Is It Altered, Embellished, Or Upcycled?

I was flipping through the latest issue of Altered Couture magazine the other day, and after viewing the clothing inside, decided that, for me, there is a a big difference between something that has been altered, and something that has been merely embellished. And before I spill out my two-pence worth, let me state that this is just my personal opinion. I'm sure there are lots of people out there who will disagree, but hey, my blog, my thoughts.

Using the term "couture" implies that whatever altering done to the garment should be high quality, show that a lot of thought, effort, and planning went into it, and the end result looks "right." I can't define "right" but I know it when I see it (accepting that "right" for me might not be "right" for someone else). All the changes and additions come together in a cohesive way and it all just works. Even funky, which is not my thing, needs to have some rhyme or reason to the design. When done correctly, funky can be awesome (the work of Rice at the Voodoo Cafe comes instantly to mind). When done badly, funky looks messy and chaotic or just plain silly. The same could be said of bohemian, gypsy, modern, or any other style.

And this is where my inside voice goes "Seriously?" Taking a T-shirt and roughly hand-sewing a four-inch rectangle of tea-dyed muslin to the chest, and tacking on a six-inch length of flimsy old lace, off-center, to the bottom of said shirt, does not make it altered, and calling it couture is a real stretch. Taking a thrift store camisole and sewing on a couple of crochet doilies that dangle off the side is not altered, it is embellished, and in my not-worth-much opinion, it is embellishment done for the sake of a trend, rather than with much thought. The design makes no sense, and looks as if the doilies sort of stuck to the shirt by accident. The flip side of that is, I saw examples of outstanding garments done with lace and doilies. The designs work, the colors work, and the finished garments are beautiful.

If you are going to call a piece "altered couture" then the piece really should be altered in some significant way. There were many good examples of this in the magazine, some quite simple, so being altered doesn't imply that it has to be fancy, home-dyed, or covered with embellishments. It does mean, to me, that you have changed the shape and style of the original garment into something unique.

The word "upcycled" is used a lot lately, and I would agree that almost all of the items shown in the magazine were upcycled from thrift store finds or antique shop discoveries.  This fact was stated over and over again by the people whose items were pictured. With the diversity of clothing, shoes, and accessories shown, and the fact that so many of them were decorated but not really altered, I think upcycled rather than altered, would be a better definition for many of the items pictured. Is a shoe you have painted really altered, or is it decorated? Yes, you have changed its appearance, but you haven't changed its shape. It's still the same shoe, just painted a different color, or with fabric and beads glued on. They have definitely been upcycled, and many of them are fantastic, but altered? 

alter: v to make or become different; change. (Oxford Pocket American Dictionary)

According to the above definition, I guess all the items in the magazine were changed to a certain extent, so in the broadest sense of the term, they were altered. But add the word "couture" and it ups the anti to something beyond just upcycled, refurbished, or embellished. And yes, even the OPAD defines "couture" as merely "the design and manufacture of fashionable clothes = Haut couture." However, I still think it implies a higher quality of thought and design over and above a snip of muslin, a bit of old lace, or a doily hand sewn onto a thrift store T-shirt. But that's just my opinion...and you all know what that is worth, right?

Making An Effort

In my previous post, I did a short rant on how people dress these days. I guess it's because clothing can be so much fun, and is one of life's greatest, and most easily accessible, forms of expression, that I kinda don't get it when people won't at least make an effort. Maybe it's because when I was a kid I watched too many of those romantic comedies from the 30s and 40s, where, before stepping out the door, everyone got DRESSED. Yeah, that was movie make believe, and there is no way any of us could match those dresses and that make-up, even if you wanted to. Which I don't. Well, the make-up part anyway. Make-up makes my face itch. But, oh my, those dresses.

But I dither. Back on track. I guess what I really mean is, have fun with your clothes. Don't look at them as just something to keep you covered or warm. And despite what you might think, you make a statement no matter what you wear, by the choices you make. You may not think you do, but even if you throw on the nearest item that isn't in the dirty-clothes hamper, that is also a statement. If you pull dirty clothes out of the hamper to wear, well, that's a whole 'nuther kind of statement, and I won't go there.

For me, since I might only get into town once a week, if that, making an effort is fun. I get tired of looking like a transient most of the time. Working around animals is how I spend most of my day, but let's face it, neither my horses or my cats are going to be impressed with what I have on while cleaning stalls or cat boxes. When I know I am not going anywhere, I live in sweat pants & sweatshirts. Lately, due to the extreme cold, when working outside, I look even sillier, since I'd rather be warm than stylish. But once I head for town, I try, I really try, to make an effort to "clean up good."

