I am eternally dissatisfied and it is exhausting.
And since we're talking about clothing style on BonneGueule, I'm going to talk about the dissatisfaction that my clothing style gives me. Maybe that will ring a few bells.
I am unhappy with my clothing style because I have no clothing style.
There are guys who only like dress shoes for example. Even their sneakers look formal.
There are others who can't stand the sight of a shirt, whatever it may be.
There are still others who feel a sense of fullness when they wear their rock outfit.
That's how it is. But that's not my case.
My problem is that while I am sure of my dislikes, I am much less sure of my tastes.
So we could say that it is the same thing: knowing what we hate is defining what we love. Yes, we can say it another way: choosing is giving up or rather! giving up is choosing .
But when there are far fewer dislikes than likes, to renounce is to choose, but rather to choose not to choose too much.
On paper, it's no problem not to choose. After all, I listen to Johnny Hallyday, tINI, Johan Papaconstantino, Chopin, Feu! Chatterton, Bill Evans, Whitesnake etc. and I never complained. It is even a richness to consider that there is good everywhere. A proof of tolerance too.
And that's also the truth: there is good everywhere.
I am like a butterfly that flits from flower to flower. Some seem more appetizing than others, but that doesn't stop me from stopping at a buddleia, a hollyhock, a sunflower or a bearded carnation!
As long as it's good and nourishing.
My love is not exclusive! It is infinitely divisive.
You could say that I am a generalist . That I have no specialty.
If we come back to the clothing style, even as a teenager, I didn't have any phases. I'm the guy who always considered everything with caution, tolerance, trying to tell himself that one thing was not better than another, that it was just a question of point of view, tastes and colors, blah blah blah.
A boring guy, in short.
I'm not the confident, workwear guy who owns 5 Red Wings, saves for the next pair, and has a closet full of 15-20 oz denim that he chooses depending on the temperature.
I'm not the streetwear guy who sees the denimhead as a has-been .
I'm not the techwear ninja who doesn't understand for a single second how you can still wear a tie in the 21st century! Etc.
In short, I do not recognize myself in any of the men whose extraordinary stories I told in 2018 .
But who recognizes themselves in this, you might ask?
Few people probably because it is rare that one feels so in tune with a pre-existing style. And I do not really envy those who would recognize themselves in it either because for me, we fall into a caricature, into a disguise.
In fact, it's more on the scale of a room. Or a category of room.
Let's take the example of the moccasins I own, you'll understand. I have:
- A pair of very Ivy GH Bass
- A pair of very rustic Paraboot in a classic, almost workwear style.
- A Seventh Width , a French classic in the Weston style
- Another one from Bass , very modest, with commando sole and silver bit on the top.
- A very refined Morjas Belgian loafers type.
Not to mention my black Paul Smiths with tassels. This collection is going in all directions!
Very different directions for the same category of shoes! And if we zoom out on all my shoes, then the aesthetic disparities are even greater!
So on the scale of a wardrobe, we lose coherence. The aesthetic registers are so varied that nothing really stands out anymore.
But it's not just a question of aesthetics, it's also about the cuts! I have in my wardrobe clothes that are more or less slim, tapered pants, straight, mid-rise, high-rise. I'm too lax about cuts. I know what suits me overall but I'm not too picky.
Year after year, I see my wardrobe falling apart. It collapses as it builds. It is like a house with a stone wall, a wooden wall, a cement wall and a brick wall.
So it becomes impossible to really define ourselves . We need to put labels on things. Give names to things, objects, ideas, animals, in short to everything we perceive as a whole.
👉 Result #1: I don't have a real purchasing strategy to develop my style. I just have desires that I pile up in an Excel file and that I satisfy or not. Despite what I try to convince myself of in article after article .
👉 Result #2: I am incapable of building silhouettes with a real identity . I mean, a long-term identity. We don't say to ourselves: "ah, that's something Jordan could wear!" In any case, I don't have that impression.
The only visible identity is the one that my face imprints, there just above the clothes I wear.
Classic?
Legacy ?
Casual-chic?
Casual, pure and simple?
Workwear-chic-casual-classic-heritage?
Sprezza?
So, we could still see a casual-chic continuity to all this. But, " casual-chic " is a catch-all word after all: a suit can be part of a casual-chic outfit. A workwear jacket too. A pair of sneakers obviously. Derbies too of course. Etc.
“How would you define your style?” I am sometimes asked on Instagram.
The truth is, I don't know. I often confuse the issue. I say it's a "random mix of everything and nothing." Or something like that.
I think what bothers me most about all this is that I feel like I have a style that is devoid of personality . Finding beauty everywhere is expressing one's taste perhaps, but it is not expressing a clear vision of style .
And I would like to ask you a question: aren't the people we remember those who, through their style in particular, express a vision?
We know the cinema of Tarantino, Spielberg, Truffaut, we know the painting of Miro, the photography of Stephen Shore etc. etc. Not that I aspire to consider myself a sape artist, not at all, but on my small scale, on our small scale, we can create our own little world in which we feel good and which resembles us.
I know that what I am saying here is far from the considerations of most people, whether they like to dress or not.
Most people don't mind enjoying clothes of very different styles. They're not even aware of it! They wear clothes first to dress themselves and the pleasure comes later.
And even if pleasure comes at the same time, they see clothing as detached from their person, when they undress in the evening they are still themselves, whereas when I undress in the evening, I amputate a part of myself.
In these conditions, it can happen that we want this part of ourselves to be well defined, that we want to shape it, polish it well, so that it helps us to define the person that we are, to support our personality.
The crispness of clothing is when the garment says more than what is expected of it. When, contained within it, a vision of the world emerges, a fantasy, a story! When the garment is bigger than itself!
Developing a real style means developing a vision. Of life already. But also and above all of what place we occupy within it. Of who we are. Of who we want to be. Developing a personal style helps us become who we are.
The question behind this is: if the whole world became blind and only you had sight, how would you dress?
Well I'll answer: I would wear clothes with more character!
I would wear patterned pants.
I would wear fringed suede jackets.
I would wear glasses with colored lenses all the time.
I would wear oxford shirts of all colors, with big collars and wide sleeves.
I would wear t-shirts of old rock bands.
I would wear blazers with gold buttons.
I would wear baggy jeans with Birkenstock Bostons.
I would wear crocheted cardigans, or Native American patterned ones.
I would wear three-piece suits in heavy tweed.
Anyway, I'll stop there otherwise it will go on and on.
Now it's up to me to find the right baggy jeans, the right oxford shirt, the perfect fringed suede jacket. I get rid of the clothes I own quite easily because, deep down, I know there's always something wrong with them and they never really fit me.
I spend my time making concessions on this or that design element. But that's over.
The key is to be firm on certain points (the cut, design details depending on the piece) and to let go on others (the material if not important in the piece, design details depending on the piece, etc.).
Whether I like it or not, my vision of style is a joyful mess! I'm like that, I'm attracted to a double-breasted suit and the next moment I'm drooling over a jacket made of thick Japanese denim.
So, I present to you my new maxim: it doesn't matter what I buy as long as I love it. I guess that should be the first sentence of this sort of personal manifesto of a clothing style.
So.
On the other hand, I don't know if my digression has brought me any real answers. I told you that I was eternally dissatisfied...
