Call for Letters: dear purple hoodie
Photo Credit: Nora Veerman.
By Nora Veerman
Dear purple hoodie,
You arrived at my house in a plastic bag with tape all around it. I ripped the plastic and unfolded you. You smelled of someone else’s perfume, which was strange, and there was a small yellow stain in your hood - probably from her foundation. I’m not sure what it was that I expected, but I couldn’t get used to you immediately. I put you in the laundry machine with a bunch of sheets. While I waited, I pondered on your previous life. In the advert, she'd written that you had been worn 'very rarely'. Why? Had her affection for you faded, or had she really never liked you in the first place?
You emerged from the laundry machine soaked and heavy, but with a familiar scent of flowers around you. Once you’d dried, you were soft, the stain was gone, and your colour had brightened. I put you on. I hadn’t owned a hoodie since high school, but boy, it felt good to have one again. I wore you on a long train ride just yesterday. I had a headache and all I wanted was to get away from the loud voices in the wagon. I put your hood on, we listened to Sufjan Stevens’ latest album. I fell asleep against the window.
________
Our lives, and the lives of our clothes, don’t run entirely parallel to each other. In fact, we cross paths at some point. When we buy or receive a garment, it has already lived a life of its own. It has been made somewhere, by someone. It has travelled by plane, boat, or truck. It has been touched and tried by other people, perhaps even bought, worn and sold again. What’s more, clothes continue to live their own lives after they’ve left us. If we bring them to a thrift shop, they might end up in someone else’s hands. Or, they’re shredded and – if they’re lucky – recycled to start an afterlife as a tea towel.
Somewhere in between, they meet us, and we meet them. We take them home and hang them in our wardrobes or put them on directly and go on an adventure – whether that means going out for cocktails or hanging on the couch playing The Legend of Zelda. We end up having different relationships with each and every one of our garments. Some stay in the closet for most of the year, others come out more often. Some end up frustrating us endlessly, like that pair of saggy socks or that itchy jumper. Some are present at special moments in our lives: a sunny day spent with friends, a first date, a funeral.
Yet, in a world where clothes are bought and discarded so quickly, it’s easy to forget that clothes are not ‘just clothes’ – they are our witnesses and our wingmen, our friends and foes. Clothes make us feel things and do things. There are reasons why we choose one white shirt over another, whether we are standing in a store, or in front of our wardrobe. And there are reasons why we keep some clothes forever and ditch others only after a few weeks.
It can be very interesting to engage with the emotions, memories, thoughts, and questions related to your clothes. That’s why we’re offering you an exercise, inspired by the work of French designer and activist Lucie Chaptal.
Write a letter to one of your garments or accessories. It could be a love letter, but it doesn’t have to be. It could be a letter to a friend, or to an enemy. You could write a letter to a garment you don’t own anymore, and which you miss. It could be a long-time-no-see-letter or a get-out-of-my-life-letter. The point is to take time to consider the garment, reconnect with it, reflect on your relationship with it – and use your creativity to imagine the garment’s life, character, or personality.
We encourage you to really get into it. Choose a nice piece of paper or a postcard that you think fits the garment. Pick up your favourite pencil/ballpoint/fine liner/ or glitter gel pen. If you work on a computer, choose the font you’ve always wanted to use but never had a reason to. And how about some WordArt?
We would love to share your letters! Take a photo of your letter and garment and send it to hello@wearersfestival.com or slide it into our DMs on Instagram!
Not sure where to start? Here are a few tips to get your juices flowing:
Look at the garment. Do you remember when and how you met? Why did you stick together? What character does the garment have? How does it look, how does it feel, how does it behave? What would be the garment’s opinion of you? How is your relationship? Loving, intimate, humorous, ambiguous? Why? Do you wear the garment often, or rarely? How do you feel when you do? Where do you usually go together? Where have you been? What memories – positive or negative – do you share? Any anecdotes? Are there any signs of wear that testify to these? Where is the garment now? What would the relationship be between the garment and other garments in your closet? When do you expect to wear it again? What have you always wanted to say to it, or ask it? If the garment’s not there anymore, why is that? Where could it be now?
Nora Veerman is a freelance writer and editor, lecturer in Fashion Studies at the University of Amsterdam and co-founder of the contemporary fashion platform Fashion Foreword.