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A few years back, my family decided to take a summer vacation to Cape Cod. Seemingly because this is something that people do in books and movies. Without intentionally coordinating, my parents, sisters, and I all packed very thematically similar suitcases: chambray, nautical stripes, espadrilles, and fisherman-y cardigans for around our shoulders. As red blooded Ohioans whose interpretation of the Beach Vacation was shaped by road trips to Hilton Head and Tybee Island, we envisioned “The Cape” as a caricature of hydrangeas and shiplap. Of course, we stuck out like sore thumbs the entire trip. We felt like tourists in berets snapping pics by the Eiffel Tower, but it was kind of fun to lean in to a theme that hard.

Since then, I’ve thought a lot about the clothing people choose to wear for travel. In some sense, the garments we don as we leave home help determine who do we become outside of our day to day lives. As if packing wasn’t already hard enough, now I’m getting philosophical about it…

Emma Wooley of the Loose Threads podcast gives her take on why last minute vacation buys reliably become wardrobe favorites:

 An Ode to Vacation Shopping by Emma Wooley

I have heard many variations on the advice: DON’T BUY CLOTHES ON VACATION. It's a well-meaning warning, based on the idea that we all have “vacation personae” we slip into as soon as the plane touches down in Rome or Mexico City or Tokyo. The $700 platform heels that make sense when you’re three mimosas deep bopping around the Marais might not translate to the streets of your own city. Any fashion lover knows the feeling of watching an ill-advised “maybe-I-can-be-this-person” splurge collecting dust in a corner of their closet. Heart breaking. 

HOWEVER, I LOVE VACATION SHOPPING. It combines two of my favorite things to do: traveling and scoring special garments. Over the years, I have picked up jewelry from a tiny boutique in Hackney and the mercados in Centro Historico. A beloved re-worked Levi’s maxi-skirt from a vintage store in Austin. Cowboy boots from Round Top, perfect for walking down dusty Texas roads and the streets of downtown Manhattan alike. My favorite pair of jeans. A pair of suede culottes I got for 15 euros at a Fripestar in Paris. A skirt suit I snagged for 40 pounds at a charity shop in Marleybone. A funny t-shirt I wear all the time, found at a Goodwill in Honolulu. 

They say the key to a healthy diet is variety. I recently listened to a health podcast (bleh, I know) with a dietician who recommended eating 30 different types of fresh foods per week. The same could be said of a healthy wardrobe. No one else could have my closet because my closet is a diary meticulously kept. I turned thirty in December and there is perhaps no better record of my twenties than the one on the hanging rack in my apartment. It tells the story of days on Oahu’s North Shore, sneaking out of a bachelorette weekend in Austin to hit up a few vintage shops, solo days wandering aimlessly in East London, my first time visiting Mexico, a financially reckless week in Montreal with my best friend. 

When I look at my wardrobe, I feel I am looking at a life well-lived, because so many of my clothes have memories attached to them. I suppose this is also a story about the importance of shopping in-person, which is easier to do when you’re traveling. Most of the purchases I regret are made from the comfort of my own home, online shopping, trying to guess how a pinned-to-perfection garment shown on a model with a different body type than mine would translate to my life. It rarely does. 

So if I were to give one piece of advice to people trying to figure out their style or build their forever-wardrobe, I would say: shop in person, everywhere you go. Trawl vintage stores and multi-brands and shitty thrift stores. Marvel at the treasures you find, and repair them again and again. Let yourself shop intuitively in new markets, and you’ll become closer to your true self.

Very excited by Criterion’s new Vacation Noir lineup:

criterioncollection

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A master class in packing a suitcase from Emilia Petrarca:

Did you know about the Pucci designed “Air Strip” flight attendant uniforms for for Braniff Airlines, the promotional brain child of legendary ad woman Mary Wells that involved hostesses removing layers as the flight progressed?

Here are a few more cool flight attendant uniforms:

I’m always coming back to ‘90s airport looks:

And, lastly, this Vogue UK spread from 2011:

And now…

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