Defying Fast Fashion

Ten years ago I went Black Friday shopping with my husband. It was our first Thanksgiving as a married couple and we went shopping at a bunch of stores. I was excited someone else could help me pick out clothing and give me feedback on how they looked. He has always been – and still is – better at fashion than I am. 

Facebook reminded me of this trip because it showed up on my newsfeed as a memory. I had conveniently spread out the items and taken a photo to “show off” my purchases. There were 10 items total which I had purchased. 

- 1 pair of flats
- 1 pair of black booties
- 3 sweaters
- 1 dress
- 1 blouse
- 2 pairs of pants
- 1 pair of jeans 

Original purchases in 2014

I was drawn to these flats because of the price, the quality/brand, and the style. They were priced well and I wanted a versatile pair of black flats. The last pair I owned last me many years and I knew they didn’t scratch the back of my ankle like many pairs of flats notoriously do. The unfortunate side was the color – an off-white suede. It was going to attract lots of dirt and dust over time and wouldn’t look bright for long. That’s most likely the reason why they ended up on the clearance rack. Fortunately for me, I’m not a fashionista and I didn’t really care. If they could be functional for me for a decent period of time and priced well, I would be satisfied. I enjoyed wearing these flats for many years. I even wore them once through mud by accident. They were never quite the same after that, but I kept wearing them for about a year before saying goodbye. They lasted me roughly 4-5 years if I remember correctly. That’s not a bad longevity for a shoe which cost me less than $50 and was in my rotation about 50% of every year. 

These black booties were my first pair of short boots or booties. At this time, I was still diversifying my closet so I wanted to own a pair. These were priced well, my size, and looked cute. With a three-inch heel, they were pretty killer paired with a pair of skinny jeans. I wore them every now and then, but there are limitations to how quickly you can safely walk when in three-inch heels. I tend to like walking faster than slower, so that did limit the number of times I wore these. They were almost treated like dress shoes. 

I bought three sweaters on this shopping trip because I was building up my sweater collection. Sweaters were not my thing growing up. I didn’t like wearing bulky clothing. However, as I got older, it grew on me when I found the proper style, material, and fit. One of these sweaters was labeled dry clean only. I wore this sweater very sparingly until I decided one day to wash it at home in my machine. It came out not looking too different than before from what I could tell. From then on, I wore it a lot more knowing I could wash it at home with little or no consequence. One of these sweaters ended up being very scratchy and I didn’t enjoy it. After years of storing it season after season to maybe be worn 1-2x per winter, I decided to say goodbye. The third sweater has a more baggy fit. Sometimes I’m not in the mood to wear something so loose-fitting so it’s not necessarily a go-to item in my closet, but I don’t have a reason to get rid of it. 

This dress was not a great purchase. It was heavily discounted which is what led me to purchase. However, it didn’t fit extremely well and I wasn’t in love with the design. I remember wearing it occasionally, but sometime in the last decade, it has been scrapped. At 24 years old, I was still clinging onto lower priced items and hadn’t yet learned the value of spending worthwhile money. This dress was not worthwhile money and shows because I have no recollection of ever wearing it (although I know I did at least a few times) and I no longer have it. 

I really liked the blouse when I bought it. This was when I realized I liked the material chiffon in my blouses/tops. I have worn this blouse many, many times. My most prominent memory in this top was at my company Christmas party a while back. I haven’t worn it recently because I have inherited/found other blouses of similar material which I enjoy more. This particular blouse is also starting to wear due to the many washes it has endured. It’s still in my closet, but it may be retiring in the near future. 

The two pairs of pants I bought from this photo have served me well. One of them was a light pink pair of jeggings. The other was a pair of khakis. I wore my jeggings a lot. They’ve been through many work days with me where I could dress them up to be less casual. Over time, the light pink has faded into more of a dirty white. This pair of pants has also been relegated to a corner of my closet because I have other pants/jeans I prefer over them. However, I haven’t been able to bring myself to get rid of this pair. The khakis have been one of my favorite more formal pants in my closet. They too have come to the office with me on many days. I’ve worn them to perform at festivals as an accompanist. The waist was rather large at first – large enough to be big, but not large enough to be unwearable. Over time, and with the changes in my body, they’ve fit better. I don’t necessarily wear this pair of pants all the time, but it’s a comfort to know they’re in my closet. They probably won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

Lastly, my jeans. Oh, this particular pair of jeans. Looking at this photo, I almost couldn’t pinpoint which pair of jeans it was. But I knew. They have faded severely over time. I loved these jeans when I bought them. It was extremely unfortunate they were the pair I was wearing at the time of this project. I really thought that was the end of them, but I have continued wearing these jeans for the last three years. They are on their last leg and will be recycled or donated soon. 

