Last Tuesday morning I found myself; fashionably late for a client meeting; closet standing over a pile of clean laundry I’d been avoiding folding for three days. It was one of those mornings where you suddenly realise you have nothing to wear because all your good pairs of trousers are at the dry cleaner and all that’s left in your closet are …. things. Hence, the leggings.
Spandex leggings that date back to my days in business school; survived every wardrobe purge I’ve performed since; and are unquestionably low-rise and flared. Fast forward through kitten heels (because they were the only pair of shoes I had that matched and were clean) and an itty bitty blazer that doesn’t even reach my waist; and I’m hustling out the door praying no one at work will notice. Please lie to me and tell me I’m not the only person who does this.
Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong.
The second I ran into my coworker Sarah; whom works in our marketing department and has strong opinions about literally everything; by the lift she stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
“What are you wearing those leggings ironically?” And you guys?
I have no idea how to properly react when someone asks you that question. But here’s the deal; ever since Sarah asked me that I’ve noticed things.
Weird little details popping up everywhere that lead me to believe we as a society have entered into the period of time know as perfectly calibrated irony jeans wearing. People are wearing all of the things that were collectively agreed upon as terrible; seasons ago and somehow making it work. Not in an ironic way.
Not in a nostalgic way. Just in a really darn cool way that you can’t quite put your finger on but you know it when you see it. Case in point: peplum tops.
You know the torture device I’m talking about. Those poofy little mamma hackamamas that everyone wore to make themselves look like they had a skirt wrapped around their mid-section? Three separate women wore peplum tops last week and not one of them looked like they were channeling their inner 2012 fashion blogging shame.
One on the T, one at Whole Foods; one at a professional networking event. Each of these women wore some iteration of peplum and made it look unintentional and really damn interesting. And it’s not just peplum tops.
I’ve seen people rocking chevron print (yeah those ugly little zig zag lines that were on every.single thing for about a year), cold shoulder tops (jeez 2016 was way too hard on the shoulders), and those little vest things you used to wear over long sleeve shirts thinking it gave you some sort of.builder(builder?) vibe. I saw all of these things recently and what’s fascinating is that every single person who wore something that was very obviously and undeniably considered a fashion don’t was styling it in a way that couldn’t have worked when it was originally trendy. Like that blinged out peplum top I saw on someone walking to the liquor store last weekend.
She paired it with high wasted mum jeans and a sweatshirt. If you tried that combo when peplum dresses ruled the earth no one would’ve wore that out of the house, but because it was thrown together with something so opposite it caught your eye and made the peplum top feel avant-garde instead of outdated. After Sarah stopped me that morning I’ve been thinking a lot about this theory and trying to decode when and how it works.
Sure you can wear that chevron dress that you love; but if you wear it the exact same way that everyone else wore it in 2013 people aren’t going to think you’re pulling off some high fashion statement. They’re going to think you just didn’t realise that chevron was lame, LIKE, FOUR YEARS AGO. There has to be some level of intent that you display to clue people into the fact that you realise that’s totally a don’t and you’re wearing it anyways.
Last weekend I tried it out on accident. I’ve had this massive flow-y necklace that I bought years ago lounging around in my jewellery box; mocking me with its shame because 2014 was so not the year for amazing Tone Claire-esque necklaces draped down your boobies. Instead of wearing it the old way (with a jumper and skinny jeans omg remember those); I threw it over a simple black slip dress when I was grabbing drinks with some girlfriends.
Every single person I told thought it was crazy enough that they asked where I got it; when in reality it was probably thrifted at Goodwill around the time I bought it. Obviously contrast is key. You have to shake people’s knowledge of that garment up enough so that when they see you wearing that un-ironically awful trend they know you’re doing it knowingly.
Galaxy leggings were big for like.. a hot minute. But they look insanely different paired with a blazer and flats; than they did with an oversized jumper and combat boots when they were actually in style. I’ve been experimenting with all of these forgotten trends from my wardrobe lately.
Remember skinny belts? The not cute little leather ones but the ones that were literally strips of fabric people thought looked good wrapped around their jumper dresses at their waist? I recently wore one hanging low on my hips over a big oversized button down and it created this cool new silhouette that no one would confuse for Jenna Lyons circa 2009.
