Getting fly is a ritualistic endeavour pursued by fashion enthusiasts across the stylistic spectrum. It’s personal, it’s theatrical, and in some cases — it’s spiritual. There are the designer devotees who swear by capital-F fashion exclusively, the thrift-bin legends who operate as if retail doesn’t exist, and the streetstyle savants who spend more time on Depop and GRAILED than Zoom and Slack.
But the connective tissue that joins all of these sub-genres is a respect for the power and process of getting dressed.
Within all of these categories and methods of dress, the social media-savvy have found a way to build platforms and, in many cases, full careers based on their propensity for building world-class wardrobes that would make Law Roach himself twitch with envy. There’s buying clothes and then there’s curating a collection, and the latter has a way of taking over timelines and invigorating discourse that extends beyond the hauls and try-on videos.
But what happens when the ring lights go away, the camera turns off, and all that’s left is a curated closet? Is the practice of “putting that sh*t on” transient? Is it enduring? Well, It’s a little from column A, a little from column B, it seems.
Naturally, there is an understanding that posting fashion content online, to some degree at least, incentivizes you to buy more than you need to keep up with the real and perceived demands of audiences who are constantly searching for the next best dressed FYP fashionista. Even if the pieces purchased are reflective of an influencer’s true style, the impact that performing fashion online has on these creators’ shopping habits and day-to-day wardrobes can’t be ignored.
@badbrownskinnn Another day another OOTD
Deets on this outfit are on my LTK
Conversely, though, this exploration of finding what you do and don’t like is a symbiotic relationship for creators and their followers. Seeing trusted sartorial sources try on pieces undoubtedly limits some of the trial and error that occurs within the individual fashion cycle, which can be seen as a net positive.
Fewer purchases made, less waste, and more time spent on curating a wardrobe you actually love.
Additionally, these creators typically amass their digital recognition through their personal style, which, if done right, doesn’t inspire consumption. It inspires thoughts. It inspires rituals. It goes beyond the clothes. And even if influencers do pick up the pace on their purchases once the followers start rolling in, the pieces they buy categorically embody the stylistic quintessence that propelled them into internet stardom in the first place.
That is to say, it feels a bit presumptuous and, if nothing else, off base to assume that all of these creators are merely putting on for the camera. Sure, everyone has off days, chill moments and the tusty “no one is going to see me” fit dedicated to quick beauty supply runs. Not to mention, laundry day which comes to collect from the best of us.
But at the crux of this content are creators who take the art of putting together outfits piece by piece very seriously. The uninitiated who have a cursory (at best) relationship with clothing might just be buying in excess simply for the sake of saying they have something. It’s fruitless and uninspiring, but more than anything, it ignores the assiduous pursuit required to craft wardrobes that won’t be landfill fodder within the next five years.
@wisdm8 Airport fit
And the best thing these creators, the ones who treat clothing as investments, not get-rich-quick schemes, can do is share their vestimentary brilliance with the world.