Summer angst

Thoughts on fashion's fairytale promise and accountability

Hii! It’s been a minute. I hope you’ve all been enjoying a beautiful summer. I’ve spent the better part of mine frolicking on Calabrian beaches and staying out late drinking wine and eating gelato. Since being back home, I’ve spent a lot of time wishing we had an air conditioner and obsessing over the new sun damage my skin has sustained. Have I told you about my propensity to fixate and spiral? No? Well suffice it to say, I seem to have a talent for conjuring up a new thing to question hate about myself / my behaviour as soon as I’ve stopped worrying about the previous thing. It’s a treat really. My current victims are my (admittedly lightly) freckled décolletage, shoulders, upper back and arms. Everyone’s skin looks so smooth on Instagram and while I do know rationally that this probably isn’t the way it looks IRL, I am still enough of a sponge to let my own hyperpigmentation get to me. Comparison really is the thief of joy. But yes, I have seen multiple dermatologists about it and yes, I also spent CHF 2,500 that I didn’t have (thanks Mastercard) on laser therapy that didn’t improve sh*t. I’ll probably make a new appointment with another doctor to try again though. TBC.

Still, I look forward to escaping back to Italy in less than two weeks. Normally, this would have triggered a shopping frenzy (I am going to Capri, after all) but you might be pleased to hear that in spite of all my inclinations, I haven’t gone for the Pucci scarf that screams Jackie O, the bikini that may well secure you a spot at the always-full La Fontelina, or the hat that may finally keep those freckles at bay. There is still almost a fortnight left before my trip though, so let’s not assume victory just yet.

I of course love summer, sun damage risk and all. But the season does always make me feel a bit more wistful too. Maybe it’s the imagined pressure to be outside, socialise, have friends, make the most of every day, which I feel I never quite live up to? The palpable fleetingness of it all?

I haven’t been feeling my best lately. Some of it may stem from a few shopping slip-ups that aren’t doing much to lift my spirits, even if I do like the clothes that I bought. It’s not great to set yourself a goal and then find you’re unable to adhere to the plan to get you there because your addiction is more powerful than you. By the time I click ‘buy’, I usually have so expertly talked myself into believing it’s ok to buy whatever dress / tee / top that is in my cart that it’s a breeze to suppress the sensible voice telling me to reconsider. At times I do let that voice be a little bit louder, but in the end I am still so overcome with the desire to own something that I compulsively buy it anyway, only to feel a complete sense of disgust with myself as I do. The latter usually happens towards the end of a buying spree, when I know my funds are getting dangerously low and start to realise the insane amount of packages that are going to be arriving at my doorstep. I know it’s completely contradictory, but videos like this one actually make me feel pretty nauseated and anxious. Look at the sheer.amount.of.stuff. Not to be judgemental but how is one expected to keep track of what they have in that consumerist mayhem? And why do they even keep everything when they’re just constantly buying new stuff?

Having said that, I recently bought this Réalisation Par dress, these extraordinarily soft Silk Laundry trousers, this fun white Enza Costa pair because they looked really good on Leandra Medine Cohen, and this Dissh top I thought would go well with them.

What makes for a cute anecdote is that I got some of these and other, older things altered and when I went to pick them up, I was forced to discretely panic-call my boyfriend and ask him to send me the 200 bucks I was short. I do wonder what went through my tailor’s head when I said I had to “make a phone call” after he ambushed me with the eye-watering sum it would take to get my stuff back. Maybe he thinks I have a job which pays me in ill-fitting clothes instead of money?

Some recent lewks I liked

A new way to accountability

After a recent series of dispirited texts to my bff - who is similarly tempted by lovely things - we made a daunting pact: to not shop until Christmas. We also want to keep each other accountable by talking through every ‘craving’ we get. Having a safe space to discuss all the complicated emotions I try to process by shopping has been immensely helpful, especially because my friend doesn’t only know and understand me, but also the urge to shop.

This exercise has also made me see how astoundingly frequent my desires change. I see a post of a cool girl on Instagram wearing Breton stripes and bam! it suddenly feels absolutely necessary that I own a striped shirt too. A day later I see someone on the street carrying a pretty Bottega and now I couldn’t care less about the striped shirt, all I want is that bag. I guess that is the whole raison d’être of the fashion industry though. It is set up so you give in to every one of these desires.

Fashion’s fairytale promise

Former Highsnobiety Digital Fashion Editor Alec Leach talks about this in his brilliant book, The World is on Fire But We’re Still Buying Shoes:

“The industry expertly hacks human psychology, playing with deep-rooted themes like status and belonging in order to keep us lusting after new things. Fashion is intimately connected to our sense of self.”

