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In Retrospect: Style Flashback, 2014

Ahhh, 2014. It was a good vintage. The first half of that year, I was on maternity leave, which meant that I got to spend lots of quality time with my babies, but also with my mom, who was helping us with childcare. It would prove to be the first and last time in my adult life that we would hang out so much and so often, and I cherish the memories of that period dearly. We got to know each other on a different footing than when I was growing up, both of us older and wiser and mothers. This April will mark 4 years since my mom passed away; her absence remains lodged deep inside me, life growing around it like scar tissue. Maybe because so much has happened in the last decade, 2014 feels like a whole lifetime ago. I’m not sure I’d recognize the person I was then, were it not for the fact we wear the same face. Well, give or take a few wrinkles. And a whole closet.

2014 was the year I fully embraced the twee, the beginning of my “no Anthro left behind” era. I couldn’t get enough of that stuff! I couldn’t afford Anthro’s retail prices, so I shopped secondment wherever I could find it — consignment shops, eBay, thrift. Coincidentally or not, 2014 was the year I started thrifting again in earnest, after a decade-long break. In fact, it was something my mom and I loved doing together. But Anthro wasn’t the only brand I was obsessed with; there was also J. Crew. Always bargain-minded (and with a reduced shopping budget, thanks to mat leave), I haunted the clearance racks at the Factory store, which was conveniently located a 10-minute drive from my house. I’m pretty sure the sales associates working that store got to know my entire family by their names, considering how often we used to pop in. It might be hard to believe now, but J. Crew was still very cool at that time — thanks to Jenna Lyons’ trend-setting creative vision — and also something of a novelty in Edmonton, having then only recently expanded into Canada.

My maternity leave wardrobe was casual and fun and generally easy, but going back to work threw up some sartorial challenges my way. I had to figure out not only how to adapt a new aesthetic to my working environment (still in private practice), but also how to dress a different body. After my second pregnancy, I didn’t lose all the “baby weight” immediately, and for about a year and a half, I was a couple of sizes bigger than previously. It might not seem like much, but the difference was noticeable. It wasn’t only a question of personal hang-ups; I also found it objectively harder to find things that fit me properly right off the rack. I have since learned that one of the ways in which brands keep their production costs down — a key metric in the fast fashion paradigm — is by using fewer fit models (aka actual humans) to develop their patterns. So, for example, instead of using size 2-3 fit models to develop patterns across the size range from, say, 2 through 12, they might only use a size 6 fit model and then scale the pattern up or down for the other sizes; as you might imagine, the result is a lower likelihood of the clothing having a halfway decent fit. But that’s a story for another time. I’ve been lucky to fit into straight sizes even at my heaviest, but my postpartum experiences in 2014 did help me understand a little bit better what many, many women struggle with when it comes to fashion and clothes shopping.

But let’s take a look at what I was wearing in 2014!

As always, I tried to pick outfits that reflect a representative cross-section of my 2014 aesthetic: Anthro, J. Crew, bold patterns, chunky necklaces, colourful bags. God, I loved me a coordinating bag! Bags were, hands down, my favourite accessory back then. I used to carefully pick one to match each outfit, even when I was on mat leave and my daily schedule usually revolved around playgrounds and trips to the library. Well, I suppose I always relied on my outfits to bring some fun and joy to the mundaneness of everyday life.

Now, it will not surprise you to hear that I wouldn’t wear any of these outfits in 2025; but, as always, it might surprise you to see how much of a difference a few tweaks can make. Nothing I wear these days looks like these 2014 outfits, but the basic formulas are not that different.

I’m back on the chambray shirt bandwagon again (what goes around comes around, always) but these days, I’m all about the oversized version. Or, in some cases, the oversized denim jacket. We don’t do chunky necklaces anymore, but floral skirts are still dear to my heart. They’re just a bit longer these days. I have also returned to flats (after an intervening decade of wearing heels at the office), but now it’s chunky loafers rather than brightly hued, round-toe ballerina flats. I still have that burgundy Marc by Marc Jacobs bag, by the way — the only item from this 2014 outfit that I still own — but haven’t used it in years. I’m sure its time will come again, though, and nothing beats the leather of 2000s MJ bags. I also wish I’d kept the skirt because, while the length wouldn’t work for me now, I still love that pattern. I’ve saved quite a few of my old Anthro skirts, hoping my daughter might enjoy wearing them one day. That day hasn’t come yet, but there is still hope. Otherwise, I might ask one of my crafty friends to upcycle the fabrics for me — perhaps a fabulous patchwork coat of some sort.

