Memory and Fashion

On tiptoe I stretched up my hand and tugged the Irish tweed sports coattail crowned by a cream checked
flannel shirt, an alien face turned and smiled quizzically. Terrified, I screamed, I was expecting the warm
round bespectacled face of my father; at the age of two I had disturbingly discovered mass production in
fashion.

On a balmy evening in Kurdistan a wealthy Chelsea girl entered the carpet shop. I was surprised that the
normally cloying carpet sellers were ignoring such a prime target. I asked why they were not harrying
such a bountiful prospect and they with obvious revulsion said “She has holes in her clothes”, bemused I
scanned her white label Levis, so carefully torn and distressed, and I tried fruitlessly to explain how it was
a fashion amongst wealthy Londoners to wear vintage ripped jeans.

I have always found worn clothing infinitely more compelling than the new. Old shoes moulded by sweat
and puddles seem, to me anyway, to contain the hopes, dreams, character and essence of the previous
owner. Perhaps this is the reason for our love affair with ‘shabby chic’, in a throwaway world of
disposable fashion an object that has been loved and treasured for countless years has a peculiar charm. In
a world where people once lived and died owning two or three suits (one for everyday and one for
Sunday best) our burgeoning wardrobes exploding with Primark bargains would perhaps seem a dream
come true.

In our Western world of plenty the ability to treasure is being lost. Adam Curtis has commented artfully
on our dissatisfaction with conspicuous consumption in his documentary series ‘Whatever happened to
our dream of Freedom?’
Is our feeling of disassociation connected to a lack of intimacy with our everyday belongings, a void of
romance, a dearth of emotional investment in our vestments?

In times past our clothes contained our care and love, the handmade lace collar, the finely trimmed
crocheted cuff, colourful embroidery or carefully carved buttons. Labours of love, gestures of affection
and an expression of personal creativity, the handmade clothes of the past were expressions of
individuality and a material archive of intimate attachment.

The physicist William Tiller has demonstrated that thoughts can change the chemical nature of things and
the space surrounding them. It is very likely then, that our clothing contains a record of our feelings, our
greatest happiness’s and our saddest moments.
In the future it may be possible to reconstruct the emotions and lifestyle of a person from their clothing.
DNA can already be extracted from blood, skin and hair follicles – soon it may be possible to sample
hormones, pheromones even amino acids from the analysis of sweat embedded within the fibres of a
garment to recreate the emotions, character and intentions of the owner of a piece of clothing.
More subtle technology may reveal what perfume you were wearing and what road you travelled along.

Clothing and personal possessions may be the focus and inspiration of the museums of the future. The
three dimensional archives of the emotional ephemera of our past creating a multi sensory virtual history
tour of the future. Churchill’s cigar butt would perhaps recount witty anecdotes on vital decisions of
World War II, Florence Nightingale’s bonnet would evoke the stench and horror of the Crimean War,
teddy bears would speak of years of love and generations of cuddles and I’m not even going to mention
lingerie. Anyway I’m off to spend happy moments with my favourite party frock….