The Thrill Of The Hunt Myth
Why is the thrill weightier when you accidentally discover something than when you’re actually on the hunt?
I had an incident on a sailing trip last summer. A pile of my T-shirts got soiled on the boat under unknown circumstances. Some of them came out nice and clean after a good wash at home, but my favorite one, a white one with bright blue stripes, never recovered. It is now safely stored in my garden-only closet. The situation has made me reshuffle a few of my go-to outfits, which is a good thing, but I still miss the shirt six months later. So naturally, I went on a hunt for a new one. There are thousands, if not millions, of striped T-shirts out there, and, to tell you the truth, it’s exhausting.
Designer brands, high street brands, sustainable brands, small local brands, old heritage brands. V neck, boat neck, crew neck. Thick stripes, thin stripes, blue stripes on white, white stripes on blue. Long sleeves, short sleeves, ¾ sleeves. Knitted, woven, loopwheeled. There are too many choices. And if you read this newsletter, you already know that this isn’t just a T-shirt to me. It’s a beloved piece of clothing to cherish and wear for years. I’m not going to buy something that checks all the sustainability boxes just to exonerate myself from the torment that is online shopping. It needs to be of high quality and designed well because I want it to look good, too. That said, the hunt isn’t thrilling. It’s draining. It’s a myth.
Nevertheless, the thrill of the hunt still exists. You probably won’t find it among the hodgepodge of (mostly) crap in multi-brand online stores. But if you give yourself enough time and remove the pressure of getting a new piece right now, you could experience the thrill again. All you need is time and a variety of options. Think Etsy, designer second-hand stores, perfectly curated physical concept stores, or vintage dealers on Instagram.
Since I love fashion so much, browsing these sources is pure fun. Naturally, I will only buy things if I need them or can imagine them in at least three different outfit scenarios with the clothes I already own. And they have to be perfect for me in every way. This way of shopping is, however, an ideal impulse-buy trap. You see a rare vintage piece at a great price point or a sweater perfectly styled on a model, and you want it. On the other hand, if you do everything slowly and with care, you can end up with a unique piece of clothing that means something to you.
What excites me most about this unburdened way of shopping, besides the fact it’s much more sustainable, is how you end up with this mix of clothes that tell a story. Getting dressed is a way of expressing myself. In truth, it isn’t that different from writing. It’s a struggle, a game of rearranging, a grapple to get the message out there, to make it eccentric, but still readable for everyone. Maybe I’ll hide some Easter eggs in there, too. But, no matter what, I won’t submit to the call of the ever-present must-have, -watch, -read, -wear. That is not where the thrill resides. Long live the thrill.