100 wears

#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”… These little rayon shorts are one of the unexpected – and often unseen, as I shall explain below – heroes of my wardrobe.

They came my way as an untouched hand-me-down from my mother. She actually bought them in my presence in Barcelona in 2016 just to realize that that was a complete impulse buy with the possibility to handing them over to me prominent in her mind. Or maybe that was her intention all along? Dunno. It took me some time to incorporate them properly in my wardrobe – 44 wears between 2016 and 2017, 67 wears in 2018 – but now they are a staple I’m afraid of losing.

So, this is probably too much information, but… I’d estimate that they are visible less than half of the times I’m wearing them. No styling surprises when you can see them: ultra-light pajama-like shorts for the Barcelona summers, like so:

However, these shorts have gained their special place in my heart with their capacity to also work like… underwear. Here, I said it. Looks like that (if I would ever show it):

If you have been following my writings, especially the summer themed ones (see a sample here), you have been informed by now that I am the ultimate chub-rub person. My tights touch alright, I walk a lot and sweat a lot while doing it. And conventional underwear makes it even more painful. Enter these shorts! I know other chaffers prefer more serious biker shorts in performance fabrics that cover more leg or, well, wearing actual trousers… But I’m a dress person most of the time and have a hate-hate relationship with performance fabrics, especially in summer.

So these are not moisture wicking but they dry really quickly (also see that point about this being about summers in Barcelona) which not only adds to wearability but also to sink washability and overnight drying. The ultimate little short that goes from outerwear to underwear to pajamas! Thankfully it shows little wear so far but I dread the moment of having to send it to the Beyond Repair category. My current plan is to make a copy of this model from the fabric of my old kaftan that was truly beyond repair and hence was converted into a pile of fabric again… I’ll let you know if that happens.

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What pieces easily reach #100wears in your wardrobe? Do you have garments that you use for several, supposedly even incompatible, purposes? How did that came along? I blame the 1990s ‘underwear as outerwear’ slip trend that convinced my pre-teen self that such limits were unnecessary…

The only way how a pair of Birks can look dainty is by another, bigger pair.

#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”… My pair of Vegan Birkenstock Gizeh has reached the magic wear threshold a while ago – it’s now 130 and counting – so here comes the love song.

This is my first pair of brand Birks as it took years for vegan models of my liking to appear in the vegan section of their store. I have been pinning these ‘made in Spain’ suspiciously similar vegan sandal for years. I knew I would like the model as these were the copycat sandals I wore to shreds in summer 2005. And then I went back to the store  and with my despair about how could a pair of shoes fall apart so quickly (the toe post came out, so that was a design flaw) cajoled them into giving me another pair for free:

So all the stars aligned last July and for rather reasonable 65€ we have been happy ever since, getting up to #100wears in less than a year. And their production practices and attitude couldn’t make me happier… I mean, somebody who is willing to go on record saying that collaborations with Supreme or Vetements would be ‘prostitution’, among other strong opinions about the world of fashion is exactly the person I want to buy sandals from (see this for a historic overview of Birkenstock footwear).

When it comes to fit on my hobbit feet, you can see that a size 38 is a bit long (in sneakers I typically wear a 39 to fit in all that width) and a bit too narrow as my pinky is hanging on the edge. Trying to get it right I actually went to a brick-and-mortar pop-up here in Barcelona, and this size is a compromise between their generous sizing and my even more generous feet. After a year of active wearing – I also got a pair the same model in EVA for home and swimming pool use – I’m very happy with my choices. But if you are the one with very narrow feet, these might not be for you (not for nothing they do a narrow-feet option),  leave them to the hobbit people!

My biggest surprise – but obvious when you think about it – is that while they are very easy to just slide into and hang around, Birks are not a walking shoe. Less so with the ones made of EVA because that plastic is cushioning, but that original anatomical footbed is not giving you any spring. It supports, yes, but that’s it. So walking long distance is not a good idea, at least I get feet blisters which is no fun at all. And keep a heavy duty cream for your feet at hand, as they get dry and tired in sandals (as opposed to wet and smelly in sneakers). Also, my feet create vacuum with the footbed when walking and often make little fart noises… You decide if that’s a perk you’d enjoy. I don’t know any other Birk-wearer that has the same issue, so it probably has to do with the hobbit feet and not so much the shoes.

