You wanna know something: I love The Row.
And I know you’re going to say, ‘Well, what do you mean? Didn’t you just make
an entire video ripping the quiet luxury trend to shreds?’ Which I did and I’m not
taking back a word I said in my last video, but there are exceptions to every
rule. And The Row is my caveat. This is very much just my opinion, by the way.
The point of this video isn’t necessarily to get people to buy the brand, but rather buy into it
– getting an understanding of why it has garnered such a cult following. Because I can see that its
popularity hasn’t exactly been… popular. And I can also see why from that perspective; it’s insanely
expensive for one and for some seemingly really boring and monotonous looking clothes, with
no extensive brand history to it like some of the other heritage brands which have been around
for the better part of this century and the last. But I intend to show how it’s more than
meets the eye, without the bog standard reasons most die-hard fans tend to give,
usually that the quality and designs are exquisite – which they are, and it will be
emphasised in this video - but I would like to try and re-contextualise how it’s seen by
fans of the brand and why it’s so special. So The Row is a celebrity clothing brand founded
by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, the twins from Full House. Now fans may take issue with me calling
it a celebrity brand but it is quite literally the truth. And an enormous part of its history is
centred around evading that celebrity status. Yet that’s the one thing which sets it apart from
other celebrity clothing brands, the fact that it’s so anonymous to the everyday consumer. A good
chunk, if not most of its target demographic are not fans of Mary-Kate and Ashley. They either
don’t care who they are or have no knowledge of their existence, or have no idea they were behind
the brand. Consequently, this limitation became its strength. Every other clothing line partnered
with or founded by a celebrity leans into its association and affiliation with the celebrity.
Look at brands like Victoria Beckham and Alexa Chung, for instance; the celebrity name is right
at the forefront of its branding - it’s literally in the name. People buy it because they want
to buy into the celebrity allure and lifestyle, and wish to emulate that. The issue with that,
unsurprisingly, is the lack of longevity, because celebrity power cannot sustain a brand,
and this has been proven time and time again. Victoria Beckham’s revenue has been plummeting
for a good few years now; David Beckham had to funnel money into it continuously and they’ve
had to lower their prices in an attempt to drive up sales. Alexa Chung’s brand ended in
2022 after five years even when it did thrive earlier on. Now, obviously there are a number of
factors which can contribute to a failing brand, Alexa Chung has credited much of its eventual
downfall to the pandemic. Victoria Beckham’s prices may have made it too unaffordable, its
designs too generic to justify the high prices, or it simply failed to capture the attention of
its target demographic of wealthy middle-aged women. There are many nuances to this, but
ultimately I believe what it comes down to is the over-use of a celebrity name as a brand.
In fact, I can count on one hand of the amount of celebrity brands which has managed to transcend
its celebrity status after the initial hype and fame. And this doesn’t just apply to clothing
brands - take the Kardashians for example, Kylie Jenner’s cosmetics line surged in popularity
for the first few years of its establishment, at the very height of her fame she was making almost
a billion dollars, and then look at it now - her liquid lipsticks are sitting in stores collecting
dust. KKW beauty closed just after a couple of years and SKKN by Kim hasn’t been doing well since
its launch. Even Khloe Kardashian’s brand of jeans Good American is failing in sales. The reason for
this is because all of them rely solely on their celebrity power rather than quality. And before
you question my eligibility in commenting on their quality - I’ve tried most of their products and
I can assure you that quality is not their strong suit. In contrast, Rihanna has seen consistent
success with Fenty Beauty; Selena Gomez with Rare Beauty, and it’s large in part due to their
emphasis on aspects other than their own fame. Sure, it may have started in affiliation with
them as celebrities, but people who bought their brands stayed for the quality of the products,
not their name. I know that Kim tried to do this with Skims but I still think she leaned towards
promoting her brand as a celebrity too much, and the whole Kimono controversy surrounding
it at the beginning certainly did not do it any favours. Not to mention, the Kardashians have this
tendency of relying on scandals and controversy to fuel their brands’ popularity - it’s actually
quite on-brand for them. But there’s only so much you can buy from them until it starts to feel
