Dispatches From A Former Trend Addict
- Edited by
- Katherine Ormerod
Once upon a time, as a young editor in the noughties, my entire raison d’être was to unearth trends. Like a truffle hunter, I developed a finely attuned scent for à la mode fads and could spot a hot new It bag or styling trick a mile off. At one point, I was travelling the world as a trend forecaster, on the road every fortnight seeking out new ideas and attitudes in Japan, São Paulo and Copenhagen. It might have been a certain shoe buckle, a new way of arranging florals, a revival of turbans. Segueing into magazines, for years later, I edited trend pages week in, week out, scanning thousands of images of celebrities, street-style shots, catwalks and fashion lookbooks. Spotting the next new thing was a thrill and, of course, what we published worked to establish and accelerate those trends into the mainstream.
My younger self also loved a bright, new, shiny trend – there was no question that I practised what I preached. Looking back at pictures of myself in my teens and 20s, you can plot a chart of hot or not. Ultra-low-cut jeans, tick. Velour, tick. Cardigans, pencil skirts, painfully pointy kitten heels. Tick, tick, tick. Of course, I didn’t have the budget to do any of this with particular polish, so it was always the Topshop equivalent of the latest catwalk trend. But it was still… so much fun. A hot new trend you’ve never worn or even thought of before holds such promise. Like the quest for fashion’s holy grail, there was always the chance that this sizzling collection of fabric was going to be the thing that made you gorgeous and accepted. This would be the buy that made you belong.
The darker side of this trend explosion was of course, the ascent of throwaway fashion. Because trends were ten a penny (I, for one, was coming up with at least ten a month), they began to feel cheap. We spent less on our clothes; their value nosedived. And that magic? The excitement? The potential transformation at the tip of the trend wand? It began to wane. Even I became disenchanted with parting with my hard-earned pennies for one-weekend wonders. I’d so quickly decide that trousers under dresses actually weren’t that flattering, normcore was beyond bland and love-to-hate peplums were more hate than love. At a certain point, trends started to feel… a little tragic.
We all know the maxim that trends come and go, but style lasts forever – it’s the premise on which Wardrobe ICONS was founded, and these pages keep true to the same principle even all these years later. But I must admit to sometimes feeling a little nostalgic for the fizz and fun of the trend era. As much as the slower, more considered purchases I now make for wardrobe longevity make better financial sense, and I certainly find I’m far less often stuck for what to wear, I do miss some of that novelty. As humans, we’re genetically programmed to be attracted to the new, quite literally wired to find trends compelling. Yes, a perfectly cut black blazer is a wardrobe staple, but it doesn’t have quite the vim of a new-season bubble hem skirt, does it?
“Like the quest for fashion’s holy grail, there was always the chance that this sizzling collection of fabric was going to be the thing that made you gorgeous and accepted. This would be the buy that made you belong.”
The question is, can we ever mix the two? Can we build a timeless wardrobe that incorporates some of that fashion feverishness for the brand new? After becoming somewhat sniffy about trends for a good while, I’ve now come back to them with a new approach. When I look at my fashion budget over the season, I still spend the majority on personal classics (by this I mean the kinds of clothes that I know I will wear again and again for a very long time, rather than ‘the LBD’ or ‘The perfect white shirt’. My personal classics aren’t for everyone). But I pepper in one or two rogue trendy bits, even though I know they might not see me through to 2050. I now feel that if I know I’m going to wear something to death for at least two or three seasons, it has enough value to justify its presence in my limited storage space.
The horseshoe jean is a great case in point. I decided to buy the real deal by Citizens of Humanity for a chunky wedge of cash at the beginning of last year. I have since worn them so much I think my family have forgotten what my legs look like. Will I want to be wearing them in a couple of summers? Likely no. They are clearly a trend. But if they cover my backside for 500 sunsets in between, I still believe them to be a worthwhile investment. Forever is a really very long time and life would likely be a little less joyful if we were to only wear our black blazer every day. And, of course, when they no longer feel right for me, I will return them to the fashion cycle and find them a new home, to give someone else that giddy heartbeat.
It is true that it can be hard to differentiate between the excitement for a flash-in-the-pan trend and one with more mileage. I would always say, sit on it for a few weeks. I kept my jeans in my basket for a month before clicking to buy (waiting for a mid-seasonal sale discount helped seal the deal). What we need to avoid is the knee-jerk buy, the lemming-like trend. The piece that looks really good on that one model but goes with not a stitch in our wardrobes. It’s about approaching trends with maturity and experience, rather than instant gratification. The most important point to note on that is that there’s nothing you can buy that will make you feel comfortable in your own skin. Sadly. Sure, a new trend can be a temporary pick-me-up, but you were always gorgeous, with or without the bubble hem. That validation just can’t be found on a velvet hanger.
“As humans, we’re genetically programmed to be attracted to the new, quite literally wired to find trends compelling.”