The general purpose of this blog, as separate from my
design blog, is to document the twenty third year of my life as I attempt to either make, thrift, or alter some combination of the two all of my clothes. Several reasons I decided to embark on this challenge consist of:
money
(from my own design work I know that I can make that dollar table fabric go for miles, and I am a master of amazing thrift store finds [$3 st. john jeans, hello!])
design challenge
(this is twofold: being out of school, I don't have much reasons to be patternmaking all the time, so its an exercise to keep from getting rusty, and as I am shaped like Joan Holloway not Kate Moss, it will give me practice in pattern grading and force me to work outside of the size 2 comfort zone I've been in for the past 4 years)
identity crisis
(crisis isn't exactly the best word, I more or less got over that before my autumnal birthday. I can concretely say I haven't developed my own personal style for pretty much my whole life, having been more focused on my education in the past 4 years, and before that I attended private catholic schools for 13 years, so I was always in a uniform. For my years in college, it was a total mismash of styles, from godawful clusterfuck for freshman and sophomore year that consisted of awkward combinations on what I considered to be casual having not learned what that was in my teen years via my entire life in uniform, to junior year's startoff as a preview of Joan Holloway and the Mad Men look [whenever i'm ahead of the trend its just odd] which quickly descended into my mohawk wearin, fixed gear riding hipster scumbag [+2 tattoos] look by the end of spring semester, to senior year's flip flop between cosby sweaters and mom jeans to the early pinpricks of what I began to see as my style.
Beginning in the last few months of school, I began to treat my longrunning battle with ADD/ADHD, which we all know is a way to get annorexic fast, but I'm going to defend myself to this point. Its been nine months now that I've been on this medication, and I haven't turned into skin and bones or become some drug addicted shell of my former self. If anything, being able to stop the continuous cascade of bouncey balls flying around in my head led me to determine what is my style as a designer, to loose all the clutter and mess that had caused me so much anger as an artist for my entire life. Subjects that I had long struggled to show genuine interest in suddenly were all I could think of, something as mundane seeming as mid century modern product design details was a subject I can now spend hours at a time researching. I returned to my love of literature that I lost some point in high school. This change in my head not only facilitated the change in my work, it changed my view of myself as style.
So lets face it, I am an introvert to the core. Unless it is with my closest friends or I am inebriated, I am in absolute discomfort to appear extroverted. Schmoozing, mingling, whatever you want to call it, though nessecary for this industry I have chosen to enter, is my absolute nightmare. Equally I have figured out that I can never work a job in retail, that social interaction/trickery is just beyond my capacity. But I can do it, I can make myself go up to people and converse with them in that fluid manner that makes one the center of attention. But be sure the whole time i'm just thinking about either sewing in my apartment or riding my bike somewhere. So what I'm getting at here is that I have never been one to step outside of the bounds on what I wear. I have always tried to be concervative at best with my clothes, or mundane as possible, mostly because I either was too busy with school to care or because I have a horrible body image issue.
Yeah, when I bitch and moan about being fat, I have full reason to have some serious baggage with that. I'm not one of those girls who has always been a size 6 and will probably never sway from that for most of her life. I distinctly remember being in 5th grade and be told that I was so fat I was going to be named the next national park. The ADHD part of my attention issues is that after about an hour or so of sitting and working on the detail oriented works I create, I literally HAVE to get up, run around and then stick something in my mouth. As a kid, it was food. And as a kid, you don't notice these things, when every hour you eat two oreos. But when you eat two oreos every hour for about twelve hours plus your meals of the day, and add in a solitary and increasingly sedintary lifestyle, it didn't go well. I remember being 180lbs in the 6th grade. That was my worst, certainly. It was bad. And I worked down from there, mostly settling around a size 12 or so for most of high school. Senior year of highschool sucked. Just flat out sucked. And the stress of that dropped me down to a size 8 for almost a year. But then college came and.....oops freshman 15 came along. I bounced back up to a 12, which I couldn't get out of for about 3 years. Then I started my love affair with biking. It was a whim, a joke almost. I was terrified to ride in the street, had no idea where I was going outside of Chicago's loop, and couldn't imagine how anyone could ride outside of the few decent months of summer. As with perhaps the one other instance of it in my life, it was as if Cupid shot me with that arrow and it was just not coming out.
