A Domino Effect

I read an article on the Guardian website yesterday entitled ‘Why I hate fashion’, in which writer Tanya Gold dismisses ‘fashion’ as idiotic, dangerous and oppressive to both men and women.  Although a self-proclaimed lover of clothes, it wouldn’t be true to say that I disagree with absolutely everything that was written.  I have often thought of the concept of ‘fashion’ as a pretty empty one, and I stand quite firmly against the worship of the latest trend to the exclusion of everything else.  I don’t particularly like the idea of something being ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, and as with most things in my life, I prefer my clothes to have a bit more longevity in them than the length of ‘this season’, however many days or weeks that may turn out to be.  And that’s not even to mention serious issues such as child modeling, the commercialisation of fashion to young people and stick thin celebrity ‘role models’ sending bizarre and confusing messages to girls about beauty, weight and success.

These issues aside, however I would defend my love of fashion and clothes to anyone.  And what’s more, I would disagree with anyone who suggested that fashion and thrift are incompatible.  In fact, I think quite the opposite for a variety of reasons:

First and foremost, thrifty living, as I’ve said before, isn’t to be conflated with out and out stinginess.  I don’t think it’s wrong to buy new clothes at all – aside from the fact that everyone needs them from time to time, I think that buying a new top simply for the pleasure you get from wearing it is really no different to buying anything else for that reason.  If clothes are your thing, by all means go ahead – it’s in no way different from, and actually a lot more practical than, say, buying a new CD.

Secondly, thrift, well my conception of it anyway, encompasses a willingness or an ability to make something beautiful come from pretty much nothing.  As with food and the ‘cupboard dinner’ so with fashion, and the ‘wardrobe ensemble’ – in other words, making a stunning outfit appear from within the murky depths of a wardrobe without having to resort to buying something new.  The imagination to completely reinvent something you thought you would never wear again, or to construct new outfits from a few seemingly incompatible pieces are brilliant skills for any aspiring thrifter to equip herself (or himself) with.  I like to feel like ‘me’, whatever I  might be doing, and fashion provides a great opportunity for this: it unleashes our creative energies, the results displayed prominently on our persons.  My passion for beautiful clothes has also led to the development of my sewing skills, and it has even spurred me on to making a few things myself.  I’m also fairly adept at customising and repairing things – skills which are of the essence of the thrifty toolbox, and definitely not things I would have been so keen to learn had I not had such an interest in fashion.

What I do, however, think is both wrong and completely unthrifty is spending large sums of money on new clothes every month simply because the fashion editor of Glamour magazine says we should (I seriously abhor that magazine, and most of it’s glossy peers, and I worry quite considerably about all those girls and women who devour every issue like salivating wolves over a fresh carcass.  I worry not only about their bank balances, but also their sanity).  I used to work at New Look, and witnessed this kind of thing day in and day out.  Crude, ugly consumption like this does little other than play directly into the hands of retailers and fatcats everywhere, serving only to fuel a consumer culture that relies on greed and binging, and that’s not even the end of it.  People end up feeling miserable when they realise that new clothes don’t bring them lasting happiness, and the planet takes a hefty beating as well.  A recent Report by the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs Committee suggests that increases in the volume of textile waste sent to landfill might be attributed to cheap clothes being bought, worn once and then thrown away.  Other statistics show that in the UK we are currently consuming as though we have three planets to sustain us.  I defy anyone to tell me that our national Primark habit has nothing to do with that either.

The other annoying, although admittedly less important, thing about binge buying the latest fad is that it robs people of their own style.  Proper fashion victims can be spotted a mile away.  They’re the ones who look completely uncomfortable and ill at ease in what they’re wearing.  Real style comes from knowing what you like, and also what works for you in terms not just of how it looks, but how it makes you feel.  There’s nothing more cringeworthy than watching a girl precariously tottering along in six inch heels like Bambi, whilst simultaneously pulling her miniskirt down from around her waist like Jordan.  Real style oozes from people who have been savvy enough to refute the idea that beauty only comes from having the latest ‘it’ dress, and have chosen instead to clothe themselves in things that they feel at ease wearing.  Freedom from skirts riding up, chests falling out and stiletto heels snapping allows for something much greater to happen: a personality to shine through.

