He proudly wore a Longueuil haircut, a full mustache and a neon-patterned parachute fabric windbreaker, cinched in by a matching fanny pack. Let’s just say it didn’t go unnoticed. I noticed it through the window of my neighborhood hardware store. A young man who seemed straight out of a K-Way ad in 1984.
It almost could have been Sonny, minus the mullet haircut and mustache. Her wardrobe resembles mine in the early 1980s, like many young people her age who buy their clothes in thrift stores, at Renaissance or at the Village des Valeurs.
Retro fashion is tenacious. Cotton swaddle is still popular. White sports shoes and itou high-waisted jeans. Would miss more than the teenagers ironically cause the return of the Jordache no pocket.
Sonny’s room is overflowing with second-hand clothes. T-shirts bought for a pittance, jackets at a discount, pants sold for a tenth of the initial price. I agree that the fact of recycling clothes is ecological, thanks to the saving in water, energy and transport. But are you helping save the planet when you pay $10 for a sweater you hardly ever wear because there are 20 others in your dresser?
I was asking myself this question while reading the excellent file of my colleague Valérie Simard, who took up the challenge of not buying any new clothes for herself and her son for a year.
Not to brag, but for the first two years of the pandemic, I didn’t buy any clothes myself either. I even wore a very limited number of clothes. Jogging pants, two alternating jeans for the rare outings of the house, a black t-shirt and a gray hoodie, always the same, which will be forever associated with COVID-19.
I have no great merit. I rarely buy clothes except when I’m travelling, and I haven’t traveled for two years. Meeting this challenge was much easier at the height of the pandemic, when we were more or less confined, than for a year, as Valérie did.
I would also dare to say that, as a general rule and for all sorts of reasons which relate both to social pressure and to the image of women conveyed in advertising and the media, it is less of a challenge for a man.
I haven’t suffered from not buying new clothes for two years. I never wondered if my colleagues or my friends had noticed that I was wearing the same shirt or t-shirt as the day before. My closet is filled with shirts, t-shirts and jeans that are identical: the same color, the same size, the same brand.
Anyway, my colleagues have other fish to fry. Two of them wore the same sweater and gray t-shirt to the office for a month, while reporting in 2016, without anyone noticing. Perhaps we overestimate the attention that those around us pay to our clothing?
A reflection is necessary with the “return to normal” of the last few months, which encourages us to catch up with the consumption rate of the pre-pandemic period. Our collective resolutions for voluntary simplicity suddenly seem to have taken the edge off, like our yearly promises to hit the gym after March.
I understand the weariness and, for some, downright depression, of always being dressed the same way. Even I, who am far from a fashion card, can no longer see my pandemic gray kangaroo in paint. I wanted to burn it in a bonfire to ward off the bad memories of COVID-19.
I’m far from being a compulsive buyer, but I’m not immune to a good deal. Did I ever brag that I found this shimmering gray-green corduroy blazer on sale for just $15? At least a hundred times, my boys would say.
I still have to face the facts: I have far too many clothes that I no longer wear. They’ve been piling up in my closet for years. Shirts with threadbare collars, pants that had become too tight, sweaters that I had forgotten existed. Although I know that in principle you can wear jeans for weeks without washing them, I own more than ever. A spag sauce stain arrived so quickly…
There was a time when I only bought new shoes when I had worn out the ones I was wearing. Now, my many sports shoes clutter the entrance to the house … almost as much as Sonny’s.
“You bought yourself some running shoes again with a beautiful color! he quipped when I returned from New York at Easter. They are orange. Pulling on the fluo. But I got them at an unbeatable price.