Another primer: although they look incredibly sturdy, they do wear out, especially, of course, if that happens to be your only sandal and you are a shredder (a counterfactual: C’s Birks are from 2016 and look immaculate in a live-forever-Highlander-way). So at least for me this is not a #buymeonce scenario. Mine have wear and tear, and the reason for discarding will probably be the left heel. They are surely hanging in there until this autumn, and we’ll see how the next summer goes. If they survive until next July and clock in the respective 260 wears, I might have to do a ritual burial and all. After 130 wears (and no cleaning or any other active upkeep), this is what they look like:

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What pieces easily reach #100wears in your wardrobe? Have you ever had the perfect match between desiring something for a long time, then getting it and being truly satisfied? Have you had any recent #buymeonce finds or #buymeonce disappointments with something you thought would last forever?

#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”… My Veja Arcade sneakers have reached the magic threshold a while ago – it’s now 140 – so here comes the love song.

I was chunky sneaker-curious for a while and, after having reaffirmed that Veja Taua would be my lifelong love, I decided to spice it up a bit and got a pair of vegan Arcade in April 2017 (money reports 1 and 2). They came pristine and perfect, of course, but that didn’t last very long as I took them with me for all the big 2017 trips.

To Granada and Sevilla in April:

To Philadelphia in May:

To Cape Town in November where I managed to touch a bit of Atlantic ocean while wearing them:

And just back and forth in Barcelona:

They are chunky and casual alright, though. Last June I put my mother in a desperate bind as my only two available options for my grandma’s 70th birthday were a pair of worn out floral Taua and still a pretty fresh Arcade. She insisted on Taua as for her Arcade looked too much like a hiking boot. I also still have moments of doubt about pulling of the chunky sneaker looks, specially with midi skirts. At times it just looks weird. Oh well… As on normal days my sneakers only serve as a commute shoe, it’s fine. I just feel cool instead of looking the part.

Similar to Arcopedico wedges, these shoes have reached the #100wears for practical reasons instead of undying love. I have ten pairs of footwear altogether, but between those that do not touch street (winter slippers, pool slippers, KonMari consulting espadrilles) and those for specific occasions (rain, winter, formal) sneakers do the bulk of the work, so for me footwear is the easiest #100category. Here, this is how the drawer looks:

Arcade were a bit hard to break in and cannot be worn without a sock, but they are much better for lots of walking and soak slower than the canvas sneakers. I haven’t washed them and, while not being that pristine anymore, the gray color scheme is incorporating wear very nicely. They are by no means waterproof, but the elevation, recycled plastic and thicker built make them very nice for Barcelona winter while not that appealing in summer. So there they are in my wardrobe, waiting for October.

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Is there a type of garment that you have kept wearing throughout the years? What pieces easily reach #100wears in your wardrobe? Which garments do you end up wearing more, the beloved ones or the practical ones?

#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”… My second-hand kaftan is one of those.

(I’m now Googling trying to understand why my 14-year-old self would decide that this is a kaftan. If any of you have more info on this piece of garment differentiation than Wikipedia, let me know. Is it about length, after all?)

And my 14-year-old self it was, because – together with my parka – this garment is among the oldest ones in my wardrobe. I don’t have a precise acquisition date, bet has to be around 2002. It was still the epoch when we’d spend a lot of times in thrift shops with my mother, and I got this one in a profoundly second-hand smelling used clothes shop in a basement on Skolas st. in Rīga. Second hand imports – brought in as ‘humanitarian aid’ to the (still) suffering Eastern Europeans – were abundant and there were treasures among them.

However, while I was looking for treasures and bringing them home, I wasn’t necessarily wearing them. But then I wasn’t purging my wardrobe either, so the little kaftan survived until it’s moment came some 7-8 years later. The only memory related to this garment from my high school days is using it as an example in my economics homework. The label has faded by now, but then it still clearly stated ‘made in UK’ which for a person used to seeing only ‘made in China’ or just rips where the labels used to be looked very cool. That economics homework was exactly about this: ‘look around your house and find items made in different countries [to understand that we live in a globalized world and how goods travel around the globe]’. I felt very smug about having a ‘made in UK’ dress laying around!

