The Baksa Project

Personal Style

All’s Well That Trends Well (What Doesn’t is Probably Great Too!)

Personal Style, Sustainable Fashion, Trends7

Out of fashion doesn’t necessarily have to mean out of style. 

There’s a long-standing joke that my father has on all the women in the family. It’s never funny when he says it, but it’s 100% true — we are all victims of the ‘Nothing to Wear Syndrome’.

Think about the number of times you, or somebody you know stood in front of a closet bursting at the seams and complained: “I have nothing to wear!”

Let’s be honest. The statement rings true for many of us, and for several reasons. Sometimes, it’s because we’ve outgrown the clothes we have. The other times, it’s because these clothes have seen better days. Most times, it’s because they’ve gone out of fashion, and we, as ardent followers of trends, feel compelled to keep up. It’s a vicious cycle that urges us to buy clothes that we will only wear a couple of times until new trends emerge and make the ones we own, redundant. 

And then, again, we are left with nothing to wear.

The recent success of Instagram and the insider access that the platform has given us users to the traditionally elitist and cliquish world of fashion, is reason enough to believe that our insatiable appetite for fashion trends is rather nascent. Trends are now a lot more accessible — not just in terms of their availability but also their affordability. It’s only a matter of days after a trend is spotted on the runway (and by virtue of live streaming, our smartphones), that its multiple low-cost and quality variations trickle down to the racks of fast fashion stores. There’s also a growing number of smalltime Instagram shops and e-commerce websites that thrive on offering cheap designer knockoffs. For trend-crazy shoppers with budget constraints, this is great news. For creators and the environment at large, not so much.

Fashion trends aren’t born out of thin air. They capture the zeitgeist of an era. The hippie counterculture that emerged in the late ‘60s and gained momentum in the ‘70s gave fashion its cherished bell-bottom jeans and flower power motifs. In the ‘80s, the trend of female power dressing caught on as it became a means for women to assert their authority in professional spaces dominated by men. Creators are constantly influenced by the flow of culture, the state of politics and the general spirit of the prevailing times. These influences translate into creations, and the creations spark trends. It’s an ongoing cycle where past trends are also often seen making comebacks.

In today’s digital age, fashion trends have several reference points ranging from the streets to the screens, and their shelf lives are also much shorter. In an article by W Magazine, Bruce Pask, the men’s fashion director at Bergdorf Goodman attributes the overload of visual information to our “hunger for the new and the next.” If the very nature of trends, especially in current times, is that they are constantly undergoing a change, does that mean our wardrobes need to also change alongside and at the same pace, leaving little or no room for the clothes that we already own? 

In a world already facing the brunt of the drastic damage done by the fashion industry, our incessant hunger for current trends might we something we all need to reassess. In doing so, one can experience, what I believe, is the greatest joy fashion can offer — being able to cultivate a style that’s unique and an extension of who you are!

Fashion trends exist for a reason, but by no means should they bind our style choices. Style is instinctive and is driven by personal inspiration. It can’t, and must not be dictated. For someone who loves fashion, the awareness of current trends is a part of their understanding of the direction in which the industry is transitioning. What’s essential is to view trends in perspective without getting obsessive about coveting them.

Having said that, I also do understand that there may be times when you find yourself drawn to a current trend because it defines your aesthetic. What then seems to be the usual course of action for most, as it used to be for the old me, is to turn to fast fashion brands and spend hours scouring websites like Shein in search of that trend. While these options are technically on-trend, they aren’t by any means prudent.

Since fashion trends have a nature of repeating themselves, in times when you have an urge to shop for the season’s trendiest looks, avoid giving into the temptation mindlessly and, instead, look in places people generally wouldn’t — thrift shops, second hand stores or perhaps even your own old wardrobe.  

Who knows? You might rediscover a long-forgotten jacket in the shade of Living Coral from several seasons ago that’ll still be very “in” when you wear it today!

Well, even if don’t, you’ll still find something wonderful that makes your style, yours, and not of just another high-street clone’s.

The Mindful Maximalist: A Maximalist’s Guide to Adopting a Sustainable Approach to Fashion

Maximalism, Personal Style, Sustainable Fashion12

Aesthetically speaking, sustainable fashion has a certain air of minimality and sobriety about it. What does it then hold for the lover of offbeat style with a motivation to be mindful and conscious?  

Associations. Our ideas about the world at large revolve around them. What do you associate the colour red with? Love? Danger? How about the word ‘compassion’? Your grandmother? Mother Teresa? Associations help us arrive at quick solutions. Associations help us make safe choices. 

What associations also do, however, is make us closed-minded.

