Halfway Over the Hill #9 (Filler 2 - How to dress)

 I hate fashion.

And I'm not wearing an expensive 'anti-fashion' designer T-shirt with that slogan ( it exists) as I write.

Following fashion fervently for that fashionably correct appearance is a chimera - the more you strive for it, the more it eludes you.
Chimeric is an apposite word in more ways than one, these fanatical strivings make you as monstrous as the Chimera beast of Greek legend: a terrifying, mis-matched, three-piece creature composed of lion, snake and goat.

The gargoyle of fashion spouts out many execrable products but a fashion junkie will devour them all and adorn herself with a complete absence of stylistic sense.

The rapacious fashion industry dragon will even breathe its enterprising fire onto trash, which is transfigured and sold at huge prices.

But why are so many hungry to buy, surely they know fashion is fake news.

It seemed to me there was a time when you bought into a company name and quality and now instead of that we have a person's name and a myth.
Do you really want to exclusively wear the subjective flounces of a clique who have never met you?
When it comes to food we still go by taste and quality alone despite top chefs and we dare to cook. When was the last time you made a dress?

But the fashion designer is a sartorial god on his Olympian heights and his model muses shooting stars blazing a comet trail of colour and shape and glory in the form of a fashion show.

We, the lowly sky-gazers, look up to that elevated runway wishing to benefit from the meteor shower of glamour.
The trickle down from high fashion is 'accessible' clothing in the shopping temples of the city : bright offices with altars to handbags, revered like relics of fashion deities; and effigies draped with designer shrouds pointing the way to curtained confessionals with the truth-telling mirror where the sin of bodily imperfection is absolved by the logo's promise of heaven on earth.

The clothing is labelled like the school uniform I wore at five but not with my name. 
I am not the first to liken fashion followers to a religious congregation but when we hanker after a name - whispered in hushed tones of awe or a beatific gasp - it's not only a quest for the holy grail of fame by association but an invocation of its ugly kin, the holy ghost of fashion who possesses us with the proximity of glory and we prostate ourselves in front of the emporium dais.

The designers are their own evangelists. Their mystifying jargon invokes the Spirit of the Brand to descend upon you and you collapse in a heap and are born again into their coded fashion world of labels, slogans and hand-me-down fantasy.

Unfortunately, reason also collapses in that brand revelation and you martyr your taste and vow yourself to your chosen designer saint.

So when you buy that designer dress you are buying the uniform of the converted.
And whose uniform do YOU wear when you open your wardrobe? And why?

But I am extravagant with my words like a designer and his price tag, let's come back down to earth.

Why the diatribe against fashion?

Firstly, I don't like being judged by my clothing - by its neatness, quality, style, fit, and now added to that, and most importantly it would seem, does it have a recognisable designer look.

And, secondly,  because of the recent extreme heat I wanted something mindless and colourful to watch on television as I sat slumped in lethargy in my brandless bargain-basement undies and this fashion programme popped up and got my mind racing.

It was called Making the Cut and I got hooked by the fashion empire's invisible clothes i.e. the brand identity, image and hype, seamlessly woven into some undeniably beautiful and inspiring visible clothes.

There are some grotesque horrors too but for the initiated, brand veneer masks them. 

It's a parallel world of sheer nonsense and threadbare reason; way over my head. 

In this tv series little known fashion designers compete to win a million in a series of elimination contests. It's presented by a chummy duo I'd never heard of. 

Heidi, a tall Barbie doll model sporting various oversized clown outfits. Tim, an avuncular dwarf in an unchanging undersized two-piece suit.

Everyone involved loves fashion but do they love clothes?
You know, those things you put on for protection, comfort, feel and to show your taste and style and, yes, to promote your attractiveness.
Sure your clothes say something about who you are but the mouth that speaks says it better.

On this TV programme I learnt two things:
1. They are not just selling clothes but also brand experience ergo
A nice dress is not just a nice dress. You must be loyal to its creator and love them and not just their creations
2. The seemingly expansive language of fashionspeak is, in fact, as narrow as the tightrope model walk on the fashion runway. 