I spent less than $200 on these 10 items from Black Friday 2014. About half of them are considered “fast fashion.” I impressed myself at how many pieces I still have in my closet today. 

Editing aside, everything has faded a few shades...

 

Much like everyone else, I do get bored of the same clothes over and over again. But I am also frugal and pragmatic. If something can be bought once and last me forever, I am inclined to want to do so. Clothing, sadly, will never meet those requirements as even the most carefully worn and washed fabrics will show age over time. But I will take care of them so they can stay as long as possible. 

I wonder how many of these I will still have in another 10 years...

Running Power

Nearly 13 years ago, I was probably at the lowest point in my life due to choices I had personally made. So this doesn't include my mother dying because that wasn't in my control. This was in my control, and I was facing it head-on.

The irony of this situation is that less than a month later, I met my future husband. I didn't know he was my future husband at the time. I was a clueless 20-year-old going into my last year at college wondering what in the world I was going to do with the rest of my life after I graduated. He was just a guy sitting across the table from me at a restaurant as we celebrated a mutual friend's birthday. Oh, and I did think he was cute.

But this isn't about him. This isn't about what brought me to the lowest point in my life either. This is about what I did after to bring myself out of the lowest point in my life. This is about a pair of shoes.

My 13-year-old shoes. 

I bought these pair of shoes brand new that fall as I started my third and final year of college. I was highly stressed, very lost, and I had trouble sleeping at night. I found myself lying awake with my thoughts, unable to shut off my brain. So I found a way to use my restless energy. I started running. The loop I ran around campus was approx 1.7 miles. This is the number I calculated based off a rough estimation from reading a campus map and using my AirPods case as a measuring tool. It's probably pretty accurate because I remember it was about a 2 mile run if I didn't take the shortcut.

On top of running, a friend and I would do Insanity workouts at her apartment in the afternoons after class twice a week. I think once, I was crazy enough to do both: an Insanity workout in the afternoon and a run in the evening. Thinking about doing that much exercise now makes my knees want to buckle. I'm 100% sure my body would not be able to handle that today. But at the time, it's exactly what I needed. 

After graduation, these shoes came with me overseas as I moved away for a year. They walked on icy ground. They rode trains with me as I traveled across a foreign country. They bicycled with me over the old city walls of Xi'An. And they came with me when I moved back. 

They got a lot of rest for the nine or so years after. In the last year, I brought them back out and they went biking with me. They took walks with me when I needed to heal my knee. And I finally noticed their wear and tear.

The mesh is tearing at the front corners
and the front of the sole is detaching. 

Earlier this year, I was in the restroom at a Walmart. There was an older lady walking out of one of the stalls. By chance, I happened to be looking toward the floor as I made my way into the restroom. And I noticed her shoes matched mine. The very same pair of shoes from 13 years ago which I'd purchased for myself. Could hers have been 13 years old, too? It's unlikely they were too new because the design and model has long been replaced with newer versions. But I couldn't mistake the color or the design - they were the same. 

It's nearing the time when I will replace this pair of shoes. Part of me is elated to not match the fashion choices of someone twice my age. But part of me is sad because getting rid of these shoes will mean getting rid of the physical history attached to them - the places they've been, the things they've done, the ground they've walked. Yes, my memories will be there, but that will be all. 

This pair of shoes saved me during a very difficult time. And I never knew they had the power to do so.

New Traditions

I've reached a point in my life where I've started splurging on myself. I don't go overboard or spend excessively, but by my own standards, I've definitely loosened the purse strings from my former self. Back in August, I was randomly browsing a shoe store and came across these flats on the discounted rack. I'd never purchased anything from this designer before, but they spoke directly to the young teenage girl who still lived inside my now grown-up practical adult self. 

Very blinged out, extra, shoes. Who recognizes the designer? 😛

They were discounted to $56, and I had a coupon that could bring it down another $10. However, $46 + tax was not in my budget to buy these shoes. I even mentally told myself if I could find them for around $30, I would pay for it. 

Normally, I don't fall for things like this anymore because I understand the realities of how useful things are. Beautiful shoes like this don't have many chances to get worn unless I want to wear them to the grocery store, to pick up my kids from school, or to doctor's appointments. Although I could wear these shoes to any of the previously mentioned locations, it would just seem slightly overkill to do so. 

I didn't purchase the shoes that day. But a part of me couldn't shake the desire to buy these shoes. Why was I so fixated on them?

