I shopped in fashion boutiques almost exclusively in the 70s and 80s because I lived in an area where they were the pretty much the only option other than the “five and dime” department stores. The local boutiques introduced me to more than a few Canadian and European designers before those same designers gained enough success to be bought up by conglomerates, investment firms, and large department stores. At that point, these boutique purchases became my go-to source for “designer” fashion lines since luxury lines like Chanel and Chloe were way out of my price range and department store “bridge” lines were not readily available. Several of these designers like Joseph Mimran, Alfred Sung, and Simon Chang were also the designers behind the house brands for high-end department stores like Holt Renfrew. The quality was superb, the designs were interesting , and the garments were totally wearable even outside of a major city.
In the 90s, department stores and chain stores like J Crew, Club Monaco (formerly Alfred Sung’s line), and, yes, even the Gap for jeans and khakis, became my favorite shopping places, especially when online shopping became the norm. The quality was perhaps a bit lower, but the range of options and prices were appealing.
Over the last decade, however, I’ve been dismayed by the shoddy construction, lackluster design, and ugly fabrics that I’ve found in department stores and chain stores. I look at my J Crew cashmere sweaters from fifteen years ago and marvel at their longevity. The last time I visited Nordstrom’s and Holt Renfrew, I was unimpressed by the what was being offered in “bridge” lines like Theory, Eileen Fisher, and Veronica Beard. Even former favorites like Pink Tartan and Smythe seemed to be of questionable quality both in fabric and design. My formerly adored luxury lines like Chanel and Chloe were even more disappointing since, like so many “famous” designer lines, they also seemed to have succumbed to the “slap our label on it and it will sell” ploy. I felt like a grumpy old lady wondering what had happened to all those feelings I used to have when the sight of a clever seam or a sumptuous fabric made me want to save up my money to have a piece of the magic. Seeing a Valentino blouse sliding off its hanger onto the floor made me cringe until I saw the label—100% polyester.
What has grabbed my interest in the last couple of years is the springing up of small boutiques owned by groups of young (and some not-so-young!) fashion designers, along with boutiques which feature less well-known Canadian and European designers and lines. Great clothes for reasonable, but not cheap or falsely discounted, prices, along with creative designs, and enthusiastic staff who make a senior, fashion-loving lady feel at home. They scurry around finding pieces that would fit my body, offer free alterations, and phone me when something I might like comes into the store. It’s like going back to how I shopped in the 70s and 80s.
I’m even shopping independent designers online these days because a real person usually answers the phone, or responds to my email, when I need information about sizes or fabrics. Returns might be less convenient but, hey, they send me fabric swatches, or offer to shorten an inseam, before mailing out the garment. One designer even embroidered my initials into the waistband of a skirt, assuring me that, if the skirt needed tweaking, I was to pin it and send it back for free alterations! To me, this is having fun with fashion—especially when my new skirt costs less than what I would have paid for some department store lines. The possibility that I might not enjoy the item is, of course, always there, but I just remind myself there has been more than a few department store items which ended up in a donate pile after a single wearing over the years so I don’t get too fussed. So far, though, I’ve had amazing luck.
I rarely contradict Angie, but I’m admitting I’m a boutique/independent designer girl(?) through and through these days.