You can present clothes in more than one 'fashion' so why is it restricted to that long high podium.
You could have dancers ( but comfort and freedom of movement are not priorities in the design). You could have models walking around the audience inviting people to touch the clothes. 
But no they are on a high stage and we must look up to dress up. What other product is presented in this way?

The catwalk, the alternative name for that walkway, bespeaks a narrow strip on which feline grace will unconsciously parade herself. A cat is born beautiful and needs no adornment.

Humans fear to go naked. Nudism was much campaigned for in the interwar years, where European intellectuals hoped it would usher in an era of social utopia through material equality but the layers of meaning in apparel since cavewoman first slung a rabbit pelt over her chest have now taken on dimensions that they could little imagine and are not to be easily unpicked. ( Tatoos perhaps are the new nudism but I just don't like that mouldy green.)

And why do the models have glassy eyes. Are they imitating more than the poise of a cat. No. It's zombie deadface.
Is their personality erased so we can project our own faces onto them? The marketing jargon is that these clothes empower the woman that wears them but not that better specimen of physical womanhood on the catwalk. I draw the natural conclusion that these dresses do not have transformative power.

To complement the lifelessness of the women's faces they could have a conveyor belt on the catwalk with upright coffins going round, ensconcing the lovely ladies, standing stock still inside in their curious garb, and their unblinking death stare. As if blinking would distract people from the dress. 

The designer could lead his models in bound by a long chain for his victory turn but that's probably already been done. 

Or why not dispense with the living human form and just use dummies. 

It's because these tall, sculpted, self-contained models seem like unearthly superbeings (with their strange android scissor walk) and it creates a longing and a wonder that ensures the buyer's mind is painlessly seared with the designer's look and the unwitting fashion slave thus branded into submission.

I don't usually go to places where you see fully-armoured fashion foot soldiers but when I do come across one I feel like an alien has landed and want to run.

Part 2

In my upcoming 'how to live'
blog with its 'how to' series there will be specific tips on how to dress and I'll be sharing my ThriftyFifty brand ethos and giving  privileged glimpses of my signature collections. 

A Glance at my Portfolio:

Brand exposure - frequently main feature and cover of Harpies Bizarre magazine

Silk Purse - handbag collection with sow's ear motif

Bad🐀Rat - scavenged streetwear with attitude 

Dirty - Winter collection - mud-spattered outerwear for the shabbiest chic.

Established labels:

C○N-Form and H¤¤dwink - 

masks, face and head coverings

CounterFit - ready to wear fashion fakes

Cliché - timeless classics

Doodle - sportswear with scribbles

Pinny - formal evening wear - rough cut rolls of cloth pinned together

Hats Off, Barefoot and Nude - best-selling conceptual headwear, footwear and lingerie labels

Rip-Off - patchwork clothing of velcroed designer labels

Outsider - streetwear collection - smart casual chavsuits

Effluence - haute couture sewage style

And my latest venture Latex - ballroom gloves

Halõ

My highly acclaimed haute couture collection Halõ is cerebral and aimed at the inner woman.

A hole in a sheet represents her mind. 

When my woman holds that hole over her head, she reclaims all her dignity of independence by allowing the halo to fall to her neck in a manner that is reminiscent of the guillotine.

So entering the hole of my dresses my woman is simultaneously challenging and embracing her fallen destiny in the stranglehold of a patriarchal world.

The circle of emptiness is my woman's refuge and shield.

My woman symbolises animal strength in the face of adversity. My clothes speak her language, they roar like a lion, bark like a dog, miaow like a cat, as is her whim.

It is comfortable seamless wear, free from pins and needles.
The French will understand me when I say 'my tailoring is not rich'.

I use a variety of materials: cardboard boxes, black bin liners and used tea towels for ultimate luxury.
The cut is bold, sandwich-board man style.

