 |
Photo by Salt Water New England |
It is accepted that some people love food. And some people love music. Other people love architecture. Or technology. Or sports. Or watching films.
For each of these, we can read reviews, listen to podcasts, and engage in easy conversations with strangers. Ranking and other comparisons ("top five films about artificial intelligence", "ten best Beethoven sonatas) are the staple of cottage industries.
But to love clothes is more often seen as problematic. One is seen as too vain, or class conscious, or wasteful. More to the point, perhaps, to love clothes out in the open. Few myths are as apocryphal as the person who doesn't care about clothes.
Spending a generous birthday chit on a big dinner garners nods of appreciations, but on a sought after coat brings out everyone's inner Spartan. It might as well be January third and everyone just wants to get back to work. Perhaps the only socially forgivable largesse in clothing expenditures is for something extravagantly "fun" or "for style" and done on a lark.
Attempting serious conversations about clothes also chills any mood. Many who are otherwise doing their bit for the environment and supporting living wages often have blind spots when buying clothes made in sweat shops. To them, Patagonia is a role model, despite their off-shoring and synthetics.
The cost of this attitude has been high. Many clothing companies, certainly in the U.S., have enjoyed our social discomfort by relentlessly lowering standards and raising prices. Few companies here strive for greatness beyond marketing.
I wonder how much it is a U.S. thing. It has been said that American actors work from the heart out, while British actors work from the clothes in. Laurence Olivier once said he understood a role when he could figure out what shoes the character would wear.
Having said that, I do have hope. The truth is that it is great to love clothes. I would rather savor a good tweed than a good bottle of wine. Every walk, at least now that summer is over, begins with the decision of which wonderful outer garment to wear. My temperament is such that short bursts of vacation feels unsatisfying, like trying to hold onto sand, while something that endures gives me pleasure in getting it, in wearing it, and finally in passing it on.
And more people are finally catching on to the nasty business that we call fashion.
So perhaps someday more people will, among friends, casually debate top five light jackets, or favorite materials for commuter coats, or best new clothes of a given year.
Until then, it remains a more quiet love, and perhaps more pure as a result.