Does Everyone Need a Stylist?

Nightmare on Wilshire Boulevard

 
This is an odd time indeed. Everyone either wants to be a stylist or wants to have one.

Our first stylists were our mothers. We never questioned what we were given to wear, though there were things we mightily disliked. My mother railed against the black wool stockings she and her sisters had to wear far into spring. It was 1915.

 
I wanted a marshmallow fluffy, flounced dress for my Consecration at age 6, not (in today's eye) the stunning white crew neck sweater/white pleated skirt/string of pearls I was given to wear. I dribbled chocolate ice cream on the sweater at lunch that day. The end.

When my own little boy started dressing himself, a neighbor gave me some good advice: buy everything in red, white or blue, and he'll always look fine.

Would that the ladies of the Golden Globes red carpet had taken that hint. Their get-ups may be the portent for a dreadful awards season to come. As much as I'd like, I can't get the image of Gwneyth Paltrow in that brown Arabian Nights-inspired negligee out of my mind. What gets me is she seems so happy to be wearing it.

No one will blame Gwyneth for this frightful outfit. It has to be the stylist's fault! She lost her mind, had a cold or phoned this one in. Poor Gwyneth! Fiddlesticks... shouldn't Gwyneth have known better? Are we creating a society where no one trusts her own taste? And I mean NO ONE?

The question is: Do you need a stylist to be stylish? 

Stylists are there for everyone. Department stores have turned formerly exclusive "personal shoppers" into stylists for all. Every boutique chain has "clienteling" initiatives and encourages "appointment shops" at no charge to the customer.

Online styling is big business with pioneers like Stitch Fix sending "hand picked" clothing to men, women, and now (gulp) children. I wonder if those are all red, white and blue?

There is now an App called Wishi that connects you to a stylist who will personalize the conversation even further.

These stylists do not go into your closet and help you put together outfits from the overwhelming array of stuff already hanging there. You are encouraged to buy new, more, because—well—you picked that other stuff out yourself.

I'm not saying some of us can't use help. You may be at a life crossroads and a new you requires a new look. We all get lazy and/or bored. Fashion, especially these days, can be intimidating. There seem to be no rules. The old touchstones (fashion magazines, retail) have lost their authority.  We are left to depend on...ourselves.

I toyed with becoming a Stitch Fix stylist. With my experience working for fashion magazines and in retail, I figured this would be fun and a piece of cake. I was accepted into the program by passing an online test. After a training period (not specified where but probably at a Stitch Fix warehouse in a nearby city) I would commit to a work schedule when I would be available to pick items for clients from photos on my computer. My selection would be determined by what was available in her size at the warehouse at any particular time. There would be no ability to ascertain the quality of a garment by touch and no way to tell how it ran. I would be expected to complete a certain number of clients per hour. The reality of being a Stitch Fix stylist just turned me off, and I dropped out immediately.

A Stitch Fix warehouse

I appreciate fashion advice. I read a lot. I listen a lot. I understand not everyone has the courage of her own convictions. I wouldn't enjoy my job at all if I didn't feel I could help you, even just a little. What I'm not liking is this feeling that we have to throw ourselves at the mercy of someone who doesn't know us but Has All the Answers.

It's too Wizard of Oz, and you know what happened there.