I know I bang on about this all the time, but a much better shopping policy, and one that I am continually striving to better abide by, is to consider what it is you actually need or indeed want to buy, and to take it both slowly and ethically from there.  Don’t go rushing down to the nearest shopping centre on payday just because you can.  I find myself with less and less time for the high street these days – I’d much rather spend an afternoon rifling through the rails in the local charity and vintage shops. I constantly find that the clothes there are much more unique than anything you would find mass produced in Topshop.  What’s more, the proceeds of purchases made in these places either go to charity, or they help to support independent local businesses.  Shopping in this way is also a hell of a lot cheaper than shopping on the high street, and for this reason I often pick things up as and when I see them.  Just the other week I found a beautiful Jane Norman kimono-style dress in Shelter for £5, as well a pair of stripey sailor-esque shorts, originally from Miss Selfridge, for £3.50.  I’m almost certain that neither item would have been bought first hand from these shops for less than £25 apiece, and there’s no way I’d ever have been willing to pay that much for them.

So to return to the original argument, although I find much of the baggage that comes with the idea of fashion hard to swallow, I refuse to discount the aspects which I love on that basis.  In its purest form, fashion is fun.  It’s creative, it’s exciting and it’s extremely thrifty.  I would seriously discourage people from discounting it on the basis that it’s a waste of money.

Image available courtesy of Flickr: Markusram.

Two interesting, and rage-inducing articles surfacing recently, one today on waste, another last week on consumption.  I’m particularly taken by the concept of the ‘Primark effect’, worrying as the underlying explanation is.

I’ve posted about throwing things away several times, and it makes me physically angry to think that rather than take their unwanted wares to a charity shop, or pass them on to friends and family, people are bundling them into black bags and dumping them, thereby creating unnecessary landfill.  Last week, someone had done just that in the lane near my flat: a black bag had been ripped open, and whole books, clothes, shoes and other potentially useful, and most definitely recyclable goods were lying there, ruined for anyone else’s enjoyment.  The sight made me sad, and then angry, and then just sad again.  The sheer thoughtlessness of some people really is bewildering.

Anyway, enough ranting for now, I’ll let the articles speak for themselves.

Image courtesy of Flickr: Adja Gregorcic

I was alerted to this seasonal food chart made available on the Guardian website earlier in the week.  Eating in time with the seasons is ethically and environmentally sound, and can also save you precious pounds.

Pleasing to both eye and purse!

The type is a bit small (I just wanted the pretty colours on my blog).  View an enlarged image here.

Whenever a new year dawns, I’m always hit in the face by a colossal tide of wanderlust.  It’s happened every year for the past four or five – it strikes in January and February and usually subsides upon the arrival of the warmer weather and the lighter nights.  I think it’s primarily a manifestation of the so-called ‘January Blues’, what with Christmas being over, the evenings remaining dark and cold, and there generally being fewer excitement-inducing occasions on the horizon than there might have been in December.  Nevertheless, there it is and, like me, it’s not going anywhere at the moment.  I have an inbuilt sense of curiosity about the world that no amount of books, films, people or documentaries will ever be able to satiate.  I need to see it for myself.

I have not yet, however, managed to work out how a deeply embedded desire to travel can be reconciled with some of the most basic principles of thrift.  Traveling almost anywhere, and particularly by plane, is profoundly expensive in terms of ethics and carbon footprints and whatnot (and that’s setting the small matter of the financials aside).  If I really believed in thrift would I even consider stepping on to a Ryanair jet?  It’s a conundrum that I’ve yet to solve.

One of my biggest traveling ambitions is to inter-rail around Europe, which in theory could be done without flying at all.  No huge problems there, apart from the fact that flying would almost certainly be cheaper than a train to London > Eurostar to Paris > onward train at the other end chain of events.  Why is the ethical option always the more expensive?

But I would also like to visit both India and New Zealand, which would almost definitely require flying (unless I could somehow stow myself away in the cargo hold of a ship somewhere of course – hmm there’s an idea).  How does that supposed ‘requirement’ sit with the burning disgust I feel at the number of flights taken worldwide on a daily basis, and the view I hold that we should all be doing whatever we can to reduce our carbon emissions?  I just don’t buy the idea that until the large corporate bulldogs are taking the environment seriously there’s nothing that we as individuals can do.  One individual becomes two individuals becomes three individuals and so on – collective action is, in my eyes at least, one of the most powerful tools we have in the fight against climate change.  So no employable excuse on that front.

