My Need For Inconvenience
Is using your brain a thing of the past?
I give my brain a lot of credit. I make it do the work, often feeling weary of sparing it the ease of convenience. I find myself in situations where there could have been an easy route to my final goal but instead I take the scenic route. Like the path from question to answer is where I find the most excitement.
I sometimes worry it’s my entire thesis for making clothes.
In 2016 I bought a giant pink Topshop coat that I scored in the back of the sales section. Chicago’s offshoot of the brand was the best for their sale section, packed to the brim with 80% of the stock sent to the store because Chicago’s style sensibilities didn’t quite aline with a $98 clear vinyl rain coat or acid green flatform sandals (both of which I also bought at a steep discount). Chicago’s winters are notoriously brutal, to the extreme that you make sartorial decisions for survival sake rather than self expression. You hit a point where you disregard how you look to the outside world for your own comfortability. This is why I had felt like I hit the jackpot with a giant winter coat that also covered me in my favorite color
That was until I opened Instagram and saw something familiar. A coworker had bought the same coat. My heart sank. I stared at an image of them draped in oversized pink fabric in front of bar. The mere knowledge of someone out in the world wearing the same thing as me made me queasy. Someone wearing a statement piece and making a statement the same as mine, even if the statement was simply, “Look at my giant pink coat.”
Is my obsession with disconveniencing myself, cutting and constructing my own clothes, rooted in pompous individualism? A refusal to be like others and holding myself to a higher standard?
Or is it that I am confident that my brain and body can execute a vision of what I want to look like? No algorithm feeding me recommended buys but rather reference photos and ideas glue-sticked into my sketchbook months prior to conception? That the work of sourcing materials and inspiration make me feel more connected to the ways in which I present myself rather than using pre-made clothing to construct a visual identity.
The clothes became a visual history of my inspirations and priorities in dressing. Summer 2022’s lacy shorts and shirts reflecting my research into lingerie at NYPL’s Picture Collection. The 2017 rhinestone tops and text based clothing to wear to protests. The rise of micro trends can leave a closet filled with clothes of the past, like ghosts of personas that don’t quite make sense anymore. When the art of buying clothes is fed through apps as a quick and easy way to look like others, have we cut out the process of finding things we authentically like?
By toiling over personal references and inspirations I find the same ideas come back in cycles. When I pull out a shredded 70’s plaid shirt I bought in 2007 at Clothes Optional, I remember what appealed to me about it because those sensibilities are still in me, albeit grown and developed further. When clothes fill a need in my’s wardrobe rather than a reflection of the current style trends of the moment, they have more longevity and reflect a personal visual language that develops through time.
But the insistence on making every element of my self presentation an analogue process also removes me from the positive aspects of homogeny. How can wearing a recognizable piece help make a statement to others before I even speak?
We see this most often with the Telfar bag. A now iconic symbol of underground style in New York that has hit the mainstream in the past 5 years. In an article about the inclusivity of the brand in The Cut they mention, “…because he has built a welcoming, clubby space within the often closed world of fashion, people who own the bag feel connected to one another…Telfar bag owners will stop each other on the street to strike up conversations. It’s like being part of a secret society.”
There is a connection there, a statement that you’re in with the crowd when you wear it. Using it as an admissions ticket when entering a room and saying that you belong. At an opening for a show at Black Men Build recently my friend leaned over to whisper ask, “Why is it that whenever white men go to a black event they put on their Telfar bag?” A flippant observation followed by a chuckle that I could only respond to with, “You know why.” Using a garment as a convenience tool to move through spaces easily can ease the feeling of not fitting in and open the door to connection.
The twisted part of my brain that values individualism over wearing the same thing as others is keeping me from these moments of connection. Of choosing to be in a proverbial club that can relate me to others. Instead I’m a lone island in the ocean, self sustaining and watching others congregate from afar. Taking a month to cut and sew a bag from materials I’ve sourced in the past 5 years rather than buying one that connects me to the wider zeitgeist in a digestible way.
Sometimes the inconvenience of the journey is just so fun.
One of my worst habits in life is losing things. It has gotten to the point that I just accept the absurdity and replace whatever was lost instead of racking my brain trying to find it. A while ago this happened with the zipper foot on my sewing machine, I placed it somewhere on my sewing table and it vanished into thin air. The easiest thing to do would be to get on Amazon, (a website I refuse to use, clearly), and order the replacement. Type the specifics of my machine into a search bar and have it on my doorstep in a week. But what’s the fun in that?
