New Year’s resolutions, at least, my New Year’s resolutions, generally fall into two categories: financial and physical. They’ve been the same, and pathologically unresolved, since about 2006. Do more, but spend less.
Nevertheless, as with most of what I do, their chief causes, and effects, hinge on matters sartorial. Doing more will, hopefully, make my waistline less. Meaning I can wear more. Or perhaps less – I have been reasoning for several months that I’d like to cram myself into one of the natty neoprene romper-suits that Raf Simons proposed at his menswear show back in June. But baring a thigh is nothing to jump into unprepared.
The spending less aspect, however, is slightly more difficult. It’s actually mostly about spending less irresponsibly. I’m lucky that, bar my pet rabbit, I have no financial dependants. Which means an inordinate amount of my income is funnelled into my attire. The trouble arises when said attire never actually ends up on your back. “Did you get the Comme Des Garçons jackets with the bows?” I was excitedly emailed. I didn’t, because, beautiful as it was, I doubt I would ever have worn it. The same goes for springtime follies, such as the aforementioned romper-suit, or Prada’s wonderful Hawaiian prints. They’re starting to trickle into shops already, and there’s a pang of lust every time I see them. I want to own them.
Own them, but not necessarily wear them. Which is the dichotomy of my wardrobe. It may be packed with leopard prints and hot-pink mohair, but as much as I love it all, half of it ends up never being worn.
There’s an undeniable thrill to simple ownership, to hoarding. But my fashion resolution this year is to buy less, but more wisely. A good black cashmere coat will probably do me a better service, in the long run, than a Prada Aloha shirt.