lavender + fabric scraps

This summer, my two lavender plants are doing really well. So well in fact that I can make sachets and give them to people as gifts. This summer I also finally bought a sewing machine. A consignment clothing lover’s best friend. Now Clara can hem her skirts in seconds instead of painstakingly sewing them by hand. And with her skirt scraps I can make potpourri sachets.

But of course, all this has a downside. As I sit at the sewing machine, I think of sweat shops, and women who are poorly paid all over the world, and women who learned to sew in school, but nothing else, which is why I never learned to sew because my generation was going to free itself from that icon of domesticity.

As I make my little lavender sachets, I think of artisanal work, and how difficult it is to make a profit when you are making something one step at a time, and that it’s no wonder we went through the industrial revolution. Crank out those sachets thousands at a time, then maybe there will be a small profit down the road.
Meanwhile, as I assemble my sachets in my makeshift workshop, I think about the pride that went into handmade things. I am a little proud, and a very nice scent is diffusing all over the house.

another great blog

Also thanks to Modern Millie's web site I found Sally Vintage, in which Sally (I guess that's her real name) goes thrifting and sells via Etsy, but also gathers old photos from her followers, goes to rock concerts, and has a nice narrative and beautiful photos along the way.
She takes us to enormous flea markets, uncovering yet another site of excess stuff that people have accumulated over the years and want to get rid of. I used to think of flea markets as fun places to go, where you would unearth the most unusual candle holder or tea cup or lampshade or or or...But now, after seeing Sally's photos of racks and racks of old clothing, they begin to look like a very low rent department store, reminding us that our excessive consumption has a history.

But then I happened upon Ronald Ingelhart's concept of "post-materialism," in which, already in the 1970s, he theorized that "Western societies [...] were undergoing transformation of individual values, switching from materialist values, emphasizing economic and physical security, to a new set of post-materialist values, which instead emphasized autonomy and self expression." (Thank you Wikipedia). I am not so sure that we have "transitioned" away from materialism to something less materialistic. However, perhaps this whole vintage/thrifting/consigning "revolution" might indeed signal a transition for SOME of us to a more autonomous, less imitative, less cookie cutter style of presenting ourselves to the world.

blog to blog

While looking through the "Modern Millie" web site I found this incredibly cool blog by the "sartorialist" in which he posts tons of photos of people on the streets of various cities around the world AND old photos submitted by people who follow his blog.

Newburyport MA

(Hannah Anderson blouse for Clara)

        
(three skirts from Pandora's Box)

Just got back from a weekend of cycling, sun, surf and... thrifting. Newburyport has at least three consignment shops. A young guy in a gift shop said that you can only buy used clothing in this town. He was exaggerating of course, but you do have a feeling that, if a summer destination town like Newburyport suddenly has more second hand shops than first hand shops, society has finally figured out that we need to start getting rid of all our excess stuff.
Which reminds me of a movie I just saw that includes second hand clothing in its plot line. In "Larry Crowne" the main character played by Tom Hanks befriends a twenty something who drops out of college to follow her fashion passion. She opens a consignment shop. Hollywood's attempt at making second hand cool, not chic or trendy, just mildly cool. Tom Hanks undergoes a transformation as he drops his Kmartish middle of the road "normy" clothing for a wardrobe more befitting of a young dude who rides around on a scooter and supposedly can only afford second hand clothing. A closer look at the ending credits might reveal otherwise (wardrobe by ...Armani etc?). But the idea that secondhand has made it into mainstream Hollywood cinema is an indicator that we are either going through a serious recession or, à la Newburyport, it's time to sell off the excess stuff. A sort of post-modern touch in a silly comedy about unemployed white middle aged males. We are going through a serious recession in an era unsurpassed in its frenetic consumption of stuff.
        I had time to go to two consignment shops.  The first one, "Modern Millie," had more of a trendy, nostalgic feel that made it more of a "vintage" shop, heavy on the pastel palette bordering on preppy. Muffy needs an outfit to party on Scott's yacht, and she wants to be chic yet ironic. How about a pink dress with little green whales that her mother might have worn back in her Wellesley days? Somewhat unique was its small selection of old 1940s and 50s fashion magazines. The handbag selection wasn't bad either and prices were very reasonable.
Across the street was the equivalent of Beacon's Closet but on a smaller scale. Inside "Pandora's Box," clothes were arranged by type and color. And everything was priced in the twelve dollar range. As I concentrated on the skirt selection, the country music station ("The North Shore's best country...") played annoyingly in the background. I guess country music in thrift stores go together, to evoke a sort of working class, life is hard atmosphere.
          Needless to say, it was extremely satisfying to try on five skirts, all of which fit and looked perfectly fine, without wondering whether I was being reasonable. At twelve dollars a pop, simply trying on clothes should be a guilt free experience. Actually buying three out of five (and a sleeveless blouse for Clara) knowing that I would walk out of there with four items of clothing for less than fifty dollars is thrilling. I get high on that simple, unreckless pleasure.
        Pandoras's Box: interesting name considering that when you open it, it's not exactly trouble that you find. It's very reasonably priced clothing.

Summer reading?

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

recycling old clothes into new clothes

A friend alerted me to the blog  known as newdressaday.com. It is very inspiring even if one's sewing skills are limited, which is my case, unfortunately.
http://www.newdressaday.com/

clothes swapping

A few weeks ago I attended my first ever clothes swap. There was a ritual about it. Only women can come because, after dinner, they all undress and try on each others' discarded clothes. Our hostess went first, explaining a little about the clothes she was getting rid of. Then it was the guests' turn. I found out that sisters are great for giving you clothes as presents. And perhaps not so great. I don't have a sister, but I do have a mother. Anyway. One of the guests parted with this sweater, made in Japan, with little tiny beads sewn in a floral pattern. I knew that Clara would totally fall for that one. So I grabbed it.

I wish I had the running commentary that went on all evening, as various women tried on each others' old clothes. My contributions were negligible, and my mother's silk  Hermes blouse will simply end up at Goodwill...darn that little yellow spot on the front!

(Hermes silk blouse)