Posted by Bethan Holt, Junior Fashion Editor at Large

Fashion is about fitting in. It's about the things to do or have which means we can join a certain kind of club, or make people think of us in a certain way. If we get really pedantic about it then that's why people who aren't interested in clothes understand fashion because there is just as much "fashion" in baby buggies or motorbikes as there is in skirts, shoes and hairstyles. Recently, the frame of time between amazingly cool and fabulous and saturation point has become so miniscule that I've begun to wonder (in a very miserly way of course) if it's ever even worth buying anything "cool"?

Take, for instance, a Kenzo sweatshirt. I totally love what Humberto Leon and Carol Lim have done at Kenzo. The game-changing part of their philosophy (imported from their time at Opening Ceremony) has been to offer a slice of the designer action to fashion-mad teen/ twenty-somethings who will probably never afford a £900 jacket. An £85 t-shirt or £165 sweatshirt is much more within reach. Thus, there's been an absolute run on them. If you've got a Kenzo sweatshirt and were going to this weekend's Vogue Festival, then of course you were going to take the opportunity to wear it because it's possibly the most fashion thing you own. Casting Agent Rosie Vogel saw so many that she felt inclined to post the following tweet...

If I see another Kenzo sweatshirt I'm fairly certain I will spontaneously combust

Kenzo sweatshirt (thetonnish.blogspot.com)
When I see girls (and boys) walking down the street in Kenzo sweatshirts, I admire them. I think that they must have been really dedicated to the cause to score that item because they are so hard to come by. I also see it as a kind of code. When I see their jumper, I know they share one of my biggest interests and that we could have a good conversation about whether we want a Brian Lichtenberg Homies jumper or Bucci one. But if I saw said boy/girl on the cobbles of Somerset House during fashion week, my opinion would, I'm ashamed to say, be a bit different. It'd be a wry, raised eyebrow. A knowing thought that said person was probably after a spot on a style blog. 

Then I recall the time I wore a Jonathan Saunders skirt to a family member's 80th birthday. "Oh, there's lovely" said an elderly relative, "they had something that colour in Marks the other day". At that moment, I wanted to be transported somewhere where my purchase would be truly appreciated for what it was. Where everyone would know. So perhaps it's a question of balance? Or should we just buy for love then not care?


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