Two years ago, I was influenced by one of my favorite internet writers to buy a puffer jacket. This jacket was made by a Japanese company and used French sizing, so I gambled and ordered a size 36. It arrived, and it was comically too big (even with an oversized sweater underneath). I scoured the website for their return policy, and it was vague, perhaps due to translation. I ended up paying an exorbitant amount of money to ship the jacket back to Japan. I didn’t realize it would be that much, but by the time I had boxed it up, labeled and taped everything, stood in line at the post office, I just couldn’t turn back. A few weeks later, the same box ended up directly back on my door step after having taken an around-the-world ride. During this time, I ordered the same jacket in size 34. Second jacket arrived. It did fit better. I did not love it, but by this point I was so embarrassed by the ordeal that I hung it up in our coat closet, gave jacket #1 to my sister, and vowed to stop online shopping for a month.
In January, I finally sold jacket #2 after only wearing it two times in two years. Something I know about myself: I don’t like the way I look in puffers. Something else I know about myself: I am so easily influenced.
Months ago, I was nosying around in my Explore page on Instagram, which I have somewhat trained to serve me art, short hairstyles, Taylor Swift, and NBA content. I stumbled upon a young museum worker who lives in DC and describes herself as a “future Southern grandma.” She posts outfit of the day (OOTD) content every few days, and I could not get enough. She isn’t the typical internet Gen Z in baggy jeans and -core aesthetics. She isn’t in suits or neutrals. She just seems to have the most fun and natural sense of self and personal style. I was enchanted. She closes all of her videos with “And now for my favorite part, matching the watch to my outfit!” and shows this incredible Gucci watch with colorful, interchangeable bezels. I could feel myself being influenced immediately.
I found a few versions of the watch on eBay, measured my wrist, and started bidding. I talked through the potential purchase with friends and my husband, the orange puffer jacket memory haunting me, but because I’ve been tracking my wardrobe for over a year, I know this about myself: I do wear watches (according to my Stylebook app, my black watch is my second most worn item with 117 wears). And while I don’t typically go for luxury brands, the versatility and playfulness of the piece also makes sense for what I am going for when I get dressed every day. I ended up purchasing the watch for $416.94 (if you’re interested in how this was budgeted, I’m happy to share). I haven’t uploaded it to my wardrobe tracker app yet, but I’d say I’ve worn it at least once a week since it arrived.
Though the watch was definitely an influencer-inspired purchase, it hasn’t induced any panic or regret. Still, I can’t help but think of the jacket when I wear it. Something about the lack of narrative for an heirloom piece makes me a little embarrassed. I didn’t find it in a Japanese vintage store or French flea market. It wasn’t passed down from a beloved aunt.
I saw it on the internet.
I liked it.
I bought it.
Omg Lex this is so fun!!
That watch is SO cool! Eh, we’re all influenced all the time, I don’t think we can escape it!