Do We Still Have Fashion?

When it comes to fashion, lockdown has been something of an eye-opener. I’m an introvert and a home bird so I doubt I’m suffering as much from staying home as others. What I miss much more than going out is getting dressed to go out. That has always been the fun part for me. But I’ve realised over the past month that putting together an outfit each morning is more than fun - it’s a ritual required to transform myself from bed-head dead-beat to capable, confident 40-something. In other words, it’s the bedrock of my self-esteem. Does it sound stupid to take clothes so seriously? To give credence to the notion that I am what I wear?

It’s no exaggeration to say that my clothes last longer than my romances. I’ve items in my wardrobe that are older than many marriages. I’ve no commitment issues when it comes to my closet. I’m devoted. And unlike my relationships which have mostly been based on an initial infatuation, my clothes are never flights of fancy. They’re as considered as Phoebe Philo is idolised.

That’s not to say there haven’t been brief encounters. I recall one delightful dalliance with a Vivienne Westwood-esque dress from Zara. A fitted, midi-length shift dress in a cool, outsized check with an exposed zip at the back and asymmetric neckline, it was perfect… for someone else. I wore it once, felt great, but never wanted to put it on again. The dress may have fitted my body beautifully, but it didn’t fit my personality. I realised then that my perfect sartorial partner is more relaxed; laid-back rather than exact; fluid not structured. Just because an item looks good on doesn’t mean it’s the right “fit” for you. I should have applied the same philosophy to my relationships years ago.

The good, the bad and the ugly occasions of my life I picture through the prism of what I wore. I interviewed for a job at Hearst magazines in the early noughties wearing a Benetton oxblood leather coat that I borrowed money from my brother to buy because I simply couldn’t live without it (we’re all a little more dramatic in our twenties!); at my Dad’s funeral I chose a precious Victoria Beckham black dress; when I tripped and fell a few years ago, breaking a tooth and requiring stitches under my chin, I was wearing River Island palazzo pants (which suffered worse than I did in the fall) and a Sarah Paccini monochrome jacket. The final “proper” outfit I wore before lockdown when I fortuitously booked a last-minute hair appointment, was a Sandro leather skirt and H&M funnel-neck jumper.

Despite the deluge of articles and Instagram posts encouraging us to dress up to work at home, to embrace #formalfridays or go glam on Zoom, it’s not for me. Ironing an item to wear to my “home office” seems slightly insane, and I can’t suffer creases, ever; wearing any outdoor footwear other than trainers inside is noisy and irritating to others. Plus it makes me much too aware of how often I’m not sitting at my desk.

I spent the first few weeks of lockdown wearing running gear (but not running) or tracksuit bottoms. There was a novelty in that… for a short while. Given that the COVID 19 crisis has coincided with my first ever stint as a freelancer, Karl Lagerfeld’s quip, “Sweatpants are a sign of defeat. You lost control of your life so you bought some sweatpants.” became very real very quickly. My sense of self evaporated as quickly as consumers on Grafton Street. I threw open my wardrobe doors and spied a pink sequinned Joanne Hynes skirt that I often wore to the office on a random weekday, and suddenly it looked so incredibly glamorous, and so completely irrelevant to my life right now. I pulled out a River Island print midi skirt, which I wore for the first time in early March and can’t wait to wear again… but when? I wondered. My wardrobe doesn’t suit my new reality. But a trackie isn’t going to help me survive it, let alone thrive in it.

In a recent interview with the Australian Financial Review’s Luxury magazine, former Vogue editor Alexandra Shulman observed that “clothes become more important in times of turmoil - what you wear has a lot to do with who you are and how you feel.” And there’s science behind this. “Enclothed cognition” is the term used to describe clothes’ ability to affect our thoughts and mood. In 2012, scientists asked two groups of individuals to perform a certain laboratory task; half wore white coats and the rest their clothes. Those wearing lab coats made half as many errors. The thinking is that the associations people made with a lab coat (scientists, precision, achievement) helped their performance. By the same logic, wearing bright colours can make us feel more positive, pulling together smart separates should make us feel more competent, and sporting loungewear 24/7 is likely to lead to laziness, not activity.

The difficulty in lockdown is finding my best self outside of my best outfits. My solution will probably seem deeply unsatisfying because I have no moment of revelation to relay; no lightbulb flash when suddenly I understood how to feel utterly sure of myself while still in my PJs at 4 pm. But that’s the reality of mid-life; you work through your problems knowing that you’re not going to find them suddenly solved, as we all hope will happen when we’re younger. I’m dying to get back into that pink sequinned skirt, to show off a pair of red high-waisted flares I was gifted before the shutters went down but didn’t have an opportunity to wear. I think I’ll pair them with a gold skinny knotted belt and a polka dot button-front shirt, half-tucked into the waistband, a lá Trinny Woodall, when/if it no longer feels like a life or death decision to meet friends for drinks.

But in the meantime, I’m curating a wardrobe within my wardrobe. I’m building a “casual Friday” edit that’s comfortable to sit around in all day (this never includes skinny jeans), looks informal enough for a walk in the park, and most importantly makes me feel pulled together, but with flair. It’s a mix of cargo pants, Zara satin joggers and loose-fitting jeans coupled with cotton striped button-fronts, a Muji tunic dress that now turns out to be the best money I ever spent, and thin-knit crew-neck sweaters.

And I’m having fun with it. I wake up each morning and wonder what I’ll wear, just like I used to. Alongside this I’ve started running again, so now activewear is kept for its true purpose, and as each day (slowly) passes, I find my mood improving, my inner critic quieting down and my laughter lines appearing more frequently than my frown lines. And if all else fails, I visit Instagram and check out my #ootd posts pre-lockdown.

As I write, an email from a UK brand has just popped into my inbox proclaiming: “Every woman needs a tracksuit for 2020.” I think this will prove to be the year I need one least of all.

Marie Kelly, May 2020.