Vintage Denim, All Day, All Night

Hello friends! I hope everyone's daylight savings transition has been smooth, and that you're enjoying the extra bit of evening light! For me driving home to enjoy a few hours of sunlight after work as opposed to getting back to SF in total darkness is a wonderful thing. This week I teamed up with Niki of Style, Studs and Lace  to participate in a "one piece, three ways" challenge, and had a blast doing it. I decided to play around with something I've been wearing on repeat recently: vintage denim jeans. These days it seems like if I'm not wearing my Kamm pants, I'm in vintage Levi's. I love wearing them for casual weekend events, or upstyling them for special occasions. They are truly a wardrobe staple, and a workhorse in my closet. I love the way they rough up an otherwise polished look, and are of course, perfect for all manner of weekend shenanigans.  

I styled my vintage Levi's in three ways for three specific activities: brunch with family, a weekend farmers' market trip, and drinks with friends. Scroll down to see how the looks came together.  

1. BRUNCH WITH THE FAM

For this look I paired my vintage Levi's with a silk blouse, block heel sandals, an oversized blazer and a clutch. I particularly love the straight leg on this pair of 501s, and the medium-light wash is easily dressed up or down. Vintage denim doesn't have a ton of stretch to it, but that means they usually smooth and lift in all the right ways. Though flattering, I opted to wear the silk button-up untucked, and pair it with a long blazer for this family event. Pairing the jeans with some casual heels and the blazer feel both casual yet put-together - just the right recipe for an afternoon with my husband and the family. 

2. A WEEKEND TRIP TO THE FARMERS' MARKET 

San Francisco has had some sunny days recently, and this statement one-shoulder top paired with the vintage Levi's, birks and a felt hat is the perfect combo for a trip to the Ferry Plaza for the farmer's market. I love how the raw hem of the top grazes the jeans, and the 30 inch inseam is perfect for pairing with sandals, as well as heels. My trusty Ghanaian blessing basket is the only accessory I need for a day trip to our local outdoor market.

3. DRINKS WITH FRIENDS

As I said before, I really appreciate how versatile vintage jeans can be. I love pairing mid-light wash jeans with a black silk blouse, leather jacket, and heels to go out on the town. I find the derriere-friendly structure of vintage denim to be pretty flattering, without making me feel like I'm trying too hard - perfect for grabbing drinks with friends or trying out a new restaurant. 

Do you guys stretch your light-wash jeans into evening activities? Do you have any favorite strategies for scoring vintage denim? Let me know! 

XO,

Harben

On Contentment: A roundabout, messy, intensely personal observation

What does closet contentment feel like for you? Peace? Ease? Simply the absence of want? I had planned to share a post all about what I’ve lovingly deemed my “closet Achilles heel” with you all today. A simple story about mistakes, growth, and sentimentality in my lean closet journey. However, that fairly straight forward idea came out in a tangled mess of thoughts, seemingly disparate and unrelated, until I realized they aren’t. For clarity’s sake I’ll walk you through where this one started before showing you what I mean.

I was going to write today about how of all the things I’ve been able to part with, and of all the bad habits I’ve managed to break, I cannot seem to limit my collection of outwear, specifically lightweight jackets and blazers. They are undoubtedly a part of my uniform; looks often feel unfinished without a coat or jacket of sorts. Luckily the northern California weather is more than obliging when it comes to the need for a warm layer. I was going to write about this collection of coats as a weakness in my quest to live with less. It’s a blemish in my commitment to be content with a lean closet. But it’s actually more than that. Turns out I’m not solely drawn to outwear for its sartorial appeal. The ugly truth is that my amassing of outer layers is driven by insecurity. I consistently don a blazer or coat because they hide the parts of myself I don’t particularly care for, and don’t want others to see. And until I grapple with those very real insecurities, my want for blazers and trenches will continue to be insatiable.    

So here’s my ‘a ha’ (or duh) moment for the day: when insecurities are in the driver’s seat, it’s damn near impossible to avoid fashion’s most classic ruse - buying X will make you Y. Feeling unhappy with some part of yourself? There’s a quick fix for that and wouldn’t you believe it, it’s on sale!

Intellectually I know that contentment and self-satisfaction are not purchasable; they will never be found in a thing that you can buy. Emotionally, however, sometimes I forget. It’s easy to buy into (literally and figuratively) the idea that the only thing standing between what I see reflected in the mirror now and what I want to see is owning that new (fill in the blank). Even if that thing is ethically-made and environmentally friendly, it’s an unhealthy approach to shopping and completely antithetical to my lean closet mission. It’s the same demon that brought me to the capsule wardrobe world in the first place, just shrouded in ethically-made garb. Owning more stuff will not eradicate my insecurities, more often than not it exacerbates them.

