Fashion and Fads in Barcelona and España
Photo by Nikola Jovanovic
Watching the crowds, while wandering around the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, their reactions to what they were seeing, and noting what people wore, was of special interest to me. Almost more than studying the building itself. I did that, also, because the design of this special cathedral was, without question, an amazing creation and I greatly admired the talent and workmanship behind it. But it was still just a building.
I know, some people may think those words are sacrilegious, undermining the purpose of this place. But Antoni Gaudí built it for the people and I wanted to see how many seemed to appreciate that fact, or if they were there out of curiosity because it was famous, like me.
But I especially liked watching people’s reactions to their surroundings, and in what they wore…like who was the most fashion conscious and who looked the most comfortable in their clothing.
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After getting a degree in art, in my misguided youth, which wasn’t much help to me later in life, I decided to get a degree in Fashion Merchandising, because that seemed a smarter way to make money, and I had always been interested in fashion. I thought I could be a buyer of merchandise for some big department store but settled for managing a high-end women’s clothing store, which was nearly as challenging. The store was successful and I was very satisfied in that job, but, after a few years, I moved to another state to be closer to my daughter.
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Even though that was years ago, that background still has a pull for me to notice and appreciate people’s sense of taste in clothes and how they seem to care about what they look like. Some don’t care what they look like, and it shows. Or some people simply don’t know what goes well together, what complements their own coloring — their hair and skin tones, which gives me the old urge of wanting to say, “Your cool undertones just aren’t vibrating with the pale pastels you’re wearing, Lady. Try a deeper purple blouse instead of that lilac with your grey suit.” But, of course, I couldn’t do that without offending.
Most of the Spaniards and Europeans seemed to know exactly what looked good on them. But then the ‘what-to wear’ decision was eased because all wore black, dark browns, or dark grays. And what they wore was well thought out, well-pressed, and tailored with few frills. The women wore black pantyhose with skirts that were above-the-knee or longer, or slim pants above the ankle with heels. But I noticed that both men and women wore expensive-looking boots or shoes, likely because they walked so much on harsh surfaces and needed something on their feet that were comfortable and sturdy. They all looked very well put-together and gave the impression of being fashion motivated, and aware of what color of black, brown, or gray looked good on them.
While most people have their own ideas of how they want to look, having their own tastes and sense of style, and in Spain, those differences seemed to be shown mainly in the choice of skirt lengths, jacket or coat lengths, shoes for women, and jacket or coat lengths for men. The colors worn were basically the same dark tones. Yet that sameness helped me notice the nuances of each person’s hairstyle, their jewelry choices, their handbags, and whatever extra accessory they chose that set them apart from others, like a scarf, shawl, or hat.
Men wore boots with their slacks or oxfords well-shined. Women wore short boots, mid-calf boots, or tall boots to the knees, and looked sleek in their attire as they walked with confidence to their destinations.
Then there were us Americans that seemed to stand out and be immediately pegged for who we were with our clothing choices. Likely, that was because we wore much more colorful clothing than the rest of the people we encountered.
Some of the younger people dressed more casually with clean tennis shoes, casual slacks, and jackets with more color, but not garish colors, and there were seldom blue jeans seen. Marty and George wore blue jeans, which might have been part of the tip-off for our being from the U.S. as well as the fact that my jacket was neon orange and Vivienne’s was hot pink. Those colors were not seen even in the more colorful jackets of the youth, so I assumed that how we were dressed was what gave us away. Yet, in part, it may have been our attitudes. We were always smiling when looking around curiously, instead of looking stoic and serious, like most of the people we passed.
Photo by Andrey Zvyagintsev
In my fashion observations, I saw a few questionable fads that piqued my interest that seemed to go against the sleekness of most people’s attire and were unbecoming and silly. I realized that fads were those things some fashionista has made up to throw a wrench in the flow of selling to liven up the market and make a few more bucks on those who fall for such absurdities. I did as a teenager myself. But the flared pants for women that were cut off and frayed a few inches above the ankle simply made the leg appear chopped off instead of sleek. They were unattractive besides being unflattering, and I couldn’t understand why a woman would want to look that way on purpose, except to look like they were ‘in-the-know’.
The men weren’t immune to silliness either, wearing blue jeans splattered with white paint all over the fabric and worn with expensive shoes, leather coats, and leather shoulder bags, which seemed disconnected, like a ‘rags and riches’ thing. To me, paint splattered on costly jeans was almost as crazy as the expensive jeans-with-holes craze. I began to wonder why people would want to deliberately try to look poorer in these faked, distressed, faddish styles. But moreover, why would designers intentionally modify a person’s image from at least looking like they were in a higher class of dressers than some poor dude living off the streets who likely didn’t know, care, or couldn’t afford better? My point being: why would a person not want to elevate themselves fashion-wise instead of lower it?
To me, paint splattered on expensive jeans for men, and the cut-off-at-the-ankle-and-frayed styles for women, were almost as crazy as the expensive jeans-with-holes craze. I began to wonder why people would want to deliberately try to look poorer in these faked, distressed, faddish styles. But moreover, why would designers intentionally modify a person’s image from at least looking like they were in a higher class of dressers than some poor dude living off the streets who likely didn’t know, care, or couldn’t afford better?
I wasn’t judging, just questioning the sense of such crazes. Was my age showing?
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In the setting of the Sagrada Família, as far as us wearing much brighter colors than the masses, instead of feeling conspicuous, I was grateful for standing out because we didn’t lose each other for long. It was a ‘whoosh’ of relief to see that hot pink jacket Vivienne wore in the middle of the crowd walking ahead of me, or my husband Marty’s tan jacket amongst the black ones when I had lost track of him. Hurray for being different, I would think.
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Continue reading this story series by clicking here for Part 6 - The Drawbacks of Traveling to Valencia
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Read every previous parts of this story series by clicking one of the links below:
Part 1 - España — My First Trip Away from North American Soil
Part 2 - Madrid and the Train Ride to Zaragoza
Part 3 - Zaragoza to Barcelona - España Continued
Part 4 - Nuestro Dia de San Valentín en España — Our Valentine’s Day in Spain