Pandemic Objects: Wardrobe

I miss my clothes.

I say this because just before lockdown was announced I took the decision to return to my family home in Kent, I panic-packed in the most uncharacteristically utilitarian way: Wellington boots for muddy dog walks, my only- and reluctantly-bought trainers which I despise, warm coat, jumpers… And here we are, 12 weeks into lockdown and experiencing some of the best weather we have ever had. I am ill-prepared, and I will continue to be in Kent away from my beloved wardrobe full of clothes until I can go back.

Why do I miss my clothes so much? If you know me, then you will know I am more maximalist than utilitarian. I collect true vintage clothing from the 1950s through to 1970s, wearing vintage every day. Nothing is more comfortable and casual to me than a 70s prairie dress and all of my beloved collection are hidden away in my house share. I feel as though a part of my personality is missing, and I’ve turned to second-hand shopping apps to fill the void and make me feel more like me again. Some people have relished the opportunity to live in their cosy loungewear, but I find comfort in psychedelic prints, bell sleeves and crimplene.

One thing lockdown has affirmed for me is that I truly dress for myself. It doesn’t matter if I’m not leaving the house for a week. But for others, perhaps lockdown has allowed them to express themselves in the way they feel most comfortable, suddenly not having to wear a uniform or put on a shirt and tie for work. I have seen (virtually) friends finally wearing the clothes they always saved for ‘special occasions’, because there’s no time like the present, and there’s no one to judge. We are getting dressed up for our big nights in, even if it involves sitting in our bedrooms and staring at a screen. The act of dressing up is now more than ever a psychological tool of comfort, our way of grasping to normality.