He continues on his Substack:

“It’s funny, for an industry that is so openly consumerist, nobody talks about how they afford their lavish lifestyles. It’s an open secret that fashion is overrun with nepo babies, but if you’re not sitting on a trust fund then you’re still pressured to spend, spend, spend like the rich kids.”

I’ve never felt so seen. Without wanting to demonise an entire industry, I think fashion’s business model is ultimately set up to feed on people’s feelings of inadequacy. I’ve often thought things like “She looks so great in that top. I wish I would look this way. Maybe if I just get the same top…”.

The people behind fashion marketing lead us to believe that we can have it all: own scores of pricey clothes, bags and shoes all the while still maintaining our financial independence and security. Unless you’re part of the 0.1% or/and get sent tons of free stuff however, this just isn’t realistic.

Sometimes I fear that I might be the only one who is dumb enough to fall prey to these unrealistic ideals while everyone else is clued-in and aware of it being a mere fantasy. Because all these people on the internet seem to have their shit together financially and still somehow manage to look incredible in their photos, often wearing the latest trends.

The nagging feelings of self-doubt and self-disdain this triggers often make me want to buy something to cheer myself up. So warped, I know.

I find it baffling, embarrassing and enraging all at once that the simple tricks the fashion industry uses to make us impulse-buy (promotions, sales, ‘just one piece left’ messages etc.) would work so well on me. So well, in fact, that I’d disregard any long-ago devised aspiration of never being dependent on anyone else. This isn’t so much about pride as it is about realism and caution: even the most earth-shatteringly loving relationships can fall apart, and then what? You definitely don’t want to have to worry about making ends meet when you’re being broken up with - or have to weigh up leaving someone you no longer love versus sleeping on the street. I am aware that for some people these are inescapable, devastating realities. But as someone who has essentially won the lottery with their place of birth, socioeconomic status and overall privilege (being a white, able-bodied woman), I should do better.

Because my overspending has never led to any real consequences for me (running out of money early might have involved an uncomfortable conversation with my parents in my student days, but I was never left high and dry), I’ve found it easy to just keep going. The only difference is that my parents have now been replaced by my partner in subconsciously assuring me that it’ll all somehow be ok, no matter how much too much I spend. Coming to terms with this truth has made me uncomfortable to say the least. How could I let it come to this as someone who prides herself in being a staunch feminist who can stand on her own two feet?!

What’s the point of it all, really?

And then on a grander scheme of things, what do we even do this for? When I pulled the trigger on the Enza Costa trousers for example, I felt exhilarated at the prospect of soon being part of the ‘cool’ club wearing this piece recommended by LMC. But as Leach puts it in his book,

“There’s only a brief window of time when wearing this or that piece tells the world that you’re part of an exclusive group of clued-up consumers”

…after which all you’re really left with is yourself and your overdrawn bank account. Which is very much how I felt when those trousers arrived. And with the itch to feel fancy and cool and to belong still very much unscratched, I immediately jumped at the next opportunity to buy something that just might fulfil that promise.

As this article on how to shop less shows, a lot of people out there seem to be struggling too. One woman’s perspective rings particularly true:

“There’s this feeling of, Oh, if I don’t buy this right now, I might never find it again, and I will miss out on this experience that I want. It creates this almost visceral panic response.”

I’ve been trying to internalise her simple yet great coping ethos:

“It might sound obvious, but I have to remind myself that I can appreciate things without owning them. I can put them on a mood board, or send a link to a friend, or recommend them to someone else. I won’t actually be missing out. There will always be more beautiful clothes in the future.”

Realising and voicing all this feels healing. And while I have slipped up a few times since starting this newsletter, I feel more optimistic now that I’ve finally set myself a tangible goal I can keep myself accountable to: to put 1k a month away for a rainy day before I’m allowed to buy anything new (with the money that is left over after paying my rent, setting aside money for my taxes as well as my voluntary pension provision and, well, life). Considering the substantial amount I am still paying my boyfriend back every month for the boujee furniture I made us get and a few unhinged credit card bills I was unable to pay in full, this won’t be easy. And in all honesty, this is a pretty intimidating manifesto. I’ve noticed that I often shop to overcome boredom, meaning I will have to make an effort to find different ways of filling the void. I am optimistic that the creativity I will hopefully unearth as I create new outfits using the clothes I already own will help, though.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this one of Mikesch, who seems to live for the spenny stuff as much as I do.

Thanks so much for reading!

Love, A xx