How to Love Fashion Without Money

The humanizing power of clothes should not be a privilege reserved for the rich.

Hi! I’m thinking about how to love fashion without having the money to buy clothes, which seems to be a prerequisite for loving fashion these days—I want to challenge that. I wouldn’t waste my breath or your inbox space suggesting you “shop your closet”—sometimes our closets are irrevocably hideous, if only for an evening, and it feels insulting to insinuate that you haven’t already thought to, um, wear your own clothes—and I certainly won’t be doling out any thrifting tips, as that ground has been trodden into oblivion and besides, when you truly have -$3 in your bank account, that’s not even a viable option.

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No, today I’m thinking about how it’s possible to derive genuine pleasure, whether from some sinister dopaminergic cycle I don’t have the authority to justify or via some genuinely generative process of play that touches upon an under-exercised facet of our core humanity, from fashion, without spending a single dime. I mean, I’m not sure if it’s possible. God knows I’ve sentenced countless brain cells to meaningless deaths trying to closet cosplay Chloë Sevigny from the dregs of a Uniqlo sale section, making the hack job collages that grace the Esque Instagram feed while trying not to total the costs of each piece added to the melange, and on occasion, reading agonizingly out-of-touch fashion Substacks ahem perusing the internet for inspiration.

In the piece that now baldly declares my financial station to inquiring minds ahead of second dates (you’d be surprised at how few of them offer to pay for my drink, all things considered), I intimated that my work as a fashion writer felt like a generative way to engage with items I’ll likely never encounter in the flesh, but since that piece was published, the opportunities to practice this method of sublimation have dried up in such a way that doesn’t make me feel great about the future of fashion writing as an industry—plus, I know not everyone finds writing exciting, or pleasant, even. Back to the drawing board. Here are a few errant thoughts:

• Draw/write on your clothes—I mentioned this last week regarding Woody Harrelson’s befuddling choice to scrawl the name of the Hawaiian state fish across the knee of his jeans, and I do think that clothing graffiti is one of the few 2000s phenomena yet to cycle back with a vengeance. More than that, though, maybe literalism is an underrated tool in style. I love my Homme Boy “LOML WYA RN” shirt—maybe writing out our beliefs, desires, and fears on our garments is the antidote to years of painstaking, mind-rendingly boring subtlety and a loaded obsession with “cleanliness” and “purity.” Hey, even Chloé did it with its beloved (and well-seeded to influencers, lol) Maxime wedge clogs! Even scribbling a secret message on the sole of your shoe feels meaningful—I guess this is just a truer form of “fashion writing,” lol.

• Sell/donate EVERYTHING—even the things you love. I know this sounds unhinged, but maybe hitting a factory reset on your wardrobe, especially in a way that fills up your coffers a bit, might be the way forward when you have one to many evening of staring haplessly into your closet, hating everything. You could even “loan” your nicest pieces to a good friend—you know how they say never loan anything you wouldn’t be ok with just giving away? In that case, there’s a chance you could get your stuff back if you really wanted to, but you’ll still experience the light, unburdened feeling of unloading. On a related note, I’m selling stuff on Depop—more to come! Sorry for the self promo, but you’re knee deep in a public post on my blog at this point, so I kind of feel like we’re past the point of propriety.

• Draw dream outfits—even if you can’t draw, simple shapes with detailed labels (e.g. raw hem here, pearl buttons there…) might help you identify patterns in your dressing proclivities that inform your style priorities. Don’t try to draw “real” clothes or clothes you own—draw the perfect garments, and let reality meet your expectations at some point in the future, instead of constantly modeling your expectations and desires around the reality of what’s available/in your price range. I drew Vibram Furoshiki shoes before I knew they existed, and now I know I’m pretty sure I like them more than those dastardly FiveFingers.

Why do I stubbornly refuse to cede the domain of fashion entirely to smug fucks with generational wealth? Because I have to put clothes on my BODY every single day of my life, and I will be damned before I divest myself from one of the most intimate practices of humankind—a solitary gesture performed at home, like pulling on a pair of socks (possibly in the dark trying not to wake up a roommate or partner before work), becomes communal in both its similarity to the actions performed by billions on the daily and the fact that those people see, and must (by virtue of observation) internalize, your sartorial choices to some extent.

If you’ve ever bumped into a stranger on the subway or accidentally played music out loud in a library or performed some other sort of social snafu, you might have felt the urge to explain yourself, to cement your good intentions, to humanize yourself to the righteously frustrated passersby. Clothing is one of the main tools with which we may reify and humanize ourselves in a world of strangers, whether through displays of vulnerability or armor-like protectiveness, and there is no way in hell I’d accept a world in which only the wealthy are granted that grace.

<3 ESK