Every morning, we wake up to our alarms and choose an outfit to conquer the day in. Maybe it’s skinny jeans and a t-shirt, a long dress with chunky heels or overalls paired with (to Tan France’s deep chagrin) crocs and socks. We might wear a certain sweater when giving a presentation, or a cozy scarf on a gray, chilly day. These fashion choices paint a picture of who we are and how we are living our lives. Clothes are more than just fashion trends — they are storytellers.
Kiki Smith ‘71, a recipient of this year’s Sherrerd Prize for Distinguished Teaching, has dedicated her career to reviving and retelling these stories. Below the winding twists and turns of the Mendenhall Center of Performing Arts, a veritable labyrinth breathes and expands with each additional year. The Smith College Historic Clothing Collection houses over 3,000 garments, many of which are tucked into floor-to-ceiling boxes or hidden behind metal cabinets. Innumerable other garments and costumes are on display, hanging off rolling racks or fitted to dress forms. Washing machines and dehumidifiers softly hum to themselves as theater students and interns work together on costumes — alternating between sewing, pinning, measuring, and belting out renditions of popular musical themes. Amongst it all is Kiki, queen of this underground realm.
On one blustery afternoon, after making the circuitous trek through several long halls and down an inconspicuous stairwell, I meet with Kiki in her office. Sears and Roebuck catalogues from the 1800s lay open on the floor, needles and string balance on various precipices. We sit down in two chairs opposite her computer, surrounded by strewn papers and Vogue fashion books. It is absolute, utter organized chaos in Mendenhall 13a.
Kiki negates the need for windows in the dark basement; her joy radiates brighter than the sun. Her passion for her work is clear when she talks about the garments in her collection, who she considers “characters.” Her eyes light up when she mentions a recent acquisition: a donated quinceañera dress, complete with shoes and photos from the party. She lays out the dress on a cluttered table; it’s deep red, encrusted with rhinestones and finished with silvery thread. Kiki laughs as she pulls out the shoes (“wait until you see these!”) — white Converse high-tops. In the accompanying photos, the dress is proudly worn by its donor. Her parents are also wearing Converse high-tops, in the same color as her dress. This is exactly what Kiki looks for: garments that tell a story and offer a lens into someone’s life. This dress has earned its spot among the other revered storytellers in the collection.
Becoming part of the collection, however, is an entire process in itself. The collection is almost entirely donated, namely by Smith alums and other friends of the college, but Kiki has to be picky with her acquisitions. Influenced by her job as a costume designer, she chooses pieces that “pose questions about the people who wore them.” When she chooses a piece, she begins work on basic conservation and washing but avoids major mending — damage tells a story, too. She presses the piece back into shape and then stores it, either in acid-free archive boxes or hung in closets and out of the light. Certain garments, such as wool sweaters or rubber galoshes, are housed in freezers. From there, Kiki works with her colleagues to research each garment and add them to the collection records.
Why, you may ask, is this collection important, beyond the story it tells? Currently, fashion is one of the most polluting industries in the world. Major advancements in the past century have made clothes cheap to manufacture, easy to transport globally, and incredibly attractive to a large range of buyers because of their trendiness and low price tags. Fashion has a certain disposability to it as many fast-fashion mongols (such as H&M) release new styles every two weeks. Buying a shirt that will likely last less than a season is justified by the cheap price; when it inevitably tears or wears out, it will probably go straight to a landfill and the owner can buy another, trendier shirt for the same low cost. This disposability idea is primarily responsible for the immense waste that now defines the fashion industry. Viewing clothes, as Kiki does, like characters telling a story adds value to something that otherwise would be thrown away — be it a find at a thrift store, a favorite fast-fashion piece, or something handed down from a family member.
Walking down the packed aisles of clothes with Kiki proved to me that there are a million stories weaved between the threads of our clothes. There is a purpose there beyond simply “fashion.” It is something worth considering the next time you go shopping: what stories do your clothes tell about you?
Want to learn more about the clothing collection? The Reading Dress class will set up an exhibit on Monday evening, December 9 in the Campus Center.
