Dressing when you're sad,
Or how to embrace fashion in a meaningful way.
Yes, I have been a little sad lately, hence the delay in sending this newsletter. Well, I’ve also been incredibly busy, I suppose, but normally that would make me feel energised. Not this time, though.
I can’t really put my finger on it. It’s a kind of fatigue mixed with anxiety, mostly about the summer slipping away so quickly. It feels as though it only began yesterday, and now we’re already halfway through it. While I’m immensely enjoying getting dressed in all the skimpy dresses I promised myself I’d wear this summer, I’m also dreading the return of autumn, followed by the brutal Irish winter, which seems to get to me even more than the Siberian one ever did. It’s the darkness and the damp that really break me.
Between all the work things, home things and social things that have upset me over the past few weeks (and there have been plenty, I have to admit), I’ve been trying to find some headspace to process my emotions.
I stopped going to therapy about a year ago, and every now and then I would check in with myself and congratulate myself on how well I’d been doing. Recently, though, I’ve found myself feeling as if I’m stuck in a gear—functioning, but only just ticking all the boxes at the very last moment.
Having done nine years of therapy, I’ve found that, at this stage, giving myself a bit of a reality check really helps to put things into perspective. Having close friends receive life-changing medical diagnoses, seeing other families raising children with special needs, or even recently, on a flight, catching sight of a boy about my son’s age with his right hand amputated—I really had to take a deep breath and remind myself that there are things in life far more important than my ego (and I suspect a lot of my frustrations undoubtedly stem from that).
An acquaintance of mine, whom I’ve known for years via Instagram but have only managed to meet once in real life, and who is responsible for putting some of the most spectacular diamond bling on just about every celebrity you can name (think Rihanna’s cluster of brooches on the red Alaïa jumpsuit at the Super Bowl a couple of years ago), recently started a Substack.
In one of her first letters, Lyna writes that style is the sweetest form of poetry, but it won’t be the clothes someone wore that they will ultimately be remembered for. At least not by the people who loved them most.
Perhaps, sometimes, it is the clothes that you’re remembered by, like Caroline Bessette-Kennedy. But then you become a ghost, haunted by images of your looks, pinned to every designer's mood board, trying to dress the modern woman. And I know that’s not what I would like to be remembered for. Not the clothes I wore, as much as I enjoy wearing them.
When I think about what I would like to be remembered for, other than, hopefully, the love and care I’ve managed to give to those closest to me (and I’m not the most emotionally nourishing person, I know that), fashion definitely does not spring to mind. I’m not about to solve the political and environmental turmoil our society is in. A book, maybe? I realise that a lot of my anxiety around work comes from the fact that I still see fashion as frivolous, as an indulgence that a smart person cannot possibly dedicate their life to. But then again, all the people at the top are very, very smart. Just think of Miuccia Prada or Phoebe Philo.
I was listening to Lauren Sherman’s latest podcast with Derek Blasberg yesterday, and she mentioned Shala Monroque and how she dominated street style in the mid-2000s. Blasberg said that she had quit fashion and moved back to her native St. Lucia to focus on sustainable farming.
What?! My brain stumbled over that statement. Quit consulting for Prada and curating the Miu Miu Literary Club to become a farmer?!
I needed to know more, so after a bit of Googling I came across a podcast she did a couple of years ago, in which she talks about her career and her decision to leave New York and move back home.
I’m not about to move back to Siberia (definitely not) and start farming organic vegetables—which, given every depleted Tesco grocery delivery of tasteless fruit and watery cucumbers, I find myself craving more and more—but my God, that was inspiring. Being able to reinvent yourself at almost any stage of the game is one of the greatest gifts modern life has given us. Being able to reject vanity and truly follow your heart is something far more complicated, though.
In that light, I also tremendously enjoyed listening to the Fashion Neurosis podcast with Jerry Hall. One of the most beautiful women ever, who lived through some of the most fascinating moments and events of the latter half of the twentieth century, the humility and joy she derives from life really struck me.
Asked by Bella Freud how she felt about Mick Jagger’s infidelities, she said she doesn’t like to dwell on the past. She understands, after all, that he was Mick Jagger and everyone wanted to sleep with him, and that, in the end, everything worked out the way it was meant to.
That is the attitude I want to aspire to. Cheers to that!
On the looks side, here’s an illustration of how fashion can lift your spirits in times of gloom, but also how easily you become lazy when not in a great state emotionally and reach for the same tried-and-tested staples. I have come to realise that to do a bit of styling, to find unexpected combinations and push yourself outside of the comfort zone, you need to be in a good mood (that’s probably why, in winter, my looks are so boring I want to cry). It’s a reminder of how important it is to have those pieces in your wardrobe, so that when you’re feeling blue, you at least know how to perk yourself up upon looking in the mirror.
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LOOKS
BOOKS
Pool House by Mary H.K.Choi - I’d heard so many people in fashion rave about this book, describing it as an extraordinary read because the author defines her characters through the brands they wear. It sounded so unusual and refreshing. I suppose, because fashion is still so often dismissed as frivolous—or worse, as one of the more sinister manifestations of capitalism—very few writers pay close attention to what their characters are wearing, let alone mention specific brands. I bought it for that reason alone, and I have to admit the book itself left me rather underwhelmed. But there’s definitely a niche in the market.
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