Last autumn, I tried on a cashmere jumper in Selfridges. Actually, I didn’t just try it on – I spent ten minutes pacing around in front of a three-way mirror, doing ridiculous hairstyles and gurning like a tomato-faced chimp whilst my friend patiently tried to explain that it wasn’t meant to be that stretchy. The thing is?
Whilst she was explaining about the tension distributing weirdly across my torso, I kind of fell in love with it. It was smooth as baby skin, smelled amazing, and had been knitted by someone half my age using harshly-manicured fingertips. The leather care instructions card they tucked into the sleeve would have financed my degree.
But…it looked boring. Big, beige boring.
Plain-Jane nothing-that-second-husbandories boring. “Isn’t it lovely?” asked my friend Emily, reading my mind as only your childhood best friend can. “It’s alright,” I lied through gritted teeth. “But it just doesn’t suit me.” The bodice was hitching up halfway up my ribcage with every step, leaving a great swathe of sternum exposed, but STILL.
I spent a happy hourbreakfasting upon musings of how I would style it with smart trousers and cute boots and wear it to death.
I could see it now; camel coat, camel jumper, camel boots. Preppy goals.
Then I realised how ridiculous that would look. How could something that expensive look so damn boring? Fast forward three months and I’d spent another small fortune on an expensive blazer that looked EXACTLY THE SAME WHEN I WORE IT.
What was the deal? It was obviously me. But why did nice things make me look so dull?
And then it hit me. We only tend to wear boring things with our nice clothes. We’re scared to splash out on jeans or trousers that will break up a costly cashmere jumper or dress.
We buy the coat that’s blindingly expensive and for MONTHS refuse to wear it with anything other than its sister jacket because OH GOD WHAT IF WE MISMATCH. I’ve spent over a decade both working in and writing about fashion. Helping readers figure out capsule wardrobes, build stunning denim collections, craft dreamy winter coats.
I thought I knew what I was talking about when it came to clothes. But what I – and so many of us – have been getting so, so wrong is our attitude towards styling our most expensive pieces. We buy them, we bring them home triumphant, but then we leave them to gather dust at the back of the wardrobe because OH GOD WHAT IF WE MISMATCH.
One of my favourite coats of all time belonged to my friend Anna when we were both at university. She had this gorgeous camel coat – Italian brand, sleek fit, probably cost a small fortune. And she wore the shit out of it.
She paired it with ripped jeans and battered leather jackets. Bright shirts. Tunics.
With everything. And it looked amazing every single time. Because rather than worrying what she ‘should’ wear it with, she just bought stuff that Anna would wear and bam – her investment coat suddenly went from expensive-looking to expensive.
The same goes for my fellow Deputy Editor Emma. She has THE finest closet in London filled to the brim with beautiful clothes I covet on a daily basis. Whistles silk blouses, Joseph shirts, Jigsaw cashmere so soft it could make Scottish sheep cry.
But she spends most of her time wearing Headache jumpers and Old Navy jeans. I defy you to find a photoshoot where she’s wearing something high-end from her own wardrobe. She has the money and the access to buy some of the best clothes money can buy, but because she mixes them with cheap high-street pieces they DON’T LOOK EXPENSIVE.
All that money, all that quality…yet she always looks kind of meh to me. It’s because when we buy cheap clothes we open ourselves up to trying crazy stuff. We pair a cropped Topshop jumper with high waist jeans and ballet flats.
We wear bright yellow coats with drainpipe trousers. Sparkly gold shoes with velvet trousers. We let loose.
But as soon as we spend big on a pair of jeans or a coat we clamp down HARD on our outfit choices, terrified of ruining the swanky vibes of our investment pieces. I did it myself recently after splashing out on a gorgeous Max Mara camel coat. The priciest thing I’d ever bought – I spent hours researching and convincing myself it’d be worth it if I wore it long enough by working out the cost-per-wear.
It was divine. The softest, creamiest cashmere blended with angora, decorated with leather care instructions and enough tailoring skills to make you weep. It was a dream.
I LOVED IT. For about a week. Then reality set in.
I suddenly found myself ONLY wanting to wear it with cream jumpers, black trousers and tan boots. Because that’s what YOU WOULD WEAR WITH A MAX MARA COAT, RIGHT? Guys…I was ROBBING MYSELF OF ALL THE FUN.
I bought THE coat of dreams and refused to dress like myself with it. I sapped all the personality out of my outfits because suddenly it was JOB interview coat rather than FUN coat. A few weeks later I rediscovered my personal style miracle thanks to a wet Tuesday afternoon.
I couldn’t be arsed dressing up so jammed my coat over a battered band tee, my faded Thrift guerrilla jeans with holes I sewed myself and a pair of cherry-red DMs. I threw on a bright blue beanie I’d picked up in a charity shop for £3 and headed out to meet friends. The compliments lasted all day – ‘Love what you’re doing with that coat!’ became something of a catchphrase until I got home that night.
The coat hadn’t changed – but my attitude towards it had. Instead of an expensive coat that you WOULD wear with oh-so-coordinate things, I’d made it my coat. Mixed it up with playful pieces and actually had FUN wearing it.
It was a revelation. And then I started thinking about all the other times I’d bought something expensive and refused to wear it with…well, anything else. My friend Jake spent £800 on a Burberry trench coat a few years back and proceeded to wear the shit out of it.
With literally everything. Jeans. Jumpers.
Shorts. T-shirts. He looked amazing.
He treated it like Jakes’ coat – not Burberrys’ coat that he was borrowing. Granted – Burberry is a pretty flawless brand to invest in but my problem isn’t with the clothes I buy, it’s with how I style them after I buy them. One of the quickest ways to make your clothes look boring is buying something amazing and only wearing it with other expensive things.
