When I visualise my latest obsession that I’m fixation on I can craft it’s details down to a tee.
Today it’s this vintage Guy Laroche early ’80s striped, chiffon ruffle dress featured bellow.
Tomorrow, who knows. Whatever it is I’ll be able to Google it’s finer details to find the nearest replica.
Granted this doesn’t always work, perhaps the labellers aren’t as detail orientated as me but I can’t say I’m that disappointed when my Google skulking doesn’t work.
There’s this juxtaposing effect that shopping IRL has. You’re high off the colours, fabrics and endless possibilities; you’re also on a terrible come down from size issues, aggressive crowds and prices adding those not so imaginary boundaries.
Online shopping can be seen as a safe haven when you’re massaging your rib after being not so accidentally elbowed for the THIRD time that day.
You can curl up in bed, have Netflix streaming away and not deal with the emotional roller coaster of the changing room.
I avidly shopped online for the majority of my clothes through my studies. Mostly because I was on my laptop 24/7 and it provided a “break”.
I though online shopping made life easier, less hassle, you can plan ahead and see the sales without fishing through the racks (which are a maze I am not skilled at navigating).
However, this is not a love story. I’ve had so much shit from online shopping. I once ordered basically half a wardrobe from boohoo, in a bingey online shopping spree to find it was all trash. Everything was see through or falling apart. A necklace I ordered was literally smashed to pieces.
I was mostly annoyed with the situation because I would never have picked up any of that stuff if I’d seen it in a shop.
Another reason my love affair turned sour was because I realised what hassle it was returning things. I’ve probably lost hundreds of pounds on clothes I’ve ordered that I was too lazy to return. You have to repackage it, fill out forms, walk to a post office, wait and chase up people for your refund.
The whole ease of the experience has gone right out the window and I’m left lamenting the lost love I had with real brick and mortar stores.
I started ghosting online shopping. I stopped returning it’s calls and ignoring it’s efforts to reach out to me. We didn’t go well together and I knew one of us had to end it. Online shopping is clingier than me so I knew I had to be the one to cut the cord.
I’ve since stepped outside, rubbed my eyes and breathed in the signature scents of some of my favourite stores. It’s been refreshing and not as stressful as I remembered.
I feel I buy clothes that are more meaningful and creative when I pick them out in person. The clothes have to make me feel something about them and pop out at me to get noticed among the chaos.
After all, isn’t that how we all want to look?