So much of modern fashion despises the wearer. Caught up in an endless search for newness, it retreats into itself, replacing creativity with pretentiousness, artistry with attitude. It tries to break free of the confines of the human form, so dreary and restrictive with its bourgeois concerns of cost, comfort and the like — and in so doing too often ceases to be relevant.
Because the truth is that in a world of uncertainty the simple boundaries of a well-cut skirt or jacket are sometimes all that hold a person together.
Clothes, style, fashion, these things are not frivolities. They are a source of dignity, humanity and sanity.
It’s only in the graceless hedonism of the 21st century that such ideals are being lost.
It’s not nostalgia that draws us back to the Vogues of years gone by. It is a yearning for something that fashion has too long denied us: style.