> CD #100: Validation

When I first began Closet Dispatch in October 2020, I seriously thought I’d write 15, maybe 20, posts at most. I mean, how much could I possibly have to say about clothes? Well, as it turns out, A LOT. Some might say TOO MUCH.

In honour of my 100th post, I give you a story I had planned to do in that original batch but never got around to writing. It’s about my first foray into Fashion with a capital F. It wasn’t long after I had finished university, sometime during my first adult job (not counting my failed teaching career or my internship at a music festival), when my mom’s longtime friend announced that she was getting divorced, again.

My mom and Wen Yi had come to Canada together from Hong Kong, both as sort of mail-order brides. Separately, they had been set up with men in the Calgary area, writing letters back and forth until it was time to fly halfway around the world and make a decision. They both had visas for three months, during which they could choose either to marry strangers and stay, or return to Hong Kong.

They both chose to stay. (“It’s just what people did back then,” says my mom with a shrug. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

My mother remained married, had me and my brother, and lived modestly ever after. Wen Yi got a divorce, married a rich man, then divorced him for an even richer man, and ended up with many assets, including a large collection of designer handbags.

She was mad at her ex and wanted a fresh start, so Wen Yi unloaded a few bags on my mom who, in turn, gave me a slightly beat up Stephen Sprouse Monogram Graffiti Speedy bag from Marc Jacobs’ (in)famous Spring/Summer 2001 collection for Louis Vuitton.

Having no real eye for fashion, I thought the bag was sort of ugly, but I carried it anyway because I wanted to understand its value. I began noticing that some people treated me differently when they saw my purse. Strangers would stop me on the street to compliment it. The account manager at my next job, a former model and the most stylish person I knew then, saw the bag and wanted to talk fashion. Once, as an experiment, I walked through Holt Renfrew—a Canadian luxury department store I had always been afraid to visit—and was told “I love your bag” by five different people in the first 10 minutes. Fascinating.

It was like I was part of a secret club. Savvy, in the know. The bag showed everyone that I had taste, or money, despite being nondescript in all my other fashion choices. It somehow made me more than what I was.

I’m not proud of it, but I never forgot that feeling.

Of course, 20 years later, I can see that I was relying on consumption (even though the bag was free) to bolster my self-worth, which never really works. Luckily, I grew older, learned healthier ways of being, and can now enjoy fashion simply as a means of self-expression without feeling like I’m trying to buy other people’s approval.

My LV bag burned in our house fire, and I miss it sometimes. Not because I need validation—now I get it by sending out rambling Substack posts instead of carrying a $2,500 handbag, LOLOL 😭😭—but because I actually like how it looks. Go figure.

As I’ve said before, there are rarely any morals to the stories I tell in Closet Dispatch, only curiosity and investigation. Also, hopefully, a feeling of connection—and maybe even validation—for those of us who want to understand the hold that fashion has over us. Here’s a throwback to 99 dispatches ago:

This newsletter will be, I hope, like a message in a bottle to everyone who likes to think about what we wear and what it all means. I used to worry that people would think I was frivolous for paying attention to clothing and style, but if Ruth Bader Ginsburg could accessorize with gravitas, maybe it’s not an entirely meaningless pursuit.

Culturally, fashion is often labeled as “women’s interest” and dismissed as pointless or vapid—part of our society’s way of telling women that what matters to us doesn’t really matter at all. But how we choose to present ourselves is important. The stories we tell in what we wear can help us work through and make sense of our identities, our politics, our values, and even our deepest longings.

Thank you all for reading, especially those who’ve been here from the start. Onward and upward! ❤️❤️

:) Teresa

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