This is where convenience means something different to everyone. Some find it more convenient to make an order online, waiting the day or two so that they don’t have to leave their house or divert their plans in any way. This makes sense to me if you live somewhere without easy access to the things you need. I get confused when I see people in New York order toothpaste or paper towels on Amazon. As if anything you could possibly need isn’t within a 5 mile radius of you. For me convenience means leaving my house and coming home that same day with the thing I wanted. My expectations for delivery time are so high they require physical intervention. And these journey’s for immediate satisfaction have taken me fun places.
I threw on a pair of Canal Street sunglasses and dashed off to the Garment District, popping into storefronts between 7th and 8th avenue asking around for help finding this specific machine part. In the process I was taking stock: they don’t have the zipper foot at this store but they have great scissors, the other place doesn’t have it but it has a large selection of zippers. I ended up in a tiny store on the 5th floor of an office building in what was probably more of an appointment only shop. They graciously helped me out with instruction I’ll never forget and have since repeated to others many times.
“Keep walking down 8th avenue until you see Two Bros Pizza. Turn left there and keep an eye out on the left side of the street. There is an unnamed store front with the piece you need.”
I went along my journey feeling like Frodo or something, (I don’t know I’ve never seen Lord of the Rings), keeping my eyes and nose peeled for the Two Bros on 8th Avenue. When I turned left I found the promised land. A 10 x 10 foot store front covered wall to wall in sewing machine parts. Who knows what it’s called. I find that’s often how I shop in that area. I don’t know the names of stores but I have a 6th sense feeling of where they are. A sense I’ve developed through exploring. Stopping into multiple places and using my own discernment and taste to find the exact thing I’m looking for.
This also lead me once to what turned out to be a homely head office of a Hasidic Jewish company in Borough Park in the search for tiny plastic bags for rhinestones. They ended up giving me tons of free ones due to their confusion of me popping up on them. I still use them today. Amazon would never.
I’ve gotten feedback that this newsletter is just a map of how my brain filters everyday experiences. But isn’t that what forming a sentence is? Isn’t every chance to form a sentence an opportunity to say something unique? AI could never write this. ChatGPT couldn’t bang out 500 words on the specifics of being blonde in a way that covered history, anecdote, and identity.
The use of AI for everyday tasks really does scare me. There are moments when I see people leaning into convenience for things that seem absurd to me. Like we’ve moved too far away from critical thought and self reliance that we need a computer to form basic thoughts. UNESCO’s AI Competency Framework for Students starts it’s second chapter with this simple fact, “Critical thinking is a fundamental skill that students need to meaningfully engage with AI as learners, users and creators.” Unfortunately critical thinking is a skill rapidly declining in the United States and a need for technological convenience is replacing simple tasks. Maybe it could be “easier” but then what am I here for? Why is an AI bot making my grocery list? They don’t know my appetite like I do.
In conversation with an unnamed friend working for a major tech company they told me they use AI to write their work emails. An easy click to remove the responsibility of constructing a digital note. I have no strong opinion on that. I’m sure constant email correspondence on mundane things is something anyone would want to turn off with the click of a button. But it did made me think of how I show up in an email. Even digitally, I hope I have a certain Jenny Say Qua about me that can’t be replicated by code.
I’m not a holier than thou off-the-grid hippy. I engage in unethical practices under the weight of capitalism that could be restructured. I could have bought Hellogoodbye’s seminal 2006 album Zombies! Aliens! Vampires! Dinosaurs! And More! instead of using a streaming platform to listen to it as I write this. Effectively offering them a fraction of the profit available through direct purchase. But it was easier to type it into Apple Music and just press play.
I use single use contact lenses that come in plastic packaging. Ordered through an app that also digitally does my eye test. I set my phone up and step 10 feet back to get a most likely inaccurate reading just to make sure they can ship them out as soon as possible and take my money. My eyelid twitches as I put in another pair of contacts my actual optometrist told me I was probably allergic to. But it’s just easier.
I sometimes use the moving walkways at the airport. A lean into technology for the sake of convenience.
I think that’s the goal of existing as an individual under the current state of fascism. Using everyday opportunities to make conscious decisions, no matter how small. Saying yes to one thing according to your own personal code of ethics and saying no to others. Questioning your urges and alliances, making sure they’re your own. Or at least consciously a patchwork of everything that feels right to you.