Because a part of me wanted to match my daughter. I had purchased new shoes for her to wear to her piano festivals, and she had picked out a very glittery, blinged-out pair herself. They were meant to be a replacement for the pair she was gifted from a friend which she'd now outgrown. It was an incentive for her to play in-person in front of a judge the traditional way instead of relegating to making videos and submitting them online like many of my students choose to do now. I didn't even tell her she had the option to record. Shhh don't tell her 😆 

Normally, I'm not one to focus on aesthetics or "trends". I never even bothered dressing my daughter up as a baby because it was easier to grab a onesie and some pants. But as she grows up and I get older, the hard truths sink in deeper: we are only as young as we are right now in this moment. And it would be legit cute to match her at music festivals. She would be dressed up to play, and I can wear my extra flats as a teacher volunteer. It could be our tradition to keep alive as long as she wanted to learn piano.

This is something I've always thought about as both a mother and a teacher. Growing up, I had terrible memories of my piano competitions. My mother didn't even go to many because it was easier for her to stay at home. The one I distinctly remember her being at was the spring of 1999. She wasn't sick yet. I had just finished second grade, and it was my second time competing. I played the third movement of a sonatina, and there was a small portion in the middle where I stumbled for a bit. I finished playing, left the room, and the next memory I remember is being in a practice room getting yelled at by my mom. And she wasn't even my teacher. 😓

These are the things that traumatize us. Our parents never intentionally do these things to hurt us, but that's how it comes out: it hurts us. As an adult and a mother, I understand she wanted the best for me. She knew I could play it without stumbling in the middle, and she wanted me to win because she knew I was talented and capable of winning. What memory is an 8-year-old left with? Getting yelled at in a practice room after performing.

I don't want that for my daughter. And I'm her teacher. I don't want her to remember getting yelled at for stumbling during a performance. I want her to remember how fun it was to dress up, to match her teacher, and play on a big, fancy piano at a big school. I want her to remember how fun it was to get dressed, to match her mommy, and play on a big, fancy piano at a big school. And years later, no matter if piano becomes a long lost memory or if she still plays regularly in 30 years, she'll look back fondly on these subtle things which made learning piano fun. 

So this is why I bought a pair of very extra, very glittery flats which I will probably wear 2-3x a year, and it will be worth every penny because of the memories.

You know what the second best part is? I found them for the price I wanted. 🥰

The Scars We Carry

My friend gave my daughter a pair of glittery shoes her daughters had outgrown when we were over for a playdate a while back. My daughter instantly loved them and wanted to wear them everywhere. When we got home, she wore them inside the house for the longest time. Then she started wearing them out and she'd wear them with pants, with dresses, with socks on her feet, barefoot. She wore them a lot.

The shoes have since lost their velcro stickiness and the little embellishments are coming off the toes, but she wore them a lot and she loved them a lot. 

After my friend gave my daughter the shoes and the kids were playing, I told my friend about my own shoe story because I had once wanted a similar pair. When I was younger, my dad took me shoe shopping. I was looking for a pair of dress shoes to wear to piano competitions and performances. Although not as fast as most, my feet were still growing and I needed new shoes periodically with my 1-2 piano competitions every year and seasonal recitals. At the store, I found a pair of shoes I liked but they didn't have my size in stock. I ended up purchasing a different pair of shoes.

Another time when all of us went shopping, I somehow ended up back in the shoe section to browse. They had the shoe I wanted and in my size. My dad said I could have them since they weren't here last time we came. He put them in the cart and we met up with my mom and my brother. When she saw the shoes in the cart, she started asking questions and getting angry. Why were we buying those shoes? Why did I need them? 

My dad responded by telling her they were the ones I wanted last time but they didn't have my size. Now they had my size, he was going to buy them. Then, they started arguing in the middle of an aisle at the store. My mom would take the shoes and put them on the shelf to the side. My dad took the shoes and put them back in the cart. My brother and I stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing what to do. 

I'm sure other people in the store were hearing and seeing what was happening. In my memory of the event, I vaguely see a person or two behind them as they notice the commotion in the aisle and walk away. Whether or not that is my memory being changed or if it actually happened, I will never know. 

In my head, I remember just removing the box of shoes from the cart myself and setting them aside on a nearby shelf. I remember saying to them I didn't want the shoes anymore just so they'd stop fighting in the middle of the store. I did not get the shoes. I had many pairs of beautiful shoes as I grew up, but none were the pink glittery flats I had eyed as a child and wanted at one point in my life. 

Not the exact ones, but something very similar. 

As parents, we will always shape our children to some degree to become versions of ourselves. Our children have the freedom to take what they want and leave the rest as they grow up and become individuals themselves, but the influence is undoubtedly there. Since then, I've found my own truth in the situation; my mother didn't like the shoes. She didn't like the way they looked, and she didn't want to buy them for me. 