Our minds get conditioned to draw connections based on the learnings and experiences we have along our journey. Often, this very conditioning makes us so accustomed to a set way of thinking, that it becomes hard to imagine another way. That is, until someone tells you different, and you go, “Ah! I wonder why I didn’t think of it that way?” Frans Johansson, in his book titled ‘The Medici Effect’ writes about how “associative barriers” can hinder people’s creativity by making them jump to conclusions too quickly.

It is perhaps these associative barriers that made the ill-informed fashion enthusiast that I was a few years ago associate sustainable fashion only with clothes that are expensive and minimalistic: not meant for someone with an eclectic sensibility (and a tight budget) like me. For me, a die-hard lover of vibrance and variety in my clothes, sustainable fashion seemed like an impossible territory to set foot in, because of the preconceived ideas I had about it. 

The perception that sustainable fashion speaks a subdued visual language is essentially social-media-driven. Search for the hashtag ‘sustainable fashion’ on Instagram, and you will spot common themes – clean frames, earthy tones, elements of nature and a general lack of colour. Although there’s certainly nothing wrong with the basic image that the sustainable fashion space seems to have cultivated, it leaves little room for capturing the interest of someone with an unconventional personal style. 

It is not without reason that the tag of minimalism is attached to sustainable fashion. In an interesting piece on Fashionista.com, journalist Whitney Bauck tells why. By virtue, sustainability stands for spending less and spending mindfully. Those being the driving principles for a majority of sustainable fashion brands, creating conscious pieces that are timeless and functional becomes a prevailing standard to abide by. In other words, for a sustainable brand, to craft a collection doused in the season’s trendiest colours, featuring styles and cuts that are in vogue today but will lose relevance in the seasons to come just isn’t sustainable enough. 

In the article, 18-year-old, ethical fashion blogger, Tolmeia Gregory of Tolly Dolly Posh is also quoted explaining that much of the “fun” materials, such as sequins or vinyl used to embellish and add texture and variation to garments are not sustainable, and, are therefore, off limits for brands trying to produce new clothing, sustainably. 

Today, there are a number of slow fashion labels like Ka Sha (India), IRISHLATINA (USA), Rianna + Nina (Germany) that don’t comply with the domain’s dominant minimal aesthetic and work with post-production, post-consumer, vintage and second-hand fabrics, to create clothing that is refreshingly one-of-a-kind. However, given the fact that for slow fashion labels, there are huge costs and efforts involved at every level of the supply chain, they aren’t always economically accessible to everyone. 

What does a frugal maximalist, willing to make conscious fashion decisions, then do? Here are some tips that the maximalist me swears by to access fun fashion that is as budget-friendly as it is sustainable:

Reusing and Repurposing 

Once I’d decided I wanted and needed to make sustainable fashion choices for myself, I started from the place I knew best: my own home. Coming from a family of hoarders, I knew we’d have years of accumulated  and unused clothes lying around. My biggest aim starting ‘The Baksa Project’ was fuelled by the idea of repurposing and reusing what I already own and through it, experiencing the joy of making. From turning my great-grandma’s sarees into jackets and skirts to transforming my torn denims into hand-embroidered and personal storyboards, not only has reusing and repurposing given what’s old and spoiled, a new life, but has also given me a chance to learn amazing skills and express my personal style and story more beautifully.

Thrifting Second Hand and Vintage Clothing

All my life, I have loved thrift shopping. I was 10 when I had my first thrift shopping experience with my mom, and there’s been no looking back, since.

The joy of mixing and matching, the character that a slightly ragged seam adds to a garment, the entire mystery of how a beautifully hand-embroidered silk skirt finds itself in the neighbourhood thrift store – to me, each one of these elements make the thrift shopping experience joyous. What makes it all the more better is the fact that these clothes are already in circulation, which means that by thrifting, not only are you preventing garments from ending up in landfills, but are also playing your part in reducing pollution resulting due to the production and distribution of new garments.

Clothing Swaps

As a maximalist, I am constantly looking for variety in my wardrobe. A fun and mindful way to achieve that is through clothes swapping: exchanging what you’ve gotten over or grown out of with something interesting that someone else owns and doesn’t need. You could swap clothes with your family, friends, or even organise a clothes swapping event within your circle. There are also a number of platforms that you can use to swap clothes with people living remotely, although I still believe that it is both, more economical as well as sustainable to do the swapping locally.

The closed-mindedness that I had with regards to sustainable fashion was purely because I wasn’t well informed and took it at face-value. As someone who’s recently begun taking more conscious fashion calls, I encourage everyone to constantly ask, read and make oneself more aware. 

If you have any questions about how to stay true to your individual style while being sustainable, or just about anything else, I’d be very glad to help. 

