052: Outfits for a melancholic May
In my seafaring circus girl finest
I have lately been in a rather gloomy mood. The only vestige of Britishness I’ve retained from when I lived in England as a child is to talk about the weather almost compulsively. In fact, when I speak to relatives who live in England, it is I who bring up the weather, as if knowing what the climate in New York currently is alters the trajectory of their day across the pond. My gloomy disposition as of late is due to the pall of melancholic weather that has been cast across the city and beyond.
Because I dress according to my mood, and my mood has been gloom, my more exuberant clothing has taken a back seat. While I love a good crystal clear sky and the radiant warmth of the sun, I must say that melancholy May has grown on me. Some of the greatest romantic stories and films, after all, are not set on the sandy beaches of Ibiza or Santorini (these places are expressly intended for flings, debauchery, and cold cases): imagine a Mr Darcy declaring to Elizabeth Bennet, “I love you…most ardently,” with the sun beating down on them, David Guetta thumping in the background, him in Speedos. Preposterous. True love and melodrama is only to be found where long skirts drag in the mud and downpours are torrential; this is where the Janes Austen and Campion triumph.
I was recently looking at pictures from Miu Miu’s Spring 1997 beautifully gloomy collection, in itself a deviation from the brand’s usual whimsical and effervescent self. Both at Prada and Miu Miu that season, Miuccia Prada showed collections informed by the silhouettes of the 19th and early 20th centuries but looser, liberated from corsets and caged hoop skirts. Surprisingly, Miu Miu was the more prudish of the two; there were heavy canvas floor-length skirts worn with ribbed black bateau sweaters and turtlenecks, and pristine long white dresses and skirts just shy of a bustle. Smart capri pants were paired with sturdy cotton seafaring tops, and contemporary Edwardian underpinnings were layered only to reveal more than they concealed.
Perhaps I have been thinking of Jane Campion too much lately, but I couldn’t help but imagine that Prada had drawn some degree of inspiration from Campion’s extremely influential (and gloomy day essential) The Piano, which had made a great impression on designers such as Dries Van Noten for his Spring 1999 collection, and Alexander McQueen for Fall 1997. The sheer white layers from Miu Miu reminded me of scenes from the film in which mother and child are in bed in their white cotton chemises, tickling each other and collapsing into a fit of giggles or laying side by side, deep in sleep. The long dresses and skirts and fitted short jackets would not at all be out of place in the marshes, in the pouring rain.
Very little exists about the collection aside from Women’s Wear Daily reports of the brand having moved its show from New York to London (paging Miss Austen), and a snippet from Little Book of Miu Miu, in which its author
, referencing Miuccia Prada, writes that the inspiration was the story of “a very young girl working at the circus.” It thrilled me that Prada had conjured an image of a circus girl from a seemingly distant time and explored how she would dress, instead of a remote feminine ideal. There is something very satisfying in dressing for the female gaze, the joy of receiving a compliment from a woman on an outfit well done, or admiring a woman dressed for herself. While the male gaze often relates to sexual desire and the feminine ideal, that of the female’s is complex and not easily defined; what appeals to my own is when one wears an outfit that announces, I have done this only for myself.Inspired by Miuccia Prada’s story of the circus girl, I turned to my closet to see what would transpire with pieces that spend most of the year untouched, but which are perfect for brief not-yet-warm-but-not-entirely-cold sulky spells: light wool tops, a sleeveless knit, and a canvas skirt from Spring 1997 (my version of the circus girl is set in a grey coastal town by way of the big city).
A few years ago, I’d been possessed by the need to find this skirt. While some of the more commercial pieces, such as the sheer printed dresses, occasionally made an appearance on secondhand sites, it seemed as though the skirts from the collection hadn’t even gone into production. After months of intermittent searching, I finally located it on eBay and bought it for $70, $78.85 with shipping and fees.
I’m ashamed (but also delighted?) to admit that the first time I wore this skirt was to the beach. It dragged against the sand, some collecting along the hem so that each time I brought it out to wear, yet another granule would drop. Everything about it felt very romantic, and had I seen The Piano then, Michael Nyman’s soundtrack would have been playing in my head.
Next in this circus girl’s trousseau: Simon Porte Jacquemus’s clown couture. I am still a fan of the designer’s early work, which toed the line between ridiculous and reality, the clothes catering to the female gaze, its wants and its needs. I had been bowled over by these two tops from Fall 2017 that were at once kooky and chic. After tracking down the first top on Vestiaire Collective, I was gutted to discover upon its arrival that it was too small, but I held on to it in the delusional hope that it would one day fit. While cleaning up my closet last year, I decided to no longer let it haunt me and listed it on Instagram. A saint of a person who was following me sent me a message saying that she was selling the exact same top in my size. Years and much pining later, the top is finally mine!
The melodramatic sleeves and oversized sailor collar make these tops not entirely ideal for the cooler months, as my heavy wool coat can crush and flatten them on contact. But, they are perfect for melancholy May; wearing them makes me feel as though I should be gazing wistfully into the horizon in between turning cartwheels on the shore.
For the seafaring circus girl at the end of her rope, both literally and figuratively, there can never be too much of it. I purchased this knit top from Céline’s Resort 2015 collection on Poshmark at the upper end of my price-limit, a tidy $300, though having seen how much pieces from Phoebe Philo’s tenure are being resold for, I’d consider it a bargain. This is the first piece I reach for on neither-here-nor-there days, and it also serves wonderfully on cool summer night on the beach.
Last but not least, a lightweight sweater from Prada’s Spring 2001 collection. I bought from The Real Real right before leaving for a trip to Italy last fall. Because I was traveling to three cities and two islands in less than ten days and would have to take trains and ferries and do a fare amount of walking, I was searching for a light knit that wouldn’t take up too much space and weight in my luggage that was also suitable for milder evenings. When this sweater popped up, it seemed serendipitous. My favorite way to wear it is inspired by the runway version, with a voluminous white skirt, no accessories, and an attitude. From shipwreck to 19th century circus!
That oversized collar shirt is literally what dreams are made of.
Your finds always amaze me!