The case for luxury fashion
Marie Kelly makes a compelling case for a future defined by fewer but better buys.
Over the past 20 years, fast fashion has turned many of us into Veruca Salts. Do you remember the spoiled little rich girl from Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, who in the 1971 movie sang her way into and down the garbage chute with a chorus of “Don’t care how, I want it now. Don’t care how, I want it now”? Low-cost, high-street chain stores are the sartorial equivalent of Willy Wonka’s chocolate rooms – full of goodies that distract consumers from anything other than instant gratification – and like that other golden ticket-holder Augustus Gloop, whose eyes were bigger than his belly, our eyes became bigger than our wardrobes.
There was a time when gratuitous shopping was considered harmless fun, like smoking and sunbeds. But since the narrative around throwaway fashion has become as demonising as the health warnings on cigarette packets, the case for investing in luxury goods is gaining ground. While in the early noughties, it was considered a sartorial coup to find a cheap imitation of a Carrie Bradshaw classic, like the Fendi baguette she sported throughout the show’s six-series run, or those pink feathery Louboutin heels Miranda christened in the labour ward, these days fashion kudos lies, instead, in unearthing these beautifully crafted originals from a consignment store or preloved website.
Style as a form of artistic expression has never really been taken seriously. Fashion of any kind has always been dismissed as a frivolity; something bored women do to mindlessly fill their time
Retail strategist Miriam Simon and founder of Irish initiative The Retail Powerhouse, a commercial forum to help support independent retailers, agrees, predicting that the future of luxury is in vintage and she cites the €1.3 billion Etsy buyout of Depop as testament to this. Certainly, recently released figures by GlobalData support her view. Based on these figures, Forbes reported in June that “the secondhand clothing market is growing 11 times faster than traditional retail, and is estimated to be worth more than double that of fast fashion by 2030”. There’s plenty of vintage and secondhand-store success stories in this country, which testify to the trend, from Siopaella and Cobblers Wardrobe in Dublin to Miss Daisy Blue in Cork and Public Romance in Galway. Department stores have been quick to sail in the direction of the wind, and we’ve seen Brown Thomas collaborate with leading global resale site Vestiaire Collective in 2019, while Selfridges hosted an Oxfam pop-up in 2020.
Despite having to close three of her five stores because of the pandemic lockdowns, Ella de Guzman, founder of Siopaella on Wicklow Street, tells me business is booming. She has no problem selling her premium pre-loved handbags, which include €3,000 quilted Chanel handbags and an iconic Hermés Kelly bag, which recently sold for €4,900. “I have 17,000 sellers, but even still my main concern right now is ensuring I have enough stock to meet demand,” de Guzman explains. Acquiring stock is becoming more difficult, she tells me, because individuals are now selling luxury goods on their own social media platforms, such is the appetite for premium preloved pieces. “Despite job losses, a lot of people have built up substantial savings in the past 18 months (according to the Irish Times, there’s more than €13.4 billion sitting in savings accounts in this country), so there’s money to spend.”
The pitfall of buying preloved luxury is that counterfeits are rife and consumers get ripped off every day by online scammers. “I’ve sold more than 3,000 Chanel handbags,” says de Guzman. “It takes years of handling luxury goods to recognise what’s real and what’s fake,” she explains. De Guzman’s advice is to buy from a brand that has a bricks-and-mortar store. Even though 50 percent of Siopaella’s sales are online, she says she will always have a showroom as it’s a good marker of trust. A fake Instagram account can disappear without a trace in minutes, leaving a defrauded customer with no recourse. Indeed, the US luxury consignment store The RealReal, which was founded in 2011 as an online marketplace, began launching bricks-and-mortar stores in 2017.