Same rules apply. My fashionable pal Maya who works in fashion PR (also and thank god way too stylish for me) broke it down for me when I ran this theory by her during a Monday morning text session: “think of it as insider knowledge. When you wear something that was deemed fashion suicide but style it in a way that couldn’t have possibly worked when it was popular; you’re showing people that you know what you’re doing.” She’s right.
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It is a secret inside fashion joke of sorts. But come on guys, dressing is already its own form of communication. Wearing something “wrong” on purpose right now is more fashionable than blindly following every trend that explodes on Instagram.
Buuuuut as with all things fashion there are certainly don’ts to this whole reclaimed trend theory. I learned that the hard way when I thought it’d be funny to wear wedge trainers; yes those Isabel Marant wannabe things that tried to make athletic trainers formal; with a dress to meet some friends for cocktails at a work event. I looked confused and loud; not cute and ironically futuristic like I was going for.
It took me awhile but I realised what I was missing was friction. Again that whole conversation thing. When you wear something that’s only styled one way because that’s how it’s trending; there’s no friction.
It looks like any other clothing item that anybody else would own. My wedge trainers were worn exactly how everyone wore them when they came out. There was no contrast.
No information for my brain to pick up that said “Ha! I own trainers with sleeves even though we all know that’s stupid!” So I tried again. This time wearing them with a minimal slip dress and no other accessories.
That bold shoe paired with that minimal dress created just enough of a clash that anyone who knew better could see that yes, I know these trainers don’t go with dresses. Yes, I’m wearing them with a dress anyway. And yes, that makes them kind of cute because I know what I’m doing.
If anything this trend of reclaiming old trends has changed how I feel about my closet. I’m no longer stressing when something goes out of style. Instead I’m hoarding all of my old clothes until they’ve reached peak weird so I can stylishly bring them back from the fashion dead.
That chevron jumper I hated having to pack away when Cubelette moved? You better bet your boom box is sitting in my closet mocking me until I decide to rock it again. There’s also something really freeing about wearing things people “know better.” No one can say your style doesn’t suit you when you’re purposely wearing the opposite of what’s popular.
Everyone likes to look good in their clothes; but when things come and go in the fashion world that gets stressful when you actually like things that go out of style. With this method I’ll never have to feel like I wasted all that money because the shoes I bought last season are too trashy to wear this season. And let’s be real, it’s also more sustainable.
I can afford to shop at nice stores; but that doesn’t mean I want to constantly spend money on things just because they go out of style. This way I get to extend the lives of pieces I actually love even if they don’t happen to be trendy at the moment. Okay I’m getting cheesy but sustainability rings true with this for me too.
We all know fast fashion and constant consumption is bad; but if we’ve already got the clothes in our closet why not find new ways to wear them? I’ll obviously still advocate buying less, but if you already own that chevron dress bringing it back “ironically” is the next best thing. Lastly I love that instead of everyone wearing similar clothes all of the time we can dig through our old clothes and find unique ways to make past blunders feel current.
It’s more fun and way more you than trying to fit into the Instagram filtered boxes everyone else has created for themselves. Of course I’m sure there are still guidelines. Peplum is a big tube shape that’s easy to spot.
Same with chevron because that print is so aggressive that styling it in a soft way is bound to create some friction. But what about platforms?!
Crop tops?!
Cold shoulder everything?!
Ugh I’m stress-ing over trends I know haven’t reached the revival phase yet. There’s still plenty of room to figure out this whole ironic wearing thing.
Anyway. To finish up about my ironically (?) not ironic leggings: I’ve since incorporated them into my daily wardrobe. Although, I promise not in the lofty ponytail-hiding way I wore them that morning.
I’ve been teaming them with oversized blazers and heavy boots lately. That too much fabric on top versus bottom combo creates just enough of a silhouette clash that people know those leggings aren’t being worn because they match my blouse. They’re being worn because I like them and I know what I’m doing.
Am I rocking “perfectly calibrated irony?” Maybe. Probably not. But I am rocking leggings from college as a trend statement and that has to count for something, right?
