I once had a royal blue peplum-style dress that I loved. Don’t let the fact that I can name the style fool you into thinking I know anything about fashion. Even I can sound informed with enough internet research.
Anyway, one day I was wearing this dress when I walked into a co-worker’s office. She took one look at me and said, “That dress needs help.” In other words, it was ready for the rag bag. I’m not telling you this story to show you how mean my coworker was because she wasn’t. She was blunt though and I owe her a thank you. If she hadn’t said anything I’d probably still be wearing the dress—if it fit.
I’m also not telling you this story to demonstrate how frugal I am, because I’m not. What I am is oblivious. The dress had gone from “appropriate for the office” to “gently worn” to “needs help” all without me noticing.
But it isn’t just that. Stereotypes of female shoppers notwithstanding, I don’t enjoy shopping for clothing. I never pass up an opportunity to visit a bookstore or an office supply store, but I put off clothes shopping until I’m in desperate need of something. Or until a gift card I’ve been given is expiring. Or until someone tells me that my outfit “needs help.”
Consequently when I do finally venture forth I’m surprised at what new styles have shown up since the last time I shopped. I recently visited a department store while my husband and I were traveling. And you’ll never believe what I saw: my old royal blue dress. Not really. But there were many items like it, by which I mean, they needed help.
The first thing I took off the rack was a jac ket with a frayed hem. I was about to report it to the store manager. But then I noticed that all its mates had the same issue. Did the manufacturers forget to hem an entire batch? Then I saw a row of tops I would have liked very much except that the seams around the neck and sleeves didn’t appear to be finished. Did they expect the purchaser to do that? And would we get a discount for doing it ourselves?
It turns out raw edges, unfinished hems, exposed stitching and visible construction techniques are part of a trend which the fashion industry calls unfinished fashion. I call it robbery.
One fashion writer I found online put the justification for unfinished fashion this way: “Just as we push ourselves to embrace our imperfections, we are encouraged to question the pursuit of perfection in fashion.” I’m glad we don’t question the pursuit of perfection with other products, like pharmaceuticals and car brakes.
I prefer everything I buy to be finished. But what do I know? I’ve already established that I’m no fashion maven. I still haven’t gotten used to distressed clothing and that’s been around for a long time. You know, jeans and other garments that look like they had a run-in with a cheese grater. It’s called “distressed” because that’s how you feel when you spend good money on brand new clothes that are already worn out. And I saw plenty of that while I was shopping too.
In the end, I didn’t buy anything. Why buy new clothes that look old when I have old clothes that look old? At least mine are finished—in both senses of the word.
Dorothy Rosby is the author of I Used to Think I Was Not That Bad and Then I Got to Know Me Better and other books. You can contact her at www.dorothyrosby.com/contact.