This Season: Maximalism, Sentimentality, and the Value of ‘Things”

I’m writing this on Boxing Day, the ultimate ‘limbo’ day in between my favourite time of the year and my least favourite time of the year. The 26th of December is like the ultimate Sunday – knowing that the magic and whimsy of the holidays have just finished and the dull, boring months of Southern Ontario are upon me. There’s a feeling about this time of year that I always have and have yet to put into words. I’m regularly reflecting around the holidays about some sort of convergence of family, fashion, what I want in life, what I want to give and get, a lot of different contemplative ideas that the cold brings out. And on this Sunday-like Boxing Day, as I hide from the crowds of consumerism, I have more-or-less captured my thoughts of style and inspiration and the weird little ways they present themselves in December.

For any fashion lover, Fall/Winter collections represent the best of the best in fashion. I’m not the first to write about this, the colder seasons have been deemed the greatest for many reasons; the layering and accessory capabilities are endless, the ability to maximize comfiness and chic-ness run parallel to one another, and shopping is literally unavoidable at this time of year. But my personal favourite: big, bold winter coats. Fur coats, embroidered coats, wool coats–the bigger and bolder, the better. If my coat is a statement piece it becomes the outfit entirely. Plus, nobody ever thinks to deem you an “outfit-repeater” because no regular person expects you to own a bunch of coats (though I’m slowly and happily building my collection). This brings me to my next point which will seem out-of-place, but stay with me here: there’s a longevity of good winter coats counteract the unsustainability of trends.

Much of my writing and work comes back to older women, and how they are the true keepers of true personal style. Their wardrobes have less to do with trends, and everything to do with the curation of a life-lived. And so, this isn’t an aesthetic one can simply recreate; it’s a lifelong journey of collecting bold, amazing pieces that I’ll own for life, much like a big fur coat. And this is what I’ve been trying to capture this season. 

Think maximalism. Not in the sense of lots of things, but a lot of thing. This season is the time for glitter, fur, sequins, prints, bows, ruffles, bright colours, etc., etc., and I’m all about embracing it while I can. As soon as the Christmas lights come down, everything starts to look really lifeless, but your wardrobe doesn’t have to. Yes, a capsule wardrobe is a buzzy term right now, but to me, that means having pieces in my closet that hold the maximum amount of value through artistry, because something that’s valuable to you is a lot more timeless than purely good-quality basics. Thus, my ‘style’ has become less of a thing I’m trying to nail down and more of a persistent process of collecting pieces with meaning and long lasting charm. 

If a symptom of being a shopaholic is feeling an elated high after buying things, then diagnose me. Especially around Christmas it’s so easy for me to buy a lot of things for myself and for others. But when I think about this theme of maximalism in terms of value, no shopping high can compete with the one I have when I leave my favourite store… my Oma’s house.  

We often say in my family, my Oma would be a hoarder if she didn’t live in such a big house. She lives with my Opa in a log cabin they built on a river. The outside is orange and very cottage-like, keeping the interior decor a secret, or surprise. Brimming with paintings on every wall, tiled floors and decor, fairy-tale wooden sculptures, vintage ornate light fixtures, and decades worth of home, garden, and lifestyle magazines, I’ve never been able to quite capture the highly artistic aesthetic that my Oma has perfected inside her home. Her house is like a museum, for me, a store. Every visit I seem to leave with a bracelet, a lamp, a rug, or a painting. Every Christmas, each family member unwraps gifts from Santa-Omie that she pulls from her flourishing reservoir of things. Sometimes they’re clearly sentimental, like an old report card of my mother’s or a fabulous fur coat. And other times, things that may look like they belong in a junk drawer but, to me, are so sacred–the best gifts that I’ll keep forever and ever. 

My Oma is both the matriarch of the family and my very best friend. She’s a woman who has an eye for art and design so innately that she’s passed on to me. When I think of my love for fashion, it feels so different from the common way of interacting with style on social media and influencers, and much more tied to my real-life inspirations of wise women and art. So as I wait to grow into an old lady with lots of things–paintings, rugs, books, shoes, big coats–I mindfully craft my collection of important things that indicate style, which indicates a life well lived. I use this season as a time to solidify my fashion values (and thus, life values) for maximalism, sentimentality, and the value of pieces, above all else. 

– Gill