like buying celebrity merch, which has an element of distaste to it. I am aware that Rihanna and
Selena have promoted their brands as well but in relativity it feels much less influencer-driven,
so to speak. And because they let the quality speak for itself, they’re able to sustain
sales even after the boom from celebrity fame. I think that Mary-Kate and Ashley understood this
concept very well - that it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. They deliberately avoided their fame’s
association with the brand at all costs. Even the name itself: The Row, is undeniably inconspicuous;
if you didn’t know, it’s named after this fairly obscure street in Mayfair, London: The Savile
Row – which is known for its bespoke tailoring stores for men. Hence, it’s not a brand asking
to be seen, it’s a brand asking to be hidden. The Row’s obscurity in this respect is rooted
in two reasons: the first is that it reflects Mary-Kate and Ashley’s elusive nature and affinity
towards privacy. Even at the height of their fame, they had a tendency of staying out
of the spotlight as much as possible, refusing to be interviewed or give away
too much of themselves. The second reason, and arguably the more crucial one, is that they
wanted to be taken seriously as real designers. They wanted to see if an anonymous brand can speak
for itself through its design and quality alone. And they were one of the first celebrities to
really do this, especially during an era where seemingly every celebrity was pushing their own
clothing, beauty or fragrance line. There’s a reason why it’s usually only one line and not
a whole brand, because investors know it’s not going to last after one line with the reliance of
celebrity fame. So we really owe it to Mary-Kate and Ashley for pioneering this, they walked so
celebrities like Rihanna and Selena can run.
Something about the design and style makes it
so unique and different from other designers. Every other mainstream luxury designer’s products
are overproduced and oversaturated. And I don’t just mean in terms of the amount of products that
are constantly pushed out every season; I mean in terms of the type of products being pushed. I
can’t imagine how many iterations of the same design all these luxury designers have produced,
to the extent that nothing feels carefully thought-through and special. Of course, there are
creative designs evident in their collections but an immense portion of these collections feels mass
produced and often gimmicky. Take, for example, brands like Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Dior, Saint
Laurent - the crème de la crème of luxury fashion, every collection for at least the past few seasons
or years now have been increasingly overwhelming. From Pharrell Williams’ Minecraft-esque Pixelation
to Hedi Slimane’s intense Parisian rocker chic, it becomes alarmingly difficult to stomach. And
you might say I’m being unfairly discriminatory against loud and proud fashion but even more
subtle brands I tend to favour over the years such as Loewe, Bottega Veneta and Celine have
for some reason transformed into this unstoppable force of marketing mania. Loewe’s Studio Ghibli
line, Bottega’s intrecciato andiamo bag madness, Celine bringing back the triomphe logo
with the triomphe bag I can’t seem to avoid nowadays - churning out a myriad of collections
which rely on the same gimmicky tactics to drum up interest and attention. It’s extremely tiring
and toeing the line of fast fashion, which is what most of us buy luxury to avoid, presumably.
You see it in how they promote themselves, shoving it down our throats through ads,
collaborations, extensive campaigns, social media, influencer plugs. It’s sort of a widely known
concept that when something demands attention it’s usually devoid of true substance because it
relies on external attraction and praise to give it meaning and value. And don’t get me wrong,
I’m not saying these designs and products lack creativity and substance in essence, there’s
undoubtedly a unique artistic vision exhibited by these highly rated talented designers, I’m
simply pointing out the over-commercialisation of designer luxury and somewhere along
the way, the art loses its meaning. So this is how The Row has always stood in
juxtaposition to these other designers. First of all, I’m fully aware that without being tied to
a massive conglomerate like LVMH allows complete artistic freedom and creative control over
their products. Not being bogged down by tedious corporate concerns like annual revenue targets
and sales growth lets their designs shine that much brighter, but also allows each collection
to breathe and take its time in capturing their audience’s interest. I like to call a brand’s
consumers an audience because fashion is a form of art to be consumed - it requires an audience
to understand the meaning and craft behind its production. And The Row is very much a brand which
leans into this and truly treats fashion like art. Its Instagram page is a clear indication of this.
