#100wears: Ginta’s gray cardigan

#100wears is the most beloved garment section where I show off the longevity of items I’ve worn at least 100 times and urge to elevate the rather low #30wears aspiration. Basically, a love song, a poem, a “there are some garments so good I can’t stop wearing them”.

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The gray cardigan is a basic fast fashion garment with all the tags ripped off (thanks, mom!) that I appropriated circa 2012, cotton and elastane mix probably. The first photographic evidence is from Salamanca in April 2013:


…and in 2015 already in Barcelona

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And it has been around ever since. 124 wears since January 2016 and many more before that. I have had to stitch an unraveling seam and to change the buttons, because it turns out that little gray buttons are *not* ubiquitous and easy to replace due to the grate variety in tone. I learned that in March from very annoyed sewing supply store ladies.

The secret of the success of this little cardigan is a boring one: simple and classical shape + neutral color (with no pattern). My love for colors and patterns is strong, but even I cannot deny the ease of wear of this “invisible” filler layer. That’s why I chose it to be my work layer, living in the office and providing protection against the AC (and this is also the reason you rarely see this cardigan in my #wiw posts): I can throw it on whatever I’m wearing and it gives just the right amount of schoolgirl vibe.
Like this:

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Is there a type of garment that you have keep wearing throughout the years? What pieces easily reach #100wears in your wardrobe? What are the items or materials whose functional superiority you have had to admit despite your genuine preferences pointing you in another direction?

#100wears: Veja Taua

#100wears is the most beloved garment section where I show off the longevity of items I’ve worn at least 100 times and urge to elevate the rather low #30wears aspiration. Basically, a love song, a poem, a “there are some garments so good I can’t stop wearing them”.

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I don’t know how I came across Veja sneakers in May 2015, then I couldn’t name any bloggers that were wearing them… Maybe through C., as he is the one better informed about brands in our household. But it was love at first sight, and, despite several shipping and handling problems (If you are not in France and are likely to not to be at home when your package arrives, at least in Barcelona, Spain you are screwed, because Veja people have no idea which courier company their shippers use in Spain. Solution: stay at home waiting, order to to a work address/someplace it will be accepted, or just use a re-seller…), I’ve currently wearing my 3rd and 4th pair. Oh, special vegan section, lovely designs, full transparency… and they fit my feet! After a long history of wrong footwear, this is a great step towards my well-being.


My first Vejas: Taua Black White! I miss them so much…

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What walking and biking does to soles. This is the 1st pair outgoing vs. the third incoming.

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The first three pairs I bought were all the same model: Taua. A very basic tennis shoe! I shred my first pair mercilessly. I wore them on all occasions, and washed them in the washing machine when they got too dirty even for my very low standards (I’ll never be the person with impeccable white sneakers!). Then I invested in another pair a few months later, mostly because of the floral print. My third pair, bought in 2016, is another outrageous a print, this time not in *organic cotton* but in b-mesh *made from recycled post consumer plastic*.

There are two lessons I’ve gathered so far: (a) as I have so few pairs and they get a lot of use + my hobbit feet keep breaking the textile in the same exact place, I really wear these things out; & (b) for the sake of versatility, I’d really love to go back to black, but Veja won’t let me… and that third pair is getting closer and closer to complete fallout.


Nº2 in floral cotton.

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Nº3 in fantasy b-mesh.

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Since I started counting wears in January 2016 (which means that the the two oldest pairs have actually been worn many times more than appear in my books), Veja Taua Black White got 101 wears until their demise in January 2017, the Floral has got 95 and are begging to be replaced, and Bahia’s got 209 and counting (I aspire to replace them in January 2018). Boom!

My 4th Veja pair is Arcade (see here, here, and here) – even I got carried away with the bulky aesthetics of the shitty brand sneakers one sees everywhere – but I was socialized in tennis shoes as symbol of rebellion (thanks so much, Converse All Stars and Avrile Lavigne!) and would like to go back to basics with my next purchase, so the current choice would be between Taua in colors nobody wanted or the chunkier Pierre design… We’ll see. Meanwhile, my street cred with shredded pirate sneakers from 2005 (although I doubt that any of those got to #100wears before they fell apart) for your viewing pleasure:

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Is there a type of garment that you have keep wearing throughout the years? What pieces easily reach #100wears in your wardrobe?

#100wears: The Red Denim Jacket

This post was written as submission to the Fashion Revolution Zine #002. They didn’t want it but for me this will be the first one in monthly series about my most worn garments. #100wears because we all know that #30wears is not even close to ambitious. The red denim jacket definitely got more than 100 wears but nobody counted…

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It was 2003. The big switch in what I wore had happened a few years ago. My parents were upwardly mobile. We had started to shop in mall stores instead of market stalls and second hand shops, a big leap for (still) post-soviet Latvia. My early adolescent insecurities had dissipated. I was 15 and felt very cool.

I had the confidence to pull off pretty much anything and enjoyed garments with shock value, so, when this fast fashion denim jacket – classic cut but in bright red – came in my wardrobe, it became a *neutral* filler piece. Maybe exactly because of being so easy to wear this jacket hung around and accompanied me everywhere: school, parties, travel, coming-of-age adventures, leaving my parents’ home, and changing countries of residence.

The frequency fluctuated, but I wore my denim jacket pretty constantly until this spring. It had faded heavily on the outside and had a lot of wear and tear, despite my seamstress’s efforts to conceal it. I wouldn’t care too much about the beyond mint condition, but the shape also felt dated. Our 14-year relationship was coming to an end.

With a heavy heart I followed the rules of my wardrobe (“if you are not thrilled to wear it now, it has to go”), and set it apart for the next community clothes’ swap. I know that we overestimate the qualities of our belongings just because they are ours. So I assumed that this swap will be the funeral of my denim jacket, that my community – by not wanting it – will confirm that this garment is dated and too worn out to be desired.

But turns out that classic cuts do live forever! That red jacket now lives with my friend Alba, and I hope that the leprechauns of my youth still hide in the pockets urging her to take her chances and enjoy life at its fullest.

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What are your *forever* garments? How old is the oldest wearable item you have? Do you still wear anything that you wore in your adolescence?