I started using this garment as loungewear and super-informal (and oh! so comfy) errand outfit during my undergrad years. It has enough detail – golden ribbons, ruffles, puffy sleeves, pattern, nice color – to throw the attention off the fact that I’m wearing a nightgown (and have beach hair, puffy eyes, hurry or whatever the reason I was too lazy to actually dress up). I always get an internal chuckle when people comment on ‘my beautiful dress’. I tried wearing it to work once, I think, and it really didn’t feel appropriate to me. I still got several ‘what a beautiful dress’ comments, though.

(Nightgown, by the way, is not a good use for this one because the golden ribbons are too rough when they touch my face + all my attempts at nightgowning end up with me waking up naked and with a lot of cloth around my neck. How is that thing supposed to stay down anyway?)

From the time when taking selfies was used as a hangover cure (Salamanca 2010/2011):

Throughout the years I’ve used it mostly as loungewear, hence the ‘look’ is mostly that of a sleepy gnome craving bed and falling face-down in my porridge, like so (Salamanca, summer 2013):

Mykonos, September 2017.

The wear and tear of the years is becoming visible – soft viscose is not forever, unfortunately! There have been many washes getting out sunscreen and wine stains among others, and this little garment has had it’s fair share of fixes already: replacing the rubber in the sleeves and closing several tears along the seams. Yet, as the original shape is so generous, it can be fixed and taken in a bit without affecting the feel. So I hope we’ll have some 15 more years together!

What have been your all-time favorite thrift finds? Do you have garments that you’ve had for more than a decade, more than half of your life? If so, is it more about the function or the sentimental attachment now?

#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”… My red flea sweater is one of those.

I bought it on a cold Saturday morning in January 2015 in Flea Market Barcelona. That one was a cold winter for Barcelona standards (for the first time in my Northern life I wore two scarves, one on the top of another), I desperately needed a warm layer and here it came, for 5€. And it has got a lot of wear since then, mostly because it’s the *almost* perfect combination of function (warmth) and function (a shape that allows for movement).

The waist is short, hence doesn’t interfere with the natural waist (as opposed to the all-engulfing Lithuanian sweater). This might be my favorite version of a crop top!

The neckline is open and leaves space for collars and necklaces.

The sleeves are the perfect length and hold up if folded.

My only complaint is about the front hem which has a bit too much volume. I don’t care about it when wearing it but often hold it back when taking photos. Like that ☝

The only tag it has says ‘UBER den volken’ and the garment has signs of having been ‘intervened’ and upcycled. My Google search has revealed that it could be a creation of Julia Breiter who, before making new things, did upcycle second-hand. If she ever responds to my email asking for a confirmation, I’ll let you know. Maybe it’s hers, maybe it’s just a coincidence… I’m curious now.

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Have any of your wardrobe staples appeared in front of you just when you needed? What was it? And have you ever done some detective work trying to figure out where a garment came from?

#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”… My Arcopedico wedge ballerinas is one of those.

In comparison with other #100wears pieces, these shoes is a very recent acquisition. My mom was visiting last March – so not even a year ago – and we left Arcopedico store with three pairs of shoes, one for me and two for her. They are vegan, made in Portugal and quite comfy. My only complain, as it often happens with my feet, is about sizing: I bought them in size 39 and the shop ladies swore they would not stretch. Yeah, right! They ended up being a full size too long and hard to walk in, as the constant movement caused blisters. After an extensive online search on ‘how to make shoes smaller’, and ended up with silicone straps that stick to the heel and reduce friction (like these but from my local pharmacy). That’s how I went to Kristīne’s wedding, and it has worked like a charm since then.

Mazmežotne, August 2017. You cannot see the shoes because of all the grass, but there they are!

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Athens, August 2017. These are my formal conference shoes now!