Every other brand uses Instagram to promote their products, constantly and heavily - whereas one
glance at The Row’s Instagram and you wouldn’t be blamed for perceiving it as a page for an
art gallery. Because they’re not as interested in showing off their clothes, as much as showing
you the inspiration and vision behind them. It’s that golden rule we often see in other forms of
media like film and cinema - show, not tell. Stop telling your audience they need these clothes
and show them why it’s worth experiencing them. The experience, in itself, is very
much rooted in The Row’s ethos; since the brand actively flies under the radar,
a lot of their promotional material comes from word of mouth and personal experience. It doesn’t
forcibly tell you how to feel about their clothes but lets you experience the brand yourself
through building your own relationship with it. Feeling the quality of the products on your
body, using their accessories on a daily basis, how you wear them and incorporate them into
your everyday life – these are things The Row wants you to experience. It wants to
see how you would style their clothes, make it your own. It has a very distinct
style which is instantly recognisable, and it does this without any logos or unnecessary
patterns. That simplicity gives it its signature character and individuality which you don’t see
in a lot of other brands. This isn’t to say that subtlety and minimalism is superior to prints
and patterns, it’s just that it’s usually harder to create a distinct style without obvious bold
patterns. Not many minimalist brands have managed to stand out through plain garments alone – I can
only think of a handful and it’s usually only due to their avant-garde nature, some examples being
Rick Owens and Yohji Yamamoto. Minimalist brands tend to require their style exuding substance in
order to capture attention, which is no easy feat. Earlier I mentioned the issue of most
mainstream luxury designers relying on all style but no substance. And you’re going
to say, ‘well, what is substance anyways? What does substance mean?’ It’s a very tricky
question, especially in fashion. The discussion of style versus substance and substance
versus style comes up quite frequently in art, not just in illustrative art but in other
forms like movies and film. Fashion has always been perceived as a lower form of art
compared to paintings, architecture, music, literature and film - and as a result taken less
seriously. I’ve always rejected this notion; I see fashion taking elements of these other
forms of art and culminating them into one, and what’s so great about it is that you live your
life in it. But it’s generally seen as a dumber art form because of this reason; the frequency
in which you see and interact with it every day creates an over-saturation in its supply, hence
the lack of originality and meaning behind it, especially with the presence of fast fashion. And
people aren’t wrong in thinking of it that way; the majority of fashion is quite simply just
clothes. They serve a functional purpose in keeping us clothed and warm. We don’t necessarily
have to read into it any more than that. But substance does exist in fashion as it does
in other forms of art. And I’m going to draw comparisons between fashion and film, as a means
of explaining what I think substance is in art, and ultimately fashion. On the surface, it
doesn’t seem like fashion and film have much in common besides being in the category of art,
but I assure you there are more similarities than you might think. Nowadays, most movies are
mass produced by various streaming platforms the same way clothes are massed produced by various
fast fashion brands. They’re shallow and vapid, devoid of any real meaning, and they’re meant to
be made and sold to the public that way – easily consumable content, as most people just
want to be entertained the same way they want wearable clothes; it’s a straightforward
functionality. But then you get the other end of the spectrum, films with a distinct voice
and direction - arthouse cinema, for instance, or movies directed by specific directors with a
particular style. They call this auteur cinema: films which reflect the director’s personal
creative vision. I find this interestingly applicable to high fashion, where a creative
director’s vision is distinct and consistent in a brand or clothing line - and I wonder why
people don’t talk about auteur theory in fashion as much as they should. I’m sure I’m not the first
person to come up with the idea of auteur fashion. ‘Auteur’, in French, means ‘author’. It’s quite
self-explanatory; it simply means exhibiting narrative presence within a piece of art. Some
