Getting lost in the idea of an outfit

Fashion sentimentality, emotional obsessions w/ outfits and softening fashion grief (+ birthday outfit reveal)

Pretty much all of this week’s newsletter is free to read except for the brand recs (plus a sock secret) at the very end. No affiliate links. Please support if you can.

FASHION SENTIMENTALITY

For a few short years, from my late teens to early 20s, I bought a dress for every birthday. It was back when I was feigning being an extrovert and had a wider social circle. I lived the social aspirations that ostracised high school me could never dream of.

I can still etch those dresses in my mind, but a couple of them—a deep purple raw crepe silk dress with woven gold thread and a red dupion silk dress—I never wore again. I grew too emotionally attached. It felt strange to wear them to other people’s celebrations. They’re still in my parents home back in Brisbane, but I am sure they no longer fit.

Then came the dark stretch of almost no fashion. If you’ve been here for a while, you’re probably intimately familiar with this part. I moved interstate, I gained weight, I had less money, and I lost my social connections. So there were no special birthday outfits, just whatever I could afford and get in my size.

When I hit my 30s, I felt a resurgence of nostalgia, of wanting to get back in touch with my love for fashion. It started with a dress¹ from a small maker that stocked deadstock and independently designed fabrics. It was the seed that made me search for similar brands and start the EFF directory.

Over the last 5 years, I’ve slowly returned to buying clothing specifically for my birthday (aside from when I was doing a no-buy). Last year I thought about how I could bring an outfit that had more longevity and versatility. I bought a black and white co-ord set that blended seamlessly. This year, I wanted to support another sustainable Indian brand with clothes that integrate into my wardrobe. Unfortunately, the experience was not the same.

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BIRTHDAY PLANS + FASHION EXPECTATIONS

Before buying clothes, I often go through similar motions—I envision what they will look like on me. It heightens the emotional attachment to the outfit.

This year, my birthday was in three parts.

First, a mini-adventure with my friends, a trip down to Miura Peninsula along the coast (a couple of hours outside of Tokyo). I saw myself in a red co-ord with bright orange dots and matching thrifted red sneakers. My order didn’t arrive in time for this.

The second was to make a collaborative zine to document our shared adventure at a risography studio. I saw myself in pink and orange striped shorts with a silk-cotton floaty top in the same pattern with sky blue patent leather low heels and matching tights. After no shipping updates, it miraculously arrived a couple of days beforehand.

The third, an overnight stay in Chiba with my partner, I hadn’t planned to wear anything ‘fancy,’ as I just wanted to breathe and relax.

I felt relieved and even got excited that everything would work out. I had given feedback to the brand about the miscommunication and ghosting; they gave me an honest answer—a team member had left, and the pregnant owner had taken over. Like most tiny brands, they have a skeleton staff, and I empathised with their struggles. I had still wanted to showcase them on Substack and add them to the directory.

Once I started to trial the clothes, I realised that it wouldn’t be fair to subscribers to recommend them.

Aside from the messy customer service, the fit was very different from the measurements given. Pants were 6 inches longer than the custom inseam I requested. One of the tops was too tight across my biceps, even though I’d given this as a specific measurement to ensure there’d be room. The sleeves were too long. And a very tiny stain/discolouration on another pair of pants.

I had built up a fantasy of myself wearing the clothes, and suffice to say it didn’t work out.

I hope that next time I visit the sewing studio, I will be able to make some adjustments because, aside from the issues, they are truly beautiful pieces.

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EMOTIONAL OBSESSIONS WITH OUTFITS

We’re often taught that fashion is an extension of a moment, sometimes overshadowing the moment itself; we only have to look at celebrity culture, particularly women’s fashion.

As someone who is quite a rational dresser, it’s difficult for me to wear my “nicest” stuff out to the grocery store. I tend to need an occasion or reason, and birthdays have become a stand-in for me to give myself permission to wear the nice stuff. Even if the plans are casual.

