Am I Guilty of Too Much Pleasure?
In my pile of clothes, a pile of questions.
Recently, My favorite style icon and makeup innovator/CEO Trinny Woodall has been probing the question of excess. There’s always been a kind of guilty pleasure quality to everything she does, with her Saturday series called “Closet Confessions.” She’ll explore say, a color or clothing item but often start with a slightly sheepish disclaimer like “I’ve been collecting for almost 30 years…” And there’s also a sort of “more is more” quality in her approach to personal style — broadcast from an ever-changing rainbow wall of coats, one that celebrates color and sequin with layering, matching (or “grading”), color blocking, intentionally mad clashes of color, and never too much joy.
Trinny has also bought fast fashion as a means to show her viewers items that they can access all over the world. But at the same time she has shown us ways to consider sustainability in even these purchases — in the way we treat, alter and preserve these items — and also to ask questions, for example, probing the way things are made and the lack of sizing that respects the full spectrum of who we are.
That said, coming out of a month of heavy shopping recently, we saw Trinny asking herself questions of excess as she does from time to time. For example in her inspiring closet clean outs (wardrobe culls, she’s called them) and January shopping detoxes where she doesn’t buy anything new.
This is the push/pull of fashion. And the push/pull of being someone who loves fashion but also understands a certain responsibility as a human in this world.
It’s a tension that always leads me right up to the question I am loathe to ask myself:
Is there something inherently wrong and unacceptable about having loads and loads and loads of clothes?
From time to time I grapple with it. (From time to time, truthfully, I don’t.) Do we all have days when we think: “What will it say on my tombstone?” Here lies Rachel, she amassed a lot of Prada. Kill me now. Wait, don’t. I need to do something of greater significance first.
But then I — rationalize? Come to my senses? You tell me.
Living in a shared society, everybody has a duty to contribute something of meaning. But not everybody’s going to make that their life’s work. I admire those who do, many of whom are friends. It’s important to me to be helpful in ways that feel right to me, which include donating time and services, making sure my business does that, being aware, being kind. Those are stakes in the ground for me. But I don’t see anything in there that fights with my ability to enjoy beautiful clothes. (Though I do think it’s important to check in from time to time about how I’m using those clothes. To ask: Am I using them to escape/avoid the sadness in the world, or something else, the way one might use, say, alcohol? It’s important to me to look at that.)
But generally, I look at it this way:
- Many of us are fortunate to have a hobby or passion we love. For some it’s travel. Playstation. Wine. Fishing. Golf. War reenactment. (For my husband it’s concerts.) You participate based on your budget, time, etc. This is 100% what clothes and all things surrounding them are for me. A passion that happens to be wearable. A passion that I get to take with me every single day.
2. There’s inherent value in distraction. More and more I’m aware of the double edged sword of life. Its miracles and sadness happening at the same time. The pain of losing people you love is built into our very existence. I wonder sometimes: Is fashion my attempt at a refuge, at a big distraction from life’s sorrows? But then I come back to this: Isn’t life in the distractions? If all we did was focus on the inevitability of loss, we’d miss all the joy. Aren’t these “little insignificant things” really the stuff of life? Whatever it is for you. A cocktail with a friend. Fresh flowers on the table. A quiet hour with a book. Or playing around in your closet with the music on. A moment, at any age, of life-affirming joy.
3. And as far as distractions go, clothes are a usable one. Versus, say, a dust-collecting Limoges collection. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that; you do you.)
4. I indulge as responsibly as I can. There are significant, appalling wrongs inherent in this realm I love. Sustainability issues. (It takes 1800 gallons of water to make a pair of jeans, for example.) Limited Black representation in the industry. Human rights abuses. I approach it as responsibly as I can, supporting designers I understand and want to support. Giving every piece I buy a long life cycle by never ever throwing a single piece away (rather, I resell, gift or donate to continue its life). That commitment has also made me more thoughtful about when to purchase and when to refrain.
5. Shopping fuels my work. For Trinny, clothes inspire her makeup shades and pairings and so much more. As a marketer and as a creative, being an avid consumer makes me hyper aware of what drives and activates consumers. Looking at so many sites and brands fuels my imagination. And shows me what’s possible. The right clothes also help me quickly switch from work mode to weekend mode and back again, leaving my brain free to roam.
6. There’s something about the practice of shopping, dressing, curating etc. that is a stand-in for finding and refining your essential self. When you’re looking at what you want to wear on a particular day, what you’re really looking at is: What do you want to say and who do you want to be? Trying on different colors, styles, style personas, the joy found in the fashion risks and tensions, is a way of experimenting and exploring who you are with little at stake. And when you regularly do that from the safety of your closet, it gets you comfortable asking questions and experimenting with the harder stuff.
7. One of the best things about growing old is that I don’t have to justify myself! Look, there is pain in growing older. Losing people I love. Feeling for friends who are too. Sending my son off to college. Endings. Nostalgia. Confronting the finite nature of time. But there’s also great pleasure in it. Knowing who I am. Caring less about the opinions of others. Allowing myself what makes me happy.
Like saying goodbye to winter. We sold our home in Brookline and bought a place in Miami; we’re re-doing it right now. And it will include, not a “den” but an office/closet. Here, everything will have its place. Except guilt. Here, I can close the door and write, take meetings, and yes, play. With clothes. And with who I want to be in this new decade and new era.
