The Right Trousers
Our children have been saved from the types of clothing choices that were imposed on us by our parents. If anything, the roles are now reversed, in that our kids impose their choices on us. They are brand conscious in ways we never were, or for which we never had the opportunity.
If a hoodie was bought for us, it would have been because our parents deemed this to be an article of clothing we needed. Conversely, I’ve lost track of the number of premium-priced hoodies we’ve bought for our children because the brands were desired.
In truth, I can’t recall hoodies being a clothing option in the 70s, certainly not in South Africa.
I grew up with home-knitted jerseys made up of whatever wool happened to be in the house, wearing jeans bought in a size that allowed for growth. They were purchased, taken in, and then let out as growth required. Inevitably, the old hems would leave faded lines on the legs of the jeans, much like the growth rings on a tree. If the limit of ‘letting out’ had been reached, the jeans could be worn for a while with legs finishing comically high above the ankles.
Completing the ensemble would have been a home haircut (and it’s not as if my mother worked in a Vidal Sassoon salon). Somehow, we survived.
Fast fashion is not my thing. It should be no surprise that Uniqlo is my favourite ‘brand’, selected not because of the label, but because of the utility and comfort that comes at the price. Uniqlo is a brand in the sense of a delivered experience rather than the flaunting of a label.
Around 25 years ago I went through a period of wearing R.M. Williams trousers. Technically, given that I still wear one of them, the period has not yet come to an end. The others, literally, got worn to death, but this pair of brown moleskin jeans is still going strong something like a quarter of a century later.
They have shaped themselves to my body in ways that stretch fabric never could. Every time I pull them on, I marvel at their longevity; at the value of making things to last. Yes, they are faded, but they carry the signs of wear with pride (if clothing could have pride, of course).
Conceptually, my long-wearing R.M. Williams jeans aren’t greatly different to the taken-in and let-out jeans of my childhood, but at least they don’t have successive hemlines across the legs between ankle and knee.
At the time I bought these jeans, my daughter was watching Wallace & Gromit movies. In theory, these could have been made with similar animation technology as Pixar’s Toy Story, which came out at a similar time. Instead, Wallace & Gromit makes use of old-school stop motion, with the characters made of Plasticine, and it’s all the better for it. In fact, the creator, Nick Park, said: “Gromit was born out of clay, really. If he’d been designed by computer, I’d never have arrived at him.”
Don’t be fooled by the cutesy origin story. Actual labour – thousands of hours of it – goes into the making of these movies.
All of it is a piece of multi-dimensional genius, and that’s not just the 3-D of the characters. Take a look at the train chase in The Wrong Trousers, which has all the tension and excitement of a filmed action movie. I have to remind myself that it was shot in stop motion.
There are easy (or easier) ways of making animated movies. Similarly, clothing can be made to standards of much lower durability.
I don’t recall the cost of that first visit to R.M. Williams some 25 years ago, but I do remember it being what felt like an eyewatering amount at the time. However, it’s turned out to be a good value purchase.
We owe it to our future selves to continue supporting businesses that make things of enduring quality, even if our current selves baulk at the higher initial cost.