Am I Just a Hater?

On fashion shame, and when criticism of brands feels like criticism of ourselves

Whenever I write about the brands, it tends to kick up a lot of big feelings.

Of all the content I’ve experimented with online, these posts are definitely the ones that get the most attention. The irony isn’t lost on me that most of you reading this subscribed *because* of my recent piece regarding Quince.

What's the Deal with Quince?

The reason for this phenomenon? If you’ll indulge in a bit of meta-analysis, I think it’s worth looking into.

“I know her!” Theory

My theory is that tossing out a brand name gives people something familar to instantly grab onto, like a lighthouse in the fog of our maxed-out attention economy.

You’ve seen an ad for Quince, or an influencer wearing their clothes (with link in bio). Maybe you’ve browsed their website or even made a purchase. If you’ve had some experience with [insert brand], the impulse when you see the headline “What’s the Deal with [Insert Brand]?” is “Oh, I know her! I wonder what they have to say about them…” and click to read because it feels a little bit like gossip.

By simple virtue of the subject, brand breakdowns are 1000x more clickable to our little monkey brains than the esoteric Substack think piece titled something like “A Brief History of Wanting", or “i regret to inform you i’m romanticizing 2013 again”. (Or, “Am I Just a Hater?”, for that matter.)

Not that there’s anything wrong with those titles! They’re great and the contents therein may be earth-shattering. But you’re interested in “What’s the Deal with Quince?” because I’m speaking on something you identify with from the very jump.

That’s what gets the clicks.¹

And because I’m speaking on something you identify with, something you maybe even consider yourself a part of by purchasing or wearing items from the brand, any criticism of that brand can suddenly feel very personal.

And that’s what gets the big feelings flowing.

Some may read a critique of a company they’ve purchased from in the past as “shaming” them for that choice.

And I’m left asking myself: “Am I just a hater?”

I care about the impact of my words, so it really sucks to realize you’ve inadvertently hurt someone, even if it’s just a small portion of readers interpreting something in a way that wasn’t meant.

Maybe I need to grow a thicker skin. Is it just a reality of existing on the internet that you’ll inevitably be offending someone?

I want to be super, duper clear: I’m not judging anyone who shops at Quince, or any other brand I’ve critiqued in the past or will critique in the future.

I’ve purchased from Quince before, despite my own criticisms!

I could find valid criticisms of every single brand in my closet—which, I’ve made fully public by the way, so you could criticize it too, if you wished.

Does that make me hypocritical? I don’t think so. We’re all complex humans with complex motivations and considerations. We’re all going to buy some stuff, and there is no one perfect choice.

I want us to hold two things at once:
1. A company can take actions worthy of criticism, and
2. That same company can also make products you find useful or good

You can decide that your agreement with any criticism you encounter outweighs your desire to buy future products. Or you can decide that it doesn’t! And that choice doesn’t have to mean anything particularly deep about you as a person.

But I get why it can feel that way.

Add to Cart, Add to Self

Here’s where I might get a little spicy.²

The fact that criticism of a brand you’ve bought from can sometimes feel like a personal offense speaks to how deeply we’ve internalized brands and the things we buy from them as core to our identity.

That’s the tricky thing about capitalism. It makes it so easy for that line between people and things to be blurred. It feels like that Quince sweater in your closet isn’t just a sweater, it’s a physical manifestation of your taste, your values, and your ability to make “good” choices. We’re not just sold clothes or cookware or couches, we’re sold a story about who we are. Or who we could be, if we just added to cart.

It’s the reality of the world we live in and I get that nobody wants to feel put on the defensive about a sweater.

But that’s also exactly why I think it’s so important to be able to talk about these things without taking it personally. Because when we separate our sense of self from our purchases, we can actually get curious.³

And (IMO) that’s a much more interesting — and honestly, more freeing! — place to be than stuck defending a brand like it’s a part of our personality.

Maybe all of this is obvious to you already. Maybe you clicked because you “knew her,” and this post is speaking to an audience of zero because if you’re still here, it probably didn’t put you off.

Or maybe you have felt what I’m talking about: that tingling feeling to explain or defend a purchase like that one choice is a referendum on your character. If so, here’s your permission slip: it’s not. You’re allowed to make imperfect choices. You’re allowed to see yourself as separate from the things you own. You’re allowed to get curious without getting defensive. Let’s keep doing that, together.

Deal?

Deal.

---

1. Apologies for the growth-hack account jump scare. I promise this won’t turn into “How I Grew My Substack to 10K in 10 Days”.

2. Lord help me. Does anybody know what personality disorder I have that makes me clinically incapable of writing a single post without at least one provocative take?

3. As an aside: I think this point extends to the larger discourse on slow fashion being perceived as “screechy” or shaming. I struggle mightily with the fact that content expressing anything other than pure positivity about shopping as a joyful, creative act seems to be seen by quite a few as judgemental.

Sure, maybe there’s something worth examining in the tone of slow fashion’s messaging (my own included). But I can’t help but get the creeping feeling that the “shame” we push back against has much more to do with how closely the system of capitalism has tied our sense of self to the things we buy. A big topic for another day!