Once clothing stops functioning primarily as identity projection , you tend to shop less.

Or at least more practically.

Which is probably why I became increasingly irritated by the narratives attached to clothing online.

Brands couldn’t just tell me what the garment was.

I had to know what inspired it.

What feeling it was trying to evoke.

I understand marketing exists, but some of this started to feel excessive.

I mostly want to know the materials, construction,measurements and price.

That’s it.

The Engineering of Consent

I think the emotional manipulation is what bothered me most.

Marketing strategists would probably classify me as a “research” or “needs-based” consumer.

Ok fine.

If I need something, like it, and the numbers make sense, I will buy it.

A feel-good narrative usually isn’t going to change that.

But increasingly, shopping online stopped feeling informational.

Even the “serious” or anti-trend brands do this.

They appeal to the intellectual consumer.

The person who supposedly buys less, but better. 

But at the end of the day, they are still trying to sell you something.

Which makes some of the performance around the clothing feel slightly absurd.

I’m told the sweater is inspired by solitude, restraint, and northern coastlines.

But I still have to email customer service for the actual garment measurements.

Do you need me to buy the sweater or not?

“Techno-silk” is not silk

I noticed this shift materially too.

Even fabric descriptions started becoming more abstract.

I can tolerate some synthetics depending on the garment.

But now common fiber names increasingly get replaced with vague language like “technical fabric” or “performance textile.”

It’s hard not to see that as marketing.

Consumers became educated on polyester. So polyester needed a rebrand.

Now I’m doing extra research just to figure out what the fabric actually is.

Again, the object itself starts getting obscured by presentation.

Lookbooks are getting out of control

In some ways, lookbooks replaced mail catalogs.

I used to love flipping through J.Crew, Sears, or JCPenney catalogs growing up.

Even now when I look at old scans online, I still get the sense the garment is the thing being presented.

The models were attractive by conventional standards, but they also faded into the background a little.

Even J.Crew was selling a lifestyle, but it still felt casual and accessible.

Modern lookbooks feel very different.

Now everything is semiotic.

The hair.

The posture.

The location.

The lighting.

The styling.

The mood.

The garment feels like an afterthought.

And the environments are increasingly abstract.

Some remote coastline.

A brutalist home in the woods.

Someone staring blankly into the distance wearing a $900 knit polo.

Nobody in these campaigns appears to have a job or an early dentist appointment.

Old catalogs felt like: “Here is a sweater.”

Lookbooks feel like: “Here is the kind of life this sweater belongs to.”

The Implied Life

I think that’s what eventually made online shopping feel sort of empty.

The experience subtly creates longing.

Not just for the object.

But for the environment surrounding it.

The life implied around it.

And most of those lifestyles are incoherent with ordinary life.

You buy the object.

But the larger image remains out of reach.

Brands were no longer just asking for my money.

They wanted me to buy into a life I wasn’t actually living.

The clothing itself was becoming secondary.

I think that’s when online shopping stopped being enjoyable for me.