Slow fashion, Montréal summer
This Zara shirt bought in summer 2021 is still in my closet, even though it represents the fast fashion I rail against and beg others to forego. I counted on it to self-destruct but its zingy colours are still bright, the seams firm, dammit.
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| Photo: Zara (Summer 2021) |
It also admonishes me to resist, even though Zara typically pepper their racks with boho offerings every summer. I resolved to not even look. So, with a slew of summer soirées on the calendar, then what?
Fortified by Jay's link to an article by Lucianne Tonti in The Guardian about the globalization of clothing and the demise of Australian designers, I vowed to go local (or at least sold by a Quebec vendor) and went shopping.
I had my eye on this Liberty-fabric blouse: it has that summer vibe, it's poplin and, even if made offshore, I'd be shopping at a Canadian store (Simons). Those benefits receded in the dressing room; the stitching was a bit wobbly, the poplin felt cheap for the $135 price. The buttons, described as "pearly", were chips of shiny, icky plastic.
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| Photo: Simons |
At home empty-handed, I vented to my friend Beth, an expert sewist with sharp eyes for construction and fabric. Beth said she, too, noticed the drop in quality even in good stores. She is making a summer blouse from a pretty viscose she bought in Portugal.
That will be done on a machine gifted to me, which I in turn offered to Beth because I was not ready to reignite my troubled relationship with the wadders I reliably produced.
Vowing to go nowhere near fast fashion, I walked to neighbourhood known for its independent-designer boutiques. I stopped by Jennifer Glasgow Boutique first.
Several possibilities:
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| Photos: Jennifer Glasgow Boutique |
Right: Kloke's "Echo" shirt (sale price, $153), which I thought of altering to shorten the sleeves and body, because the 90% cotton/10% silk fabric was gorgeous.
Next door, at Unicorn, I would have bought Eve Gravel's 100% cotton "Vénus" top (price, $146) on the spot, but it was s/o in my size. Her atelier is nearby, so I made an appointment for a visit within the hour.
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| Photo: Eve Gravel |
There, I bought a past season's top with a better cut for me: the organic cotton "Géraldine blouse, sale price, $132. This is just my kind of print, a sketched abstract.
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| Photo: Eve Gravel |
The next day, I exchanged the blouse for the same print in the "Edgar" trousers, after deciding the long sleeves would be too warm. (It would make a good light jacket.) The construction on both pieces is very good; notice how the pattern's grid lines match up at the placket and fly front.
But there is a price for precision; the "Géraldine" would have been $188 at full price, about $50 more than the Simons Liberty blouse. That's the premium for local production.
At the atelier, I walked through the tidy racks of stock, and the spacious, light-drenched workroom shared by several designers.
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| Atelier, Eve Gravel |
The staff seemed well-supported ergonomically and emotionally. Someone offered me a cookie. I was proud to be buying a "Made in Montréal" label, but wondered, At what price will I decline to subsidize local industry?
That Zara shirt was less than half the price of any of the local pieces. As Suzy Menkes said, "People have got into a state of mind that the cheaper it is, the better it is, and they don't want to think beyond that."
Alongside that is a second factor: fast fulfillment. I spent a half-day shopping, then had to return for the exchange. Zara delivered my shirt in two days, for free.
Two summers ago, those sexy Spaniards lured me via their exuberantly-coloured aesthetic and rapid fulfillment: the crack cocaine addictiveness of fast fashion.
I've been clean for going on two years, but I'll tell you, it's work.
Comments
I think for individual buyers to turn the tide by shopping local is not realistic, like plastic use cannot be defeated only by everyone recycling. It has to be a policy decision to prevent excess production. I'm not holding my breath.
That shirt is worn by Sheridan Smith in the series "No return": https://www.hellomagazine.com/film/20220203132337/sheridan-smith-drama-must-watch-details/
I am annoyed with myself that it is from a brand I usually avoid, and I have to admit it.
Do the manufacturers think women no longer notice this?
By the way when did seamstress become sewer? Is it a bad word now?
https://www.fashionhistorymuseum.com/post/sewer-or-sewist
re his mention of other -ess words that are old-fashioned now: stewardess, spinstress, songstress, governess, manageress; less so: actress, hostess
Some young woman who wouldn't know a matched pattern if they saw one; let's hope they develop the eye. I am grateful to the museums who host exhibits of the master makers in all the textile arts, and absolutely love The Textile Museum in Toronto.
But by the time I was in my 20s I had seen the value of quality design, cut and fabric and had also realised the importance of looking past high fashion to develop one's own personal style. I'm surprised these days when I see young women in their 30s who seem still to cleave to the teenaged fashion mindset.
I blame Insta, full of women who are old enough to know better, showing off their fast fashion "hauls"! Deeply depressing...
I agree that one can subvert that by buying, for example, an H&M cotton shirt, rather than one of their acrylic knits that will pill in several wears. But in general the population who want years of regular wear is not the niche the fast manufacturers want to serve.
We might also consider the working conditions and environmental effects found in segment of the apparel industry.
I do not intend to vilify anyone; I am unhappy with myself for buying there. When I have had a very limited budget, I got a lot more value out of secondhand good quality clothes than new, low-priced ones. I made some clothes, too. And still have a budget!
I now buy most of my clothes online, and (as you say) even when it's a trusted brand it's not possible to judge the quality and finish until the clothes actually arrive. How many of us have been guilty of keeping something, even if it is not quite the quality we'd expected, just because we can't face the thought of packing it up again and then waiting at the post office ;)
My older sister is still happy to shop relentlessly in person to find the perfect garment and does not buy clothes online at all, but then she lives in Paris and perhaps that makes a difference.
Jane in London: One-third of the total e-commerce market in France is fashion (Source: eCommerceDB.com) and growing by the year, so someone is clicking! Some women enjoy the experience of entering an alluring boutique, and the personal service; owners of boutiques know they have to offer something ecommerce does not, to stay alive.
Re the packing-and-mailing, there is labour involved in shopping, either way. The only way around it is to have someone do that for you, for love or money. A woman acquaintance's husband does 100% of her clothes shopping; she dislikes it and he thinks it's fun. Some vendors now ship with re-usable packaging , a real help.
I'd rather buy good fabric online and incur shipping costs than buy garbage nearby . . . although I'm not yet ready to order from Australia and New Zealand (despite the glories on the Tessuti website).
Taking the time to sew does not bother me, whereas buying poorly made clothing in a store "chaps my hide," as my Texas friends would say. Now that I am retired, one of my goals is to sew most of my clothes. The realities of the market are pushing that goal up the list.
The most enjoyment I had when sewing was not when conquering a difficult pattern, it was in my university days when a couple of girlfriends would go fabric shopping on Saturday morning (no online shopping then), buy a metre or so of fabric each, and run up a miniskirt to wear out that night. The making of a muslin was terra incognita, the finishing was minimal... but was it fun!