This does not mean I throw on a fancy dress. I am a jeans and T-shirt kinda girl. But you can have a hell of a lot of fun with those as well. There are times I wish I was even braver, and a bit more eccentric. But at my age, I can only push the envelope so far before people start wondering if I belong in a padded room. But I still push. If the general reaction is good, then I push a little more next time.

Add to this effort the fact that I am artistic, and a whole new area of expression in clothing opens up. I can sew, bead, embroider, applique, and otherwise restyle all kinds of things. But as stated, since I live in a rural area where getting "dressed to the nines" only happens on New Years Eve, if then, it makes sense that all that embellishment has to go on something more practical than a fancy gown.

So here is an example of how I "make an effort" without looking like I'm trying too hard (a cardinal sin), or without ending up looking ridiculous, 'cause I've been there and done that, believe me!

The hat is felted wool and was custom made for me by a good friend. The long, handwoven scarf was gifted to me by another good friend. The sweatshirt is the embellished one I just finished. And, courtesy of The Gap, my go-to store for basics that I wear FOR YEARS, is the nylon bomber jacket and skinny jeans. I have on short street boots that kinda look like hiking boots. And jewelry. There is always jewelry.

On the arm of the couch is Sabine, who approved the outfit.

A better shot of the hat and scarf. Lots of times I will put jewelry pins on the hat, but I had just taken off the vintage Christmas-ish looking one, and haven't decided yet what to put back on. My husband, who took the pictures, thought I looked quite dashing.

So, there is a small example of what I mean by making an effort when you go out the door. Assuming of course you're not going out the door to work in the garden, clean stalls, or mow the lawn...although that last one has possibilities (visions of my first husband mowing our large lawn in a lime-green Speedo butt-huger comes glaringly to mind, alas).

Bottom line. Have fun with your clothes. Why not? You have to wear them every day, anyway.

Wardrobe Analysis=Morticia Picks Out My Clothes

Have you ever stood back and really looked at the wardrobe hanging in your closet? I had occasion to do so the other day, and an obvious fact became apparent. If a total stranger looked in my closet, they would think the only reason I get dressed is to attend funerals.

Most of the items hanging there are black, brown, gray, dark blue, or dark purple. A few bright spots of turquoise or green might sneak in, or maybe a hint of red, but they are overshadowed by the overpowering “noir” theme of everything else. In summer this dark palette lightens up a little with T-shirts and tank tops, but summer doesn’t last very long in the Pacific Northwest. The lights stay hibernating most of the year.

I live in sweatpants and sweatshirts. Or jeans and sweatshirts. Or cargo pants and sweatshirts. You see the trend. Occasionally I do “clean up” and wear jeans and a nice sweater. Until recently, other than the two fancy dresses I bought five years ago to wear on formal evenings while on a cruise, I owned only one dress—a loose, sleeveless summer floral my husband bought for me at the Orange Co., Calif. swap meet, the weekend of Princess Diana’s funeral. To remedy that, a few months ago I bought a nice simple day dress, in muted shades of blues and browns, with a charcoal python pattern overlaid. This sounds hideous, but is actually quite lovely. But again, colors that are subdued...funereal.

I also rarely wear prints. There are a few lurking within the darker ranks, but they are mainly black designs on white, or the reverse, or black on gray. This is probably because I am a jewelry nut, and prefer my jewelry to stand out against a plain background. But in all honesty, I have never been a big fan of prints, unless it’s a discrete one. Giant red poppies would never make it into my closet, let alone onto my body.

As a rule, I never wear white. I do own two white blouses, bought for the aforementioned cruise, which I have hardly worn since. I NEVER wear white pants. It’s a disaster. Always. Dirt will fly from all directions to land on my white pants. Also, I’m so used to wearing jeans that I have a habit of wiping my hands on the rear-pockets. Do that in white pants, and it either looks like you brushed up against something really nasty, or looks like someone has grabbed your butt and left their hand print behind...literally.

So, since I have declared this to be a year of challenges, maybe I should challenge myself to get out of the Morticia Adams mode, and pick some clothes with a bit more color. That will not include yellow, peach, or orange, which make my skin tone go pasty, and has me looking like I’m dressed for my own funeral. But I’ve developed a penchant for lime green lately, so maybe a new sweatshirt in that? And I’ve always liked red, so there is another option. More turquoise, perhaps? Maybe I’ll get really rash and buy a new dress...in pale blue? Then again, I saw this really lovely one the other day in black, with panels in the skirt of white dots on black...  Hmmm, I wonder how much it costs?

Drat, maybe there is more of Morticia in me than I care to admit.

Oh, and yes, the walls of my bedroom really are red, although they are not so bright as this flash photo makes them appear. And I don’t have closet doors, I have lovely velvet curtains, that match the curtains over the window on the opposite wall. It’s all very romantic.