Love,

Karishma

Finders Keepers: In Praise of Being Unconventional and Un-Instaworthy

Personal Style9

If our longing for something is kindled only when someone else sees worth in it, and our choices need constant validation, where is there any room left for individuality?

My relationship with clothes is instinctive — almost emotional. Ever since I was a little girl, clothes have been an integral part of what makes me. Being someone who is slightly reticent, I don’t talk a lot: I let my clothes do the talking for me.

A couple of years ago, during one of my family’s routine Sunday clean-ups, as my mother was sifting through some baksas that had her old sarees, I spotted a florid bottle green fabric tucked somewhere under the pile of 6-yard beauties.“What’s this?”, I asked. “Oh, this. This is a Kashmiri robe that your father used to wear many years ago”, my mother replied.

“I’m keeping it”, I said. And I did.

I have had that slightly ragged robe for three years now, and it has travelled with me everywhere I have gone since. I have worn it on several occasions, and have gotten extreme reactions to it ranging from “Wow, this is fabulous” to “Oh, so you decided to swap personalities with Daler Mehndi today, huh?” All reactions aside, to me, what truly matters is that this piece of garment is one-of-a-kind. It sets me apart and lets me speak a visual language that is my own. It belonged to my dad several years ago and it belongs to me now. That’s precious, at least to me.

Today, the way we view the world and how the world views us has changed. I call it the Age of Instagram, because, really, the influence this photo-sharing platform has had on everything — from our vocabulary to our aesthetic, is mind-boggling. Although I sincerely love it and believe that it’s a remarkable source of inspiration and creative stimulation, I also think that the platform has given rise to a herd mentality. People looking the same, dressing the same, travelling to the same places, curating the same visual stories and saying the same things in the same manner, sometimes often for the sake of Instagrammability.

I won’t lie, I have conformed to the unspoken rules of Instagram expression as well. Umpteen number of times.

An opinion piece by fashion journalist Katherine Ormerod in Harper’s Bazaar presents an interesting perspective on this. Ormerod speaks about the ‘homogenisation of Instagram happiness’ — a set formula for what constitutes a happy and successful life, a life that is likeable (on social media). Ormerod has, on several platforms, shared experiences of when her life was far from perfect, but her Instagram feed needed to be.

Perhaps one of the reasons we tend to stick to formulaic ways of visual communication today, especially on social media, is because conforming is safer (and easier) than standing out. Maybe we fear not being ‘liked’ for our actual self. In this quest to be liked and validated, it’s easy for us to lose sight of who we really are and what makes us different.

One of my favourite fashion figures, Iris Apfel — the 97-year-old “Rare Bird of Fashion” who’s known for her uninhibited and eccentric sense of style, rose to global prominence only in the last decade or so, owing to the burgeoning power of internet technology.
Not a fan of the digital medium herself, however, Apfel attributes people’s addiction to digital tools for their restricted ability to think and to get to know themselves.

Earlier this year, CNN Style posted an article and video featuring Apfel where the luminary talked about the growing lack of individuality in fashion. “The world is becoming so homogenised. It’s very boring. I think difference is what’s so interesting.”, she said.

In the world of fashion, where visuals are key, this growing culture of sameness is hampering creativity at both ends of the spectrum — the consumer as well as the creator. Instagram accounts like Diet Prada are doing excellent work towards documenting and reporting increasingly rampant plagiarism in fashion.

In an interview that I did last year with Geraldine Wharry, a London-based trend forecaster, she complained that a creative block had hit the industry like never before.“I feel there’s a real crisis of creativity in fashion right now. There are often these phrases like ‘future proof’ thrown around and it’s all very anxious. Brands are constantly chasing their consumers and looking at what everyone else is doing. I know this sounds like a bit of a paradox coming from a trend forecaster, but maybe trend forecasting needs to change as well.”, she said.

As an avid (read obsessive) user of Instagram, I understand that the platform can be a huge influence in shaping our ideas, without us even realising it. However, if our ideas are constantly fuelled by what our network is doing, and our network’s by what their network is doing, won’t we all get stuck in a pit of banality? Where will there be any place for authenticity or magic?

On days when I feel stuck in a rut, I find immense pleasure and comfort in opening boxes and drawers in my house and discovering something of my past; my family’s past. It makes me feel closer to myself and my roots. It reminds me of my journey and what makes me unique. It triggers a wonderful creative energy within. This is what my father’s old Kashmiri robe does for me. 

I truly believe each one of you has something that’s as important to you. Something that can make your dreary days, meaningful and special. Something that will show you the way when you feel lost. Find what that is, and keep it close. It’s yours and yours alone.