The Tyranny of High Fashion
I grew up relatively poor (for suburbia). We had the smallest, shabbiest house on the street. My parents were verifiably house-poor, where the most exotic vacation I had ever been on was a camping trip in the mountains at sixteen years old. Before then, the only qualifying vacation was a rare trip to the beach during the summer.
I can already hear the privilege dripping from this, ready to be squeezed into focused rage. But please remember, when you’re a young, sheltered kid, you can’t see the world that way. No one taught me those things or made me aware they exist. The internet wasn’t the all-encompassing part of life when I was a teenager that it is today, so social consciousness of new things was barely happening. To me, I was just a poor white kid.
As a poor white kid, I didn’t get to wear nice clothes. A significant portion of my clothes were actual hand-me-downs. The oft-used cliché in T.V. was a dead-on reality for me. In fact, my parents flatly refused to buy new clothes for us. When they did, it was from the discount places (god bless them). I was also a big kid, strong, but also very chunky.
Without a complimenting outfit, I was not able to present myself in an adequate way and that is tough in highschool, when kids are at their most judgmental and vicious. Seeing all the wealthier kids with new, well-fitted clothes, all hanging out and having fun, hurt, to be frank.
And this was at the onset of the social media big bang, when Myspace reigned supreme. I got to bear witness to the birth of the highly-manufactured existences of these demigods.
This is not a new story, or a unique one. I was reminded of this anecdote when I saw the following post today. I do not know who “Patri Friedman” is. Sounds like some Wall Street Bets guy, but none of that is important. Take a look.
Let’s get the obvious out of the way, which is that not being able to wear your expensive clothes is not the worst part about Covid. That belongs squarely with the hundreds of thousands of people that have died and their suffering families.
The real question this left me with is, why do people buy expensive clothes? I’m not counting special events — everyone gets to treat themselves. I mean the “daily” $300 shirt, $400 pants, $500 shoes. They will assuredly tell you because they are made of higher quality fabrics, are more comfortable or better fitted. And all of that might be right.
Then how come you haven’t worn any of it? At all? Not once in the last 10 months we’ve been in lockdown*?
*The USA was never in lockdown. People stayed out of public out of concern for their own safety. Many law enforcement departments wouldn’t even enforce the “rules”.
This strongly implies that he would wear his expensive, fancy clothes only when going out. Why wear them only when going out? There is only one explanation — to denote status. This isn’t going to become an anti-capitalist tirade. One can be wealthy, or aim for wealth, and not be so. . . garish about it.
It’s a matter of character. And those that parade their expensive clothes do so at the expense of their ethical framework. There is something intoxicating about something more uniform. I don’t mean actual uniforms, and definitely not those mandated by the government. I don’t want to wear an Ingsoc jumpsuit, either. But what if we, as a society, took back the toga?
It is a simple garment, inexpensive, and easy to manufacture. It can be modified with different fabrics and coverage for different environments. It allows for freedom of movement, and is not personally obliterating. In fact, it enhances the person underneath the clothes.
I want to get wine with my friends in a toga. I want to drink beer on the beach in a toga. I want to get my mail in a toga. And I want my neighbors to be equally free of the need to validate themselves with the brands they wear or the styles they want to claim. Be free! Wear TOGA!
