In one of her diary entries for September 1951, my grandmother notes that my sister Awly spent a whole day in London shopping for a green jersey. My first reaction was to wonder why anyone would want to spend five minutes, let alone five hours, looking for an article of clothing, just as it beats me why anyone would want to buy or consult magazines like Vogue or Marie-Claire. But they obviously would and do.
I was just about to write philosophically that people are different and leave it at that, when all of a sudden I remembered how I was in my 'twenties. In those days I was, if not a dedicated follower of fashion, at least fairly interested in establishing my identity by way of a fashion statement. I would devote hours haunting the streets of Braintree, as often as not finding what I was looking for at the estimable Len Smith emporium in the town's fabled Sandpit Lane (since concreted over): for example, a gaudily decorated shirt of the flower-power era set against a tasteful purple background, complete with button-down collar.
So it might be truer to say that "people change". I don't mean that they change clothes - even I do that on an occasional basis - but that their attitude to clothes, and the intensity of that attitude, change(s) over the years.
I was just about to write philosophically that people are different and leave it at that, when all of a sudden I remembered how I was in my 'twenties. In those days I was, if not a dedicated follower of fashion, at least fairly interested in establishing my identity by way of a fashion statement. I would devote hours haunting the streets of Braintree, as often as not finding what I was looking for at the estimable Len Smith emporium in the town's fabled Sandpit Lane (since concreted over): for example, a gaudily decorated shirt of the flower-power era set against a tasteful purple background, complete with button-down collar.
So it might be truer to say that "people change". I don't mean that they change clothes - even I do that on an occasional basis - but that their attitude to clothes, and the intensity of that attitude, change(s) over the years.
Hello Papa! I don't question what you wrote in that post but from my perspective --and in that of the 37 years I've known you--, it just seems IMPOSSIBLE that you were ever interested in clothes. You hate clothes with a passion --no. It's worse: they make you completely indifferent! I actually believe that the reason why I love clothes so much myself is because fashion was almost considered a vulgar matter at home. Anyway, if you ever were fashion savvy, that must have been been way before I was born. By then, the "intensity" of your interest was hardly noticeable! Love xxx, L
ReplyDeleteWhat about my quest for a Stetson in Fredericksburg? And my collection of T-shirts: Pike's Peak, Cape Cod, Mall of the Emirates, etc.
ReplyDeleteI think you acquired this "all followers of fashion are either vulgar or touched" attitude from our mother, tho if you tell me there ever WAS a time when you haunted the fashion houses of Braintree I must of course believe you!
ReplyDeleteWhat about Foster Bros!
DeleteMay I add there is actually a difference between fashion and clothes? While I have a passion for beautiful clothes, I don't give a heck about fashion, and fashion magazines do bore me to death. (All that in the hope that the nuance will get me out of the "vulgar or touched" category!). Anyway, I must say it's sort of refreshing to think of you, Papa, obsessed with some particular shirt or pair of trousers ("I have to have it, I have to have it"). Still, I don't believe that ever happened. Or you'll have to elaborate a little more if you want the concept to become realistic! xxx
ReplyDeleteI am deeply chagrined that my fashion credentials should be called into question by what looks like a concerted attack emanating from East Anglia and what can only be described as Dubai.
ReplyDeleteInsofar as there is any truth in your remarks, you would do well to recall that I have never been allocated a clothes budget, having to make do with other people's hand-me-downs.
However, I cut quite a dash in Saint Jean de Losne...