Strike a pose

Edition 36: Reflections on the transcendence of trends

AJ Lee wearing head to toe spots from Benetton for her 7th birthday (image courtesy of AJ Lee)

“Walk, walk, fashion baby, Work it, move that bitch crazy.”

Yes, I am an unabashed Lady Gaga fan. Less of a Little Monster and more of a middle aged dance floor poser. Either way, I cannot help but strut like I’m Naomi Campbell when she talk sings those lines. Or when I hear Madonna’s Vogue, or Lizzo’s Good As Hell, or Rosalia’s Linda.

OK, I admit, it doesn’t take much; but my point is I LOVE FASHION. I always have. Not in the sense that I have a wardrobe full of Prada; the high street has always been my Rodeo Drive. RIP TopShop at Oxford Circus— what a mecca for the trend hungry that was. Oh, the countless hours I spent there in my early twenties deciding between hot pink strappy sandals or electric blue suede pointed court shoes to wear to the next night out in Camden. In fact, I have such a penchant for purchasing outfits that I have developed my own euphemistic language to cover my tracks. “Another update?” my husband will ask, one eyebrow raised, as UPS pulls up to our door.

I’ve never much liked the human outer casing I was given, so it is magical that clothes exist in which one can mold and morph into entirely new characters. I know Parisian timeless style devotees would have us eschew trends in favor of acres of Breton stripes and black linen. However, as someone who lacks the legs of Jane Birkin and sees beauty in all strands of culture — from rave to the Met Opera, graffiti to high art — I am grateful for the constant iteration of style, and the opportunity it offers to lean into different parts of my personality depending on the day. Right now, as we enter tennis season, I am very much trying to channel Zendaya in Challengers, as ridiculous as that statement may seem coming from a white 42 year old mom of two with a terrible back hand.

No doubt everyone has had that moment when your own mother looks at an outfit you’ve put on and says “Lord, I remember when those were all the rage the first time around.” I know I did when I started wearing bootcut jeans and crochet tops in the nineties. The great thing about being in my forties is that I now get to be that wise old fashion know-it-all, scanning the sea of teens wearing baggy army pants and crop tops and musing with no small amount of condescension that they probably don’t even know who the band All Saints are.

Imagine how boring your old photos would be if you didn’t embrace fashion trends? Being at a stage in my life where I have far less time or f**ks to give what others think of me, I can now enjoy looking back on old photos and relish my embrace of the looks of the time throughout my life. Headbands, head to toe spots, bare midriff, thong showing. Rather than feeling embarrassed by these throw backs, I’m so grateful that I was part of those waves of culture, not standing on the sidelines. It amuses and delights me that even Y2K fashion is currently cool again: so tacky and misogynistic and unflattering — literally no one should wear low slung jeans unless they have the proportions of Miss Campbell — and yet specific and joyful in its own way.

Despite consistently loving to acquire and try new looks as I grow, I also get the occasional urge to purge. I’m not one to put away summer clothes when Fall closes in, and vice versa; and I lived in tiny metropolitan apartments with little closet space until I was 38 years old. Through the years, certain items have stuck in my mind: often pieces of clothing that in hindsight I wish I hadn’t taken to the charity shop.

For kicks, here is a round up of five of the items that are lost to the universe and yet wedged firmly in my psyche. If you find them on your vintage travels, please DM me.

My mother (third from right) in her Victoriana wedding dress and parasol in the 1970s (image courtesy of AJ Lee)

1. My mum’s wedding dress
   I actually blame my mum for starting me on this fashion loving journey that has eaten up a significant portion of my salary for the last 20 odd years. Growing up, we had a “dressing up box” stuffed full of mum’s old clothes — mainly dresses, often ones she had made herself. A fabulous ‘60s deep purple column dress with orange flowers. A floating yellow number fit for Steve Nicks. And mum’s own white lace full length wedding dress: an early ‘70s Victoriana style with puff sleeves and little ruffles around the edge and white silk buttons.
   
   This item was everything you want from a wedding dress from the past: era-specific, detail heavy. It even came with a parasol! For her sins, mum let my sister and I traipse around the house in this beautiful confection many an afternoon until it was so stained and ripped that it had to be put away for good. When I eventually got married myself, I chose a dress accented with white ruffles. No parasol though, which in hindsight I regret.

   

   Carrie Bradshaw wearing my t-shirt in ‘And Just Like That’ (image courtesy of AJ Lee)
   

2. My Central Park T shirt
   When I was around 11 years old, my parents took a trip to the Big Apple — the first trip they had ever been on without taking us girls too. Mum had a conference to attend and they seized the chance to pace the streets of NYC without two moaning children in tow. Obviously, gifts were required to make up for such shameless abandonment (we were fine and I would have done the same.)
   
