The Doctrine of Vanity

Let's talk about superficial things.
I was twelve years old when a completely bizarre problem presented itself in my life. Louis Vuitton launched a $700 back-pack, which was totally revolutionary. $700 for a bag was a lot of money then, even for Louis Vuitton, which was never as expensive as brands like Prada or Chanel. No brand of its caliber created products for young girls to wear to school. Moreover, the bag was completely unpractical- too heavy, oddly shaped, difficult to open, and, well, too expensive for a teenager.
But in Sao Paulo it sold like water, and soon enough half the girls in my school had one. And that's when I started having a problem. I didn't know if I wanted one, but I knew that everyone else wanted one. I didn't know if I was a "patricinha" (the word attributed to the Brazilian gossip girls of the 90's), but I knew that if I wore that bag I would immediately be one. I couldn't buy one and not wear it if I didn't like the profile attached to it. You couldn't un-buy a Louis Vuitton bag. Even if you sold it or gave it away, once you bought a Louis Vuitton bag you were forever someone who had bought a Louis Vuitton bag. It would mean I was part of a group- and there was a certain power attached to being part of that group- a group that was rich and fashionable, and therefore untouchable. Appealing thought for a 12-year-old. But if I didn't buy one I was also part of a group- the group that rejected fashion and money. The latter was a bit risky, though- someone who rejected fashion and money might be really cool, but they might also be super losers. A huge risk for a 12-year-old to take.
I didn't know whether I wanted it or the profile attached to it, but I didn't know who I was otherwise either. I hadn't defined a "personality" yet (and what 12-year-old has??) and I was scared of what might come up if I didn't make something up soon. I still hid in my closet to play with my Barbies, and I kept waiting to "grow up" but had no idea how to do it. Where was my personality, I wondered?
I didn't want to be a loser-hippie who only had one friend. I didn't want to be a nerd- that would require knowing a lot about computers, which was simply never going to happen. I didn't want to be an athlete- I hated sports, I couldn't even have been a cheerleader. There weren't a lot of options.

I bought the bag.

The reactions were subtle, but it was done. I was someone who spent $700 on a bag that hundreds of other girls had. I was someone who spent $700 on a bag I didn't even know I wanted. People would look at me and think anything ranging from, money to futile to luxury. And I was okay with it. It started to feel kind of nice. I started to embrace the life-style. I kept on buying ridiculously expensive accessories and doing my best to "look the part".
I kept it up until I went to college, where I experimented with myself over and over again, trying to figure out what was my style, what I liked, who I was. For a while I wore long skirts and hand-made bags I bought from street vendors, for example.
In the end, I found high-fashion again, but with a clearer mind, and without feeling trapped in it. Now I like Louis Vuitton because that back-pack is still in perfect condition, after 12 years, and I know it will remain so for at least 30 more years. Now I choose Prada shoes because, well, they have my size, and they are also immortal. I like Chanel hand bags because they're classic and elegant- and it so happens that I enjoy everything that's classic and elegant (although it took rejecting all of it to figure that out). And if I see a $5 bag that I love, I'll buy it and wear it as I would a $1200 Balenciaga bag. I love H&M and Old Navy and Zara as much as I love Dolce & Gabbana and Marc Jacobs. I'm clear now about what I like and what I don't like, and I see that elegance and style have very little to do with the material things themselves, but rather with the person wearing them. I like to know what different designers are defining as fashion, but I don't buy or drool over anything I don't like, or that doesn't feel like me. Next to my Ms. Magazine there's usually a Vogue, and next to my Converse sneakers there's usually a pair of Louboutin's. And the truth is that what "feels like me" changes all the time- it can even change several times on one day, and I just have to learn to respect that.
That might just be the key to style: self-respect.