WAIT, SO, IS THIS THE (NEW) GOLDEN AGE OF BLOGGING?
On first person ruminating and many-person clothes-swapping.
Stumbled into a deep meaningful with a close friend and all-round journalistic guru of mine this week, who is, naturally, a fellow Substacker. Some universal truths about this medium were made apparent to me:
It seems most widely-read Substacks have a purpose. They do what they say on the tin. For example: “Fashion styling and shopping tips, with photos and links!” or “book and culture recs”, or “how to cook food without muddling it up!” or of course, “obscure political opinions that resemble your own!” You quickly understand what you’re getting, then you’re drawn further into your niche on the regular with the weekly newsletter.
Said regular newsletter is TANTAMOUNT to success and if you do not send it out on time your Substack dreams will shrivel and perish. A terrifying prospect for anyone who’s ever suffered from a bout of writer’s block. But equally the beauty of this whole bonanza: it forces one to force oneself to write every week.
You’re like uh, I know, can you get on with it?
Suffice to say I’m happy we’re here —that you’re here— not only because it forces one’s pen, but also because it’s “reminiscent of the old days of blogging” as one reader put it to me last week, or the “golden age of fuss-free OOTDs”. I’ll let you decide what that means but it definitely refers to something 10+ years back, before Instagram took over the self-published fashion dialogue space. Back when I myself used to devour fashion blogs religiously.
Actually, I just found myself wondering for how long Substack has actually been around. It was founded in 2017 I discovered, not before accidentally googling the birth date of Subway sandwiches, though, (1965 —impressive).
Anyway I hereby pledge to bring you some nostalgic elements of the long forgotten fashion blogosphere —those longer-form reflections on our (or I guess in this case, my) sartorial choices and their *greater meaning*, and of course my unsolicited analysis of larger trends, like in last week’s post.
Which I admit I’m psyched about because I never actually had a blog back in the day — in my early 20s, my creative juices were poured into the distinctly non-groundbreaking fashion pieces I wrote for my day job the now defunct Avenue32.com. And, when I was lucky enough to get the call up, for the old Style.com: a hub of fashion criticism etc. which was, I believe, genuinely kinda groundbreaking. Not what I wrote — I was mostly one of the youngins covering parties when the senior writers needed sleep. But the publication itself. I felt honoured to be a tiny part of it, and I miss it dearly.
But back to our grand manifesto. I also hope to talk about some stuff other than fashion on occasion. The guru I mentioned earlier warned me against this and she’s probably right. People want to read what they’ve come for. I get it. So I promise to sneak it in subtly.
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I couldn’t help but plunder…
On Saturday night I went to a snazzy dinner party hosted by my friend Chaimaa. The food and wine were delicious and everyone got on a treat —no small feat when you invite more than three people who’ve never met to an intimate dinner. There was a fascinating woman named Mia in shiny silver trousers that caught the light when she walked, which made me happy because my daughter is also called Mia and I do hope one day she’ll be the kind of woman who is bold enough to wear shiny silver trousers around strangers. But the real party started when the men banished themselves to the balcony and we rushed to Chaimaa’s room for one of her famous “closet viewings'' —no one has a better eye for rare vintage.
We all sat on her bed transfixed, sipping our wine glasses robotically and gasping as she pulled out extraordinary piece after extraordinary piece.
The first was a Yohji Yamamoto asymmetric buttoned black jacket with a wide bateau collar (to highlight one’s collar bone, Chaimaa pointed out). “Yohji is a genius” Chaimaa later texted me, “he has forever shaped the fashion world with his use of light and simple fabric (such as cotton) and his perfect cuts —he is a favourite in the vintage market.” Chaimaa sourced the jacket with her friend Marie Blanchet at Mon Vintage. Yohji prices, apparently, depend on (i) the quality of the work put in the piece in question, (ii) the popularity of the collection, and (iii) the scarcity of the piece. “When people ask for the designer, which happens every time I wear this jacket, my answer is met with a surprised face. You can’t guess him, but when you find out, you realise the genius of the man!”
Next up: something completely different: her Romeo Gigli A/W 1993 coat, complete with silk jacquard collar and belt. “So, I hate when people confuse art with fashion, since I consider fashion to be an art appliqué —not the same thing” says Chaimaa, insisting you can’t compare Vermeer with Saint Laurent (debate). But this coat, she says, “encompasses the craftsmanship and vision of the great designer that Romeo Gigli was. Exuberant, lavish, luxurious.” So almost art then. Its twin lives at The Met, apparently, “so its vintage value is maximum, as I know any fashion museum would be interested in acquiring it.” Too bad for the general public, it’ll be staying in Chaimaa’s magical closet for the time being. “I need to remember to wear it to Cafe de Flore and feel like Marlene Dietrich,” she adds. “It’s on my to do list.”
A few more sips and my fellow spectator Divya Bala and I nearly fainted when Chaimaa dashed out with her piece de resistance. Or to us it was anyway. Iris, next to me, began fanning herself wildly, shouting OHLALA, MAIS NAN? Then I was called up. Summoned! It was my time. To be the try-on person. And try on I did, a perfectly cut, mutton-sleeved grey wool late-80s Yves Saint Laurent mid-length jacket. “Take it,” Chaimaa told me. “It’s so you.” I looked at her. “A long-lend”. I couldn’t believe my ears. It fit me like a dream and instantly sharpened my (slightly underdressed) look. “I-I couldn’t possibly" I stuttered but Divya’s eyes widened and she mouthed to me “ARE YOU CRAZY!?”
So I sauntered off into the night wearing it and haven’t removed it since. Thankfully the weather in Paris has been less-than cooperative on the Springtime front, which has allowed me to wear it everyday, which in turn has made me think about glaring advantages of friend-group fashion-trade… cooperatives?
Maybe the answer, as Divya suggested after our wild vintage viewing sesh, to tempering one’s tendencies towards fashion overconsumption is to get together with a group of like-minded friends once a month and, you know, swap? Even better —swap vintage finds? Like a book club for…lewks?
Of course I realise not everyone has a friend with a stunning wardrobe like Chaimaa’s. I struck sartorial gold with the ol’ mutton sleeves. But when this mutton-dressed-as-mutton clears out her humbler closet, my stylish sisters and cousins-in-law flock to our place, baskets at the ready: a delight for all involved. I love seeing how they breathe a new lease on life into my clothes. And isn’t there something special about a piece selected by someone you love? Even better, a piece they selected, then selected for you?
Weekly Recs…
READ: Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld
As predicted, it’s excellent. As also predicted, I’m listening on Audible and regularly freaking out my children with sudden explosions of uncontrollable laughter whilst making dinner. Some thought-provoking stuff in there too.
NEED: A trip to GoodJo Paris
If you find yourself in Paris’s 6th Arrondissement, make for this little-known gem of a designer vintage shop. One of Chaimaa’s favourites.
FOLLOW: Mon Vintage on Instagram
Mon Review —and more importantly, Chaimaa— approved rare vintage finds curated by Marie Blanchet. Paris showroom by appointment.
This is amazing. Please bring back blogging with this fine writing.
Added those recs to the list for next trip to Paris!!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