Recreating An Image of Self: A Six-Month Wardrobe Update
Prompt No. 72: Positional v. Relational Consumption and TRR Obsessions
Today’s newsletter is in partnership with @The RealReal
I wanted to feel lighter. At least that’s what I said back in January after getting rid of nearly all of my clothes and accessories. But what I really craved was a clear image of self. Fear and insecurity had settled into my closet like a fog, one so dense and still that it felt intrinsic to the landscape. It came as the quiet, yet common desire to appear at least in an uncertain world, a haze I hardly noticed until dis-ease hit. After all, what does one wear when riddled with anxiety? There are no celebrity-approved trends, no how-to guides, or life-changing styles to try in trying times. So I didn’t try. For a year I wore the same sweatshirt and jeans while all the “right” clothes hung like costumes for a role I would never play again — at least not convincingly.
I had outgrown the act. Hence, the purge.
Buying into the power of positional goods is tough. Because our consumption tacitly confers social status, we maintain or rise in rank by consuming increasingly rare and/or expensive items. However, our consumption can also be relational, a way to create identity and connect. We naively moralize both approaches — positional: bad; relational: good — when in reality we are constantly negotiating the two. At times they even overlap. Therefore, building a satisfying wardrobe means not only identifying our needs as wearers, but assessing our intentions and desired relationship to observers, as well. Of course, none of this is static. Our connection to self and others change far more often than we’d like. However, we can approach these shifts responsibly by not only shopping secondhand, but reselling when they occur.
This is why I am a bit of a habitué when it comes to The RealReal. As a teenager flipping through i-D, I thought I would never be able to afford the clothes in ads and editorials. Back then I did not care about conveying status or upward mobility, it was simply a matter of burgeoning taste. I dreamt of fashioning myself after Black models, writers, musicians, and revolutionaries, cutting an image that was sleek, powerful, otherworldly, yet ancient. I worked old dresses into elongating maxi skirts and head wraps I was too shy to wear beyond my bedroom walls. I knew the image had no place at my predominantly white private school — hell, I knew I barely had a place there — so I let it go. That’s when the fog began. Though it came into view throughout college, the image became clouded once more when I returned to D.C. A career in politics meant portraying self-restraint on little pay, making trips to luxury consignment shops hardly worth the excursion across town. I leaned into what was readily available, fast fashion, until the e-commerce boom created an incredible secondhand market that put designer clothes within reach.
By 2022, I made my first purchase on The RealReal, a Tom Ford-era Gucci Leather Flap (similar here). Finally able to construct the image, I began acquiring vintage Celine, Balenciaga, Maison Margiela and Jil Sander, all in black. Then, suddenly, the fog returned, albeit thicker this time. At 40 years old, it felt silly to experiment any further with my presentation; to throw out such a safe, classic style. I continued shopping at The RealReal, but for minimalist brands such as The Row, Toogood, and Sofie D’Hoore; clothes that were beautiful, but did not resemble the original image constructed all those years ago.
Then life reminded me that we construct identity from what we value. Although I appreciated creative and culturally resonant self-expression, I had lost sight of the desire to create that image for myself; obscured by the solidity of acceptance and approval. I cannot tell you how much I spent perfecting classic style, but I know I invested well. Over 90% of my wardrobe was secondhand, of which roughly 70% was gently worn luxury and designer brands sourced from The RealReal. So when I realized I needed a change, I decided to consign for the first time. I wasn’t sure if it’d be worth the effort, but it was far easier than I thought. Because nearly everything had to go, I combed through my “purge” pile for items I knew TRR would accept based on brand and condition and initiated the consignment process online. Before I finished preparing the packing list, a specialist reached out to walk me through each step, recommending popular brands, like Ganni and Cult Gaia, that I owned but hadn’t thought to include. All I really had to do was pack the box. The specialist finalized the packing list, shipping label, and scheduled a pick-up from my house. Every few weeks, she reached out to check in on the progress of my clean out, handling all of the details whenever I was ready. After a few weeks, I had a few thousand bucks to start building a more relational wardrobe.
Now as I experiment with an edgier style, I rely on The RealReal as an accessible entry into avant garde fashion. Not only do I save hundreds by shopping secondhand, I have access to past seasons I admired but missed, like the Rick Owens Hollywood S/S 2025 ‘Boxer’ short that arrived as I typed this sentence. Still, some things just don’t work out, like an Entire Studios skirt that was just a little too big or an Ann Demeulemeester sweater I never got around to wearing. When that happens, I return or resell the item and try again. Reinvention without the fear of final sale is really a game changer. That said, here are a few items I have my eye on now, as well as few from my old self still available to shop:
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Yes, this is a sponsored post, but that’s not why so much of my wardrobe is from The RealReal. Let’s revisit the stats six months later. Today, 99% of my wardrobe is secondhand and of that roughly 95% is from The RealReal. What I have discovered throughout this process is that while fashion theory can apply structure and language to fashion, we inherently understand the significance of clothing in our lives. We reflexively use it to attract and repel, to invite and exclude, drawing on brands, styles, and trends to alter our experience of the world. In that regard, evaluating and clearing out our closets is not just a matter of feeling lighter, but making room for a new or perhaps forgotten image of self. Honor that image.
A huge thank you to The RealReal for sustaining my closet and sponsoring this post!
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