famous examples of auteur directors being Stanley Kubrick, Martin Scorsese, Christopher Nolan, Wes
Anderson and Quentin Tarantino. If you’ve seen any of their movies, you know it’s directed by them
when you see it. The same way you can tell which fashion house or creative director a piece of
clothing comes from. To me, substance in film is that overarching narrative voice in a movie, the
point an auteur film director is trying to make through the story-telling, plot progression,
character development etc. When done well, the director’s vision is brilliantly
depicted and invokes specific emotions we wouldn’t otherwise feel without having
seen and experienced their work. Nolan, through Oppenheimer’s eagerness to create the
atomic bomb before the Nazis, wants us to feel the internal struggle of a troubled scientist
who inadvertently triggered a tragic chain of events which have led us up to our current point
in humanity, due to a lack of control over a weapon of unfathomable destruction he naively
thought he could gain control over. Scorsese, through Jordan Belfort’s downward spiral into
greed and addiction for power, money and status, wants us to feel the exhaustion of overindulgence
and materialism in corporate America. Hence, going back to my earlier question of what
substance means in the context of fashion: it’s the narrative the creative director is trying
to portray through their fashion line. If we view every collection like a film, there’s usually an
overarching theme or story behind the collection, just as a movie would have a consistent
storyline and themes a director intends to convey through the story. It wouldn’t always
be immediately apparent in every collection, especially if the creative director doesn’t
actively talk about the narrative or if it isn’t promoted that way. It’s like how some themes
are more obvious in certain movies than others. The most surface-level stories usually being
large Hollywood blockbusters, whereas arthouse cinema is known for its abstract themes, hidden
under layers of meaning. Akin to surrealist, avant-garde fashion houses like Alexander
McQueen, Schiaparelli, Margiela or Mugler. So if substance is the ‘what’, style is the
‘how’. It’s how the artist chooses to convey the story and themes. In film, it’s the dialogue,
the characters, visual depiction – everything down to the lighting, score etc. In fashion,
it’s the aesthetic, the materials used, the construction of a garment, how it looks and
feels on the person wearing it. The definitions of substance and style are not always clear-cut
though; sometimes they can be one and the same. For instance, Tarantino is a director
known for creating substance through style. Various storylines interwoven together in an
unconventional structure and nonlinear timeline, sprinkle in some excessively drawn-out witty,
gripping, almost poetic dialogue between morally ambiguous characters, the use of plot anticipation
and suspense, numerous heavy references to other movies, and his incessant need to shoot on film
rather than digital - all this is arguably style for the sake of style, but over the years this
style has become his substance. All his themes are fairly straightforward - Pulp Fiction is about
redemption, Kill Bill is about revenge, Inglorious Basterds is WWII satire. But the aesthetic and
stylistic decisions really hit home these themes, you feel it like a gut-punch. Are they necessarily
complex themes with insurmountable depth? No, but it’s undeniably entertaining to watch. There
are so many designers who approach fashion in a Tarantino-esque way; take McQueen for instance,
his exploration of futuristic fashion with his armadillo shoe, where he imagines a dystopian
world underwater after global flooding and humans having evolved to survive in such conditions.
Excessive and over-glorified, if you ask me, and not wearable by any means, but it conveys his
narrative efficiently and effectively - shockingly I might add, and it certainly captures
our attention and gets people talking. Both style and substance are just as important
as the other, and this is where the root of a lot of problems with high fashion begins. Most
films have become perpetually commercialised over the years even when directed by well-known
respected directors, the same way high fashion has become over-commercialised despite being
in the hands of skilled creative directors. This is because executive producers will always
have a hold over a movie’s creative control just as LVMH has a hold over literally every fashion
label. That’s just unfortunately a by-product of extreme American capitalism, and as a consequence,
art suffers - in particular, substance in art, because it’s not as readily marketable as style.