I picked this simple outfit because I was surprised to see myself wearing a trench. After 2014, I pretty much stopped wearing them … until last year. You can easily see, I think, that the trench I thrifted last year is much nicer than the old one I used to have. Both outfits are quite basic, but the 2024 version is even more streamlined — no chunky necklace, no pop of colour. These days, I trust myself to put together an outfit that’s interesting without being loud. Other subtle styling choices that make a big difference: tucked in t-shirt (vs peplum top), straight leg jeans (vs skinny pants), classic loafers (vs ballerina flats).

I chose this dress outfit because it features one of my earliest Ralph Lauren pieces. At the time, I was quite enamoured of these patterned dresses from the LRL diffusion line; they were stretchy and had some ruching, which made them easy to fit even as my body size fluctuated, and were made from a jersey material that was machine-washable, which was a bonus for a busy working mom. I had them in a few different prints, all of them floral and — in retrospect — not especially memorable. Also, if I hadn’t told you, you probably wouldn’t have guessed they were part of the RL universe because they have zero Papa Ralph vibes. I find that amusing; 2014 Adina wouldn’t have foreseen the direction of her sartorial adventures. The outfit on the right is quite a bit different, but I chose it because it features one of my current favourite patterned dresses. You can easily appreciate how different the silhouette and colour palettes are; the dress is also silk. Not having small kids around anymore, and the purchase of a steam cleaner, has expanded my horizons, fabric-wise. On the other hand, thin, long cardigans and “nude” shoes have dropped off my map. My coat game has levelled up, a lot.

And it seems fitting, I think, to include an outfit that also features a special item: the black bag that used to belong to my mom.

What I Wore: February 2025, part two

Details: Jones NY turtleneck & jacket, A&F cardigan, Babaton skirt, Twinset collar, Coach bag (all secondhand)

Thoughts: Lately, I’m loving this combo of “black & white + accent colour”, so I’ve been experimenting with different versions. Yellow is not my best colour, but in small doses we get along just great. Plus, I am obsessed with this jumbo XL Coach bag I thrifted recently, so I will take any and every chance to wear it. Can you believe I paid less than $20 for it? And it’s in pretty good shape, so there is no explanation for that price, considering small, beat-up Fossil bags are routinely marked up to $35 or more. My working hypothesis is that the thrift gods were feeling extra generous with me that day; that, or whoever priced that bag was having an “ahh, f*ck it” kind of day. Either way, I am grateful for my blessings.

Details: Ricki’s turtleneck, Classiques Entier blazer, Wilfred skirt, Michelle Ross accessories (all secondhand)

Thoughts: This vintage, made in Japan, blazer is so stunning and well made, and was priced something quite ridiculous like $8, so I simply had to get it. This purple, though, is another tough colour for me. Not only does it feel like it wants to fight me (not, like, violently but still enough to leave me looking a bit wan), it doesn’t seem to want to play nice with other colours in my closet. For example, I can’t wear it with any shade of brown because I am inevitably reminded of Cadbury and, by process of lateral association, Willy Wonka. I keep wanting to tell this purple that I’m just a girl, standing in front of a colour, asking it to love her just a little bit … or something like that. Anyway, maybe it works. Because this outfit ain’t half bad.

Details: Ines de la Fressange x Uniqlo shirt, Jaeger vest, vintage blazer, Garage skirt (all thrifted)

Thoughts: Y’all, I finally did it. I found a blazer in my favourite shade of blue. It is, admittedly, just a teeny tiny bit more periwinkle than slate blue, but IRL it pulls less purple than it looks here. Close enough; I’m happy. Of course, I had to pair it with chocolate brown because TWO things you love is better than one. This vintage Garage skirt took me all the way back to 1997. It’s got a little slit to one side because … actually why? Why did so many mini-skirts back then have it? What was so important about that extra inch or two of visible thigh? The 90s were weird, man — but we love them. Of course, I’m wearing tights, so this whole discussion is moot. But I see you, odd little 90s detail, I see you.