When you place expectations on an outfit or become obsessed with an idea, when it works, there is no equal to that feeling of elation. If it doesn’t work—whether due to the fit, colour, style, or sometimes our own body grief seeping through—the disappointment is devastating. The flipside to emotional obsessions with outfits is the reactions can feel out of place. Is that because we care or are passionate about fashion? Or is it because we’ve developed an unhealthy obsession?

If the solution is to simply “care less”—I’m not sure I want that. I think for some people pursuing minimalism, it’s not necessarily about having less stuff but also lessening that emotional attachment to material things. Which, for me, is an impossible task. I love art; I love ideas around personal archiving, and I collect ephemera; I love fashion. All in all, I love material things, including fashion.

Could I be more discerning? Yes.

It’s not necessarily about accumulating “stuff,” but clothes that invoke a feeling—whether comfort, style alignment, a feeling of boldness, or fashion audacity.

So even though I felt fashion grief or sadness that none of the outfits I had planned either arrived on time or fit the way I wanted, I’m not sure I would give up that period of anticipation, of excitement, of imagining.

We can’t completely separate the idea of fashion vs. wearing it—planning is part of the joy. But sometimes we get ‘stuck’ in the idea of an outfit. How do we move forward?

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How do you get out of your head when an outfit doesn’t work? How do you brace yourself for potential fashion or body grief?

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Are there ways that could soften the fashion grief of an outfit that doesn’t work?

1. Trying on your ‘nice clothes’ well in advance of an event so you know if you need to make adjustments

2. Have a back up outfit; something I saw recently was having ‘one nice dress’ or outfit for all fancy events, that way you’ll always have something to fall back on

3. Get support, especially if the fashion grief is fueled by body image woes. Fashion happens alongside body image woes; it can help and it can hinder depending on where you are in the moment.

4. Focusing on abundance, not scarcity—thinking about the clothes you do have

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WHAT I WORE INSTEAD

Taking a ferry as part of the mini-adventure

On the first day, there was a lot of walking, so comfort was definitely a priority. I wore a new oversized blouse from a small Australian label² with pants from last year’s birthday co-ord³. The socks are from a very famous high-fashion brand but at a fraction of the cost! (nope, not thrifted; details are in the footnote!⁴). Shoes are a Japanese brand⁵

On the second day I wanted to wear something more ‘fancy.’ I don’t own many fancy dresses, as so many of my purchases are aimed at what I could wear day-to-day. But I stumbled across a dress⁶ on sale a few months back.

When it arrived and I tried it on at home, it didn’t look as elevated as I’d imagined, and I put it away, marking it as a casual dress for the summer. Then, as I thought the clothes I’d ordered for my birthday wouldn’t arrive in time, I thought of this dress as the backup.

The styling fell into place. I ordered some oatmeal tights⁷, I actually hadn’t thought about matching them to the dress, only that I wanted a pair of white or off-white tights.

Then I found some resin cream-coloured abstract oyster earrings at the thrift store for 100 yen. The shoes⁸ I bought last year were on sale as well; they are low heels and very comfortable, despite my low tolerance. Although my max wear time would still cap at about 2 hours. And they are a pain to put on and take off.

And just my luck, it was really cold and rainy, so I donned my navy coat.⁹

Then on my trip with my partner, I dressed a lot more casually in something I’d wear day-to-day. We did a fair amount of walking. Thrifted sweatshirt and the pants are part of the larger order with the sustainable Indian brand from this year. These pants had a drawstring tie, so I hiked them up as much as possible (happy to share the name of the brand with anyone who still wants to buy from them.)

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Do you get emotionally obsessed with outfits? Do you think of it as a good thing or not?

As always, in gratitude,

Sushmita

1. The dress for my 30th birthday ran small and I felt that the pattern was overly reliant on the elasticated waist to accomodate my size, so that’s why they’re not on the EFF directory