Closures, Compensations and Comforts

Welcome back, after a summer like no other; did you ever think you'd hear the compliment, "Nice mask"?

The Passage re-opens with a post from the "Getting and Spending" series, in which I examine the detrimental versus delightful aspects of consumption in the present day. After months of observation, there seem to be three key tactics going on at the same time: Close, Compensate, Captivate.

Closures

Between March and August, apparel fell off a cliff; according to McKinsey, 75% of the industry will "have trouble managing debit level"— read bankruptcy, restructuring, or closing—this year.

We watched Neiman's shutter (almost overnight), and designers like Diane Von Furstenberg (exposed by her own words in a NYT interview) drop under the knockout punch. Saks reopened on a sepulchral 5th Avenue, with dedicated elevators for "elderly and vulnerable customers".

Rent the Runway's odious business model stumbled on the aspirational catwalk; I admit to schadenfreude. Just maybe women will return to the idea of getting value from clothes, instead of fleeting bragging rights.

Fashion authorities like Lynn Slater ("The Accidental Icon") woke. Slater wrote, “It’s been like a detox from the consumerist social media world and the need for constant self-promotion I got lost in... Clothes or other “things” that give us pleasure and values that honor all people and the planet don’t have to be mutually exclusive. It can be a creative challenge to find the intersections.”

I'm not sure we are doing much better with "honor the planet"—fast fashion has stuck like a nasty piece of Christmas tinsel. My lobby clogged with deliveries from Zara and H&M. 

Compensations

The fashion industry asked itself how to stay relevant, and found they could no longer persuade women to buy something like the outfit below. Good lord, what is that thing?

While status brands staggered, the high street pivoted to loungewear: sweatpants, soft fabrics. Everyone made masks. An entire category of apparel became dated as a museum diorama: skirt suits, dry-clean-only trousers, heels. Clothes suddenly said, "It's OK" instead of "Where's the party?

Comfort-consumption

And yet, emotional buying is real. Something pleasurable tamps down the shredded edges of anxiety and provides the same relief (for about as long) as my new indulgence, yeast baking. 

Even though every woman I know did a huge closet purge, finally donating that expensive jacket that made her skin look sallow as a garbanzo bean, she occasionally sought something that made her feel better. 

Joanne, a nurse, exhausted after months of extra shifts, bought herself deluxe down bed pillows. Antoinette, a neighbour whose mother was hospitalized for six weeks, ordered an elegant flowered blouse from local designer Isabelle Elie, on sale but still expensive. (This is an example of something I would not wear well, but looks delightful on her.)

I sure know my feel-better soft spot. In July, I went to the outstanding jewellery gallery, Noël Guyomarc'h, to look for a birthday gift for my daughter-in-law, Natasha. In his airy space, I saw new pieces from one of my favourites. Hints were proffered—my birthday is four days after hers.

So, from Le Duc, a Vivienne Jones silver and gold band like that at left, below, to stack with other rings I've worn for decades. Her work is beautifully-made from every angle.

Come September

And now, September, Fashion New Year, when we're programmed to consult magazines, plump with trends. In a grim situation—ad sales drying up, Conde Nast employees and execs laid off or taking pay cuts—Vogue's hefty September issue hits the stands late (this month instead of August) and like a tree falling in the forest, will anybody be in the office to admire one's new outfit, anyway?

Every fall since I was age 14 and saw them in Seventeen, worn with what were called "boot skirts", I've lusted after some version of tall leather boots like these by Gabriella Hearst, so dark blue they are almost black.  

For over a half-century, my babysitting money, and eventually salary never stretched quite far enough for a pair. But this September the fantasy has finally receded; I feel like I'm walking though a school on Saturday, all echoey and a bit forlorn.

I am buying on occasion, but not for me. More than ever, I enjoy giving spontaneous gifts to friends—perfume decants, a book, teas, a basket of berries. To celebrate her milestone birthday and new professional endeavour, I sent R. one of Vivienne Jones' chains. 

I'm still captivated by jewellery, because it is art, and at the handmade level, imbued with more emotion than mass-produced clothing. Distancedfrom the social bustle, the hand of the maker lifts and connects me, much like seeing a mural when I'm out walking.

So the Passage reopens. Its windows will display life, pearls, a bit of style, and keep a beady eye on the rat-a-tat of consumption, a topic that has won more converts lately. Women other than Slater see that they need not buy unceasingly.

Have you spent differently in the past six months, and how does that feel?