So where does that leave me? I suppose it’s time to look inward, instead of toward what’s sitting unpurchased in online shopping carts. I certainly don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know that a new look is not, and will never be a solution. You can’t hang happiness up in a closet.

With love,

Harben

The Investment

My rationale for filling my closet with pieces from small, mostly female-owned businesses is pretty straight forward: I care about people. I care about the women in my immediate community, and throughout the country. I care about the women and dudes who sew the things I put on my body. I care about their quality of life, their children’s quality of life, and their safety. It really boils down to the simple acknowledgement that we as humans all deserve the same amount of respect and dignity. No piece of clothing is more important than a person’s life. 

Luckily, I’m not the only one who feels this way. To say that I admire Jesse Kamm would be a bit of an understatement. Not only does she own and design her own exquisite made-in-California line, but she is fierce in her convictions (especially on the sustainability front), sharp as all hell, and somehow seems to exude both grace and strength in everything she does. If you’re not familiar, just spend a few minutes acquainting yourself with her style, or read a few interviews and you’ll see what I mean. I adore the way she plays around with handsome yet femme looks, while striking a perfectly laid-back California vibe. Also, she and her husband built (with their own two hands) an off the grid home in Panama where they spend summers surfing with their son. It’s all too much. 

When I first laid eyes on Jesse Kamm’s infamous sailor pants, I knew I had to have them. They are to many people (myself included), a paragon of the slow fashion, minimalist scene. But beyond the gorgeous colors and highly flattering effect they have on one's derriere, I am deeply attracted to the story they embody. Kamm started her company 12 years ago, and was its sole employee for the first decade of its existence. She sewed her pieces herself in her California studio, and still hand delivers orders to local stockists. She touts minimalism in a way that doesn’t make it feel cold or unobtainable – she merely gets what she needs, is resourceful with how she maintains what she owns, and looks for opportunities to slow things down and savor. Strength and grace, right?

Now, for the investment. Perhaps this will come as a surprise to you, but my Kamm pants (which retail for $395) are not brand new. While I am still saving up for a pair in midnight blue, I’m also operating on a nonprofit salary, meaning the saving is steady, but slow. In the meantime, I happened across a pair of slightly worn Salt White pants for sale on Instagram of all places, and jumped at the chance to snatch a pair up for myself at a deep discount. While they did have some stains on the knees, and a yellowed (maybe bleach?) mark on the side of leg, I worked at them for several days with baking soda and hydrogen peroxide and I’m proud to say the pants now look brand new. There’s not a stain in sight. It somehow feels aligned with Kamm’s whole mission – the pants needed some work so I got resourceful, put in some serious hours, and now get to reap the benefits with enormous appreciation and satisfaction.

I posted on Instagram a while ago to publicly celebrate the amazing slow fashion mavens out there who are getting vocal during this tumultuous time in our country’s history. I’m proud to support people who use their gifts, or their platform to contribute to the greater good. Kamm is no exception. Her journal posts are not to be missed. I know they are pants, but buying into what Kamm is creating (even if through a local SF seller for this first pair) feels bigger than what any one closet can contain.

I'd like to take a moment to touch on another Kamm note. One of the biggest ethical issues I grapple with these days is how to consistently support local businesses in the age of fast fashion and Amazon. Add San Francisco’s gentrification issues into the mix and the whole thing becomes even murkier. Here’s what Kamm says on the matter:

“My home town is still quaint, but the charm is far less tender. It was the Walmart that did it in, and the fast-food chains.  By buying into the slightly lower cost of the goods at these corporate chains, we forgot about the greater cost to our community.  The cost to the pride of the people who owned those shops, and the people who worked there.  It was convenient to go to the Walmart and the Hardee's, but we forgot about the great inconvenience it would later create once our community had lost the very soul that made it so special.”

I don’t know what San Francisco’s soul looks like these days. I know many feel that it has been irreparably damaged, if not lost completely—its vibrancy and grungy charm all but extinguished as the cost of living continues to climb. We’re not waging a war against big box stores the same way small towns have and do, but we are losing longstanding institutions all the same. Even having spent just six years in our little neighborhood, the transformation has been astounding. Where once stood dollar stores and cheap eats now live trendy boutiques and wine bars. I will not feign naïveté while bemoaning their existence; I know they were built for me.

My task then becomes to invest in the longstanding small businesses that are still around, while supporting the new up-and-comers that are doing their part to try and thwart the spread of the big box/Amazon/fast fashion ethos. This is what I consider when bringing things into our home. I want my to consumer choices to fuel something larger, something bigger, something better. If I get the greatest pair of pants I’ve ever worn out of the deal, then that’s just icing on the cake.  

Xo,

Harben