The day I decided to join a new social media platform
Like most of us living throughout this pandemic, it has presented a series of different and unfortunate events. My most recent one was hotel quarantining for 10 days on my way back to the UK after spending a few months in Brazil with my family. While I was trying to ignore the cost of this journey, most of my time spent in that hotel was not that bad, but eventually I was tired of being alone. It was then, against my better judgement – have the last three decades of my life taught me nothing? – that I decided to download a new social media app: Clubhouse. Apparently, Clubhouse is a new audio-based platform where you can share your thoughts. It is different than WhatsApp because it happens live, and they aren’t voice notes sent back and forth. Also, am I the only one who still thinks that WhatsApp voice message were never cool? The app allows you to invite someone, but this is NOT like just calling someone on their phone, because that's also uncool. You can also join a planned talk and listen in – like Zoom …you know that video conferencing platform where people only dress the top half of their bodies for meetings? Like most social media platforms nowadays, you must be invited to join. Does anyone remember the early days of Facebook when you had friend requests?
I was asked to listen in on Wearers Festival’s conversation with SomethingTM and London Sneaker School. They were going to discuss clothing and how important or unnecessary it is for us during our life, and I am curious and keen to listen to different voices. Nessa mentioned that "clothes make you dream and can make you travel back in time,” which is so simple and could resonate with most people listening in. What was I wearing in that moment in time? Probably a pair of leggings, a cotton shirt, and pilates socks to keep my feet warm –I was hotel quarantining, so no surprise there. But it immediately reminded me of the clothes I had at home and why some of them were so special to me. The burgundy ankle boots that I got on a sale but never wore… or the summer dresses I had that I used and re-used (during the surprisingly long English summer last year). Nao noted that “certain garments or shoes create a sense of expectation among us, like when you buy a new pair of shoes or a new dress, you just can't wait to wear them," and there is so much truth to that. I could have easily worn those ankle boots at home, couldn't I? So why did I decide I needed a special occasion for it? When would that special occasion be? What exactly was I waiting for?
On the subject of shoes, Jase from London Sneaker School spoke about how "there is something about sneakers, isn't there?" Yes, there is. I am not very much into sneakers, but somehow, some of the points touched upon were still very relevant to me. They spoke about shoe hierarchy and how that affects kids these days, and I did have a memory that involved kids, schools and sneakers. When I was a kid, my sister and I would always spend the summer in Rio de Janeiro. We loved it; besides the gorgeous town, it was an opportunity to spend a few months with two of the people we loved most: my grandma and grandpa. As summer was ending and a new year of school was beginning, we would always go shopping with my grandmother. During that summer of 2003, I purchased something else that was special: a pair of leather sneakers that 12-years-old me thought were the coolest thing in the world. I remember the expectation, of that first day of school when I could finally wear them and show them off.
I also remember getting mocked by a random boy who said I was wearing bowling sneakers to school; I was so upset but refused to show it and powered on through the year wearing my shoes. They were special after all (and different from everybody else's). Those shoes also reminded me of my grandmother, who I haven't seen in two years because of the pandemic. It made me think of what she is wearing, which I can imagine perfectly in my mind (she has such a distinct style). If I focus really hard, I can also remember what she smells like. Aren't clothes so powerful?
Jase mentioned the work of Tom Sax and the ethos around his art. He spoke about making the conscious choice of grabbing a garment that you love and creating a heirloom out of it. As I sat there in my hotel, I remember my most precious object in there was, in fact, a heirloom. And I was wearing it: a necklace with a marvellous gold medal that belonged to my father. I brought it in the UK with me because it reminded me of him, and I felt like I could keep him close. I recently lost my father to COVID, and what he wore is still fresh in my memory: cargo shorts every day, a t-shirt (usually dark blue or sometimes grey) and always a pair of sneakers. As a disabled person, my father could only wear sneakers that did not have laces, so sneakers were an essential part of his wardrobe and something he spent long hours searching for. His clothes are still in his closet. The sustainable thing would be to donate them straight away, but we are not ready to let go of them yet. Clothes are incredibly powerful, aren't they? While hearing about heirlooms and clothes in a voice app, I no longer cared about hearing to other people's voices. His was the one I wanted to listen to again.
By: Leticia de Toledo