It reminds me of Martin Scorsese’s criticism of the Marvel franchise being compared to going to
a theme park rather than watching an actual film, and his issue with producing movies with formulaic
scripts rapidly becoming the norm over the years - which is how I’m starting to see high
fashion at this day and age, with its formulaic clothing production made to be sold to the masses
and drenched in a loss of artistic integrity. Not everyone would agree with my take on auteur
fashion. Phoebe Philo, for one, recently in Vanessa Friedman’s New York Times article, talked
about narrative being unnecessary in clothing, and a lack of pretence, in particular for her
namesake fashion line. She doesn’t feel the need to ‘explain herself’ and doesn’t see story-telling
as a crucial or integral part of fashion. To which I am inclined to disagree with strongly. Narrative
and context is what makes me buy into high fashion, especially at such obscene price points.
It’s what differentiates high fashion from high street fashion or fast fashion. Not to mention,
it’s astoundingly hypocritical coming from someone like Phoebe, whom, as fellow Philophiles
would know, during her tenure at Celine, was known for the presence of narrative in her
work; I mean she dedicated a whole season to her love of cars and another few seasons in reference
to niche avant-garde artwork. So for her to say narrative and story-telling isn’t important
comes off a bit self-unaware, to say the least. This brings me to the point of functionality
in fashion. Functionality is to fashion what entertainment value is to film; it’s meant to
be what they should be achieving on the most fundamental level – so even if there’s a lack
of originality, style or narrative presence, they at least have to deliver the basics. In
fashion, it’s the wearability of the clothes. I talked about the over-commercialisation
of fashion and film being the root cause of an over-emphasis on style rather
than substance. But the difference is, while in movies the emphasis of style comes
from a place of creating entertainment, in fashion it most certainly isn’t coming from
a place of making the clothes wearable. In fact, it's almost the last thing on their list
of priorities. How it looks is always the most important thing, because it’s the most
marketable, especially at this day and age with social media and online shopping becoming
more of the norm over going to an actual store. You would think this phenomenon only exists
in high street brands with a presumably lower overhead, but even high fashion brands with an
almost unlimited budget would produce clothes which fit weirdly, has questionable material
choices and inconsistent sizing. Take Jacquemus, for example - brilliantly designed at first
glance, looks incredible on the runway, and has an undeniably creative ethos inspired
by Simon Jacquemus’ Southern French roots. So I bought a blazer, trousers, skirt and two
dresses. For context, I’m a French size 32-34 and 5”5 in height - pretty standard figure I
would think. The only ones which fit properly without tailoring are the blazer (albeit the
slightly broad shoulders but it’s acceptable given the intended oversized look) and the
dress (but only because it’s stretchable, and the use of mohair makes it impossible to wash
well and leaves residue everywhere it goes). The trousers and skirt are made of wool which is
adequate but the sizing is just all over the place and could not be worn without tailoring.
The other dress - I have no words - I almost had to sew myself into it and cut myself out of. Look,
I know Jacquemus and the likes are supposed to be more outlandish-looking, but I can’t fathom what
sort of extra-terrestrial being is meant to fit into these clothes. I removed a good three
inches off the hem of those trousers with a waistline of around 24 inches, and I wouldn’t say
I have particularly short legs either. So unless you look like a pool noodle, who are these
clothes designed for really? Not to mention, the famous Le Chiquito bag which holds a capacity
of approximately one singular puff of air. Why should anyone pay upwards of £4-500 for something
that doesn’t do the one job it’s supposed to do? And this is just one of many examples of high
fashion brands putting style over wearability. Which I’m not so much surprised but disappointed
by. These clothes are not made to last – quite the contrary – they’re made to capture your
interest for a season and leave you wanting more. Factors like quality and longevity
are an afterthought, when it should be treated with the same level of attention and
care as the design. There are, of course, designers who do put emphasis on quality and
are known for it, for instance, Max Mara’s ‘cucito a mano’ hand-stitched wool felt coats
or Hermés’ hand-crafted leather bags. But more often than not, we’ve come to a point in fashion
where the quality and wearability of a designer’s products are not what comes to mind, rather the
aesthetic or desirability of the label itself. So how do I relate all this back to The Row?