The appeal and desirability of vintage obviously exists and suggests there’s a secure future for luxury goods, as today’s Dries Van Noten new-season coat becomes tomorrow’s vintage classic, and it’s changing the face and the tone of the luxury goods industry. It was LVMH chairman Bernard Arnault who once said “Affordable luxury – these are two words that don’t go together.” Coming from the third richest man in the world, there was a hint of condescension to his remarks that didn’t sit well with consumers. The idea of everyday luxuries had become embedded in our psyche, and while this once meant a bubble bath and scented candle, it became equated with buying clothes more often than groceries. Nobody wanted to cancel the culture of “Treat Yo’ Self”, which had so firmly taken hold. Neither were consumers any longer enamoured by austere boutiques and haughty sales assistants. This Pretty Woman cliché had no place in the future of the luxury goods industry, which has been democratized beyond all recognition thanks to the preloved market and the digital marketplace. Every one of us has access if we want it. Nobody can be turned away.
Arnault had a point of course. The very definition of the word luxury in Collins Dictionary is “something expensive which is not necessary but which gives you pleasure”. There are two important words here: expensive and pleasure. The very nature of luxury is that it is aspirational. Luxuries are items we strive to own. There’s a complicated mental calculation involved in committing to a piece of luxury fashion and often a waiting game while you save for the item before you can enjoy the eventual gratification. It’s the sartorial equivalent of aiming for an A in an exam. You have to really want that A to put the time into preparing for it. Forking out for a luxury item is supposed to send your stomach into a bit of a tailspin.
Unlike fast fashion, this is not a hedonistic hobby that keeps you entertained on a Saturday afternoon. Luxury shopping is all about the end goal, the prize, because the process itself is painful. Will the cost per wear be worth it? What sacrifices will I have to make to save up the kind of money required, and am I absolutely sure I’m making the correct choice? Luxury shopping puts pressure on us and this can be stressful.
This notion that women who spend money on clothes, handbags and shoes are superficial and witless has persisted and it has been relentlessly reinforced on our screens. Some of the most iconic and beloved female characters of the past 20 years, unfortunately, fulfil this stereotype, from Rachel Greene in Friends to Cher Horowitz and her girl gang in Clueless
Unfortunately, the term luxury has lost its true meaning over the past couple of decades, but language can be a powerful tool in changing perceptions and perhaps the best place to start is by giving the word fashion some context. It was Ralph Lauren who said, “Fashion is over quickly”. By that, he meant it’s transient and impermanent, something you can bother with or not. But clothes on the other hand have a permanence that fashion does not. We all wear clothes every day. They are a necessity, an essential. Clothes also allow us a freedom of expression that fashion does not because the latter is by its nature based on specified seasonal trends.
Investing in clothes is more likely to lead to a unique personal style, whereas feeding off fashion cultivates a herd mentality. Just look at the current crop of Love Islanders. This mix of millennials and Gen Z have pulled on as many outfits over the course of the seven-week dating game as they’ve drank glasses of wine, yet despite the quantity of clothes in the Majorcan villa, there’s only one distinct style among the girls, because they’re all buying from the same high-fashion, low-cost brands. When the truly original Coco Chanel remarked that “Luxury is the opposite of vulgarity”, I suspect it was this kind of mindless copycatting she loathed.
This is not to suggest that luxury fashion labels don’t concern themselves with trends; indeed they set them. But when you buy fewer and better, your wardrobe will look much less like a cheap IRL version of a catwalk show and more like a curated capsule that reflects your personality and lifestyle. The most revered women in fashion often rotate a limited number of pieces: Phoebe Philo, Emmanuelle Alt, Carine Roitfeld, for instance. Women have fought hard through the centuries to gain control over how they dress. In the past, gender-based dress codes rigidly confined women to a single guise: the mother and homemaker. To dress differently was to mark yourself out as unruly and wilful and therefore to threaten the status quo. In her excellent memoir Rememberings, Sinead O’Connor recalls being put under enormous pressure by her record label’s executives to dress “like a girl” by growing out her buzzcut and by wearing short skirts.
Her refusal to be anything other than who she was caused consternation among her male bosses, who simply wanted a cookie-cutter female pop star.