My bestseller - Smock of Ages - hole in a brown plastic-weave sheet, tied round the waist by a mobile phone charger cable - a powerful fashion statement fusing modern and traditional slavery. 
Proudly scrawled round the straggling hem in permanent marker 'Only Fashionistas can see the tailoring'

It's a continuing must-have.

For the luxe version - dead flies are glued round the symbollic hole. The scribbled caption reads 'flies in the face of fashion'

Part 3

So now the tips:

My approach to style is 'off the cuff'.
Nothing to wear? Grab one of the Nothings on your many hangers and you will have Something to wear!

Frayed, worn, stained, a little dirty, it doesn't matter. Gone are the days when I would worry about holes in fishnet stockings. 

Parade around your sitting room with gormless expressions, creatively reappropriate the fun.

Don't buy clothes for the next 5 years. Or dirt cheap second hand. A design ruin is more evocative than the shiny new.
Under 10 for tops under 20 for dresses under 30 for coats. My own max is much lower.
Yes, fast fashion but I don't throw stuff away. I still have stuff from over 20 years ago, it's now vintage. ( Best not to wash too much either because of the fraying)

Aim for eclectic cheapness. Wow, she makes cheap clothes look good! And remember the number of items of clothing you have should not exceed your age.

For the sanctity of your soul avoid sales and the vultures that gather to plunder the tripe and offal of design atrocity.

Refresh your wardrobe by doodling on unprinted garments. 
They are not holy shrouds so be less fussy about handling them. I often wipe my hands after eating fruit on my clothes, transforming my ensemble to pattern-rich utility wear.

Add small bells from Indian dancers' jewellery for a musical effect. 
'With Bells On' bikinis ( copyrighted like all my creations) is the sexiest thing.
My body is my temple 'Come hither and worship' they announce.
It should be topped with a throwaway piece from my casual collection: 'Judge Me' printed large on a long tubular white T-shirt that loosely clings to your form, which you pull off slowly writhing, and thus ringing the bells.

If anyone talks fashion jargon at you. e.g. Wearing a Herpes scarf and Door bag with Moscow top and Goochy miniskirt, hit them with a monogrammed handkerchief.
Tell them to describe it with real vocabulary and rip out the verbal badges of shared idiocy and if they don't, give them a thorough dressing down. 

Let's have some Vanity Sanity. Go from fashion victim to dress champion.
Don't worry about your figure or 'silhouette' as it is known in France. Frequently dress down ( and out) and be a woman and emerge from the shadows.

Have selfie adornment days or organise costume parties. Or clothing collectives with friends and swap.
Pull everything out of your wardrobe so that it's all over the shop - your shop. Then prance around your room and mix meaninglessly for sheer joy.
Designer dictates are not fun.

Modify old dresses with your own touches - randomly cut sleeves, collars etc maybe a few motif holes. 
Just like wrinkles give character to a woman - stains and rips add a personal touch.
It's all healthy exercise where you work off that stubborn vanity.

Try paper, plastic, ribbons, shoe laces, threads, locks of your hair, ties and pins, colourful sponges, towels and dishrags. Print off images and staple.
Collect colouful netting from root veg bags.
Grab that old bouquet and toss dried petals over yourself.
Have a toy box of materials you can rummage in. Reappropriate creation. It's doll dressing fun all over again. Call it Haber-dashing!

The possibilities are endless, you have your own creatIve spark. Labels and logos are judgement cards handed out, not rewards. Don't take them. It's a tarot of promised fashion fortune; turn your back on it and be yourself.

( While writing this piece and watching the fashion programme I had many night-time dreams of women in weird and wonderful clothing, photographed and enacted ( yes, enacted, with film angle finesse) in extraordinary locations. In my sleep I met my inner designer.)

Or dress simple and make the most of old accessories and paste jewellery.
Stick a flower in your hair when you go for a walk.
Do not look at shop windows. Go to a museum or pick daisies from a garden and make yourself jewellery. 

Make your own party version of Thriftyfifty's iconic copyrighted classic Smock of Ages. Cut a circle in the middle of a colourful bedsheet for your head and tie the waist with an electric cord of your own choice.

