Other People’s Clothes: Finding Our Personal Style

A few years ago Shiela Heti, Leanne Shapton, and Heidi Julavits wrote a book called Women in Clothes. Apparently the writing of the book began with a survey, “a list of more than fifty questions designed to prompt women to think more deeply about their personal style.” All kinds of women, 639 to be exact, from all over the world answered questions on “the subject of clothing and how the garments we put on every day define and shape our lives.” Then the writers (compilers?) set about arranging their raw material into book form. The result is what one reviewer called “a cornucopia of insights into the ever-so-complicated feelings that women have about clothing.”

At the time the book came out, I heard the writers interviewed on CBC radio. I thought I might order the book; it sounded like something I would like. Except the reviews were so uneven. The Guardian both praised it and panned it, one reviewer calling it “a treasure,” while another said it was “stunningly banal.” So I demurred.

When I heard Shiela Heti et al interviewed on the radio, the interviewer invited listeners to post a brief description of their own style on the CBC Twitter feed. Describe your style in six words. Or maybe it was four. I can’t remember. I remember posting my list of words: jeans, blazer, vintage brooch. Or something like that. I was going through a period of pinning my vintage brooches on everything.

Then I watched in horror as virtually every other listener posted ironic and funny descriptions. I appeared to be the only person who took the assignment seriously. That was slightly mortifying. Among all the jokey references, my post came off sounding a bit narcissistic. Clearly the other posters could not be bothered to take their own style seriously. It made me wonder why any of them had bothered to listen to the interview since the authors most definitely did take style seriously. Or at least saw the value in examining how we think about clothes and our own style.

And here’s my point, finally. Jeans, blazer, vintage brooch. My style has changed little since 2014. I am more often than not in jeans and a jacket, usually a blazer. Sometimes with sandals, sometimes with sneakers or loafers, more than half the year with boots. Occasionally these days with a vintage brooch. The style of jeans may differ, the colour may change, but jeans are my go-to item of choice in my closet. Despite the fact that I wore suits and skirts a ton when I was still teaching, I’ve always felt most comfortable in a pair of jeans. And if possible I will want to pair those jeans with a blazer.

I’ve written a lot about personal style on my blog, and a lot about jeans. I wonder if the fact that I came of age in the seventies, a time when jeans were becoming ubiquitous, is to blame for my style DNA. When I entered high school, schools in New Brunswick had just ruled that girls could wear pants to school. And so most of my friends and I wore jeans to school daily. I wore jeans and a blazer on my very first date. Even back in the seventies my outfit of choice was usually jeans and a jacket.

But how did I arrive at those choices? Why did (and do) I love jeans and a blazer so much? I assume I was initially influenced by what my friends were wearing. Weren’t we all back in high school? And by pop culture. I was probably influenced by the fact that with long legs I looked good in jeans, if I could find a pair to fit. And because a jacket flattered my long skinny frame, and allowed me to hide a little. I was so very conscious that I did not have the curves that most girls my age had.

In jeans and a jacket I have always felt most like myself. And not as if I am wearing other people’s clothes. This has long been the reason I have resisted changing my style overly much. In anything frilly or overly feminine, too bohemian, too figure hugging, too flashy, or flowy, or too dressed up I feel as if I am wearing other people’s clothes. Even when I dress up I try to dress down a bit.

Similarly, unless I’m camping or hiking, I feel weird in jeans and running shoes and a tee shirt. I need a jacket, or at least a sweater around my shoulders to feel like me. As many of my former colleagues would tell you, even when I dress down, I dress up. According to their standards anyway. I’ve been told innumerable times on “dress down Friday” at work that I was too dressed up. Because the jacket with my jeans apparently looked too dressy.

I’ve been thinking a lot this week of the reasons why I choose to dress the way I do. And whether my choices have been overly influenced by today’s media.

On Monday, Wendy in York sent me an article from The Guardian which she thought might interest me. “‘Have I been influenced, or is this actually me?’ How personal taste fell out of fashion” by Rachel Aroesti examines how the internet and social media have “radically altered the way we form our opinions and beliefs.” And have, according to Aroesti, “wrecked our capacity to form our own opinions.” She goes on to say that “streaming and social media platforms [have] boiled humanity down to data-producing nodes of consumption.” By monetising every online interaction. And by bombarding us constantly with ads or monetised posts and then allowing us to purchase whatever is presented to us with a single click.

Of course, our tastes have always been influenced by something or someone. By publications and books. By education, teachers and professors, parents, mentors. And by those we admire for whatever reason. And by the circle in which we socialize. So, is today’s phenomenon simply a matter of degree?

But influencing our taste, as in the past, is not the same as allowing us to acquire the exact object of desire, the perfect pair of shoes that will make us look like an influencer, or the decor which would be the envy of our friends, with a single click of our mouse. In fact, in Aroesti’s article Erin Wylie, founder of Blackbird Spyplane, a popculture and style newsletter, says “the only real way to reclaim taste as a form of identity and individuality is to stop consuming.”

