I’ll never forget when I finally understood fashion. I was trying on a navy wool blazer at an indie vintage shop in Manchester. It was ludicrously expensive for me—cost more than I usually spent on food in a week—but it just Fit.
The sleeves were perfectly cut to my shoulders, the wool was sturdy without being stiff, and buttoned up it gave my plain jeans and white t-shirt some serious je ne sais quoi. “Get that,” my friend Emma told me when I asked for her opinion, still not looking up from her phone. “You look like you know what you’re doing.” Friends, that was the moment it clicked for me.
It sounds dumb, but I’d been searching for that for as long as I can remember. How do you look like you know what you’re doing without foraging through racks of increasingly unaffordable pieces you’ve never worn before and will never wear again?
I love watching people who look effortlessly fashionable.
Not clothes as costume creative—though there’s definitely a place for that too. I mean casually schlubby people who could be wearing a dumpster bag and some garbage bags but instead look put together. I used to think they followed every trend going; now my wardrobe is full of reminders of times I tried (and failed) to keep up.
I bought multiple pairs of those gigantic trainers even though they made my feet look like frisbees. Got caught in a knit jumper phase that did nothing to flatter my skin tone. Impulsively bought tiny sunglasses in 2018 that immediately relegated me to permanent toddler status. *insert expensive jeans trend here* * Ah yes, the时装周期 の jeans.
I spent £175 on a pair of wide-leg hemmed numbers and wore them exactly twice. They were so trendy, they made me look like I was perpetually cycling against the wind. But after almost a decade of horrific wardrobe decisions and approximately a thousand pounds spent on pieces I’ll probably never wear again, I’ve finally nailed a few tricks to looking fashion-forward without becoming a slave to every single trend.
And no, I’m not gonna get all pre-COVID live-to-shop TikTok on you about capsule wardrobes or finding your personal style or signature pieces. Not that there’s anything wrong with that approach if it works for you! Everyone’s different.
My first game changer was thinking more about fabric. Before this revelation, I’d pick things based solely on design. I ignored the fabric content lists and bought stuff that appealed to me visually.
Cue a wardrobe full of polyester smidges that didn’t hang right and left me sweaty on my morning commute. Now I always (mostly) err on the side of natural fabrics. Cotton, wool, linen, silk if I’m feeling bougie.
They feel better, last longer, and even plain-coloured linen shirts look expensive. I spent an obscene amount of money on a linen shirt last summer from the little brand I found on Instagram and repinned religiously. It was £85, which seemed obscene for “basically just a shirt” until I realised I’d been wearing it weekly for the past year.
Contrast that with the £25 polyester number from the high street, which stretched out after two wears and now resembles a dishrag. Your mileage may vary, but I honestly think you get better cost-per-wear doing this. My second piece of epiphany came when I realised fit > trend any day of the week.
I’m 5’4″ with hips that like to make an entrance before I do. As a result, trendy clothes that are meant to flatter my shape usually achieve the exact opposite. Those cute cropped wide-leg trousers everyone and their dog is wearing?
Don’t get me started on how much they make my legs look like buttah. I tried so hard in my youth to make my body fit into fashion, hence the reason I have a whole cabinet full of unworn clothes with the security tags still stuck on them. Now I know my dealbreakers.
High waist ( ALWAYS HIGH WAIST ), shoulders that aren’t baggy, and NOTHING that hits me at mid calf (lazy legs alert). And by acknowledging that these things don’t work for me, I’ve opened myself up to so many pieces I would have previously written off. It doesn’t feel restrictive, it feels like….knowledge!
“I like to think of it as style versus fashion,” my colleague Joanna, who’s in menswear, told me when I asked for her tips. “Style is timeless. Fashion is trends.
The key is to have both in your wardrobe without tipping too far on either side.” She’s a wordsmith, that one. Thirdly, and this is a hard one for many to accept—I don’t think people care if your clothes are last season. Like, not.
ONE. BIT. When’s the last time you heard someone say “oh my god yes, those trousers are exactly wholegodoright now”?
Sure, if you’re a personal stylist or your social circle is composed entirely of Vogue Editors, peasants, you might get some odd judgement. Otherwise, no one cares about your skirt’s leg width or whether your coat has a lapel that’s on-trend for Spring ’22. They do care, however, if you look f-king awesome wearing whatever you happen to be wearing.
I have an old 1970s leather jacket that’s technically been out of style for at least fifty years (maybe more, who keeps track of this stuff?). Yet I get more compliments on that jacket than any other piece in my wardrobe. Why?