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But, as with the gray cardigan, the #100wears is due to the fact that in normal weeks these shows live at work. Yes, I’m the Eastern European that cannot stay in street shoes when indoors, so my morning ritual at work is storing my lunch in the communal fridge, changing shoes, washing my hands and putting on the kettle. Hence these shoes haven’t got much street time but have been in use for many hours. They are prone to smelling (or are those just my feet?), so they rest with lavender baggies inside overnight and occasionally come home for a hydrogen peroxide drench. The next challenge for them (and me!) will be a Spanish midsummer wedding this June, let’s see if I can pull that one off in chunky black shoes because at the moment is either these or the birks… but maybe the right dressy sandals or ballerinas will cross my way in the next swap?

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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?

March 2005 – Rīga, Latvia.

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#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”… My Bik Bok parka is one of them.

The oldest photos I have of it are from October 2003, so I should have got it in winter 2002/2003 sales. At the ripe age of 15! It’s one of my oldest garments still in use. Similar to the red denim jacket, it was one of my first fast fashion garments with a ‘label’ that marked class mobility of my family away from second-hand and pirate fast fashion from Gariunai market in Vilnius. Yes, in the early 2000s fast fashion stores in shopping malls felt very cool!

Although I’ve wore it very little during last ten years, this parka was my everyday staple for five winters from 2002 till 2007. Then I moved countries and this garment is too warm for Brussels, Ciudad Real, Salamanca or Barcelona. So since 2007 it lives at the back of my mother’s wardrobe in Rīga, patiently waiting for the occasional true winter day when I happen to be there.

New Year’s Eve 2003 to 2004 – Lielupe, Latvia.

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March 2005 – Rīga, Latvia.

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November 2005 – Rīga, Latvia.

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March 2006 – Rīga, Latvia.

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January 2017 – Rīga, Latvia.

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This parka has thought me a couple of things, most important of them being that, while garments might look the same, their functional capacities can be very different. There is a gradient in winter clothing. and ‘parkas’ that people wear in the Mediterranean are very different from those that people wear up North.

Another lesson is that under extreme conditions function trumps aesthetics. It’s a hard one to learn for a city dweller that has chosen her country of residence partly because of the weather… but this parka – and Latvian weather – have been educating me for ~15 years now. When the temperatures drop, I forget all my stupid ideas about a ‘flattering silhouette’ and celebrate having a big parka that is (a) very warm (with a fluffy carpet-like lining and double closure), (b) in a light color (seems superfluous but it really helps in the darkest of seasons, both to improve my safety in traffic and to just feel better), has an (c) impressive hood and (d) all the pockets in the world.

The outer shell of my park is removable – for maximum versatility and easier cleaning – so this winter I got the possibility to wear it but without the fluffy lining:

January 2018 – Rīga, Latvia.

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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? When does ‘practical’ trumps ‘pretty’ in your wardrobe?

October 2010 – Sitges, Spain.

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#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”.

May 2009 – Cambridge, UK.

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Item: Hummel Madelaine Zip Jacket.
Obtained in: 2009.
How? Bought new in a TK Maxx in London, UK.
Made in: Turkey.
Made of: 80% polyester, 20% cotton.

June 2009 – Rīga, Latvia.

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This fast fashion athleisure wear wonder is perfect. Warm enough as a layer that adds zero bulkiness, very flattering (yeah, I said it!) cut, zipper pockets perfect for travel and going out, washes perfectly, the little wink to princess sleeves at the shoulders, and people overlook its sporty nature due to the sober color combination. It has been with me pretty much everywhere with me since we first met, and, although it has seen a seamstress a few times, all that wear is barely visible.

April 2010 – Salamanca, Spain.

June 2011 – Ghent, Belgium.

July 2012 – Washington DC, USA.

April 2013 – Salamanca, Spain.

June 2015 – London, UK.

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As you can see, I have kept people distracted with big earrings, pins, brooches and extravagant head decorations, so that the athletic intentions of this jacket would go unnoticed. Although, the only time I gave a serious try to running – September 2015 in Copenhagen – Madelaine was part of my outfit: it’s warm, practical (the pockets!), and makes me feel very good. If all fast fashion behaved this well for so many years, we’d be having a totally different conversation.

November 2016/December 2017 – Barcelona, Spain.

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Do you have any garments that were meant for a specific activity – sports, pajamas (well, I wore this nightgown as a dress for a while), underwear, beachwear – that you loved so much that you re-purposed it? What types of items fall into your #100wears?

#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 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?

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?