For once, the arrival of August has not put me in a panic. Maybe it’s because it has been hot – so hard to be anxious in the heat. Maybe there has been enough other stuff going on that I don’t have time to think about time passing.
Although (in the northern hemisphere at least) as August is the fat, lazy, sweaty time of the summer, maybe I’m also in the August of my life. For once the seasons are aligned with my inner self.
That doesn’t stop me from noticing things though.
I am not a follower of fashion. In fact it’s fair to say I am more an observer of fashion, probably from a distant hill, with binoculars.
But I see trends – patterns repeated – and my jigsaw training teaches me to look out for repeated patterns. Here are two recent trends I’ve observed that puzzle me.
Victorian school girl – the hair ribbons that hark back to an earlier time.
This look was particular to young women with long hair. They would tie back the hair that would normally hang over their ears into a ribbon at the back. It made them look like they were on the way to have lessons with their governess.
I know that all fashion is just a merry-go-round of ideas – things go out, only to come back in again. The closest I can remember to seeing this look before is on Sarah Ferguson, former Duchess and wife of Prince Andrew. I can’t find pictures of here with a ribbon in her hair but I know I’ve seen it before.
I wonder what inspired it? Was there a TV show that featured a plucky Victorian schoolgirl heroine who solved crimes during the downtime between lessons with her governess and practising her embroidery of an evening?
Knee high socks with boots – looking like you got dressed in the only clothes you could find.
I got used to seeing people in cowboy boots around town, after all, Beyoncé blew through town this summer on her Cowboy Carter tour, prompting crowds of people to shout Yee-Haw, and dress in a disco version of Wild West costume.
But since then, there has been a more weird trend. Wearing boots for a one off event, fine. But it’s summer. And (although this is England) the summer has actually been hot this year. The idea of pulling on boots is disgusting to me. It would be like wearing sweat-catching buckets on your feet.
But people are wearing boots: low boots, mid-calf boots at their highest. And they are wearing them with tall socks. Some women are even wearing them with what the UK calls pop socks; what I grew up calling knee-highs. The kind of hosiery sock that only comes up to your knee that you can wear with trousers.
These people are not wearing trousers. They are wearing shorts or short skirts. The shorts/short skirts tells me they know it’s summer and it’s hot. The long socks and boots tells me their feet are in another climactic zone altogether.
It is mostly young people sporting this look. I assume they are Gen Z. Perhaps then this a rebellion against the Millennial trend for not wearing socks at all. Even in winter. Even when it’s snowing and below freezing.
“You think socks are bad? Well we are going to wear socks all year long. Not just when it’s cold, we’re going to wear them when it’s hot, too.”
I can’t think of any other way that this combination makes sense.
The Kindness of strangers
Often in big cities you see the worst of humanity. The volume of people is such that it’s easier to retreat into your own internal space while commuting. Imagine everyone else isn’t there. It makes it easier if you need to push your way onto a crowded train or dive for the last available seat in a rush hour train.
But while out on the weekend, I witnessed a kindliness amongst Tube travellers.
Even though it was a Saturday, it was a sunny summer Saturday, and the Tube was busy. A couple got on with their two little girls and sat opposite each other. They talked to each other in what I think was Chinese. The man sitting opposite me must have heard them speaking too, because he spoke to the man (sat next to him) in the same language.
I’m assuming the conversation was along the lines of “Hello. My name is [x]. I am learning Chinese. What is your name?” He also asked some questions to the man’s daughter but she didn’t answer. (She was more interested in the packet of crisps she was eating.)
That was nice enough, two people having a connection.
At the next station some more people got on. Near us were two older women (perhaps in their 60s) who had evidently been at the pro-Palestine march that day. They looked tired.
The mother and daughter, who were sat next to me, stood up to let one of the women sit down. Another girl, who was getting off at the stop after, stood up and made sure the other woman took her seat before she headed for the door.
The man who was learning Chinese tried to stand up to offer his seat to the mother and daughter, but she refused. (They were all getting off at the next stop too.)
The man who was learning Chinese saw the woman sitting down was wearing a scarf that indicated she had been to the march and gave her a smile and a thumbs up sign. She smiled back at him.
I got off at the next stop, feeling a little bit of faith in humanity restored from witnessing these very small interactions.
(That faith then rapidly eroded as I had to negotiate my way out of the station and down a crowded shopping street. But – deep breath in – it was a lovely moment – slow breath out.)
Vinted / Dinted
I hate shopping.
I don’t understand people who love shopping and see it as a hobby. I hate it.
I feel a time pressure to achieve my goals – in my most recent expedition, this was to seek/find new clothes for work. I wander the store gathering things that I might like, that might be in my size; and then I stand in a too small, too smelly, badly lit change room and realise that none of the things I have brought in suit me or fit me. It’s depressing. That poor lighting accentuates every flaw. I look about 10 years older and three sizes bigger. If this experience is meant to make me want to buy the clothes then something, somewhere has gone wrong.
Vinted seemed to be the answer. If all the clothes in the stores are hideous, then maybe preloved clothes online would offer something better. And I can shop from the comfort of my home! And, you know, bonus good feelings for stopping clothes going to landfill.
I scrolled and I scrolled and I put hearts on all kinds of things. Husband helpfully looked over my shoulder from time to time and made some disparaging comments at some of my selections. (“Seriously? That’s so ugly. In fact that’s beyond ugly.”)
I tried to shop according to my needs (summer t-shirts! summer dresses! work shirts in plain colours!) but I ended up buying random shit that I didn’t need but I wanted. I bought things that were designed to fit a body shape other than mine. I bought things because Husband liked them. I bought things specifically because Husband didn’t like them.
I have bought 20 things from Vinted. I really like 4 of them. That’s a 20% success rate. There’s another 45% that are OK but Not What I Expected. Another 35% are in the don’t fit / don’t like category. (Some of these have already been taken to my local charity shop.)
Because that’s the thing with Vinted. There is no return option. There is no try-it-on-first option. There’s only your reliance on someone else’s (often poor) photography skills and someone else’s (often negligible) information capturing abilities.
So where does that leave me?
I hate going to physical stores, using up part of my precious free time to travel there and hunt in increasing desperation as the time ticks by.
It turns out I’m also crap at online shopping too. Making poor choices, buying clothes for a completely different body shape, forcing me to confront my actual physical reality when the clothes I’ve chosen arrive.
So perhaps the answer is I need to learn dressmaking and make my own clothes.
No, I can’t see that happening either.
Tales from Tobhamhor 