A single click, a day or two, and then a bag full of slinky pants and slouchy tees arrives at your door. But ease does not good style make. Especially when the pieces you’re ordering come from companies that make clothes, often unethically, solely for rapid consumption.
One Instagram post and they’re already over. They don’t fit well or hold up over time; they’re just pumped out to keep you shopping, an IV drip of what’s trending right now. I’m calling it the slop wardrobe.
It’s a trend spurred on by technology companies’ obsession with eliminating friction from every part of life. Groceries can instantly appear at your door, an AI assistant can draft your emails, and you can book a doctor’s appointment through an app. Much of this is a good thing, but when it comes to creativity, things shouldn’t always be so easy.
Real style, and a great wardrobe, isn’t something you can throw together in a single go; it’s supposed to take work (and, as such, last). I’ve spent decades of my life curating pieces that reflect my own quirks and proclivities. Today, we may be culturally obsessed with personal style, with defining it (are you whimsigoth or gorpcore?) and streamlining it (what’s your vacation capsule wardrobe?), but I’m not sure we’re truly living it.
That’s partly why, if you scroll through popular influencers’ pages, they all start to blend together. It’s like we’re collectively dressing with our heads, when we should be dressing from the heart, or more accurately, the gut. While I won’t go so far as to say you should stop ordering from Amazon or Zara altogether (I occasionally shop at both), I try to think of them as stores of last resort.
If you want style that’s personal, lean further into your own lived experience. To look different, you have to shop different. Admittedly, some things you try will end up weird (I have the outfit selfies to prove it), but that’s all part of the fun.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