And maybe the only way to stop the cycle of endless influence followed by endless shopping is to step off the social media platform and stop being so obsessed with our phones. Or we could do what Erin Wylie says and “build [our]selves some productive constraints to help focus [our] attention and clarify [our] appetites.”

Anti-influencers have long been trying to convince us to stop being influenced so much, to slow down our consumption by developing “productive constraints.” Many recommend participating in low-buy or no-buy movements. That’s what Rule of Five is, a low-buy initiative.

As Christina Harmen says in her newsletter Nine to Vogue, “we are all consuming an absolutely psychotic amount of outfit inspiration daily.” But that doesn’t mean we necessarily have to shop. Or that shopping will get us any further in our journey to personal style. Harmen says that she’s starting to think that personal style has nothing to do with clothes. Or at least any particular piece of clothing. Just because we can click on a link and get the exact same outfit that the Olsen twins are wearing doesn’t mean we will acquire their personal style. Because we are not them.

Harmen says that she thinks women with real style just know what they like and wear it. She calls it the “surprisingly stylish art of wearing the same thing over and over again.” In a slightly different cut or colour, or with different embellishments, or a different shoe, or bag, or other accessories. Her mantra might be “Fashionista know thyself”… my words, not hers.

And I’d also say if an outfit makes you feel as if you are wearing other people’s clothes, then maybe it’s not for you.

And speaking of other people’s clothes, or clothes that once belonged to other people, I wanted to show you a couple of vintage pieces I bought a few weeks ago.

You might have seen the red linen blazer, below, in my last video. I’ve worn it a few times lately for coffee dates or for errand running with my black Uniqlo cropped jeans, a white short sleeved tee shirt, and my Birkenstock-style sandals from Brown’s.

And the yellow tee shirt from Bellwether’s Vintage is working really nicely with my tan AllSaints cargo pants and these old brown Stuart Weitzman sandals. That’s my new-this-year Max Mara beige cashmere sweater and Jacquemus chocolate brown tote I bought in Montreal in January. And the earrings, which you can’t see very well, were purchased at a vintage store way back in the eighties. They are proof that I should never get rid of jewellry.

Of course I don’t always wear jeans and jackets. Sometimes I wear casual pants that are not jeans. And sometimes I even wear skirts. I bought the skirt below at a little shop on Richmond Road in Ottawa a couple of weeks ago. I was actually shopping with a friend for her. But the skirt called to me, I tried it on, and loved it. The sales person tried to sell me a matching top, but I knew that would be too much lace for me. And way too feminine. I knew that I needed a plain top to dress the skirt down.

Anyway, I brought it home and before I removed the tags I proceeded to find three outfits that I liked including this one. And even then I hemmed and hawed before I wore it. The skirt, after all, is my fourth new purchase this year. Only one purchase left if I want to meet my Rule of Five goal.

I wore the skirt earlier this month to my 70th birthday dinner with friends at a French bistro in downtown Ottawa. We all dressed up and had a lovely time. I’m wearing my new skirt with my cashmere crew-neck from Everlane from 2021 (I think) and my Stuart Weitzman strappy, black sandals from 2004. Plus a ten year old Kate Spade bag and a vintage cuff. The plain, casual sweater kind of “toughens up” the feminine skirt. At least in my opinion.

You know, if we all start to look at influencer posts primarily as advertisements. Which they are. And if we choose not to click a link just because an article of clothing looks good on the influencer. But instead, if we like the outfit the influencer has cobbled together, we proceed to our closet to see if we can cobble together our own version from what we already have.

Or maybe we file the image of the outfit in an inspiration folder to consider later. Maybe think about why that outfit appeals to us. And what other outfits appeal to us and why. And what’s in our closet that makes us feel good about ourselves.

And maybe we might just stop being in such a rush. Slow down the scrolling and clicking and give ourselves time to think. About ourselves. Who we are. And what we like.

And when you find that thing, that look that makes you feel like you. That does not make you feel as if you’re wearing other people’s clothing, don’t be afraid to wear it on repeat.

Unless you are shopping vintage. Which of course means you are, by definition, always wearing other people’s clothing. Probably the clothing of someone who, in the past, was your style kindred spirit.

Now isn’t that a nice thought? Doesn’t that make you smile?

Anyway, back to Sheila Heti and her friends. I’ve read recently that Women in Clothes is being reissued. Maybe I’ll buy it this time. Maybe it will be as enlightening for me as Linda Grant’s The Thoughtful Dresser. We’ll see.

Now it’s your turn, my friends. What’s in your style DNA? And why?

P.S. In case you haven’t noticed or are new here, I’ve stopped posting affiliate links on my blog. Posting shopping links began to feel hypocritical since I was touting slow fashion and under-consumption. So if you’d like to contribute to the cost of running the blog, you can always “buy me a coffee” by clicking on the red coffee cup icon. You can buy a single coffee or, if you click on the link at the bottom of the Buy Me a Coffee page and scroll up, you can become a “Friend of High Heels in the Wilderness” and contribute monthly or yearly. Or you can just continue to enjoy the blog free of charge. Your choice. 🙂