The Row treats functionality as an art form. It’s a clothing brand made by two founders who are
passionate about clothes and making clothes – from setting a proper sleeve right down to the
performance of a fabric. Because to The Row, functionality is the substance and the
style. It is the running narrative that has been consistent in every one of their
collections. The art of functionality is no easy feat. Despite it being a necessity
and so prevalent in our everyday lives, I doubt many can say what makes clothes truly
functional. And usually, the most functional clothes are not the most aesthetically pleasing.
It takes a true artist to create great fashion, but it takes someone who loves
clothes to make great clothes. Mary-Kate and Ashley are not artists - at
least not in the traditional sense. They are not the Phoebe Philos and Karl Lagerfelds
of the industry, designers who graduated from Central Saint Martins, who have been in
the industry since the beginning of their careers. Fashion enthusiasts tend to look down
on newcomers who seemingly came from nowhere and don’t have the necessary qualifications on their
resume, but that doesn’t make them any less of a player in the game. I spent a good portion of
this video comparing fashion to film because I want people to take fashion as seriously as they
take other forms of art - the same way newcomers should be taken as seriously as veterans of
the industry. Mary-Kate and Ashley should be taken seriously because of how passionate they
are about clothes and making clothes. In fact, I’d say their counterpart in the film industry
would be Tarantino, who had no prior training in making movies - he was simply a guy who worked at
a video store, who was unapologetically passionate about movies and could just about name every movie
ever produced in the history of film. He may not be Stanley Kubrick or Martin Scorsese but that man
knows how to make one hell of movie simply because he knows what keeps an audience entertained,
which makes him a formidable player in the industry. Likewise, Mary-Kate and Ashley know what
keeps their customers interested in their clothes, in spite of the seeming simplicity in their
designs - they know customers keep returning for the craftsmanship and level of care and
precision they put into making these clothes, and how wearable they are to
the everyday working individual. And this stretches beyond functionality and
wearability - there is artistic vision involved which adds to the substance, however subtle it
may be - to which I would add the subtlety is also a part of the substance and style. Their
latest collection exhibited so much creativity and unique visuals; as I have said previously,
it’s more difficult to convey creativity and originality with such understated designs, and yet
I believe they have achieved this to the fullest extent - all the while remaining functional.
Resort 2025 displayed so much individuality and character by taking inspiration from a myriad
of elements - oriental aesthetics with the use of Chinese abacuses as a backdrop, regal yet modern
cape-like coats which convey quiet extravagance, paying homage to Issey Miyake’s Pleats Please
collection, which at that time was created to fit the movement of dancers, and when applied
to today’s trends, fits the notion of smart casual and day-to-night transitional dressing -
put together yet comfortable, a perfect way to describe Mary-Kate and Ashley’s own everyday sense
of style. Take a look at Spring 2024 for instance: look at how this jacket is tied around the waist
so casually despite this being a smart look, reminiscent of how we would tie a jacket
round the waist for the ease and comfort of not having to carry it around with us when
running around in the city. A subtle nod to its functionality yet adds something interesting
to the style. Or the use of a pop of colour, something which the twins themselves do in
their own style; as well as colour blocking, a reference to Phoebe Philo’s famous
bright juxtaposing colour blocking, albeit with more toned-down shades. Art imitates
life and life imitates art, so they say. It’s not that they were the first designers to have ever
achieved this, Phoebe Philo pioneered this concept of balancing design and functionality in most
of her collections in Celine, but by doing it in every single one of their collections, this
has become a staple when you think of The Row. Along with the inspiration taken from other known
designers, you see and feel their love of clothes through their clothes. And again, I hate to sound
like a broken record - Tarantino is also known to ‘steal’ ideas from many directors - but you know
how much he loves films from watching his movies. There is nothing more satisfying and exciting than