So therein lies the rub: do you save your money or do you save the environment?  Do you place the common good first, or your own personal experience?

To some, the answer is clear: take the cheap ticket, have an amazing time and don’t think about the consequences.  Others take a diametrically opposing view, but are equally as clear: stay at home, don’t fly anywhere, do some good for the environment.

Me?  I’m somewhere in the middle of this: I want to enrich my live with an array of diverse and interesting experiences, that much I’m certain of.  But at the same time I want to practice what I preach and live by the principles I’ve set down for myself, which include consideration of the environmental consequences of my actions.

Which takes precedence?

Answers on a postcard fellow thrifters, preferably one that doesn’t come with airmiles attached…

Image above courtesy of Flickr: Zoagli

I don’t know about anyone else, but I always seem to be spoiled rotten at Christmas.  Clothes, books, chocolates, bits of this and that – I never seem to know what to do with a lot of it.  And all that receiving makes me feel a little bit crap.  When so many people have very little or nothing, why should I be vexing myself over where to stuff yet another pair of unnecessary pyjamas (yes you can have too many.  When the drawer no longer closes, I think it’s safe to assume that you have too many.)?

If making room for Christmas gifts incites similar sentiments within you, it might pay to have a new year clear-out in order to make room for things and to keep clutter (and guilt levels) under control.  Clothes and accessories, picture frames, ornaments and crockery, in fact almost anything will be gratefully welcomed by charity shops, or perhaps even by friends or relatives.  I donate on a regular basis these days, mainly because I can no longer justify hoarding for the sake of hoarding – it makes me feel bad.  If someone else can get more enjoyment from something of mine than I ever will then it just doesn’t make sense for me to cling on to it with gritty determination just because it’s mine.

The idea of holding on to possessions for the sake of it really grates on me the more I think about it.  Especially when so much of what we have we don’t really place any value on.  We don’t want things, but we don’t want anyone else to have them either.  But it just doesn’t add up.  If I’ve never worn a cheap top I bought three years ago will I really miss it when it goes?  Almost certainly not.  If a book I once read and didn’t particularly enjoy is no longer looking sad on my shelf will I even care?  I don’t think so.  I have been so guilty in the past of hanging on to things which I neither need nor even like, just for the sake of having them.  Almost as though my possessions could be worn as a badge of honour testifying that I was who I said I was: ‘look here, this bunch of stuff will prove it’.

I was quite young at the time so I’m not going to be too hard on myself, but I am glad to say that I’m much more content these days with having fewer possessions, but greatly valuing and taking pride in that which I do have.  If, for example, the very favourite dress that I’ve worn constantly for three years were to disappear I can honestly say I’d be upset.  Ditto with the china tea set I was given for my birthday last year.  Life as I know it wouldn’t come to an end of course, and these objects in no way form part of my identity as a person, but all the same I would be sad to let them go.  The same can not and will not be said about a lot of other things I own.  And therein lies the challenge…

I absolutely love the idea of every possession being a prized one – everything from a family heirloom wedding ring to an exceptionally good Ikea potato peeler.  I want to surround myself with things I care about and that I want to look after because they mean something to me.  In a country where there’s so much stuff being thrown at us that we often don’t know where to look it seems clear that we need to take a step back to this way of thinking.  How many people, for example, remember what it’s like to save for something?  When I was a child I was given pocket money every week and if there was something I wanted then I had to save for it.  And if I was going to save for something I had to make bloody well sure that I wanted it in the first place.  I remember the Tiny Tears doll I had for that very reason: I saved for weeks upon months to get her.  I probably treasured her more than anything I was ever given for free, and I remain incredibly grateful to my parents for instilling these values in me when I was young.  Values which, regrettably, are a bit thin on the ground these days, judging by some of the spoiled, over-indulged brats I see all over the place.  I’m only 23 but sometimes I do feel justified in saying ‘it wasn’t like that in my day’.

So to get back to the point, and at the risk of sounding overly samaritan-like, here’s my new year’s resolution (better late than never): to make 2010 a year where I can continue to focus on wanting, valuing and treasuring that which I already have, and thinking seriously about the things I buy, and also where I buy them.  In other words, to be a more considerate consumer. Oh, and to donate, gift and recycle my unwanted wares throughout the year.  There.  Said it.  Now must stick to it.

On with the Christmas clear-out…

Recycling image above courtesy of Flickr: Jeff Youngstrom