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Because I enjoy wearing it, and it shows. Now, I’m not saying you should avoid trends completely. I love experimenting with fashion moments through cheaper items or accessories.
Tiny bags were all the rage last year, and while I OWNED that trend with my shoulder bag, I didn’t throw out all my practical purses. Instead I bought a teeny crossbody that leaned into the trend without broadcasting my whole personality through my bag choices. When the trend passed (which it did oh-so soon), I wasn’t left with a pricey mistake.
I also focus a lot on what my nan used to call statement classics. Think: trench coats with unusual buttons or front closures, white shirts with quirky collars, black boots with a distinct heel. They always feel current because they have a fashionable edge without being too tied to a moment in fashion time.
My friend Rhiannon has scores of vintage Hermès scarves she’s collected over the years from thrift shops and eBay. She refuses to spend more than about £50 on any of them, but she can wear those scarves with anything. “I could be wearing Topshop yoga pants and a tank top,” she explained to me, “but the scarf makes people think I tried.” Bet your mascara I do.
Educating myself on designers and what makes their work unique has also been a game changer for looking fashionably aware without chasing every single trend. You don’t need to know every detail, but having a basic understanding of what makes a Dries Van Noten print stand out or identifying a McQueen silhouette helps you appreciate the industry and will help you when IRL shopping. You might not be able to drop a couple grand on a designer piece quite yet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pretend you could.
I remember walking through Liberty on my lunch break and overhead this lady exclaiming to her friend how reasonable a brand-new £600 dress was based on the stitching. I thought she was nuts. But do you know what?
Now I kinda get it. I’m still not rushing out to spend my entire paycheck on a gown I’ll wear once (though tbh if I won the lottery, I would be LOYALLY SHOPPING AT MATCHES FASHION), but I can recognise quality when I see it. And that translates to knowing what’s worth it at every price bracket.
It’s also made me a way savvier High Street shopper. I know what Zara looks to for inspiration each season, so I can pick out their WELL-made pieces that speak to the runway without looking like a poor copy. I know which high street brands do great knitwear (WHERE IS UNIQLO WHEN YOU NEED THEM?) and which brands to avoid for anything that needs actual structure (pretty much all of them, tbh).
Hell, I even buy less clothing now because I don’t feel the need to keep shopping when nothing I tried on lives up to my “vision”. I used to shop all the time because, let’s be real, nothing I picked out EVER felt good enough. Now I go MONTHS without buying anything then splurge on that one thing I’ve had my eye on for ages.
Like my current obsession: black ankle boots. I spent SIX MONTHS looking for the perfect pair. Tried on about 50 different pairs before finally dropping a cool £220 on my dream boots from a brand I always thought was too expensive for me.
But they’ve already replaced three pair of cheaper boots that didn’t suit my calves and will likely outlive all of them. Case in point: cost-per-wear. That said, I still fall prey to stupid trendy things I don’t need just because they’re everywhere.
Last winter I legit talked myself into needing a feather-trimmed sweater despite spending 99% of my time working from my house. Said sweater still hangs in my closet, mocking me. Thankfully I have friends who know my orbit and won’t let me make rash fashion purchases.
“Are you gonna want to wear that when it stops popping up on your Instagram feed?” my pal Tom asked me when I tried to talk him into helping me splurge on a sweater the ridiculousness of which he correctly identified. Thanks for being my voice of reason, Tom. You’re the reason I don’t own a jumper that looks like a rejectedان cov π fro.
Speaking of friends: find someone who can act as your own personal fashion Mrs. Friedman. Somone who knows your lifestyle and budget, and will call you out if you’re being ridiculous.
It could be your mum, your partner, your granny. For me, it’s Tom. “You go to the pub and go to your workplace.
When are you SPECIALING?” he asked me when I tried to strong-arm him into cosplaying Jessica Rabbit with me.
Turns out, learning to stop freaking outfits just because they’re trendy has made me look WAY more fashionable than I ever did keeping up with the fashion Joneses. I spend less money on clothes that don’t suit me.
My wardrobe is way more streamlined (and actually coordinated lol). I don’t feel defeated when I open my closet knowing I have nothing to wear. Most importantly, I stopped seeing fashion as a quiz I was never acing and started treating it like the form of expression it should be.
So no, I don’t have the it bag this season. Or these trousers. Or that cool jumpsuit I saw on Kylie.
But I DO know my clothing needs, and I buy things with just enough trendy embellishments to show I give a damn about fashion. Without sacrificing my sanity. Isn’t that really what fashion IS about?