I didn't really loose any weight from the biking at first, but once I flipped that back hub on that first bike to the fixed gear side, I noticed a change in my body start to occur. The fat parts of my shape turned to muscle. I was the same size, but these garments sat on me differently. I had always hated my legs my entire life. Long I had loathed the summer months when I was either stuck sweating like a pig in pants or looking like some social moron wearing bermuda shorts because I did not want anyone to see the stretchmarks scarring my thighs. About one year of riding consistently about 75 to 150 miles a week changed that. A whole new world of short shorts suddenly opened up to me. As I wrapped up my undergraduate degree, I moved south of the city, and then ironically got a job on the north side of the city. It was no question that I would bike the commute, it was a difference of nearly 30 minutes between cycling and mass transit, as well as free and exercise. By the time mid summer rolled around, the size 8 jeans I had bought that winter would not stay up on my ass while I was riding even with an undershirt and shirt tucked in and a belt on. This was the first time in my life I became aware of being bony, of being muscular.
As of currently, I fall around about a size 6, give or take who you're asking. I'm not one to really be all that into the size freakout thing so many women are apt to fall into. A lot of this has to deal with being healthy. You know those questions about your family's medical history you have to check off at the doctors? All those horrible diseases and conditions? Yeah, I just check them ALL. Its all in my genes, little land mines waiting to go off. So when I say "crisis" as far as identity goes, I see that if I don't get a well shaped identity together now, down the road there could be negative consequences as far as my health. I want to live past 50, despite all medical predictions otherwise. Wait, change that, I want to live past 50 and be healthy, physically and mentally. So all in all this means to me a lot more than just a challenge on the design front, its much more a personal stake on who I am as a whole.
And while we're on the topic of identity issues, I'm going to point out the big huge elephant in the room. I'm about as feminist as Ayn Rand, actually upon reading Atlas Shrugged I couldn't help but be elated that there was a woman after my own heart out there and it wasn't just me. So I've never been comfortable in what's generally contemporary womenswear, ie "trixie or mainstream" fashions via Forever21, Abercrombie, or Old Navy and the like. This goes back to spending my awkward and fat adolescence in a uniform. Its this trifecta of no personal style. As an adult, especially as I began to shape up my body through biking, I found myself with an hourglass figure. As of currently, I have the same measurements as the immortal icon of pinup sex, Marilyn Monroe. And thank god for Mad Men, as much as some people crab about it. Those people made it socially acceptable again for a woman to be the shape that, up until the late sixties with the whole counter culture uprising that crowned Twiggy as their queen, was the ideal. Because let me tell you, it sucks being the "fat friend" when you go out with girlfriends, especially once I became old enough to go out to bars. And that's another level to this idenitity thing, because I haven't had the best history with relationships, and there's this big whole jumble in my head that messed up how I deal with the difference between love and sex and all that. So seeing guys literally line up to try to take home all the girls with the bodies of 12 year old boys when I knew I'd go home alone was a real blow to seeing myself as beautiful. I cut off all my hair, even down to a mohawk for a short time, and with biking, I stopped wearing skirts and heels and makeup. For a time, in school, I just didn't care what I looked like. And this went back to reflect on my mood. Quite frankly, the friends who stuck with me through that time are saints, I was one hell of a pain in the ass, and alcohol added to that equation didn't equall the best behavior on my part.
If you're still here on this ramble of mine, we're almost done, so bear[bare?] with me. A lot of failed attempts at relationships I've stumbled accross in my life thus far ended with being told that "I can't love another person until I can love myself". Dealing with all the baggage I've got, this wasn't exactly what I ever wanted to hear, and would always flip out about how much I thought it was a bunch of BS. One day, I woke up and realized that it was the truth, it was the truth about ME, not them. These things all came to the epiphany about the same time, and this is my attempt at being the most narcisistic I can be, because there is a difference between being alone because I am miserable and continue to stew in it, and being alone because I'm happy with myself and don't feel a need to cling onto anyone else to validate my existence.
So this whole being happy with myself state of mind means that I have thrown out the convientions that I've relied on my whole life as far as my wardrobe was concerned. Things that I never dreamed of wearing before because I thought other people would be judging me like they did when I was younger when the words sliced me apart, suddenly I just don't give a damn and I'll wear them because they make me feel awesome. Quirky is a bad word to put to it because that sounds like the shortcut to rapidly becoming a crazy cat lady, but I enjoy the many layers of styles I can put together. The weight loss was what spurred most of this because the staples I had relied on for years suddenly had to be discarded as they were several sizes too big, and I had this new shape to show off to my peers that were now also gaining new interests in. The photography part of this whole project is about showing my journey into this love of myself, I feel like the more I grow this relationship, the more the change becomes apparent in this second skin, which then ultimately reflects in my designs because my mind is free of any emotional static. Seeing a daily log of what looks I wear also lets me run trial and error, as well as try to force myself out of a rut, ie this blue herringbone cardigan you're going to see WAAAAY too much of for the beginning.
