The "Newdressaday" blogger has decided to write a book. I spotted it in my local bookstore and of course had to get it as my first summer read.
Well, let’s just say that people who write good blogs don’t necessarily write good books. The Secret lives of Dresses reminds me of a porn movie (not that I’ve seen that many porn movies) whereby every scene that does not have a description of a dress is there to get to the part of the book with the description of the dress. Thinly veiled plot that advances to the next… dress description. I also noticed that detailed descriptions of dresses do not make in and of themselves great details in novels. Knowing what shape, color, number of and size buttons were on a particular dress is not that interesting when described in words. Just show me the dress, but don’t describe it to me. Unless it’s a plot device needed to give us more information about a character or a clue about what might happen next.
At one point in the story the narrator remarks that the characters are talking like sitcom characters. That was my impression with the way they talked in the entire novel. One cliché after another, predictable characters, predictable ending.
It might make a cute movie, and it might be fun to imagine who would play whom. But as a novel, it did not increase or modulate my appreciation of vintage clothes.
I picked up another “dress” book during my recent stay in Montreal. I kind of had to buy it since its title is quite simply Fringues* written by Christine Orban. It contains a few good aphorisms about clothes (translations are all mine):
-Life is like a movie, and your old clothes help to push the rewind button and revisit particular moments in your life.
-Fashion must remain as unpredictable as life. […] uniforms and dress codes are boring.
-To buy the right dress, you need to listen like a doctor with a stethoscope. Once the dress is on, you must listen to your inner purr, your rhythm, your biological sheet music.
-My clothes are my shield.
-You can’t change your face but you can change your bag.
-Clothes work as well as science or literature to fill the void while waiting to die.
Plot: The protagonist was a saleswoman at the flagship Chanel store until she had an allergic reaction to the stark black uniform she had to wear and was fired.
So she needs to find a husband to keep financing her expensive shopping habits.
A French book about clothes refers to designers, styles, cuts, accessories that we don’t have here in the US. She mentions a Comme des Garçons skirt she bought at a consignment shop.
I disagree with her that clothes are for seducing men, and that when you try something on, you must imagine a guy looking at you. But she argues that in seduction there is life, something that exists and grows and steers us away from death. I see her point, but it doesn’t have to be the case each time you buy a new or old piece of clothing. My general rule of thumb is that it has to have some specific purpose and that I can picture myself wearing it in a particular context. If I can’t imagine that, then I don’t buy it because I know that I won’t wear it, and it will take up space in my non-existent closet.
This book is not quite a novel. She peoples it with characters who represent a certain type of woman or man, and she reflects on their various ideas about fashion.
It does have a bit of a twist at the end. At the risk of giving away the ending, she does discover that clothes don’t love you back, and that love is more important than clothes.
More, less, as. Clothes are important, period. Just don’t let it get out of control.
* reminder: “fringue” is French slang for clothing
