A couple of weeks ago I bought my first pair of leather pants in 17 years. Behind the curtain in the changing room, I felt strange, almost like I was tricking myself into believing I am not ridiculous.
By the time I am 50 I will probably be looking for my very last pair of leather pants.
And my daughter will buy her first.
It is unlikely I will see her wearing her second pair.
The circularity of fashion is some kind of tactical, delicate approach to two of the women’s most pressing questions: „What am I going to wear today?” and „Is my body still good enough to successfully meet my growingly complicated requirements for graceful living?„
When you wear that denim shirt you used to love in high school it is like you are trying to resume your position in the whole universe and the role you play in your own life project.
Sadly, by wearing that denim shirt that became fashionable again you cannot quite get the consistent look you want. However, the trying alone is enough to make you feel strangely connected to the present world; yet hopelessly disconnected.
There are no fashion choices that are not in accordance with an internal drive. All fashion choices actually try to fulfil a real or an imaginary agenda.
After all, you do mix fashion edicts with existential choices. You have this instinct for blurring the distinctions between the first and the second, so that you will not get too affected by these two terrible antipodal threats: the lack of meaningful progress in your existence and the excess of structure and predictability of fashion. Very few of us women know how to control such de-phasing without erasing it.
All in all, you get to wear the same trendy piece of clothing at least three times in your lifetime. Then you just stop being trendy because you either stop caring to adjust to the new spring collection, or because, well, you die.
You’re too young. Then you’re too old. And in between, you think you’re being fashionable 🙂