WIWs: Double-edged display
I am back to reading a few blogs, and notice my response to a certain genre. What I Wore posts or Instagrams are fraught for me. Sometimes I snarfle them like a little box of truffles and sometimes it's an eye roll and my god why did I waste ten minutes of my life on this?
My favourite WIWs often include handicrafts: a gorgeous piece of knitting or a jacket made from recycled fabric.
Usually, there's a chorus of admiration, a kind of gospel song call-and-response, but for outfits, not Jesus. Like finds like, so the rockabilly gals celebrate sequined skirts in another corner from where Duchess of Sussex devotées purr over lady coats, and never the twain shall tweet.
Sometimes a WIW is so utterly anodyne that I feel relief-dipped boredom. I lived in a version of what she's wearing—sleeveless cotton top, jeans and sandals—all of our blazing-hot summer:
Not all of us are sharply put-together. But then again, some are:
And that's more inspiring to me, because Sophie says it's all vintage stuff!
But I've got to be careful. Like that little box of truffles, over-doing WIWs can do damage—so I pick and choose.
I don't read WIWs that are heavily oriented toward sponsored goods. Whatever the price point, the heart of that, if it has any, is consumption, display, and a stoking of the need to repeat the cycle. I can't tell you how many times I've read the comment, "I need to look for one of those." And yeah, where did Sophie find that pink skirt?
The wearer poses prepared for scrutiny and positive comments, except for one woman who posted a hilarious WIW on her mistakes. (I wish I could find it again.) The WIW image asks to be assessed, just as text asks to be read. (My perspective is lost on anyone under 35, who cannot remember life without intense documentation.)
WIW devotées say they learn how to dress. I haven't found that so; even if the subject has the same build, she usually has a different lifestyle, budget or taste. The "How to Wear" feature in The Guardian is more useful to me.
One of my favourite bloggers said that as a result of reading WIWs, she realized she'd fallen into an unconsciously competitive mind-set and used others' purchases to justify her own—and so, she cut it out.
Once freed of the keeping-up urge, a reader can revel in the lustrous silver lining of WIWs (and What They Wores, shot by street photographers): an assertion of wearing what you dig.
The people Scott Schuman shoots for The Sartorialist display a colour sense that feels both "Why not?" and "Oh, wow!" I will pause to study, purely in the interest of research, a shot like this:
The teal and yellow! The red briefbag! And I do like the look in his eye.
I enjoy WIWs less than spontaneous shots of a person going about his or her life (and I grant that a WIW can show the very same outfit). In some cases, the Instagrammer is paid to shill a brand or vendor, a tactic transparent as one of a certain First Lady's evening gowns.
And from that, I will certainly look away.
My favourite WIWs often include handicrafts: a gorgeous piece of knitting or a jacket made from recycled fabric.
Usually, there's a chorus of admiration, a kind of gospel song call-and-response, but for outfits, not Jesus. Like finds like, so the rockabilly gals celebrate sequined skirts in another corner from where Duchess of Sussex devotées purr over lady coats, and never the twain shall tweet.
Sometimes a WIW is so utterly anodyne that I feel relief-dipped boredom. I lived in a version of what she's wearing—sleeveless cotton top, jeans and sandals—all of our blazing-hot summer:
Not all of us are sharply put-together. But then again, some are:
 |
| Sophie Fontanel on Instagram |
And that's more inspiring to me, because Sophie says it's all vintage stuff!
But I've got to be careful. Like that little box of truffles, over-doing WIWs can do damage—so I pick and choose.
I don't read WIWs that are heavily oriented toward sponsored goods. Whatever the price point, the heart of that, if it has any, is consumption, display, and a stoking of the need to repeat the cycle. I can't tell you how many times I've read the comment, "I need to look for one of those." And yeah, where did Sophie find that pink skirt?
The wearer poses prepared for scrutiny and positive comments, except for one woman who posted a hilarious WIW on her mistakes. (I wish I could find it again.) The WIW image asks to be assessed, just as text asks to be read. (My perspective is lost on anyone under 35, who cannot remember life without intense documentation.)
WIW devotées say they learn how to dress. I haven't found that so; even if the subject has the same build, she usually has a different lifestyle, budget or taste. The "How to Wear" feature in The Guardian is more useful to me.
One of my favourite bloggers said that as a result of reading WIWs, she realized she'd fallen into an unconsciously competitive mind-set and used others' purchases to justify her own—and so, she cut it out.
Once freed of the keeping-up urge, a reader can revel in the lustrous silver lining of WIWs (and What They Wores, shot by street photographers): an assertion of wearing what you dig.