Being a parent myself, I've had to remind myself of both spectrums. I do not buy my children everything they want. But I do think about their requests and sometimes, they get a random surprise or toy just because for absolutely no reason. I hope my children do not have the same scars I do when they grow up. 

I need to write this story into my daughter's journal. I want her to remember the auntie who gave her the glitter shoes she loved as a child. And I want her to remember fondly the joy she had when she wore those shoes. And maybe, someday, she will tell her stories to her own children. 

I got to watch my daughter’s face light up the way mine would have. It’s a different kind of joy. 

*sidenote: my daughter watched me cry as I wrote this blog. she didn't say anything. but part of me is so curious if/what she will remember from this moment*

A Cinderella Story

When I was little, I was obsessed with Cinderella's glass slipper. I remember my childhood Cinderella book and I'd stare at the pictures of her blue gown and glass slippers. I vividly remember the scene from the movie where the slipper sits atop a pillow and they animate a sparkle gleaming from the shoe. Really, all those tiny details Disney added in went straight to my soul. 

As a child, I really wanted my own glass slipper. Swarovski makes a glass slipper as part of their crystal collection, but at $100+, I said no thank you. I was also intelligent enough to know I didn't actually want something breakable, because chances were, I was going to break it. So instead, I wanted a "glass" slipper ornament made out of some other material that wasn't breakable. Over the years I saw many renditions of Christmas ornament heels. Most were glittery and sparkly, some were acrylic, but none were mine.

You can find Christmas ornaments which look similar to this for a few dollars.
Pretty depending on the perspective you're taking, but not what I wanted.

As I grew up, I fell in love with a miniatures collection called Just the Right Shoe. I'd see the collectibles pop up in magazines here and there. The closest I ever got was cutting out the pictures and saving them in notebooks.

An example set of Just the Right Shoe on a display shoe.

I eventually gave up on my dream of ever owning my own Cinderella slippers. The years went on and I got married. We started a tradition of buying a meaningful ornament every year to add to our Christmas tree. Since then we've purchased eight ourselves and been gifted many with the births of our children. I even turned some old souvenirs into ornaments by hanging them up with string. 

My kids love checking out the tree.

While casually discussing Christmas gifts, my husband asked me what I wanted, and I randomly told him I wanted a glass slipper ornament. I told him it had to be a certain kind with a certain appearance. I wasn't the young child who was fascinated by all things shiny with glitter anymore. So I did a quick search online and actually found one which didn't break the bank and actually looked the way I wanted it to. And he ordered it, no questions asked. 

The perfect balance of elegance and charm and within budget!

I didn't grow up hungry or poor or lacking in any physical sense. All my needs were met sufficiently, but like Cinderella, I did not grow up with a lot of joy or fun. Christmas wasn't a big deal at our house. Our gifts sometimes consisted of rewrapped existing toys so we could simply open an actual gift. My husband has helped bring back the joy and fun I missed out on growing up, and for the first time, I have my own Cinderella "slipper."

(Technically, this is my second slipper..if you want to read about my first "slipper" check out a post from three years ago here.)

The Glass Slippers

We had a Cinderella weekend.

As Cinderella got ready for her ball and the birds tied her bows, we packed everything up - diapers, wipes, food, milk, toys - and went out to be social and live life again. An early Christmas party here. A birthday party there. And a dinner date. And while Cinderella was at her ball dancing with the prince, so were we, eating plates of food, having conversations, happily letting someone else hold our baby.

Cinderella heard the clock strike every hour as did we as we watched our clocks and calculated how much time we had left before her energy would drain and unleash the screaming. When the clock struck 12, Cinderella suddenly realized it was time to rush out before her beautiful facade faded away back to brown rags and torn cloth. As Sasha became more antsy and wouldn't sit still anymore, we rushed to pack everything up and get her loaded in the car before she made a commotion of noise.

And of course, Cinderella's carriage and driver reverted back to their pumpkin, vines, and animal selves. And she walked the rest of the way home (as the cartoon showed). And the baby still screamed all the way home on the car rides, unleashing herself and her needs for everyone to hear.

Cinderella's story is not all sad and depressing. Her glass slippers stayed and did not disappear as everything else did. And she had her happily ever after when the prince found his princess with tiny delicate feet which fit into those exquisite glass slippers.

I always did want Cinderella's glass slippers...

As for us? Well, despite all the screaming and crying and fussy feeds and throw up and poop explosions (all of which happened this weekend at one point or another), those are gone. And chances are, we won't remember every single second of every party and social outing this weekend. Like the carriage, the gown, the horses. Those disappeared. But the glass slippers? Yup, still here 😉