Liking Designers vs. Liking Good Clothes
PC: Florré
The best compliment a friend ever gave me was, “I like that I never know where your clothes are from.” While she likely didn’t even mean it as a compliment, to me it felt like a solid pat on my ego.
I had just hunted down a Tod’s Bauletto bag, which had been sitting in my mental wishlist for years. I couldn’t justify splurging over $3k on the item, but by the miraculous workings of the shopping gods, I found it for $900 at Woodbury Outlet.
It’s a bag I saw online once and remained fixated on. I didn’t care that everyone was buying Dior, Chanel, or Louis Vuitton. I didn’t care that up until that point, I never looked twice at Tod’s. What I cared for was the Bauletto’s specific design—the pebbled leather in espresso, the unique fastener, the spacious canvas interior… it spoke to me. It felt like me. I needed it.
Tod’s Bauletto Bag
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to beautiful clothes. It gave me a bit of a reputation for being vain in my family, as no one else in my household particularly cared for such things. We once had a robber break into our home, and from the way he threw an empty jewelry box onto the floor—a gift my mother never used—we could tell he was frustrated by the lack of expensive items in our otherwise spacious house.
I was still young then and unable to buy my own valuables. I sometimes wonder if that same robber broke into my apartment, would he take my St. Agni heels? Would he recognize the value of a Pre-Spring 2020 Bottega Veneta skirt? I wonder…
It would be a lie to claim that I don’t care about designers. But more than a specific brand, I care deeply about beautiful, well-made clothes, and it just so happens to be that designers are typically the ones who create them. And if one designer consistently makes clothes I gravitate towards, then I can confidently state that I like that designer.
It’s been a saving grace in the age of social media. I’m not easily influenced, so even if something is trending, you likely won’t catch me hopping on the bandwagon unless it truly speaks to me. Case in point: as much as I adore and praise Matthieu Blazy’s Chanel, I don’t like it enough to buy in (at least not the bags… the shoes, maybe…).
Rather than look at the logo, the first thing that catches my eye is the item itself. Jil Sander consistently uses high-quality materials, for example. A white dress is never just a white dress—it’s got hidden buttons at the front and subtle pleating at the back, making it a one-of-a-kind piece that Zara could never.
You know you like good clothes when you realize a lot of the more affordable brands make stunning items, too. A lot of designers are grossly marking up their bags and shoes, when you can get equally beautiful items in the $300 to $900 range.
It should never be about a status, a symbol, or the wish for recognition. If you love clothes, if you love good design, you would be able to shop without ever looking at the label. Every item you purchase should feel like a reflection of your soul, an extension of your personality. It should communicate pieces of you without the need for words.
Designers have the budget and the talent to create some of the best clothes in the world, so there is no shame in liking them. The distinction lies in whether you’re drawn to the name—or to the piece itself.
