The orange bag: When clothes are too beautiful
While emptying the storage locker, I encountered an orange garment bag filled with Hermès' iconic scarf-print shirts and sweaters, in practically unworn condition after a good two decades.
Why had they spent their plush lives in exile?
The short answer is the title of a 1990 French movie, Trop belle pour toi. Bernard, played by Gérard Depardieu (above, centre), has married an acclaimed beauty, Florence (Carole Bouquet, left) but loses his heart to a rather plain woman, Colette (Josiane Balasco, right) whose nature he finds essential; she's right for him. Beauty attracts, but personality bonds.
I had "married Florence", sartorially speaking. The clothes were Too Beautiful for Me.
How did the daughter of a frugal woman buy such finery and then ignore it? I had fallen under the spell of the exuberant prints and haut de gamme quality. "Put one on", my French girlfriend Vicky said, "and you are dressed".
The problem was what I actually dressed for. They were too posh for work, and just one would have been enough for dress-up. But over several years, I bought, uh, more than one.
I have long enjoyed Hermès scarves, a traditional gift from my sons. Nearly every time I put on one of the shirts, I swapped it for a scarf. In the meantime, Vicky would throw hers over her swimsuit.
When I talk to friends about the orange bag, I receive rueful smiles.
Each has a "special thing" tucked away; Diane spoke of a Marni brocade coat she found on sale at Simons, and thought, Here's my chance, Marni!—but it was too sumptuous to wear to work, and specialty drycleaning cost more than grooming for her Westie.
She described the Marni as "intimidating". Diane sold it to a friend and used the money for a handsome but less spectacular coat that she can wear anywhere.
Your trop belle treasure may be clothing, jewellery, a bag. Whatever it is, it was killer when you bought it; no one spends a harrowing amount on something average. Somehow, that beauty overrode reason, experience, and your bank balance.
Shoes are made for the phenomenon. Miriam bought YSL platform evening shoes that her boyfriend swooned over—and wore them twice before they split. (She and Rob, the shoes were more solid.)
She stored them in their logo'd box for a decade, then consigned them, with the fervent wish that the next owner did not break her neck.
I have donated my museum of extravagance to a charity sale of designer vintage wear, and will receive a donation receipt.
As the authors of "Simple Isn't Easy", the late Olivia Goldsmith, and Amy Fine Collins wrote, "Forget what you paid for them, and pass them on."
The orange bag stays, to flash a caution light should my head be turned by a trop belle temptation.
Why had they spent their plush lives in exile?
The short answer is the title of a 1990 French movie, Trop belle pour toi. Bernard, played by Gérard Depardieu (above, centre), has married an acclaimed beauty, Florence (Carole Bouquet, left) but loses his heart to a rather plain woman, Colette (Josiane Balasco, right) whose nature he finds essential; she's right for him. Beauty attracts, but personality bonds.
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| One of them... |
How did the daughter of a frugal woman buy such finery and then ignore it? I had fallen under the spell of the exuberant prints and haut de gamme quality. "Put one on", my French girlfriend Vicky said, "and you are dressed".
The problem was what I actually dressed for. They were too posh for work, and just one would have been enough for dress-up. But over several years, I bought, uh, more than one.
I have long enjoyed Hermès scarves, a traditional gift from my sons. Nearly every time I put on one of the shirts, I swapped it for a scarf. In the meantime, Vicky would throw hers over her swimsuit.
 |
| And another |
Each has a "special thing" tucked away; Diane spoke of a Marni brocade coat she found on sale at Simons, and thought, Here's my chance, Marni!—but it was too sumptuous to wear to work, and specialty drycleaning cost more than grooming for her Westie.
She described the Marni as "intimidating". Diane sold it to a friend and used the money for a handsome but less spectacular coat that she can wear anywhere.
Your trop belle treasure may be clothing, jewellery, a bag. Whatever it is, it was killer when you bought it; no one spends a harrowing amount on something average. Somehow, that beauty overrode reason, experience, and your bank balance.
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| Perilous pumps |
She stored them in their logo'd box for a decade, then consigned them, with the fervent wish that the next owner did not break her neck.