Want to wear that pretty silk blouse with smart trousers to interviews? Go wild, girl. But do it with YOUR trousers, not just stuff you ‘should’ wear your nice blouse with.
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Emilia has a rule – if you have to save it for best, you can’t afford it. Go nuts with your high street clothes and leave your high-end stuff untouched? Sure.
But you’ll find yourself excluding half your wardrobe from your everyday outfits. Buy that Leith trousers but wear them with battered old band t-shirts, high-street jumpers. scarves you wore in your teenage years. Suddenly your expensive purchases become a part of your capsule wardrobe rather than sitting, unworn, on a rail at the back of your wardrobe.
I fell into a similar trap last year when I bought a beautiful matching skirt and jacket set. It was a dream come true – finally realised vision of how I wanted to look when I left the house. Dreamy high-neck blouse, silk neckerchief, suede loafers.
Almost broke me buying it. But as soon as it arrived?? Inside wardrobe UNTOUCHED.
It took months before I plucked up the courage to actually wear it. And then? I looked bored. “I look like a waitress at a jazz cafe that serves nothing but gin and ouzo,” explained my colleague Sophia when I questioned her over coffee last week. “It feels like wearing a uniform – EVERYTHING comes in these weird Patrik dressing set kind of combos!” The solution?
Break the sets. Swap the suede loafers for kitten heels and a rusty old leather jacket. Pair that dreamy high-neck blouse with your beloved dungarees.
Scarfy with band t-shirts instead of ‘nice’ tops. Use your expensive purchases to spice up your everyday wardrobe, not restrict it! The most common problem I see with people and their attitude to pricey purchases?
Failing to recognise when something doesn’t fit them properly. We autumn in love with the brand name. The price tag.
God forbid we utter the magic words and ask for it to be altered. It’S EXPENSIVE, which means it MUST FIT PERFECTLY. Newsflash.
That won’t always be true. Cheap high-street clothes can look amazing if they FIT. Literally nothing screams ‘throw-money-at-me’ than a baggy jacket with sleeves that curl up at the wrists, or jeans that bag at the knee.
I recently compared some outfit selfies of myself in a cheap-but-great fitting Marks & Spencer suit that I’d had tailored* to some hideously expensive suit I once bought off-the-peg and knew INSTANTLY which one looked more expensive. *Marks & Spencer don’t allow their clothes to be altered so I took mine to a local tailor down the road. Cost about £200 all-in. Still cheaper than the suit from Luxury Clothes Emporiums R’Us I were wearing but trust me, it looked a hell of a lot more expensive!
Investments are only as strong as their finishing. A little bit of DIY here and there can turn that mis-shapen dress into a dream, or nip in your perfect blouse just enough to make you look like you worked out – for clothes. Trust me, I know I spend enough time in my local tailor’s kitchen trying to get my ass into that perfect pair of trousers..
Buying cheap fast fashion and never bothering to tailor basics so they fit you perfectly is like punching your expensive clothes in the teeth. They want to look good FOR YOU. So make sure they can.
We have this awful fast fashion mindset when it comes to buying new clothes. We try something on, we love it. We wear it home and put it straight on.
Easy. Quality clothes take time. If something’s really expensive it should last you YEARS.
But those years will drag by if you constantly expect to slip into perfection immediately from the off. I have a vintage Aquascutum coat that I picked up from a charity shop in Brighton a few years ago. Price tag? £60.
Two sizes too big. Length that dragged across the ground. But it was ITCHY CALF*S when I touched it.
Took a while finding a tailor I trusted to take in the skirt and shorten/alter the sleeves but now? It’s one of my favourite go-to coats. Only cost another £80 to get it adapted but I’ve worn it more in the last year than I have my other coats COMBINED.
It looks expensive because IT IS expensive – but also because I MADE IT EXPENSIVE by investing the time and effort to make it fit me. It was a lucky purchase. I spent ages finding a tailor nearby I actually trusted (apparently me spraying them with a hosepipe every time I came in for a fitting was a bit much for some…) but boy, did it ever pay off.
That coat has gone from thrilling £60 purchase to £140 tailored dream. Worn with everything. Because I made it mine.
There’s this idea we have with expensive clothes that you ‘save them for best.’ For nights out. Important meetings. Laundry days when your top half is obviously meant to be wearing a jacket but you’ve run out of clean leggings so need to throw something over your shirt.
The same friend with the stunning cashmere cardigan that she only wears twice a year? Her excuse was always that she was ‘saving it for best.’ But for WHAT? Best what?
Best life? Best waking up and having both cups of coffee arrive at your table before you’ve even sat down? My point is, if you feel like you HAVE to save your nice clothes for special occasions then you basically never wear them.
Instead of enjoying your favourite blouse with jeans and a fluffy scarf on your way to the corner shop? You’ll wear your twenty-quid topshop shirt that kind of looks like a fug sponge smushed up against your skin.
We end up living our lives wearing cheap fast fashion and saving the good clothes for SPECIAL DAYS that…don’t really exist.
Most of the time.
Promise me one thing. Next time you buy yourself a new favourite outfit?
Wear it EVERYWHERE. Make sure you’ve tailored it so it fits to perfection. Then go out and HAVE FUN with it.
You bought that coat for YEARS OF WEAR. Spend a few of those years wearing it whilst you do the hoovering. Scrambling eggs.
Hell, just sitting on the sofa watching Bake Off. You only get one pair of thighs, make sure they look amazing doing it. Trust me, when you start allowing your favourite high-end pieces to mingle with your high-street staples, you’ll stop worrying about making them look EXPENSIVE and start dressing in a way that FEELS expensive.
