I think I misunderstood creative pragmatism

It’s not Friday but I have things to say and no chill

Listen, this is not about canceling Tibi. I won’t stop wearing any of the pieces I own, most of which I bought on sale or second-hand. This isn’t a boycott either. If they make something I need and like, I will buy it. Amy, by the way, is an admirable fashion entrepreneur and marketer who writes great fashion copy and puts together remarkable outfits. She is not culpable for class stratification, mindless consumerism, or any of the things that have turned fashion into the circus it’s become. If anything, she has made fashion make sense for a lot of people. In fact, you should follow her if you don’t by now

But lately, it seems that the language employed by Amy is encouraging Tibi-fans to see personal style not as a means of self-expression, but as the currency to ascend from the tasteless masses. Like the day she said whatever outfit they were marketing on style class was cool in a way Ralph-Lauren-wearing people are not. Or the comment that buying X Tibi item and not the other 100 versions on the market will prevent us from looking “like the other moms at the school meeting,” a suggestion that didn’t just strike me as crass, but also far from persuading me to dress the way I dress—which I do only for self-expression, fun, anything but trying to separate myself from the so-called commoners who do not wear Tibi. Especially knowing that the moment Phoebe Philo makes a pair of pants reminiscent of what those moms at the school meeting wear unironically, Tibi will probably make its own version and suddenly declare them modern, classic, and chill.

The day I reactivated my dormant Substack, it was with a love letter to creative pragmatism, which I described like this:

“What Creative Pragmatism gave me was the ability to blend, the freedom to integrate the disparate facets of who I am: the lawyer turned-artist, the Latina mom who can’t cook, the avid reggaeton listener, the Paul Auster reader, the politics passionate, the instagram over-sharer of both profundity and triviality. Creative pragmatism allowed me to embrace rather than reject my complexities, showing me that I didn’t have to sacrifice any of these constitutive pillars of myself, mi yo escindido. Finally, at 41, I felt at ease. Sometimes resembling my mother in crisp Oxford shirts and loafers, other times channeling Sofía Vergara with cork platforms, a bold red lip, and a conspicuous, unapologetic décolletage.”

As you can tell from this quote, creative pragmatism was freedom. Freedom from labels and prescriptive, mean language of “wear this not that”. It was the space where we were allowed to integrate the multitudes we contain— where the facets could coexist free of judgement. What do you mean I don’t have to be just one thing? That I can be chill, I can be elegant, I can be quirky, I can be inspired by my minimalist mom and Sofía Vergara simultaneously?

Creative pragmatism also encouraged me to buy less and focus more on the clothes that actually worked for my lifestyle. It introduced me to the concept of bifurcated closet which triggered a lot of creativity. The idea that I could wear my blazer to a pilates class felt expansive and stimulating. Again, it integrated the different roles and ways of existing as a woman: a mom driving her kids everywhere whom, in the interstices, tried and exercise, run the errands she’s been postponing, write, make art, go on date nights, fun trips, and kids birthday parties. No lifestyle was better than other. We all fit in the creative pragmatist world and there was always something for all of us.

But recently with the introduction of the word “mullet” on Amy’s stories, I wondered if I was missing the fact that perhaps fashion policing and snobbism was embedded in the creative pragmatist philosophy.

What do you mean I should care about what others think? What do you mean I need to scan my neighbors to make sure I don’t wear whatever they are wearing? What do you mean I need to stop wearing my LL bean tote bag or whatever it is that I love because it doesn’t fit the environment? (More on that on my previous newsletter.) You see, it’s not that the whole framework of irony/friction/mullet made me question my choices (been there, done that) but it did something to my mind that I deeply resented: it stopped me from looking at people in the doctors’ waiting room from a place of childish curiosity and amusement and turned me into a judgmental CP police analyzing if what they were wearing was irony (good) or a mullet (bad.) A huge red flag considering that other’s personal style is not inherently good or bad— just PERSONAL. Not inferior, or a mullet, or a don’t, or something to make fun of in order to push our own ideas of good style. Because talking candidly about creative pragmatism is great, but one thing is explaining its principles and another very different is denigrating what isn’t creative pragmatism to exalt its virtues. That’s when the brand lost me. And I know someone like me buying on sale and second-hand is probably not their target market, but knowing Amy’s self-awareness and intelligence, I am sure she will read this and see where I am coming from.

The second thing I resented was that CP people I followed online started to re-evaluate their style choices in terms of the environment, context, and what other people wear. It made them insecure. Is it Amy’s fault? I’m not sure. But Someone had to tell that woman wondering if her shoes were a “mullet” that she was actually asking the wrong question. That what mattered was what the shoes meant for her, the story they tell, and most importantly, why she liked them. That if the shoes were not making her feel like herself, was it because they truly didn’t represent her or simply because they were not creative pragmatist enough? Because maybe the answer she needed wasn’t if the shoes were indeed a mullet or not, but that it’s ok to skip the prescription on days that is not needed. And that if instinct takes her to an un- creative pragmatist version of herself, it’s not like she is deviating from a gospel.

So in the spirit of trying to encourage my Tibi-loving readers to avoid snobbism stifling their true personal style, I wrote my previous piece without naming names. Mostly because I didn’t want to exasperate my anxiety with uncalled for confrontation and also because I dislike assuming a pedagogical voice. But after reading Tiia’s courageous piece, I felt not just the need but the responsibility to express my opinion, because one thing I’m done with after turning 40 is self-censoring.

The other thing I’m done with? Allowing my personal style to become a ticket to belong, whether on a certain social class, the cool moms’ clique, a front-row, or whatever it is that uses personal style as a filter to respect the other who thinks/dresses/acts differently.