my life in clothes

So, some thoughts on dressing.

Part I - Me, a Dries woman?

A couple weeks ago, I went to a sale organised by a major luxury retailer in Singapore called Club 21, which brings in a number top labels in Singapore, like Lanvin, Jil Sander, Dries Van Noten, Marni, Stella McCartney, Carven, Balenciaga, Phillip Lim, Mulberry, Paul Smith, Comme Des Garcons (not mention Calvin Klein, Donna Karan and Armani and all the related brands) and many many more. Their clearance sale is held once every two years and it's a notoriously good deal, lots of stuff at 70 to 90% off.

If you love fashion and have a dream designer or two on your list, it's hard to not go crazy at a sale like this and start imagining that you MUST go home with that silk charmuese gown from Lanvin that drapes in the best way possible, or an impossibly chic, sculpted, black brocade cocoon dress from Balenciaga, because they're all suddenly tantalisingly within reach. Never mind that I take the bus to work 5 days a week and consider a weekend not spent in shorts "dressy".

There has always been a huge disconnect between the designers whose runway collections I love, versus the stuff I actually want to wear. I've always loved Alber Elbaz for Lanvin, for example, and I still look at his collections from time to time. My all-time favourite designer is Helmut Lang and I still have all these tear-outs from magazines of his work. But you'd be hard-pressed to spot his influence on how I dress.

Being at the sale was quite disorienting - when things you admire and study from a distance come alive and beg you take them home. You wonder whether they have a place in your life. You wonder whether you're the kind of person that "collects" pieces. You try stuff on and wonder you could become the woman of a designer's imagination. 

I tried on a beautiful inky sleeveless sheath by Dries that could be black or navy - it was hard to tell in the light. It was fitted but not tight, it fell below my knee to something that could almost be called "midi", and had what I guess is technically a peplum, but really it was less kitsch and determinedly feminine than that. It was made of a matte material that felt a bit like silk wool (more silk than wool), something with a nice weight but not too heavy. I was quite transported by my reflection, but I couldn't quite buy it either. The dress had gravitas. It fitted me well, but it also felt a little too serious for me. It was that super cool, elegantly-dishevelled Dries woman who mixes florals and plaids and manages to wear full skirts that fall below the knee and look modern. I wasn't convinced  I was this woman. 

I set it aside, and went with another Dries dress that was more recognisably me (simple straight-cut shift in a wonderful textured material with sleeves to the elbow). I also did buy that navy blazer from Stella McCartney, because when something that fantastically tailored happens to you, and complements your slightly fraying "I am a professional woman" jacket, you buy it. 

I love the "Dries woman", the "Lanvin woman", the "Celine woman", but from a distance. Maybe I haven't grown into a life where these personas make sense (my October outfit diary on IG should be prove that I'm not quite there yet). 

But I feel a pang whenever I think of that Dries dress. I have a feeling I would kill for that dress about 10 years from now. One of the things I like best about getting older is that the confidence that comes with it, and I suspect 10 years from now I would be a lot more comfortable with dressing with a bit more drama, a little more regally.

Does anyone feel like that? 

Part II - Those #oldootds, and shopping

So, coming back to the outfits above. One word to sum up my style - repetitive. But the monotony was also comforting - having your tastes affirmed and remembering what works, what's easy. It also made me a little sheepish to realise I hardly had to repeat things unless I felt like it - proof that I ought to give it a rest with the shopping.

The problem with figuring out what you like and what works for you is that you become really good at it - you become an expert at spotting and honing in on things that fit right, look right, feel right. And then it's hard to say no. Because you know it's going to work.

In the past I was trying to not buy stuff that I loved but wasn't going to wear because it didn't work for my lifestyle, or just wasn't all very me. Now, it's about trying to not buy so much stuff that I know are perfect for me, because I already have a lot of good stuff.

Certainly a good amount of my shopping this year is due to stress - and shopping is such an easy, instant way to cheer myself up. But it's time to say "enough" and find better ways of relieving the pressure. Exceptions made for holy grail items, of course.