Is there social anxiety around extravagant spending right now? Is it viewed as inappropriate, not simply because of lockdowns, hospitalisations and job losses, but because of the recent horrific events in Afghanistan, which might make spending money on another new coat or pair of shoes feel grubby and insensitive?
O’Connor used clothes to earmark her own identity, and this is what they can do for us, especially luxury, be that new, pre-loved or vintage, because it makes a statement about our values as well as our aesthetic. Clothes are a creative outlet, a means of expressing who we are and what matters to us. Yet, style as a form of artistic expression has never really been taken seriously. Fashion of any kind has always been dismissed as a frivolity; something bored women do to mindlessly fill their time. Even the famous 18th-century suffragette Mary Wollstonecraft believed that the “varnish of fashion…seldom sticks very close to sense”.
She rather harshly equated fashion with stupidity. This notion that women who spend money on clothes, handbags and shoes are superficial and witless has persisted and it has been relentlessly reinforced on our screens. Some of the most iconic and beloved female characters of the past 20 years unfortunately fulfill this stereotype, from Rachel Greene in Friends and Cher Horowitz and her girl gang in Clueless to Effie Trinket in 2012’s Hunger Games and Patsy and Eddie in the hilarious Absolutely Fabulous.
To spend €1,000 on an item of clothing has always been dismissed as reckless and wasteful, but to spend the same amount on a piece of art is perceived as a good investment. Art falls into the category of culture, but fashion has always existed on a less exalted plane. Similarly, spending several thousands on a trip around the world distinguishes the spender as broad-minded and sophisticated. Is this because, traditionally, women didn’t travel (they were confined to houses and gardens unless appropriately chaperoned) and the art world has always been dominated by men? Patriarchal societies have a long history of belittling anything associated with the domestic realm, which was considered categorically female. Still today, traditionally female pursuits such as knitting, crocheting and embroidery are less revered than painting or architecture, which at one time were studied only by men. Although maybe British Olympian Tom Daly can start a revolution with his amazing handknit cardigan.
Miriam Simon concurs. “In terms of buying a piece of clothing to be appreciated as you would a piece of art – we’re not there yet,” she explains. “But practical luxuries are big sellers in Ireland. Patagonia is booming because people are prepared to spend €600 on one good piece of outerwear that will last.” So perhaps many of us are not yet ready to spend on beautiful things, but we’re comfortable forking out for useful things. I wonder if this is because, in the wake of a pandemic that has cost many individuals their livelihoods, people are reluctant to be seen to spend money on luxury goods? An expensive all-weather rain jacket is a much less obvious splurge than a pair of Gucci trainers. Is there social anxiety around extravagant spending right now? Is it viewed as inappropriate, not simply because of lockdowns, hospitalisations and job losses, but because of the recent horrific events in Afghanistan, which might make spending money on another new coat or pair of shoes feel grubby and insensitive?
Certainly the luxury goods market is suffering. Again, Forbes reported earlier this year that “[2020] was the year the global personal luxury goods market imploded, losing €64 billion in sales resulting in a 23 per cent decline. That is the greatest year-over-year drop recorded in nearly 25 years.” For every Greta Thunberg, there’s another member of Gen Z buying a boob tube on their smartphone for less than the price of lunch while on their lunch. But fast fashion is not a youth issue by any means. When Penneys opened its Dublin stores in May after months of lockdown, there were as many Baby Boomers and Gen Xers in the queues as there were students and school girls. The ‘more for your money mantra’ is a difficult one to dislodge, and as much as we extol the virtues of artisan goods – their craftsmanship, quality and heritage – the argument against luxury almost always dilutes down to money. The cost of luxury in today’s market can certainly be prohibitive. Who among us can afford to buy a wool-blend crepe maxi dress by The Row, available now on net-a-porter.com for €1,970?
