Collectibles is a monthly series of content in various forms, consumed at different times and on various occasions, reunited by a Zettelkasten-like logic residing somewhere in my mind.
Recently, for a social event, I had to pull myself together and dress up. I was determined not to splurge on a piece of fabric and to keep my peace of mind undisturbed by trivia. But as the event approached, an interesting thing happened. The other attendees slowly built social pressure and high expectations regarding how expensive our outfits should be to validate our physical presence. When you hear about women at your table buying dresses labeled with venerated names, you start doubting your choice to wear an unpretentious dress you bought online 10 years ago, especially if your self-esteem and body image are not at their highest.
I left the concept of fashion behind in my late twenties, after years of passionately buying and collecting glossy magazines. My interest and respect for the field never recovered after witnessing firsthand what high fashion was made of—not to mention the horrors of fast fashion.
I started to peek into shops with a clear strategy: to find a dress that looked expensive. All I needed was a simple form, a sober color, and a decent fabric. It turned out to be a frustrating journey, and despite my contempt, I ended up in one of the dressing rooms of a famous maison just to confirm how overrated they are today.
This endeavor made me more inclined to pay closer attention to fashion-related themes. So I ended up watching biopics and documentaries, resisting the urge to skip podcasts discussing it, and remembering a book I read years ago.
Listen
For the Wild with Ayana Young
If you’re looking for a soothing listening experience, I cannot recommend this anthology of the Anthropocene enough. Ayana’s voice is so pleasant to hear, and her guests are always well-articulated, multifaceted professionals who shed light on complex, problematic themes in refreshing ways.
In other circumstances, I would have skipped an episode about fashion—the topic usually triggers feelings of rage, impotence, and helplessness in me. However, I carefully listened to what Sha’Mira Covington had to say, and I’m very glad I did as I was introduced to the problematic nature of the fashion industrial complex. Just one takeaway from Covington's intervention, to give you an idea: “We hear about companies who are being transparent in where they manufacture, which is great, but that transparency doesn't change the fact that the fashion industry runs on overproduction and overconsumption.”
Read
The Diaries of Jane Somers by Doris Lessing
I love Doris Lessing. Her writing reminds me of the Hungarian writer Magda Szabò, only more modern and explicit—both managed to provide valuable immersions into the human psyche, set against the backdrops of Western capitalism and Eastern communism, respectively. I remember a summer spent reading four or five of her books in a row, just for the pleasure of experiencing Lessing’s tone of voice and the satisfying balance between still-life scenes and thoughts expressed in moving conversations.
I find deep comfort in reading detailed place descriptions, long overtures to characters, and the gradual building up of the historical context. It’s a big book—one that will keep you company and grow on you over many weeks. Though it’s not biographical, it’s written in the form of a diary, so it feels intimate and compelling to follow what’s going to happen next to our Jane Somers: a single woman living and moving within the privilege of being independent, rich, and professionally accomplished in elite fashion circles. I should issue a warning about the descriptions you might find online: don't stop at them, as they are diminishing.
Watch
Cristóbal Balenciaga
One afternoon, Netflix prompted a biopic about Karl Lagerfeld. My brain, cornered by the unusuality of my shopping situation, decided that I wanted to see it as a way to blame someone for my struggle to find a dress. I never appreciated Lagerfeld’s ostentatious creations and was initially skeptical and full of disdain. But I devoured it. It catapulted me to Yves Saint Laurent, leading me to consume two more movies about this genius, culminating in the recently launched biopic on Cristóbal Balenciaga.
I learned a lot about the epoch these visionaries operated in and about their personal struggles and insecurities. The process by which they revolutionized style by adding comfort and making space for personal expression is extraordinary. I realized that my personal taste and style have been heavily shaped by the creations of these masters. Some of their designs appear extravagant even today. However, I also learned that it’s not extravagance I don’t appreciate; it’s the extravagance that lacks personality, story, and purpose, desperately seeking attention and aiming to scandalize. And let’s be honest—most of the time, it's kitsch.
The only thing in common between today’s Balenciaga and the real Maison Balenciaga is the name. What we have today are brands that have nothing to do with their origins and the principles they were built on. They are owned by a couple of very rich and powerful corporations, trying to pass off extravagance as social revolution while making more money.
What have you entertained your strained attention with lately that you could gleefully add to an imaginary memorabilia?
Ah, me too, I spent years of passionately buying and collecting glossy magazines! I dreamed of working in fashion. After a couple of jobs in fashion, I abandoned the dream. I did see some horrific things. But I keep dreaming of it. I dream of finding something lovely and unpretentious. And it's funny to realize that the majority of my dream clothes reside in fictional territories (if you have a minute and are in the mood for a bit of fashion-talk through a literary prism, I invite you to read this essay: https://monikarepcyte.substack.com/p/biography-of-my-clothes).
I enjoyed your list of thematic references and I'm particularly interested in Doris Lessing, although I haven't read any of her work yet. Do you have any recommendations on where I should start?