For your winter look bring fashion back to earth by adding earth. Artfully spattered mud adds a touch of warmth and class to a worn-out winter coat. Femininity in a ditch, it cries. Try one of my best-sellers from my Venus Rising from the Dustbin ensemble.

For those rainy days a pale green bio bag knotted under the chin will give you that much sought after retro look. If only white is available, liven up your look by a pair of pink marigold gloves.

Personal favourite - plastic milk bottle cap nipple protectors and cotton spool knickers. Ensures I don't sit  down when I'm cleaning my house!

Add decorative stitching or loose threads to freshen up old clothes. Buy some new buttons or pin on jewellery. Don't restrict them to the upper torso and keep changing the position for a point of interest.

And quit snobbishness against the homemade and homely. Plus don't by shy about scavenging bins - there are some choice finds there.

Spun fabric has no marketing spin. Fabric makers are not recognised. Why? The feel of cloth is as important as the look and texture isn't captured by photos. Maybe commission your own original prints.

If you own some designer clothes frame them - it's art! They'll  look fantastic on the wall. That's where art should be. What demons are you hiding when you dress yourself in somebody else's vision?

Fashion almost always says nothing of what you want it to say.
To avoid the wrong message wear a t-shirt and jeans; an expensive Luvy's ( what a levy on your hard-earned savings!) is not necessary.

Fancy dress costume is a good standby but, yes, they are not tailored. Instead of biting your thumbs about what designer piece to buy, prick them by learning to sew.

If you require more finesse, give modified paper patterns, which can be bought in their thousands, to unsung seamstresses, unseen shadows of the night slaving in moonlight for top designers sleeping smugly in their downy beds, who can't even cut never mind sew.

And why must you always wear something that flatters you? in other areas of life you don't need to be always flattered. Go dowdy for a while and then dazzle.

If all this seems far-fetched sartorial suicide I have one of the most enduring icons of allure as my ally.
Marilyn Monroe only favoured a few going-out dresses and she borrowed from the studios and had cheap copies made.
Her off-screen style was simple casuals and she wins my heart when she said she spent her free time 'slouching'.
She famously modelled a brown jute sack and she would have loved my brown Smock of Ages with its i(R/C)onic unleashed slave vibe.

Were she alive today she would ditch Carnal No 5 and wear my Insouciance ( fragrant Eaux d'égouts - Insolence and Indolence already being taken😏). 

She didn't have a favourite designer but she liked certain designs. 

A Vogue article on Marilyn's minimalist, no-fuss style confirms it all with an air of surprise. She didn't make a fetish of clothes and overshadow herself. She chose clothes that worked for her and didn't follow fashion, she fashioned herself.

If all the designers dropped dead today and if more than Blurberry non-sales was burnt and all fashion houses razed to the ground, clothes would go on.
By paying seamstresses better ( who never have a moment to think of their own designs in sweat shops) and saving on logo purchasing a wealth of durable and enticing clothing could be created. 

Find your style through clothes not designers, it's obvious.

Haute cuisine and top chefs don't stop us from having a go at cooking and we invite friends to dinner to experience our creativity.
When you put good food in your mouth it should give you a wealth of sensations but not one that screeches 'I am associated with the great and glorious of this profit-driven world'.

Marvel at the speed of execution of top chefs and specific skills like the designer sketches but you should stay faithful to your own vision.

And like food, clothing can be interactive. A uniquely-conceived style helps (in a modest way) to make your personality shine. 

Fashion worshippers only exhibit their own vacuousness by donning a graffiti of labels, strikingly wearing hearts full of false pride on their costly sleeves.

Remember always, you are a woman not a wardrobe. 

Don't expect validation from raiment. 
Stop the online search and the street trawl for a better covering. 
Don't let the rag merchants stitch you up. 
Undress, sit inside your wardrobe, meditate.
Then burst forth.
You are the best creation that will ever come out of it. 

(Written last summer 2021)

Door's showstopper - 720€ - (T-shirt - sustainable cotton - unsustainable price)