If you’re on the same side of the internet as me, you’ve probably seen “underconsumption core” floating around lately. Much of the content revolves around people showing off their most-used items, from clothes to home goods. Proudly presenting your oldest jeans and your table lamp from college is posed as the opposite of a shopping “haul,” the antithesis of an unboxing. The idea is to glamorize making things last, of bragging about how long or how much you’ve been able to use something.
The rise of “underconsumption” as a trend is a natural response to the shop-ification of social media, where our feeds are clogged with ads and shopping links and listicles with kickback disclosures in italics at the end. Resisting the constant insistence that we buy new things can feel like a little win against capitalism, a small but mighty drop in the vast ocean of climate anxiety. I have plenty of things in my life I’ve had and used for years, and this recent rise in content surrounding the idea has me thinking more deeply about the objects I use, wear, cherish, and often, ignore.
One of my favorite ways to re-ignite my interest in my own wardrobe is to think of myself as a character. If I were in a movie, a TV show, or even a cartoon, how would I be dressed? What would my limited little set wardrobe look like? Much of the most enduring and emulated character styles are relatively limited. Wednesday Addams actually wears a variety of black dresses in the Family Values movie, but always following the same formula. Elle Woods wore pink, James Bond wore Anthony Sinclair suits, Cher and Dionne are best remembered for their matching plaid skirt sets. Even characters with enormous wardrobes, like Carrie Bradshaw, had silhouettes and brands that were often repeated. Carrie wore a thousand different things, but we all know that she loves Manolos, tulle, and bias cut skirts and dresses. And I’ve never even watched Sex in the City.
When you envision the most stylish people you know, there’s a good chance you can immediately picture them in something sort of specific. A certain color, their favorite designer, a shape or texture that they gravitate towards. Those who are most grounded in their tastes and preferences are more likely to be wearing the same pieces again and again. A revolving door of new clothes doesn’t help tell a story or create a character. How could anyone ever point to a piece and say “that’s so you” if you never wear the same thing twice?
I decided I wanted to figure out what my character wardrobe would look like, and what better place to start than my camera roll. I had a pretty good idea of what I was looking for, but scrolling through images helped remind me of pieces that I hadn’t immediately remembered when thinking about my wardrobe heavy-hitters. Looking through photos can be a pretty good way to flag your favorite things to wear. For one, the more often you wear something, the more likely you are to be photographed in it. And unless you’re the kind of person who frequently documents their outfits, there’s a good chance that being photographed in something marks some kind of occasion or highlight. It could be something that you like to wear to celebrate or go out in, or just something that makes you feel confident enough to take a selfie.
Below is a roundup of some of my personal wardrobe stars! These are my character pieces, things that are “so Alex,” with a few notes on what I think they mean about my style. I’m writing this piece in the hopes that it inspires you to try out the same exercise with your own closet (and camera roll). That’s underconsumption core, baby!
Piece #1: 1990’s Green Trench Coat
This piece is interesting because it ended up in my closet sort of by accident. I found it in upstate New York in 2020 to sell in my vintage shop, and didn’t consider keeping it until I actually put it on to shoot some photos. I obviously recognized it as a good piece but didn’t immediately feel like I wanted it for myself, and yet it’s ended up being one of the things I wear the most. It can be easy to overlook something because it isn’t super exciting, and it doesn’t give you that “I need it” feeling right away. This was definitely a lesson in first reactions, and the importance in trying things on!
Piece #2: 1990’s Kenzo Mohair Duster
This is definitely the most sentimental and valuable vintage item I own. This is an early 90’s Kenzo piece handed down to me from my mom. Funny enough, I always thought this coat was weird, and frankly a little embarrassing, as a kid. My mom is only 5’1 so it’s dramatically long on her, so I saw it as this big, hairy, weird thing.
I came around to it in college and borrowed it a few times before she officially passed it over in my mid 20’s. It has an absolutely stunning acid green silk lining, and is definitely the coolest thing in my closet. I don’t think I’ve ever worn it without garnering at least one compliment or question. The only thing that would make it better is if it still had that length on me! The coat definitely loses some of the drama on me that it has on my tiny Japanese mother.
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