Details: Uniqlo sweater, J. Crew cardigan, vintage pants, Etienne Aigner shoes (all thrifted)

Thoughts: Can you believe I got these vintage leather pants for FIVE (Canadian) dollars? True story. The thrift price rollercoaster rollercoasters on. Anyway, the pants fit perfectly, and they’re lined so I don’t have to pull a Ross Gellar to put them on. Some of you will get that reference; the rest of you bébés will have to look it up.

Details: Anna Sui top, Jones NY cardigan, Ralph Lauren skirt, Fossil belt (all secondhand)

Thoughts: I decided to pull out my fave summer skirt in order to console myself about the fact that winter has been here for 3 years already. Ok, fine, it’s only been horrible for the last 6 weeks or so, but it’s wearing badly on my nerves. Actually, 2025 in general is wearing very badly, and quickly. All the more reason to find joy in simple things, like one’s outfit.

Details: Babaton turtleneck, Philip Lim x Target dress, American Apparel coat, MbMJ bag, Asos boots (all secondhand)

Thoughts: I pulled out this dress from my archive closet and you know what? It’s still a cutie. I thought my daughter might like it, but she’s decided she doesn’t, so I’ll have to make a decision soon about what to do: keep the dress for myself or pass it on. Short dresses, even more so than short skirts, aren’t really my bag right now, but this one has such a neat design and a lot of memories attached to it. I remember shopping this Philip Lim collab in the store by my parents’ house during the short window when Target operated in Canada. I don’t even want to do the math on how long ago that was. Anyway, this particular dress actually came to me later, via one of my friends who sent it to me in a clothes exchange we did some years ago. So, in a way, it’s doubly nostalgic. Sigh, I think I’ve just talked myself into keeping it a little while longer.

I Think My Mirror Is Broken

One of the best things I’ve done for my mental health was to establish, very early on, mile-high guardrails around my social media consumption. I consider myself a fairly “online” person but, for years, my social media activity has been confined to Instagram and this blog (and Reddit, if we want to count that, though I am almost exclusively a lurker there). I am pretty active in those spaces but also, again, within a small and well-demarcated sphere. The content that I create and, more importantly, consume is centered on my hobbies: fashion, books, thrifting, interior design, needle crafts, and so on. As a rule, I don’t follow traditional influencers (that is, people whose job it is to sell things) nor engage with ‘serious’ topics, except through things reposted by friends whose accounts I follow because I value their perspectives. The current state of the internet being what it is, I have no desire to wade into it willy-nilly and risk inadvertently stepping into a cesspool. You never know what kind of brain-rot you might pick up.

One of the guardrails I put up years ago was to never look at my For You Page (FYP) on Instagram. In the early years of the app, the algorithm didn’t get me, and I certainly didn’t get it. My FYP seemed entirely unable to deliver me content that I wanted to see, so I quickly got into the habit of growing my feed in the same way I would its IRL counterpart – mostly by word of mouth. I followed a couple of OG style blogger friends and through their follows, discovered other people who had interesting things to say about personal style. Those people, in turn, might introduce me to others and, over time, my ‘network’ grew – slowly but organically. I also learned to be ruthless about culling accounts from my feed at the first indication that our vibes were not aligned or were beginning to diverge.

Lately, though, I’ve found myself going back to my FYP. I don’t remember how it started, and the algorithm must have changed a lot in the meantime, because I was suddenly offered a lot of content that spoke directly to my interests. Which is to say: thrifting Reels. I love seeing other people’s thrift finds! Well, I love pretty much any thrift-related content, but I am especially fond of “come thrift with me” videos that offer a glimpse into other cities’ thrift scenes. And so, I started spending more time scrolling through my FYP. For a short while, it was great: just lots of fun thrift content. But then I began to notice that the algorithm took to tossing random, non-thrift Reels into the mix … and if I watched one (instead of immediately nope-ing out), it would begin to pump more of the same into my FYP. Suddenly, we had a power struggle going on.

