#3: The Great Instagram Dinner Party, WDTW, WDoesn'tTW, Deadstock Cuties
The Dinner Party
Indulge me for a minute (or two!): you're at the dinner party (remember those?!) of a peripheral friend, one who you love to bump into when you're out and about but who you wouldn't necessarily call in a panic if your cat ate a sock. You're at this hypothetical dinner party alone, and you're trying to make conversation with your peripheral friend's peripheral friends. You fancy yourself a pretty good conversationalist, so converse you do: a well-honed pas-de-deux of swapping interests with your new acquaintance. Things are going pretty well; you're funny and great, and this person seems to think so too! And yet, after a while, they do that thing; exiting the conversation to 'mingle' with an imaginary person behind you, or heading to the kitchen to refill their suspiciously-full cocktail.
And so you spiral: Was it your passionate defense of Sixpence None the Richer's contribution to 90s alt-pop? Or perhaps that you let slip the Sixth Sense plot twist? Or did they really, actually, need to get another drink? You'll never know! But you're left with two paths: you can assume it was your middling conversation or meh personality, and adapt your future "content" to be more palatable. Or you can keep on keeping on, hoping your niche interests may attract a new lifelong friend.
So let's say you assume it's all you. You adapt to what you think these peripheral people might respond well to: maybe it's a Katy Perry impression, or a cutting critique of the host's pigs-in-a-blanket. Or, shudder, talking about work. Here's the thing: you'll be the life of the party for a brief and shining moment! People will flock to you! You're saying things to them that THEY like and THEY'RE FAMILIAR WITH! Serendipity! Pretty soon, however, your Firework lyrics will fail you and the host will overhear your attempt at satire, and you might leave feeling crummy without having had any real fulfilling conversations. Because if everything is designed not to offend or isolate, for maximum palatability, you never really get beyond small talk.
But assume instead you truly don't care. You keep blabbing on to anyone who'll listen about the intricacy of 19th-century sailors' knots and your obsession with the antique coffee table you found last weekend. Sure, you might get a swifter turnover, weeding out some folks who just aren't into what you're into. But maybe, just maybe, a fellow coffee table fan might overhear you, and you've made a friend for life. Or, you may spark something in a sailors'-knots-agnostic person, igniting an interest in untangleable knots they didn't know they had.
This is how I've been thinking about Instagram these days: as if I've just walked into a dinner party full of really cool people I don't know all that well yet. Sure, I could adapt my content, my conversation, to what gives me immediate positive feedback — sewing the pattern-du-jour, scrambling to keep up with trends, posting in alignment with the algorithm and my followers' sleeping schedules. But I can't really control what other people will do, or respond to. There's a chance that they may respond to something that makes me kind of miserable to create! (Reels! Reels are so hard to make! Teach me your wizardry!!!)
Instead, I've just been posting whatever I'm into, whenever I want. My Venn diagram intersects somewhere between sustainable fashion, style hacks, ice dancing, sewing, Canadian poetry, deep One Direction fandom lore with the odd three-legged-dog content, sad acoustic guitar covers and an unabashed love of 3M hooks. My following fluctuates and is slow to grow (I can't exactly blame people for not being equally as passionate about both the environmental impacts of rayon and Louis Tomlinson's solo career!)
But by posting about ... whatever, popular opinion be damned, I've found some really great Internet Friends who DO share some of those same intersections (and, if not, are happy to cheer me on), and weeded out those who I probably never would've vibed with in the first place. And I love (love!) to follow those who do the same: I've learned about modern dance from someone I initially followed for their fabric choices. Shared sweaty Zoom dances with a friend who first followed me for sewing content. And sent many an impassioned DM to a fellow fashion person who may or may not also lurk on 1D tumblr. This also goes for those who say that fashionstagram isn't the place for 'politics' or social justice: the learning I've done, biases I've unpacked and anti-racist organizations I've discovered through the story shares of folks I originally followed for sewing/style are too numerous to count.
If you use IG for business, or are keen on building a following, this is probably not for you! And I too have been swayed by the lure of new followers when I post something zeitgeisty (who didn't have the Persephone-Pants-follower-influx of 2018!). But if I were to sew every hot pattern or join along on every follow-loop challenge, I would be broke and miserable in a few mins, with a closet full of pieces I didn't wear. And sure, I've considered separate accounts for each of my disparate interests. But what parts of myself would I be packing away, and for whom? At what cost?
