AI Stylists, Cher Horowitz’s Digital Wardrobe and Our Generation’s Obsession with Materialism
Words: Nina Canova
Make it stand out
Seeing all that we own, in one moment, is always startling. Moving out for example, is a strange headspace to be in, with or without the confrontation of all of our packaged possessions. In the middle of my own move I started wondering, what if we could choose to get introduced to our belongings, rather than get confronted with all that we own?
One of the first examples on this topic that I can remember was Peter Menzel and Faith D’Aluisio’s photography book from 1995, titled: Material World: A Global Family Portrait. Allegedly inspired by Madonna’s hit single Material Girl, the duo selected statistically average families in 30 different countries worldwide and photographed them outside their homes with all their possessions.
Seeing the project in a copy of National Geographic that my aunt gave me as a kid introduced me to the drastically different amounts of items that people around the world owned. Not only that, Menzel’s and D’Aluisio’s work also showed the various presentations of their items and anecdotes of most treasured possessions. I remember comparing the different arrangements in the photographs. Staring at the Ukita family, stationed outside their small but compact property in Tokyo with all their possessions stacked in a Tetris-like formation, it was easy to see where their property began and ended. Contrastingly, other families like the Lagavale family in Samoa, were spread out on a vast field. Their approach to their belongings and homes couldn’t be more opposing.
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Today, hauls of all types permeate our daily lives and they are more often individualistic rather than collective. If we were asked now to photograph our possessions the same way, just all of our household’s clothing would need its own frame. At the same time as we hoard, we dispose of certain items almost cyclically. Social media platforms reward us for partaking in fleeting trends and micro niches for fashion. Their rapid spread contributes to their inorganic and cartoon-like feeling.
Cher Horowitz’s digital wardrobe, if reimagined in this context, could become a new way for us to emotionally reconnect with what we already own. For those of you who may not be familiar, Cher’s character in the 90s film classic Clueless owns a smart system where she can swipe and match different clothing items from her closet. Imagine if this documented wardrobe could let us re-style our already existing items to fit trends in which we wish to partake, or even help us envision new combinations that we would have not likely thought of otherwise. Just like the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, I would love it if our wardrobes encouraged us to share our items in collective systems and communities of friends.
As technologies experiment more with multi experiential design, there is a counter movement of analog fascination in our generation. Although some pioneering apps are working on digitizing wardrobes, my dream cyber wardrobe still doesn’t exist. I am oversaturated with applications, subscriptions, and notifications. I want something low-tech, chunky, with the same vibe as an old Gameboy.
Through my work within innovation facilitation, I come across many ideas for AI stylists combined with online wardrobes that often intentionally encourage consumerism and self-exposure. From Kibbe body types to trending colour analyses, there is a prevailing fascination with self-categorisation for beauty and style online that AI-powered apps want to hop on. While I am a bit curious about what kind of ridiculous outfits an AI stylist could recommend to me based on my prompts, I am more curious about the data it would collect.
Storytelling has also emerged as a powerful tool in nearly every media for marketing and sales. We periodically let others convince us of the added worth of items based on their histories and celebrity approval. Why can’t we do the same for items we already own? Let us romanticise our old stuff. That 15 euro bracelet that sank to the bottom of Lake Como a few years back, but that my friend Izzy, wearing borrowed goggles from a random Norwegian family, spent hours fishing out? If I was emotionally attached to that bracelet before, nothing can compare to how much I am now.
“Although some pioneering apps are working on digitizing wardrobes, my dream cyber wardrobe still doesn’t exist.”
Journaling the (hi)stories, hand-me-downs, thrifts, memories, and experiences of our items in a digital wardrobe could be an emotionally enriching experience of nostalgia and love. It could encourage more mindfulness and reduce the need for filling a void in ourselves through shopping. I recently tried to reconnect with all my different eras and explored what emotions they bring up in me. My style was at times a multi-sensory experience. All the textures, colors, perfumes, songs and even countries that defined different times of my life felt connected. My previous self-reinventions used to embarrass me until recently. I used to think that I couldn’t be many different types of myself all at once and that I was only authentic if I could commit. Today the pace of trends is often too fast to be able to constitute distinct eras for ourselves - it is disposable by nature.