Here’s the thing: a lot of Reels these days are quite slick and, natural curiosity being what it is, it’s easy to get sucked into watching something that you wouldn’t voluntarily seek out on your own. And while you might have no desire to subsequently watch anything like it again, it’s too late: the algorithm is convinced that you do, and that it must give it to you. You have to constantly ‘train’ and ‘retrain’ it on what it is that you actually want to be shown. I’ve started to think of the algorithm as a particularly recalcitrant toddler who must be told the rules over and over again, only to follow them for 5 minutes before running amok again. I hate it but I also found it oddly amusing … at first.

See, I thought I was in control. I was, after all, the one setting the rules. I consider myself media-literate. What harm could there be in seeing, now and again, some content that I didn’t care about? Well, it turns out, more than I realized.

At 44, I have a pretty good relationship with myself, and my body. I am proud of that because I worked f*cking HARD for it. For years. And it is hugely important in helping me navigate the changes that are part of getting older – the good and the bad. It’s a privilege to grow old, but it isn’t always easy; not in a society that has a pathological obsession with youth. I thought I was doing okay. Most of the time, I feel ageless, and what I mean by that is: I don’t feel myself defined by my age. The body, of course, carries its own clock, but I find that age is, for the most part, a state of mind. I didn’t feel 44, so when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see 44. Until one day, a few months ago, when I looked and suddenly saw myself looking, well, old.

At first, I blamed it on perimenopause wreaking more of its particular kind of havoc on my face. But it was strange. I hadn’t noticed a gradual change; it was more like a falling off a cliff. Had it been gradual, and had I, somehow, just been blind to it before? Or was there a sudden and dramatic downturn? Is that how getting old happens – not a gentle slide but an avalanche? I was swarmed by anxiety-riddled questions and oppressed by the knowledge that I’d have to figure out how to come to terms with answers that I might not like. The idea of losing what I had worked so hard to achieve – being comfortable and content in my own skin – was intolerable. I knew I had a problem, and I knew I was the problem.

And I was right, but not in the way I originally thought.

There was nothing different in the mirror, and nothing wrong with my eyesight. I had just watched one too many makeup videos on Instagram.

Once the algorithm decided that I was suddenly interested in beauty-related topics, the floodgates opened. Dermatologists talking about various cosmetic procedures. Random women talking about facial massage. Other random women talking about facial exercises. Gen Z girls talking about the mindboggling array of makeup products required for a ‘no makeup’ look. And endless talking heads breaking down how Lindsay Lohan and Demi Moore are aging backwards, Benjamin Button-style.

So many images of women’s faces coming right at my eyeballs. Every single one of them filtered.

It clicked, eventually. The number of faces I was seeing, up close, online was far exceeding the number of faces I was seeing, equally close, in real life. I’m an introvert, for one thing, so I don’t tend to see a lot of people on a regular basis offline. And when I do, I tend not to put my face right up to theirs, close enough to count their pores. It’s not considered good manners. I’m sure that, if I did, I would observe a wide variety of skin textures. Online, skin texture does not exist. It has been filtered out of reality. On top of whatever expensive skincare, procedures, and makeup they may have, people posting algorithm-favoured Reels are using impressively sophisticated video-editing tools that allow them to control their images in much the same way that celebrities have done for decades. And the impact of those images is correlated to the volume being consumed. The more you see it, the more it ends up feeling like a norm. The more you end up feeling like a freakish outlier.

Now and again – but much, much, much, much less frequently than its opposite – I come across a Reel that shows a woman my age (or older) whose face is unfiltered and unretouched. And I experience the shock of recognition. I’ve seen something similar before. In my own mirror. But here’s the kicker: after a stream of poreless faces, it feels jarring to suddenly see skin texture. Having that reaction to social media content made me realize that I had, inadvertently, turned my own face into a jump scare. There was no hidden time bomb primed to go off right after my 44th birthday. My face looks the same now as it did a few months ago. I didn’t need a new face cream or a visit to the dermatologist; I just needed to take my social media goggles off.

I’ll leave you with this proposition, which has never steered me wrong when I’ve remembered to hold myself to it: if you find yourself feeling bad about something in your life, don’t take it for truth and rush to fix it; instead, first ask yourself why. Only when we know why we feel bad can we properly decide what we ought to do about it. If the answer is “social media”, you can be sure that the solution will not be found in anything you do offline, but in how and what you consume online.