The people Scott Schuman shoots for The Sartorialist display a colour sense that feels both "Why not?" and "Oh, wow!" I will pause to study, purely in the interest of research, a shot like this:
 |
| Photo: Scott Schuman, The Sartorialist |
I enjoy WIWs less than spontaneous shots of a person going about his or her life (and I grant that a WIW can show the very same outfit). In some cases, the Instagrammer is paid to shill a brand or vendor, a tactic transparent as one of a certain First Lady's evening gowns.
And from that, I will certainly look away.
Comments
I enjoyed your vintage shopping in Paris posts and my daughter (consignment queen) and I visited lots of small consignment shops.
I've never mastered clothing blogging myself because I'm self conscious and lacking fashion photography skills. I do like to be reminded to look at what I already own.
The WIW posts seem so vain to me. My favorite blogs, like this one, feel like girl talk over a cup of coffee. -Lily
Mme Là-bas: I wrote about Paris consignment? I've forgotten. The only thing I remember buying in a Paris consignment shop was a pair of gloves. I am completely with you on not turning over a wardrobe. Basics are just that, no need to rebuy unless they look worn.
Lily: You describe the effect perfectly. There is no shame in being stimulated by beautiful objects and even wanting them. (Otherwise we would just use plastic bags, no?) It is when we no longer enjoy our own entirely wearable things that we edge into an acquisitive state that ends either in too much stuff or scary expense, or both. I know a few women for whom money is absolutely no problem. One buys very judiciously. The other one was told, gently, in Hermès, "You already have one of every model. Come back when there's something new."
I much prefer street shots which show some creativity and aren't all pulled from designer collections. I may never want to dress like some of them but I can admire their vision and confidence.
But they do eventually lead to coveting things one doesn't need and a look-at-me game on the part of the posters. There are gaps in my wardrobe, and I'm trying to find good things either new or second-hand that are good quality and meet my needs - especially a winter coat, something I never find attractive, but is necessary in a cold-winter climate. And skirts that aren't pencil-skirts (useless on a bicycle). But I've also given away several items that were too large or that I never wore, and will be taking some worn cotton items to our borough's recycling centre.
But I post my own "Outfits" (photographed in a poorly lit hallway mirror as I head out the door -- there's really no other spot in our condo that would work unless I wrangle my husband into photo-taking, and I can't care enough to make that happen). Why do I do this? Nothing to do with vanity or income enhancement (no monetising on my site), nor am I inviting either critique nor flattery (although being human, I'd prefer the latter to the former).
The way I dress is part of what matters to me, a small part, but an undeniable part of the life I'm choosing to share (selectively, yes, but still) on social media. I like to think that sharing occasional images of What I Am Wearing contributes to a fuller representation not only of me but also of women in general, women of a certain age more particularly (with the obvious "caveat emptor" that class and race and sexuality inflect my wardrobe choices as well). I worked in an environment (academic) which was inclined to judge as superficial a woman's interest in her appearance, and I still feel apologetic and embarrassed (to cringing point, sometimes, during a bout of 2 a.m. insomnia) - but also just a teeny bit subversive at daring to be an ordinary Senior (officially now! I have my orange transit card) who posts a photo of What I'm Wearing, despite my short and solid frame, mussy curls, and unenhanced skin. . .
For what it's worth . . .
I have already written (and been roundly criticized for doing so) for my intense dislike of Advanced Style hyper-eccentric subjects. But that's simply my taste and there's room for everyone.
Coats! Thinking you may mean the kind worthy of our -20C blasts. Am sure you know 100,000 Coats and Jeans on St-Hubert.
Yes, I'm thinking of armour, not beautiful woollen coats - I had a second-hand mostly cashmere one once, a beautiful style, and later an Oxford grey loden coat. But I can't even think of that until I'm sure the moths have been finally eradicated. I can put pullovers or socks in the freezer compartment, but not a coat! Probably bargains this year at that shop, with the war zone on St-Hubert.
I have a friend in India (Kolkata) who is a history professor. She is from a Hindu background, but like many of her colleagues, prefers to dress in the salwar kameez, associated more with people (men and women, though the styles are different) from Muslim backgrounds. She finds that outfit much less constricting than the sari, beautiful though saris are, and also far more appropriate to her city's torrid climate than Western dress.
This will give you ideas for tagging your poetry or other interests.
I don't use hashtags because I do not post on the social media platforms where they are used- Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, etc.
https://passagedesperles.blogspot.com/2011/03/50-style-eccentric-elegant-and-space-in.html
Please take a screen shot of the pearls in the "Wild-Dyed Draw" post as I no longer have the image, and a screen shot will give you an acceptable image.
re his newest venture, a tee-shirt, I would never plaster my chest with the message "Not Dead Yet"- and I wonder if the back says "But Repent Anyway, Just in Case".
You might like the brand Elizabeth Suzann (I hope that is spelled correctly). It today is my favorite brand.