END CATHARSIS
begin eco-friendly bs, then onto photos
if you've made it this far, pat yourself on your exceptionally patient back)
the whole eco-friendly, sustainible schpiel
(when i found out just what the carbon footprint of one new tshirt is, even at say Walmart or Target, more specifically at mass market inexpensive places like h&M and Forever 21, I was exceptionally appalled. Given the economic crisis we've been in for over a year now, suddenly it didn't make sense to be sending the money that I was now earning in my first post bacheloriate employment to other countries, especially when you take into consideration the whole sweat shop labor thing as well. Being a fashion designer, I look back at these vintage garments I hunt down, and so many of them have tags in them proudly declaring that they were union made in America using American made textiles. I'm not going to get all bald eagle with a star spangled rocket shoved up its ass coming to drop a democratic shit bomb all over your ass, but that being said, I'd rather support American buisnesses and American designers, because it doesn't just mean i'm supporting that one label with my purchase.
So here's my big exception to buying any new garment between september 28th 2009 and september 27th 2010: American Apparel. God I loathed those pornographic ads for the longest time in the depths of my self loathing, but then I actually did the research on their business model [and we're going to skim over the sexual harassment lawsuits and feminist backlash here because that's got to do with a whole nother barrel of monkeys that I have no interest in playing with]. Its all American made. We're not just talking about the sewing. We're talking the whole kit'n kaboodle here, from the freakin cotton bolls [totally random, i remember that terminology for the most absolutely wrong reasons] chillin out bein all puffy, to the spinning, to the weaving, to the pattern making, to the advertising, to the designing. You know what that spells? JOBS. Jobs for Americans, and we need that right now. I know i'd cream in my pants to get my hands on an Alexander Mcqueen dress, but that's not money gonig to Americans, so right now I'd have to pass. But don't just think about the thousands of people employed by the company themselves. Think about the farmers growing the fibers for the textiles. Think about the people who work to create the synthetics, all the people who work with the chemicals that go together to make those fabrics, and what sort of industry that is. Think about all the people who work to transport those materials to LA to be turned into garments. Then think about all the rakishly ironic hipsters who are employed at all the stores, who then make it appealing to buy more of the product. Then think about the garment sewers themselves. They're getting paid at least minimum wage. That aint bad considering one hour here in the apple pie face stuffin, baseball drunkfest of america, is more than they would make working a whole week in horrendous conditions in some third world country. I'm not going to get into immigration issues here because that would skew my own bias on it, but by supporting an American business like that, and not buying something at walmart made by a 12 year old girl in indonesia who's chained to a sewing machine in 105 degree heat for 14 hours a day instead of going to school and becoming educated so that the next generation of that country can get out of being in the third world, its going to benefit all of us. Because if our economy can get back up to speed, and we can realize we need to get back to those ethics that the good ol' Leave it to Beaver-esque 50's had on American produced goods, then we'll have more money in the cumulative American wallet to use to help those third world countries get out of being so impovershed.
So here's where you call me out on some bs. "but kc, how can you say you're supporting american business if you're not buying any clothes?" to which i say "stfu, i'm getting to that." I am not buying new things, with the exceptions of 1. American Apparel and similar made in USA products 2. panties, socks, and bras, because unless they're from the aforementioned company, i'm not buyin that used, and as a size 34D, its damn near impossible to find a bra that keeps these puppies in line, especially being a cyclist, so i gotta take what i can get in that department and 3. shoes since i can't make them, but when at all possible, i will buy used.
And when I say thrifted, I try to buy from places that put the money back into charity. So Salvation Army is a no brainer....you get the picture. Sorry super cute vintage shoppes that are popping up all over pilsen like lumberjack beards on gaunt hipster boys. Plus those places tend to jack up the prices more than i'd like to spend. Ultimately this is supposed to SAVE me money as I will hopefully be waltzing into my masters program by the time i'm blowing out those twenty four candles. And the great thing about these vintage garments is just the quality of construction, which brings me back full circle to this being a design exercise as well. The general public just doesn't seem to realize how awful things are put together these days. Here's where we get back to the whole Mad Men era, made in America, good quality that's made to last kind of stuff, people. Say you buy a button down shirt from h&m, not to point fingers at any one retailer, that's just a common denominator I can relate with, it could be GAP, or whatever, for like $15. Its going to A, be poor quality fabric so that's going to wear out really fast, and B, be sewn horribly [remember our girl back in indonesia? she's not all that concerned with proper garment construction, more like getting raped on her way home or just having a home to go back to]. So that shirt will last you about 6 months or so depending on how you wear and care for it. I've got garments that were made back when my grandmothers were my age, back when women were women, not just T&A spectacles via Lindsey Lohan & Co., and these things don't have a hem dropped or a button missing. There's no shortcuts taken on them as far as fabric or sewing techniques go, so they last. Do I have to take a little extra care with hand washing that silk crepe blouse from 1947 from Marshall Fields or getting some delicate cashmere and angora beaded cardigan dry cleaned instead of being able to just pop it in some mega huge washer dryer combo? Yes, i do, but that's where being a freakin fashion designer comes in to play. I don't mind because I cherish these things as both product design and fine art. Also I work as a tailor at one of the most high end dry cleaners in chicago [i'm not gonna tell you if you don't know me personally] so I can get dry cleaning done on the cheap, but still know that its not just getting chucked in with a bunch of cheapey dress shirts from cubicle drones.
