall and spring but heavy enough to work as a scarf in the winter. This is the one I grab when I want to look pulled together but don’t want to have to think too hard. This sweater very much reminds me of a particular time in fashion and a unique moment yet to be recreated (holding my breath for September 2023 when Phoebe finally makes her return!) and thus holds a special place in my wardrobe.
My Mixed Media Transitional Jacket:
Over the past few seasons, I have started to fully appreciate the utility of a transitional jacket. As is typical of me, I have in my mind a potential wardrobe of transitional jackets yet to be purchased that takes into account every variation in weather, wearing occasion and color of my outfit. My Sacai mixed media bomber jacket, however, is one that has long been and remains a consistent staple of my existing transitional jacket wardrobe. In my opinion, no one does better unique outerwear than Chitose Abe. You have probably seen other designers who have mixed materials or spliced multiple items together but she was one of the first and it remains her signature. This bomber is from about eight years ago, but just last week she showed multiple mixed media bomber jackets in her Resort ‘24 collection. What I love about mine is that the attached suit jacket elevates the bomber but because it is only the lapel, does not add any bulk or weight to it. Unlike some of her other mixed media pieces, it feels more androgynous and serves as a good counterpoint to a more feminine item. It works particularly well with one of Sacai’s mixed media skirt/pant looks but I have worn and continue to wear it with pretty much anything.
My Dependable Dad Sandals:
These sandals are a bit of a contradiction to my stated principles as I think they are trend-dependent and I may end up feeling that they are over at some point in the future, but I am choosing them anyway because it’s my party and if I can’t break the rules here then where can I? These shoes were a total impulse buy. I saw them in Paris and immediately conjured up multiple justifications for buying them, including but not limited to: they were the last pair left - and in my size - it was fate! The euro was at historical lows against the dollar - it was financially irresponsible not to buy them! I am not the biggest sandal fan historically, and typically not a fan of brightly colored sandals, given my aforementioned dependence on black and navy. Again, though, this color easily integrated into my summer wardrobe and silly as it sounds, brought me joy every time I glanced down at them. They’re simply happy shoes, and given how many people have approached me on the street to ask about them, others seem to agree. To me, these shoes best illustrate the resonance and meaning of objects: they came from a place that is forever special to me and I feel comfortable, physically and metaphorically, in them. The color is hardly quiet but they don’t feel outlandish or try-hard when I am wearing them, mostly because I just feel like myself.
Over the years I have sometimes struggled with my own attachment to and love of material things; I have wrestled with a feeling that it was superficial to value these things deeply. At the risk of taking this endeavor too seriously, in an ideal circumstance, I hope that these wardrobe essentials or treasured material objects help to provide us with a definition of self, a statement on what we value and a sense of what makes us unique.
You so graciously tipped me off to those Ann D boots once ago during Paris and I am forever indebted to you for that. X