Do you actually have style or just a lot of...stuff? BY LEANNE DELAP
For years, we’ve been making trend-driven impulse buys; will this crisis-filled moment help us refocus on the essential purpose of fashion?
THROUGHOUT THIS preposterous year, it seems we’ve all been quaran-cleaning our closets while simultaneously clogging them back up with impulse thrills. Our routines have been thrown dangerously out of whack, and our identities have been unsettled—and our muddled style is the collateral damage. To move forward, we must clarify our chaotic closets and parse the di erence between the stu we’ve accumulated and the image we wish to project. After all, we’ve changed, and our style may need to shift to reflect that. “Cars choose a lane so they don’t crash,” says Tibi founder Amy Smilovic matter-of-factly. And so must we when considering our style. Smilovic knows the power that sartorial perspective can wield. A marketer by trade, she founded the contemporary designer label in Hong Kong in 1997. Then, 10 years ago, she made a sharp pivot, taking Tibi from a brand that delivered trends to a brand that delivers a point of view—her point of view. (It’s one that prizes balance and versatility, as seen in the brilliant shirts with detachable neckties from her fall collection and the sleek sweats-style mix-and-match pieces for spring.)
Crisis can spark clarity and creativity, it seems. Toronto-based stylist Kealan Sullivan of 69 Vintage owned a series of renowned vintage boutiques on Queen Street West from the early 2000s to 2016 and then went on to rally the vintage community by creating pop-up markets. When gatherings went on forced hiatus, Sullivan found herself merchandising outfit dioramas in her bedroom window. The idea was to entertain herself, but it inspired a pandemic shift, and she began selling o much of her private collection on Instagram live.
The pare-down forced Sullivan to consider the di erence between stu —trendy pieces we thoughtlessly click-to-buy out of a need to fit in or for stress release—and
style, which is an essential expression of who we are and how we want to present ourselves to the world. She used that breakthrough to launch a new business venture: building custom capsule wardrobes that help sharpen and enhance a client’s style after dig-deep online consults. “We need to get rid of the stu that clogs up the flow,” she says. “We need to reinforce who we are—for ourselves and for others.”
Actor Amanda Brugel, who stars in The Handmaid’s Tale, is a regular on bestdressed lists and is featured in Hudson’s Bay’s fall fashion campaign, has always understood the inherent platform that fashion provides—after all, she’s fluent in red-carpet style and social media. And though she has long been a champion for female and BIPOC talent, as social-justice
issues have become even more urgent, she has found herself increasingly committed to editing meaningless pieces of her wardrobe. “My desire to wear BIPOC designers has significantly sharpened,” she says. “It’s my duty to promote Black businesses—to put my own money back into the pockets of artists whom I identify with.”
Because for Brugel, “stu ” is defined as necessary utilitarian pieces—white shirt for auditions, gear to get through a Canadian winter—but style? “It reminds me that I am still my own person,” she says. “It is my armour.”
Hidden within any crisis is an opportunity to refine, to reinvent, to iterate—to figure out who we are now and what we believe in. And only then can we find a way to amplify that message with our wardrobe. ®