But you don’t have to spend €500 or €1,000 to incorporate authentic luxury into your wardrobe. Entry-level luxury is the kind that most of us can stretch to if we weigh up the value in terms of cost per wear. A €50 white T-shirt, for instance, which will stay in shape for five years, makes better financial sense than buying three €15 Zara tees every year, none of which will survive more than five washes. I have a white Theo + George T-shirt, which I’ve had since 2018 and it still looks terrific. This sort of spend has a pain threshold that’s proportionate to splurging on a designer dress, because €50 is a lot to hand over for what at first glance looks like an unremarkable white tee. The joy comes not from the initial spend, but afterward from the fact that every time you put it on, it feels and looks as good as it did the first time you wore it. There’s no initial thrill, but there is a long-term feel-good factor.
It’s worth remembering too that not all luxury is created equal. I once looked at a Victoria Victoria Beckham dress costing €550. When I checked the label, it read 100% polyester. I couldn’t bring myself to pay that price for a wholly synthetic fabric. Of course, there are different grades of polyester and I’m sure Beckham’s is more refined than Penneys’, but I still feel that in this case, the price of the dress was defined by the popularity of the brand rather than the quality of the item. Again, this is where the exam-prep nature of luxury shopping comes into play. You need to research brands to fully understand what they offer and why their merchandise is costing you the amount that it is. An item that’s tagged as “luxury” doesn’t always feature expert craftsmanship or exquisite natural materials, nor does it automatically infer sustainable, ethical or circular. As Dublin-based personal shopper, Cathy O’Connor told me, “The price on a tag is not the only barometer of good value.”
Life can be tough, it can be challenging and it can be draining, and we don’t always have any ingenuity left when the weekend comes round to source, research and rummage for that sartorial diamond in the rough. It’s just easier to swing by Zara
So much of the joy we receive from wearing exclusive items is the beautifully tactile nature of them. O’Connor agrees. “Since spending so much time at home during the pandemic, women have become more conscious of how their clothes feel. My clients want to enjoy the physical experience of the clothes they buy as well as the visual one.” O’Connor is finding that many of her younger clients in their 30s are beginning to buy fewer and better because they’re also learning to appreciate how a garment is constructed and how a superior cut looks so much better on. “I find that a well-cut tailored jacket or coat can be the persuader to choosing clothing based on the cost per wear.” When considering a luxury purchase, O’Connor’s advice is to think about what you’re going to wear it with, and when, before you buy. “A lot of women don’t consider the next step after their purchase,” she explains.
She also tells me that when wardrobe weeding for her clients, she finds that the items hanging untouched with the tags still on – the misjudged purchases – are always the impulse buys; the items bought because they cost €20 or €30 and seemed like a bargain at first glance. But €30 is a lot of money to throw away on something that is never worn or used. And those occasional €30 spends add up quickly. While entry-level luxury and consignment stores (one of O’Connor’s favourites is Unit K in Sandymount) are a couple of ways of upgrading the quality of clothes in your wardrobe without spending premium prices, there are other methods of accessing affordable luxury.
O’Connor, who has been wearing secondhand since long before it was fashionable, and always looks incredibly chic and modern, often hosts swap parties with friends. “This is a great way to keep clothes moving and keep people enjoying them,” she explains. She also buys items from friends, which again supports a circular economy and puts the purchase within everybody’s means. Bartering is another clever way of accessing luxury items. I recently did some work for a very good friend of mine, and she paid me with an exquisite Stine Goya shirt, which I had complimented her on in the past, but which she didn’t feel suited her.
The fact is luxury doesn’t come easily. Although the good news is that it doesn’t necessarily involve a big financial layout. It does, however, require you to invest time and effort. Sometimes I think this is what puts people off more than anything because life can be tough, it can be challenging and it can be draining, and we don’t always have any ingenuity left when the weekend comes round to source, research and rummage for that sartorial diamond in the rough. It’s just easier to swing by Zara. But as Australian author Nikki Rowe said: “You want it to be easy? But if it was easy, everyone would be doing it…and if everyone is doing it? Why do you want to be the same?”
Originally published on IMAGE.ie, September 2021