seeing how much an artist loves their work and everything around it. Interest draws interest,
enthusiasm draws enthusiasm. As a consumer, you might not know why something is good but you
just know that you enjoy it, because you feel the passion behind it. It’s not just about finding
an outfit interesting to look at - it’s also about waking up and being excited about getting
dressed in these clothes and being able to wear them on a daily basis, from work to going out in
the evening, to a casual stroll on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Because they’re so wearable, easy and
comfortable. Everything about each collection just exudes ease and comfort - there’s so much
fluidity in how the clothes move on the body. The experience of wearing clothes is so much more
important than people realise - I don’t just want to look the part of a serious working woman,
I need to feel the part. And that can only be achieved if I feel comfortable in the clothes
- it’s like being comfortable in my own skin. So by focusing so intensely on this
enthusiasm to make quality clothes, not only does it achieve Mary-Kate and Ashley’s
running desire of creating distinctive style without the use of logos and allowing a clothing
line to stand on its own solely through quality, it accomplishes more than what it set out to
achieve - creating art out of mundane life. It references the casual moments in life which at a
glance may seem insignificant but have more impact than one would think, such as the dressing habits
of the average working woman. I think it’s mostly unintentional, which is ultimately the genius
behind it. Some of the best things in art were unplanned and unintentional, and it doesn’t
mean that they were flukes either - it just means that because so much thought was put into
it from the beginning, that it set in motion a chain of events unbeknownst to their predictions,
such as the quiet luxury trend lifting The Row to immense heights. Even amidst the
inconspicuous and monotonous nature of quiet luxury, it was able to stand out
amongst all these other established brands. And I know what the main issue most people would
have with The Row, despite having said all this: does any of this really justify
the prices? To which I would say: whether something justifies the pricing is
entirely subjective and up to the individual person. People would drop some top dollar on
other luxury goods like jewellery and cars, and it’s entirely in accordance to what people
like and what they can afford whether a product is worth it or not. Some of the stuff
from The Row do have questionable pricing, but I can still enjoy and understand a brand
without believing it’s worth the full price. I do own a few pieces which I love to death, such
as the Margaux, the Marion, the T1 zipped boots, plus some shirts and trousers – but know
I probably wouldn't have gotten them if they hadn’t been on sale or second-hand at a
reduced price. Though I will say that touching and feeling the smooth leather Margaux bag for
the first time was a life-changing experience, and it makes me wonder why any of the top-tier
luxury brands aren’t creating leather goods of similar quality if they cost more or less the
same anyways. In fact, every single piece in my collection has been cherished and used to its
fullest extent given how easy it is to wear. They are without a shadow of a doubt pieces that are
made to last in your wardrobe til the end of time. I think it’s about what you prioritise
in luxury fashion. If you’re someone who prioritises quality and longevity above all
else, you would probably be attracted to this brand. If it’s simply the styling, I think it
can be replicated fairly easily with a number of substitutes - given how influential the style
has become. COS is a good example, for instance, or even certain selections from Massimo Dutti.
The crucial factor is the level of comfort and ease you feel when you style it the way The Row
does. That being said, there are a number of products which cannot simply be replicated because
only The Row can make it the way The Row does. So I hope that this video has given some insight
into why people are getting excited over some seemingly really boring clothes. I know I went on
a complete tangent about style and substance but I thought it was an interesting discussion which
helped contextualise the brand’s ethos and hype around it. You hear a lot about how designers
love fashion and the fashion inspiration behind their collections, but it’s not every day that
you hear how much a designer loves clothes and make it a point to make just simply amazing
clothes. And at the end of the day, we like fashion because we like clothes, which are made
to be worn and used, not just to be displayed.
