Fashioning Our Own Entry Points into Closed Creative Circles - 555

In crafting my own visual story around fashion, I could join the conversation in a way that worked for me.

This essay initially appeared in the 2018 edition of Fashion Studies Journal under the title “In Memoriam: The Internet Tool That Shaped Me,” where it primarily discussed the abrupt closure of the Polyvore tool following its acquisition. While the original focus centered on my personal project utilizing Polyvore and the insights gained from it, editorial adjustments were made to align with the publication’s emphasis on the fashion economy. In this revised version, I aim to delve deeper into the project’s intricacies, adhering to my initial intention of sharing its profound impact.

As winter approached in New York City, I found myself grappling with the monotony of an entry-level copywriting position that offered little in the way of creative fulfillment. Working at a digital advertising startup in the bustling heart of Midtown West, I navigated through a landscape of constant administrative changes and ambiguous tasks, leaving me uncertain about my professional trajectory.

Like many young professionals in their early twenties, I felt ensnared in a state of limbo. My meager salary barely covered rent and student loan payments, relegating my lunch choices to a humble peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With quitting not an option and job opportunities scarce, I sought solace during a mundane morning at work by perusing a writer friend’s latest articles, where I stumbled upon Polyvore.

Intrigued by its utility in effortlessly crafting graphics showcasing linked clothing items, I seized upon the opportunity to incorporate it into my own assignments, craving any semblance of creative stimulation to endure the workday grind. Drawing from my background as a visual artist, I utilized the platform to craft a cover image for a brief feature on celebrity fashion trends. By the time I departed the office that evening, I found myself captivated by Polyvore’s potential.

My journey as an artist took flight during my freshman year of high school art class, where I was introduced to the captivating world of painting through the works of impressionist masters like Degas, Monet, and Renoir. The allure of post-impressionism, with luminaries such as Matisse, van Gogh, and Toulouse-Lautrec, felt like a revitalizing surge, infusing my artistic spirit with renewed vigor and inspiration.

Despite harboring a deep-seated passion for fashion and style, I had long grappled with expressing myself through clothing. Factors like body image concerns, budget constraints, and the absence of occasions to flaunt eclectic tastes compounded my hesitation. Having spent twelve years in a Catholic school uniform, the absence of sartorial decisions in my daily routine became ingrained, relying solely on my personality to forge connections with others.

However, the advent of Polyvore bestowed upon me a newfound sense of freedom. This innovative platform transcended barriers of income, fashion pedigree, and design prowess, offering users the opportunity to curate visual collages reflective of their unique style preferences. With a simple interface facilitating seamless creation and immediate sharing across social platforms, Polyvore empowered fashion enthusiasts of all backgrounds to express themselves without inhibition.

Using Polyvore granted me an immediate sense of autonomy—an escape from prompts and the need for approval from superiors. I reveled in the freedom to juxtapose an opulent leather bag with a modest linen shift dress, allowing the ensemble to exist autonomously and evoke whatever emotions it may.

Soon, I found myself curating multiple outfits daily, drawn into Polyvore’s expansive repository of garments and accessories. I indulged in saving items that resonated with me, heedless of their price tags or availability in my size. The allure lay not in the necessity of the clothing, but rather in the extravagant freedom it offered. In an era marked by stringent budgeting, the opportunity to engage in imaginative excess was a welcome reprieve.

My fascination with the interplay of shapes, colors, and textures across various mediums found new expression through clothing. Exploring the intricacies of embroidered flowers on a shirt sleeve ignited a creative exploration, where every thread color and curve of a stem held significance. With Polyvore, I embraced the freedom to experiment with diverse textures and silhouettes without the confines of a dressing room, akin to rediscovering the vibrant world of the Impressionists in a sartorial context.

I don’t remember what exactly spurred my first artwork-inspired outfit collage on Polyvore. Sometimes, I’d see a garment online that would remind me of a painting, so I’d save it to a collection, along with the artwork it reminded me of, to later make into a collage. Other times, I’d start by uploading an image of a painting right into the image builder, and search for items (usually by color) until the collage felt complete. My phone and computer were brimming with saved images of work by some of my early favorite artists.
Every piece of the collage was thought out, like a story. It was about fashion, but without the parts that had always eluded me. Now, fashion could inhabit what I knew well: color, composition, and narrative.

From left to right, collages inspired by Matisse, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Picasso

It was never about what I would hypothetically wear, and I cherished the freedom of that. I didn’t have to love the style of clothing I selected that went with the image. I only had to feel a connection between the item — material, silhouette, pattern — and a moment in the artwork. Setting my own criteria for the project was an important liberty, since my day job had me bound by rules that I often didn’t agree with.
To my surprise, accessories played a crucial role in rounding out a look and making a piece feel finished. This was vastly different from my daily attire, where accessories were often forgotten in my rush out the door, or passed over in the store as an unnecessary cost. Adding a set of gold wire rings that mirrored the delicate lines of an Egon Schiele painting, however, didn’t cost me a cent.

From left to right, collages inspired by Schiele, Klimt, and Matisse
I sometimes peppered in my own styled collages, sans well-known artworks, often influenced by the seasonal changes or my weekly routine. These were a chance to explore different trends and play pretend virtual dress up with an expensive accessory or wild print. Plus, they scratched my fast fashion itch without contributing to a problematic industry.

I’d spend hours fashioning these collages — in bed before sleep, on my train commute, during my lunch hour — wherever there was adequate Wi-Fi. I occasionally posted the results to my social media, with no real intention or motive for sharing, other than that I loved making the images and felt inspired and happy every time I finished a new one. I’d share them with a sense of pride at creating something I found new and beautiful, that was inspired by something old and beautiful.

From left to right, collages inspired by Dufy, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Klimt
I’d found a way to explore my sartorial interests and incrementally expand my comfort zone without feeling judged or criticized, which is so important for creativity and self-evolution. In crafting my own visual story around fashion, I could join the conversation in a way that worked for me. Fashion was no longer defined by the things that had previously kept me away, such as exorbitant grand totals, untouchable industry veterans, or ever-changing trends.
People spend countless hours everyday digitally fashioning their identities, whether it’s through the accounts they follow, the stories and memes they share, the original content they create, or the photo filters and effects they use. Exploring the many facets of who we are and what we like is a continuous journey — one that shouldn’t be hindered by exclusivity.
— Collected articles —