Inaugural, uh, dress

The classic thought experiment: if someone thinks of herself as a writer, yet makes it through a pandemic without starting a newsletter, is that label actually bullshit? No need to share your answer.

During the last 10 months, I’ve found myself thinking and reading about a lot of things, and thought, “Hey, maybe other people would be interested in learning about this? I shouldn’t keep this stuff to myself, right?”...But I don’t exactly mean the myriad, Very Important issues that have surely also crossed your mind during similarly deep bouts of introspection (though there’s been a lot of that— too much of that, too). Rather, I mean...things: inanimate, physical, tangible objects. Stuff. Property. Personal effects. Tchotchkes. Junk. Ephemera. Souvenirs. Collectibles...Er, material possessions (get it? DO YOU GET IT?!) 

So here we have it: another pandemic newsletter no one asked for, that I do hope you’ll enjoy reading anyway. I intend for this to develop into a regular exploration of high-, or at least medium-, brow concepts: how things are made, their history, why we do or don’t value them, and why any of it matters (if any of it matters), likely with a disproportionate focus on vintage fashion, because I’m into that. Perhaps this is a lofty goal. Maybe this newsletter will just end up consistently being a list of Etsy links to items I’ve favorited and added to my cart with no intention of ever actually buying, so that my sharing them with you could help to assuage some of my guilt for teasing sellers with the prospect of making sales through me. 

For now, in the spirit of this inaugural address to you, and because it is admittedly low-hanging fruit for my debut post to piggyback on last week’s inaugural address because it’s still kind of ~topical~ (Is it? Or was that so last week in the never-ending news cycle?), I thought I’d focus, kind of, on the fashion from last week’s affair. 

By now, you’ve surely seen as many memes about Bernie’s mittens as there were flags on the National Mall. They (the mittens, not the memes) were made five years ago by Vermontian Jen Ellis, a teacher and crafter who seems to use social media somewhat sparingly and refers to the product as “swittens” (a portmanteau of “sweater mittens”.) Rather than capitalize on the sudden popularity of her product by getting to work on immediately making more, she’s committed to remaining focused on her family and work, and suggested that people just find similar ones on Etsy, telling Jewish Insider, “I hate to disappoint people, but the mittens, they're one of a kind and they're unique and, sometimes in this world, you just can't get everything you want.”

Look, I hear that, and I don’t disagree. But if you think you should get everything you want, then here-- have these (there are a few other styles, but these are by far the most fun.)

As for other thoughts related to last Wednesday’s looks, I will say this: labels meant more to me in middle school than they ever have since (shoutout to sweatpants with “Aero” emblazoned across my ass...anyone else?), and I tend to think that an interest in “who” someone is wearing is kind of immature and petty (like I was in 7th grade). And yet, I now know the name of every designer whose work was worn by Jill, or Kamala, or Michelle, or Amanda, or Hillary, or Ella (yeah, we’re all on a first-name basis), last Wednesday. I wasn’t trying to find this information; it was readily presented to me in emails and written accounts following the day’s events as though it was assumed to be important and in-demand.

And I guess I’m asking, while wearing leggings and a cut-up college hoodie, after having not gone outside for several days…is it? To anyone? Like, really though? Or, maybe, for people who believe it is, why is this the case for you? I Googled “why do people care about designer labels” in an effort to gain some deep insight related to this question, and one of the first hits was this 2014 piece in Psychology Today that posits that the conspicuous consumption of luxury goods is an indicator of potential mate value. So the fact that my closet is comprised primarily of thrift store finds is the reason I’m single? I mean, I’m happy to have a definitive answer, but that one doesn’t seem quite right. A person who deems a prospective partner more attractive based on outward identifiers of wealth or status is...the definition of superficiality, isn’t it? 

But it also doesn’t seem completely fair to say that an interest in luxury fashion is, in and of itself, always vapid and materialistic. Artistry and craftsmanship are inherent aspects of couture, and that’s worth something ideologically, isn’t it? And so my research continues, and maybe I’ll report back on this next week (or maybe I’ll have moved onto an entirely different question by then; I make no guarantees here.)

In the meantime, if you want to channel Ella’s art student aesthetic in a way that doesn’t require you to take out a loan, or even to generate waste, here are some more of those aforementioned Etsy links to shoppable items that may be of interest to you:

This one says “I’m a powerful business woman but my kid found my bedazzler.”

This one needs no embellishment.

I like this one. Will someone buy it for me?

Anyway, feel free to tell me what stuff you want to learn more about! Are you looking for a particular item and you want me to keep eyes peeled as your personal (vintage) shopper? Is there a certain item you just can’t stop thinking about, or someone who’s making cool shit that you think deserves coverage? I’m here for any/all of it. I’ve got time and curiosity, baby.

For now,

Al