This Old Thing?

Simon Doonan's leggings. CreditAlly Lindsay  

A couple of weeks ago I talked about a book I was reading that explores all kinds of topics related to women and their thoughts/beliefs about clothing--sometimes very concretely, and other times in more abstract terms. And since then, or perhaps sort of always, I've had this question of clothing, history and how we attach ourselves to objects, rolling around my head.

Then, as I was reading through The New York Times Book Review last week, I discovered Emily Spivack's Worn Stories, a collection of 67 personal accounts from both men and women, some professional storytellers, some artists or musicians, who share their narratives of attachment to a particular garment or accessory in their lives.

But of course it's about more than the objects themselves (it always is), and from what I've read in excerpts so far, it seems evident that this is a touching anthology of stories from people who share in common a collective nostalgia, a connection with the relics of their past, whether a sweater or a pair of boots, all of whom are compelled to tell their stories, to let the world know that they have lived. The object is merely their proof.

This book is a timely discovery for me, as I'm confident it will be for many people, as we negotiate attachment and meaning and how these qualities are connected to the people we love and the objects they touch. There's a particular interest we all have in pieces that are passed down through generations, and how these objects in turn, bear similarity to ocean-worn glass: exquisite in their weathered state, and in a way, mythological with the history they hold.

As I get older, I'm more and more aware of the fact that for me, it's not necessarily newness that I want, but a sense of strength and armor--qualities that are only born of time.  Give me a streak or stain, a faded quality that speaks of time spent living, working, and growing a sense of purpose in the world. It's about character and endurance, and also about how eventually, we all have to let go.

As an avid thrifter and storyteller herself, I feel a strong personal connection to the mission behind Spivack's work.

Here are a couple of excerpts from Spivack's book:

Stephanie Diamond

Artist

New York, NY

A few months ago I brought my Calhoun School t-shirt into my psychic class for a reading. I believe that every person is born with an intuitive sense so I’d say I was born with this ability just like everybody else. In the last couple of years I have chosen to focus on bringing my own psychic abilities to the forefront of my life.

This t-shirt is the oldest thing I own and I got it when I was in the fourth grade.  I made sure to get an adult-sized extra large so I could wear it to sleep.  The package with the t-shirt was delivered to school and when I pulled my huge shirt out of the box, my teacher, Jolly, commented that I should consider ordering another one in my size.  With a large grin I disagreed with her. This was just my size...

Stephanie Diamond is a New York-based artist, adjunct professor, and community builder whose work has been shown at MASS MoCA, Bronx Museum of the Arts, Queens Museum of Art, MoMA/P.S.1, and the Studio Museum in Harlem. She started the Listings Projects, a housing and studios for rent e-newsletter that’s become a staple in the art community.

Raina Lee

Writer

Los Angeles, CA

I discovered the Sex Plug a few months after my mother had died. She left me my childhood house and a giant 3-car garage full of crazy stuff. The Sex Plug was stuck in a tangle of novelty necklaces left over from when my parents owned a gift shop in the early 80s. It was the kind of place that sold greeting cards, tin patina windmills, and other tchotchkes. My earliest memories are of driving to the gift shop every morning with my mom, listening to Chinese pop songs in her beat-up red BMW. My parents later went on to own a Fish ‘n Chips shop and an Italian pizzeria, so I frequently find restaurant supplies in our house too.

Earlier this year I started a blog about cleaning out my parents’ 35+ years of stuff, and the Sex Plug was one of the best things I’ve found. It’s a thrill to wear it out because it doesn’t make any sense– am I suppose to be the sexy thing that goes into an electrical socket? It’s a “male” plug so I feel like I’m gender crossing, although I’m not really sure.

I get a kick out of thinking about my parents having to handle the Sex Plug because they were conservative Chinese immigrants, just concerned with making it in this country. I find the Sex Plug a funny metaphor for how out of place they must have felt once they got here.

Raina blogs about what she uncovers in her garage at Infinite Garage Project and is the author of Hit Me With Your Best Shot: The Ultimate Guide to Karaoke Domination.

I'm intrigued and hope to get my hands on the book soon. 

Also, fun fact: Emily Spivack is the creator of Threaded, The Smithsonian's fashion blog, which is also full of fun, quirky pieces.  Well worth checking out here.

What are you reading these days? Any recommendations? 

(top photo via NY Times Book Review)