Pan(dem)ic Buying

Pre-lockdown, I would regularly dive down the rabbit hole of Trinny Woodall’s IGTV videos and revel in the gloriousness of her outfits and accessories. Switching on Trinny is like popping a bottle of champagne...she fizzes with personality and sartorial possibilities and makes me bubble up with enthusiasm for everything from tonal yellow to head-to-toe sequins. But there’s a backlog of Closet Confessions and Zara Shop-ups building up on my Instagram feed that have not been watched since the pandemic made me question my priorities.

It’s remarkable how little I’ve wanted to shop for clothes over the past three months. I’ve bought one discounted Zara trouser suit, and that wasn’t long after lockdown began when most of us thought closures and social distancing were a bizarre fortnight’s break from our normal lives rather than the beginning of an entirely new normal. It’s not that I haven’t been scrolling virtual shop windows or visualising myself in cut-price Victoria Beckham shirts and skirts, but that familiar rush of adrenaline I used to feel on sight of a marked-down Zara midi dress has all but disappeared. About a month ago, I indulged in a Chinti & Parker sweater from Naas boutique Gallery 9, but when it didn’t fit and I had to return it, I felt relieved rather than regretful.

Having nowhere to wear the clothes is part of the reason I haven’t shopped of course; I’ve yet to wear that trouser suit more than once. But shopping in a pandemic feels like a shameful pursuit, doesn’t it? People are losing their lives, others are losing their jobs and some are living in fear of losing one or the other. And what am I doing? Arguing the toss between a piece of luxe loungewear and an oversized knit. It doesn’t seem right.

At the best of times, women have always been made to feel that shopping is the most frivolous of pursuits and that clothes are mere toys with which they mindlessly amuse themselves. Travel is looked on as a noble way to spend your disposable income, art is perceived as a good investment and even jewellery has the credibility of becoming an heirloom, but dresses? Not so much. Throw a pandemic into the mix, and browsing the latest Net-A-Porter drop feels as superficial as Melania and Donald Trump’s relationship. Given that over the past decade, the fashion industry has also been held to account for environmental damage, abuse of workers’ rights and the promotion of conspicuous consumption, it’s not surprising that women feel pangs of discomfiture when they go out and shop up a storm.

But an article in The New York Times by its fashion director Vanessa Freedman reminded me that shopping isn’t something we should feel guilty about or embarrassed by because it is, in fact, an essential part of the economy. “Retail [is] an enormous source of employment and creative expression,” she said. It’s a billion-euro industry that keeps millions of men and women employed around the world, and what’s more, fashion is “the armour to survive the reality of everyday life”, as the late street style photographer Bill Cunningham put it.

Right now, the reality of everyday life is a bit sad and a touch scary. Face masks have become the new accessory, hugging friends is frowned upon and socialising is something that must be planned in advance and followed to the letter of the law - quite literally. Pandemic-shaming has become something of a sport, with individuals calling others out on social media for not behaving in a pandemic-appropriate way. The Guardian reported in early April that “a public shaming frenzy has spread across social media. Thousands of people are blaming, naming and shaming others for their improper pandemic practices.”

As restrictions ease but social guidelines remain in place, this is bound to worsen.

I’ve been shop-shaming myself since March, but maybe buying an impromptu purchase isn’t the worst thing we can do right now? Maybe it’s not a soulless endeavour after all? In the wake of the 9/11 tragedy, in fact, President George Bush urged people in New York to go out and shop, to kick-start the economy and a return to some sort of normality. While researching another article for this website about new-to-me fashion brands, I began to realise how buying clothes can help others in a very immediate and meaningful manner. I’ve always felt justifying a high street haul by arguing that I’m keeping a billion-euro industry in business was a little disingenuous, but buying from independent retailers who employ local people and pay them fairly feels like a form of sartorial life support that we can all provide.

And now is the time when these small businesses really need resuscitating.

Economic stimulus

Shopping isn’t described as retail therapy for nothing; it improves morale and self-esteem and we could all do with a boost in both right now. But these days more than ever where we spend our money matters. As Freedman says “Shopping now is as much a moral as a consumer question.” Homegrown designers, local boutiques and independent retailers need our support, and they deserve it because they bring the kind of character and vibrancy to our local towns and high streets that nobody wants to see disappear. The source of the feel-good factor I get from shopping has begun to shift significantly. It will no longer just be about what I purchase, but the context of that purchase too.

As a result, visiting the Zara website no longer offers the thrill it used to. There’s just so much stuff on there, and an awful lot of it seems very similar to items I’ve bought from the brand in the past. Sometimes ‘New In’ looks too like last year. There’s endless scrolling with often nothing to show for it at the end. But browsing the websites of independent brands is like going on a first date; you’re sceptical, but excited, because you know there could be potential there. And when you find something you like, the gratification is so much greater than if you hadn’t taken the risk and stuck with what you know.

Creatively, it’s also becoming far harder to curate a unique look that’s personal to you when you shop from the high-street behemoths, as prices are so low and access so widespread.

Do you remember the ubiquitousness of that Zara polka-dot dress last summer? This year, there’s a pink H&M sundress that every second influencer on Instagram is wearing. Unless like Trinny you have a personal seamstress on hand to make every high-street purchase you buy, look and fit as if it was made for your body alone, you’d be better served to add the cost of the alteration to the original retail price and shopping something nobody else will have seen from a bijou boutique.

For quality and service, some of my favourites include Seagreen in Monkstown, Scout in Temple Bar, Kaiko Studio, Beautiful South in Rathmines and Atrium in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre. I feel a sense of purpose when I buy from these stores that’s rewarded with a genuine appreciation from them. That’s a great feeling, and one I plan to nurture, pandemic or no pandemic.

Marie Kelly, June 2020.

What about you? How are you feeling about shopping now? Tell us in the comments below…