I have donated my museum of extravagance to a charity sale of designer vintage wear, and will receive a donation receipt.
The orange bag stays, to flash a caution light should my head be turned by a trop belle temptation.
Comments
My pitfall was about beauty, when the thing is (to the buyer, anyway) an aesthetic triumph. As I boxed up the pieces, they were still beautiful to me.
LauraH: Like lagatta’s comment, you describe a related mistake but not quite mine. I did not buy the six pieces ( so now the world knows) another life or to transform myself, I bought them because they made my breath catch, especially the Belles Amures ( second photo)= shirt, and several not shown. But I could not welcome their gorgeousness without feeling intimidated, as Diane said about her coat. When I stood before the mirror in the boutique, I saw myself out to dinner, or other social occasions, and could have worn them then but something always seemed to hold me back. They were... trop belle pour moi.
But give me one of the scarves, oh yeah!
Gretchen: Yes, another phenomenon. When I was single I had a handful of what I called “ Uncle Outfits”. That is because my cat, Mr. C., was told the occasional overnight guest was an uncle. Live and learn, about both clothes and “ uncles”.
Scarves really can be wearable art, whether Hermès or another storied brand, good examples of ethnic or cultural weaving, or modern artisan creations. And vintage (for better or worse). Without "wearing" their owner.
Nowadays, far more interested in cats than uncles, but who knows where the future lies. Even at 22 I would never have given up my cat for a man.
My aunt brought me a second one to try and I asked her whether there was some sort of hanger or stand that I should place the first coat on. She gestured to a small sofa at one end of the fitting room and said "throw it onto that".
I told my aunt that I was horrified at the idea of just throwing such a beautiful and valuable coat. She said "Then you should never buy a coat like this, because you will never feel comfortable wearing it".
Her comment stuck in my mind and has probably saved me from many an unwise 'trop belle' purchase over the decades that followed. Unless I'm mentally prepared to use and (slightly) abuse it, it's just not going to get worn!
Jane in london
I am very lucky in that we do dress up for operas, concerts, special location/occasion dinners, and the odd black tie function.
My biggest splurge that I regret is buying Roger Vivier shoes. They were on sale at half price but still eye wateringly expensive, and I do love them, and they do go with several outfits, and I do wear them, in fact, I have worn them twice this week, but regardless, they are very badly made with rough bits at the heel that always rubs and has never softened, and has no arch support. Because they were so expensive, and do look divine, I keep on wearing them in agony, swathed in compeeds to try and get my money's worth!!!
Jane in London: You had an Auntie Mame! And she had the key. I wore some of those blouses with jeans, but still could not inhabit them with the required nonchalance. Aunt reminds me of a Parisienne friend whose husband bought her a Kelly bag, in black calf. She exchanged it for one in emerald green. She said, "If you are carrying a Kelly and it is a bread-and-butter colour like black or tanr, it is clear it is the only good bag you own."
Melissa: Past life flashing before my eyes! And of course weight loss programs tell you to get rif of all the bigger things so "you are not tempted to regain".
Scarves and jewellery are so much more forgiving, even loving, of a bit of up and down. Vivier shoes should not be badly made. (It's another thing when you buy them and they did not really fit, as I did with similar shoes.) BTW a sales person of expensive handbags told me that many luxury brand bags are not necessarily made to last as the clientele do not want to carry an older model anyway, so do not concern themselves with durability.
There is a ton of designer vintage out there, so the question to ask is, do you want to sell (or donate) or continue to maintain your museum?
The Hermès silk blouses like mine are on eBay for between $400-$600. Many have been on there for a year or more. At lower prices, some have sold. But I would rather donate to a charity I respect (and receive a tax-deductible charitable donation receipt) than sit waiting for a sale while they take up space. Yes, some charities use eBay to sell donations, which broadens their market, and you might list some things and see what happens. (What happened when I listed a test blouse: nothing.)
Just as with jewellery, the designer name alone will not sell the piece; as vintage dealers say, some pieces by a house are desirable while others are not. Vintage dealers have the warehouse space and patience to sit on the stuff, sometimes for a decade or more. I do not.