WHY AM I DOING THIS EXACTLY?

Clothes that we spend insane amounts of money on

A year ago, my partner and I had our biennial weekend in Antwerp. A bit of food, some romance, and especially a lot of shopping. Of course, concept store Graanmarkt 13 was also on my checklist. There was a hip, Flemish type turning in front of the mirror with a poncho. Last piece, you always see that. I already liked it, but when I heard it was ‘a‘ Isabel Marant and there was ’only one left‘, I was sure. I gave the Flemish a little push (no, she hung it back on the rack herself) and skipped to the cash register. I didn't blink when I heard that it cost four hundred euros. Completely normal for anything Marant. I also heard myself say things to my beloved like: ‘This is really the fashion week item’ and: ‘I'm going to wear this so much’. In the hotel room, I lovingly spread the poncho out on the bed (as you should do with new purchases) and came to a sad realization. Actually, we were dealing with a square piece of fabric with a hole in the middle. A beautiful piece, that's for sure, but still. A square piece of fabric with a hole in it. Nothing less, but certainly nothing more.

“Nice!” was his response. “If you're going to do some work...”

I also remember a last fashion week day in New York. Liesbeth and Josselin went to Times Square to buy personalized M&M's, and Jet and I ‘did’ SoHo one more time. I pulled her into the Ralph Lauren store with the aim of buying something for my dear beloved, but suddenly saw a pair of jeans in the window that I fell head over heels in love with. We left the men's section as it was, and Jet and I both dove for those jeans. It was a customized piece with rips and paint splatters. Cost a bit, but then you had something. Jet, just a few centimeters taller than me, found them in her size, but for mini-me, the pants were no longer in stock. Yes, at the branch on Fifth, but if I went there, I would miss my flight. No problem, the incredibly nice saleswoman could arrange for it to be sent to the Netherlands. I just had to pay a little extra, of course.

Three weeks later, the pants arrived. Had to try them on immediately. And my beloved didn't look up from his newspaper. Of course not. “Honey, look, this is the pair of pants I fell in love with in New York.” “Nice!” was his response. “If you're going to do some work...” As if that wasn't bad enough, I later found out that the diligent saleswoman had forgotten to remove the anti-theft tag (you know, one of those big hard plastic things)...

“Another Peruvian piece from Marant, darling?”

This season, I bought a cape from, there she is again, Isabel Marant. Thank goodness in the vintage store of Danie Bles, so for a much more reasonable price than that square piece of fabric with a hole in it, but still. My husband said: “Another Peruvian piece from Marant, darling?” But I was intensely happy with it and actually wore it every day. Until I just arrived at my daughter's school for an open evening and a fellow mother said to me; “You always look so nice and are so creative with clothes. Did you cut those holes that serve as sleeves yourself?”