TALKING SHOP

FROM SUBSCRIPTION SERVICES TO THE DECLUTTERING CRAZE, THERE’S BEEN A FUNDAMENTAL SHIFT IN THE WAY WE CONSUME FASHION. GRACE O’NEILL ANALYSES OUR NEW HABITS

The way we think about our wardrobes is changing.

A NEW YEAR ALWAYS PRESENTS A TEMPTING opportunity to overhaul ourselves – our bodies, our values, our style – but in 2019 the phrase “overhaul” took on a far more literal meaning. The release of the Tidying Up With Marie Kondo documentary on Netflix in January turned millions of women into decluttering insurgents. We began to feverishly throw our shoe collections into charity bins or gut our sweater drawers in hopes of unearthing a better, happier and, yes, more stylish version of ourselves. But Kondo-style wardrobe cleansing was only the latest in a string of phenomena that suggests women are drastically rethinking the way we consume fashion.

Arguably, this all started with resale websites. While people have long been buying and selling their clothes on ebay and on market stalls, sites like The Realreal and Vestiaire Collective transformed that dynamic, democratising luxury fashion in a previously unheard-of capacity. Suddenly you could buy Manolo Blahnik slingbacks for under $100 and seasonal fashion pieces popped up for resale within months (sometimes weeks) of hitting shelves, offering the chance to pick up in-season Balenciaga for a fraction of the original price. This wasn’t about shopping vintage fashion; it was about giving luxury clothing a longer lifespan – after all, one woman’s embellished trench circa SS14 is another woman’s treasure.

The impact was immediate and massive. The Realreal reports five million users and has opened bricks and mortar locations in New York and LA. Vestiaire Collective has expanded globally, opening up to Australian sellers last year. To promote the launch, the site enlisted local fashion personalities such as Pip Edwards, Carmen Hamilton and Alice Mccall. “The circular economy and re-sale is firmly taking hold in the fashion industry and for good reason – clothes that are made to last should see multiple lifetimes,” said Fashion Revolution’s Melinda Tually at the time.

The conversation about how the “sharing economy” and “circular economy” will infiltrate fashion has been taking place for

years. Just like Uber utilises a driver’s own car and spare time and Airbnb makes use of that empty spare room, resale businesses have tried to tap into underutilised wardrobes. In the Instagram era the longevity of trending pieces is ever-shorter, so the notion that we perhaps don’t need to own them is becoming more compelling.

In Australia we see this via Glam Corner and Your Closet, rental websites offering options for event dressing – largely aimed at wedding or spring-racing season. As of yet, however, no sites exist in Australia that have quite the high-end clout of Front Row – a London-based luxury rental service. Evening gowns by Zuhair Murad and Marchesa sit alongside statement pieces such as a feathered Magda Butrym party dress, an Alexandre Vauthier velvet puffer jacket and a cold shoulder midi-dress by Off-white. The premise is simple: these of-the-moment items have such high need-it-now value (and are likely being immediately documented on social media) so why shell out thousands, when you can pay $200 and negate the guilt of only wearing them once or twice? Front Row isn’t perfect (my perusing found almost every item was only available in sizes 6, 8 or 10), but it does hint at a shiny new future for fashion consumption – where women can invest in, and treasure, classic pieces and spend less money to dip into trends.

Environmentally-friendly innovations are also reframing how we consume. In the US, For Days is pioneering a sustainable T-shirt subscription service, with a business model that sees customers pay a monthly fee (packages start from $53 a year) to receive a regular rotation of cotton tees. When they become stained or lose their shape, you send them back, along with a small “refresh” fee, in exchange for a brand new one. Fabric from the old T-shirts is upcycled to create new shirts, meaning waste is eliminated. Australian jewellery brand Holly Ryan offers a similar service, whereby preowned pieces by the jeweller can be returned in exchange for store credit. The raw materials are melted down and used for new collections.

The success of brands like For Days aligns with an increased antipathy to irresponsible retailers. In June last year, British parliament held an investigation into the environmental impact of fast fashion, aiming to reduce the 300,000 tonnes of clothing that end up in UK landfill each year. “If you buy an item of clothing for $9 and wear it two or three times, it’s a bit more than [the price of] a coffee [per wear], so they’re selling clothes at pocket money prices,” said the environmental committee’s chair, MP Mary Creagh. “They are meant to be worn once or twice and then discarded.”

It’s unfair to point the blame squarely at a single retailer or brand, but disposable fashion – partnered with an Instagram lifestyle which demands a new outfit for every social occasion – means the idea that purchasing a $20 dress to wear just once on a Friday night is threatening to become the “new normal”.

While researching this piece I spent a lot of time thinking about my own shopping habits, from an emotional, financial and sustainability perspective. I realised that when I started working in magazines I briefly lost my visceral love of style in the pursuit of curating a wardrobe I deemed worthy of a serious “fashion person”. I felt that only new-season pieces were acceptable, while my wardrobe had become an exclusive rotation of tailored blazers, cropped black trousers and white shirts. I got into a terrible habit of being invited to an event, panicking the day before that I had “nothing to wear”, then frantically After-pay-ing something I couldn’t afford, in the false belief that I needed to be wearing something brand new every time I went out.

I hear the same lament from friends and colleagues: they have a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes – acquired to the detriment of their savings accounts – yet still struggle to figure out what to wear every day. It’s a situation only exacerbated by Instagram – which makes even the most confident dresser feel everybody has a seemingly endless amount of beautiful clothes except for them.

But good style isn’t about successful emulation – it means you throw out the rulebook and only buy what you are attracted to instinctively and (more importantly) feel good in. I’ve recently started shopping at thrift stores again, which was my favourite pastime as a teenager (they’re an unexpected goldmine for homewares and books). Sites like Yoox and The Outnet have pushed me away from my previous compulsion to only buy in-season, and Vestiaire and The Realreal are encouraging me to think about the longevity of the pieces I buy – what will I still love in six months, or a year, or five years? I’m less afraid to branch out of the black/navy/white box I’d been confining myself to – made easier by the sheer number of brilliant, bright, bold pieces on offer right now. A Prada wrap skirt covered in a bold yellow banana print that I picked up in the Matchesfashion.com sale just landed on my desk and, yes, looking at it sparks joy.

Our changing attitudes to shopping feel important – not only because we are trying to remedy negligent consumption habits, but because we’re moving away from viewing fashion as a quick-fix remedy for our insecurities. The satisfaction of getting lots of likes on a dress you bought because a cute blogger looked amazing in it is great, but it’s nothing compared to the satisfaction of buying something you love that will last a long time and that you feel exceptional in. It also makes sustainable shopping easier when you view it less as a moral obligation and more as a quest to creatively find your own unique sense of style. A win-win scenario if we ever heard one.

“In the Instagram era the longevity of TRENDING PIECES is ever-shorter”