   One of the things they brought back for me was a t-shirt: white, oversized (for my frame then), with the sentiment “I love Central Park” written on the front, below a line of minimalist trees with the green foliage in the shape of an upside down hearts. It was classic and mysterious to me — what was this giant park it evoked? My parents told me about people roller blading there, and I had seen glimpses of it in Home Alone. But what would it feel like to be there, in amongst the skyscrapers and the trees?

   
   You would literally pay $65 for this item in a bougie vintage store these days, but somehow I lost track of it after several years of good wear (usually paired with cycling shorts; a look my daughter is now embracing.) I couldn’t believe my eyes when, while casually watching And Just Like That — no shame — last year, Sarah Jessica Parker showed up wearing my t-shirt! A long sleeved version, but still. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.
   

   Perhaps I followed that t-shirt all the way back to New York 20 years later? Too bad I never got my hands on it again, but I do still love Central Park.
   

3. A TopShop tartan mini dress
   I was 13 years old and just started going to discos in local village halls. Every event ended with all of us girls lined up doing all the moves to the Macarena, while the boys leaned bashfully against the wall in soccer shirts and jeans.
   
   For one of these parties, I wore what I can now recognize is the perfect early ‘90s outfit: A bum skimming, figure hugging (not that I had one) tartan mini dress with thick straps and a square neckline; plus — because, y’know, UK weather — opaque blacks tights, a short sleeved white ribbed half polo neck top under the dress (Julie Delpy style); finished off with platform black suede lace up shoes. What I wouldn’t give to wear this outfit today — straight from my parent’s front steps onto the runway at Miu Miu. I wish I had a picture of it to share with you but if you imagine the Spice Girls meets The Cranberries you are half way there.
   
   I felt like one hundred British pounds in that outfit, even with my thick purple rimmed glasses on, and I danced my little heart out.

   

   AJ Lee in Greece circa 1993 wearing her navy blue chiffon top (image courtesy of AJ Lee)
   

4. That navy blue chiffon half top
   Some items of clothing are so impractical that they become essential. Luckily I have a picture of this one as it is difficult to describe. Whether it was worn over jeans or skirts, it brought a certain 1960s whimsy to the vibe that I enjoyed, and I particularly loved the tortoiseshell buttons on the front.
   
   The pinnacle of my wearing experiences with this top was on a family vacation in Greece, where the picture above is taken. I was on the cusp of teendom while my sister — almost 5 years my elder — was fully bloomed. As was only right and proper, most of the young men we encountered on that holiday fell under my sister’s spell: she had edgy short cropped hair, a huge smile, sparkly eyes and a cheeky sense of humor. I was following in her wake, not yet old enough to warrant that type of attention but striving for je ne sais quoi none the less. In this top, I could imagine myself there: an alluring fully grown woman drinking wine, laughing with fully grown men, doing whatever it was that fully grown women in command of their bodies did. It was a fun adventure in my head while I picked at a feta salad and slurped lemon Fanta at dinner under the vines.
   
   To this day, I sometimes buy non essential decorative items like this top in the hope that it will conjure the same magic. It never does.

   

   AJ Lee in her Helmut Lang cocktail dress in the NY Public Library toilets back in 2015 (image courtesy of AJ Lee)
   

5. The Black Helmut Lang cocktail dress
   This one is a cheat on so many levels. One, I still have it in my closet. Two, I would never argue that Helmut Lang counts as high street, but I did find this dress at a consignment store in Brooklyn so it was not anywhere near its original price. And lastly, this genuinely is a classic piece of clothing, although it definitely has an early noughties sexiness to it, with one lace sleeve.
   
   If I could sum up all the glamor of living in New York for almost a decade in one item (not the scuzzy hardness the city also brings), this dress would be it. It is very early season Carrie Bradshaw. I wore it to perhaps the most quintessentially Manhattan event I’ve ever attended — the 100th anniversary party for Knopf publishing house, held at the New York public library. Patti Smith sang, Jay McInerney stood less than a meter away from me, and there were real live Borzoi dogs at the top of the steps when you entered. An older gentleman kept insisting that I was some published author he clearly had a crush on; I escaped to the toilets. We all piled on to Keanes after — me walking in pink satin heels, no biggie — and a German senior executive bought all the drinks.
   
   I later discovered I was pregnant that night, very early on with my first child. Oops. I like to think we were toasting him with all the sparkle of NYC.  

   
   Enjoy the weekend everybody. And never be ashamed of your fashion choices.