One more thing about wearing vintage, as a woman, especially as a woman with the shape Dior would die for in 1947; sizing of garments was different once upon a time. Much different. For those hipsters out there who have decided to go the Mad Men [additionally much <3 to Tom Ford for not only the perfume that i cover myself in despite being told once that i smelled like a grandma, but for making A Single Man and continuing to widen the general appeal for women to dress appropriately and men to put on a tie and jacket] route, and get beyond the bad 80's retro kooky neon thing we've been in for a few years, you ladies have probably come across a problem: you love this dress you just found in the back of Village Discount Outlet, but it says its a size 12, but holding it up to yourself, that' aint a size 12 ,more like a size 4. Back in the day, women's garments had a whole different scale for what a size was. And there was consistencey! Yes, consistent sizes, i know it sounds too good to be true! Once upon a time, a size 10 was a size 10 wherever you went because there was a standard for what the bust, waist, and hips were for each size. Today, this is true of menswear generally. If you want to go buy a suit, its not a size 10 you're looking for, its a size 38 chest. Depending on the style of the garment itself, that's going to affect the fit, but the sloper that that garment's pattern was based off of is gong to be for a 38 chest. This is because laws were passed that mandated standards for the industry. These laws were not enacted for womenswear.
Now someone back in the 70's came up with a little marketing gimic as the sizes themselves of American women were starting to go on the rise, when at the same time the idealized beauty icon passed from that of ms. monroe to that of Twiggy and her giraffe bretheren. They took the numbers and effectively cut them in half. And as time went on, more and more designers were cheating this system to increase profits as we went into the more and more body image clusterfuck that we've arrived at today, which you can now go back and re-read my whole body image issues part because its all gotta do with this notion that "pretty" has to be a size 0. Well guess what, there's no size 0, or bs like a size 00. Cut the damn size out of your clothes if you get that obsessed with the numbers. So for me, being that I've got the body of those pinup girls that all those hipsters [and while i seem like i may be ragging on the "hipster" crowd right now, realize that i've already mentioned that I have tattoos, went to liberal arts college having rebelled out of catholic school, and ride a fixed gear, so its really more like a lovingly self mocking thing] have inked on somewhere in their full sleeve/chestpiece/wtf thigh tattoo, its much more comfortable for me to just buy clothes that fit right rather than try to shove all 34D of these tatas into a shirt patterned for what's effectively a stick, which then leaves my teeny tiny waist floating around with like 10" extra fabric; or if i try to fit for my waist, then my wide hips which are my genetic fertility advertisements [also HELLLLLLLLLLL NOOOOOOO] make that fabric look like crap. I was always afraid to wear vintage garments because they don't look like stuff that's made these days and would thus make me be a target of mockery, as well as highlight my incorrect for the times body shape. But these times have passed, and together with all of my reasons [i'm like motha effin captain planet here] I'm ready to charge forward with this whole thing)
So:
Since I began taking photos mostly daily in October, there's an obvious backlog. I'll throw up a few photos a day until I catch up to the current date, at which point I'll be trying to post the outfit of the day, time permitting. I'm not expecting thousands of followers, or any at all really. This is a personal journey, and as I've seen other people do more extravagent ideas and share online, I felt that since I was inspired by these others to start this, maybe if I can even get one other person going on their own thing be it in any one of my reasonings, things could get rollin from there, that whole pass it on kinda deal. In the least, its a diary of sorts because I'm a firm believer in you are what you wear. And I'm not just a one dimensional character like the people I was once so afriad of being mocked by, so get ready for some strange concoctions, and goofy poses, as i'm not just one to sit around and take the freakin yearbook portrait each day. There may be field notes i stick in from time to time, there may just be pictures. I'm all for goin with the flow here, so hop on this boat with me and lets see where this river is goin (hopefully not towards say, Victoria falls or Asian Carp-ville)
ready, set, (nervous pause that makes that one second seem like a lifetime to the racers waiting for the gun) GO!