It can be hard to divorce your self-worth and your creative prowess from a follower count or online engagement. Just like it's really hard to show up at a party full of hundreds (or thousands) of people who you don't really know but you want depserately to impress. But at the end of a good party, when the lights have come back on and the Cheetos dust has settled, are you keeping tally of the number of people you interacted with? Or are you remembering the obscure interests breathlessly shared between new friends, alive with the thrill of connecting dots you didn't know existed?
WDTW (Why Does This Work?) #3
Photographed by Acielle / Style du Monde
#1 COAT: This coat on its own? Might veer into Breakfast @ Tiffany's cosplay. The pants & shirt on its own? Might swing UPS. Together? A delicious mix of utilitarian and parisian, of optimism and realism. The style of the coat, elevated in its construction, fabric and tailoring, would be special enough as is, but the bright pink sends it into orbit. Honestly, pairing any bright statement piece with a muddy, dusty underlayer is usually a safe bet. It feels instantly modern, helps transition any winter pieces into early spring (spring!!!).
#2 THREE COLOUR RULE: A guiding principle used in both fashion and film , this 'rule' posits that wearing no more than three colours at a time gives maximum visual interest without overwhelming. I'm 50/50 on this rule (I think it can go a bit formulaic), but this outfit does it well: brown tones, bright pink and black/white keep the eye moving around the outfit, never allowing you to fixate for too long on one element.
#3 TINY DETAILS, WELL CHOSEN: This outfit is a study in thoughtful choices. If the trousers had been just a few inches higher, it might feel too familiar. But the longer hem suggests a laissez-faire, an "oh I just threw this on" looseness that plays against the coat perfectly. The luxury of a leather glove and dainty purse dances with the casual Converse: equally at home front row or courtside.
#4 LINE BREAKS: A timeless style trick is playing with mixed line lengths throughout the outfit — here, from short to long throughout. The long lines of the high-waisted trousers and long coat are interrupted by the short triangles of the high buttoned-up collar and short lines of the blunt, flat-ironed hair.
Loved It, Didn't Wear It
A forever-fan of the self roast, this is something I made, liked, but never wore. I'm gonna dissect why (WDoesn'tTW)!
We had high hopes for you, blue. I even covered buttons! But here's the thing: nearly any time I've tested a pattern, even for a pattern designer I adore like Ready to Sew, I never get much wear out of it. Even if it's something I'd normally choose to sew on my own time, even if it's in a fabric I love. I think there's something about the time pressure, about wanting to please someone else, that just throws me off course. This is a great sweater on its own, but I made a few missteps that made me not really reach for it.
The fabric was a really gorgeous fleece-backed scuba that would've been great for a skirt or dress, but something about the casual vibe of the shape & the sheen of the fabric, how it showed every stitch, just didn't work here. I also think synthetics on your upper half generally end in (sweaty) disaster! Beyond the meh fabric choice, I hadn't really put much thought into how I normally wear my sweaters (french tucked into a high-waisted pair of trousers or skirt). The buttons blocked the sweater from tucking smoothly, the length was awkward and the deep slit made tucking a bit lumpy. Plus, the hero of this excellent pattern is the exaggerated a-line shape, and the bright blue colour stole the show, throwing off the balance a bit.
What would I do differently now? Spend more time on my fabric to pattern selection. Think about how I actually wear sweaters, and where I wear them. And play with tension by sewing this modern-shaped sweater in a more rustic, slubby knit. (See the last newsletter — something lower on the Fabric Fanciness Matrix!)
Deadstock Fabric Finds I Can't Fit in my Stash So You Should Buy Them Instead
-A cream-coloured silk jacquard from The Row that's almost too good to be true. Make a pair of pajamas STRICTLY for going out.
-Would die for a slouchy suit jacket and slinky trousers in this!
-Spotted this at Mood too, but you'll save a bit when you shop at Metro (plus, the owner is one of the nicest people you'd hope to meet in the NYC Garment District!)
- Hold me closer, tiny dancer!
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