I Need to Stop Buying Clothes that Look Like Things

I have made many fashion mistakes, but my worst habit is buying too many clothing items that look like Things.

Quite a Thing

I am not a “fashion writer” given that fashion is only an occasional topic for me, but if I were considered a fashion writer, I would probably be the only one who writes more about her fashion struggles and mistakes than her best looks. It helps that I just have so many more of the former.

I enjoy agonizing over fashion because I have OCD, and if I don’t channel my nervous energy into something low-stakes like the latest toe shape trend in the ankle boot ecosystem, I’m going to wind up thinking I have a rare fatal disease or believing my elderly neighbor is the Zodiac killer. As a result, I think about and strategize over fashion all the time as a sort of self-soothing ritual. Fashion is my binky, if you will.

I’ve identified many fashion faux pas in my own sartorial history. I wear too much color. I have sensory issues that prevent the wearing of the all-sacred wool (yes, even cashmere- I’ve tried it all) or really anything that isn’t cotton. I impulse buy things because they are 80% off and don’t think about how they will fit into my wardrobe. I go too “matchy-matchy” with color schemes. I have a tendency to find fashion trends pretty repugnant until they’ve reached peak saturation, so I always look slightly dated to the 5% of people who even care. I dress for the male gaze too much, which is undeniably uncool and cringe. Only recently have I uncovered my true Kibbe body type, so now that’s another thing I must analyze (nobody ever talks about the emotional labor of being 5’5” while trying to figure out Kibbe.)

Soft gamine with classic essence, in case you’re wondering. Yes, I’m soft gamine. Yes, I’m 5’5”. We exist.

But I realized another fashion faux pas, which pains me: my love of clothes that look like Things is destroying my style.

What are Things? What are clothes that look like Things? Well, imagine a white handbag. Here, I’ll help you:

Now imagine that the handbag has a Thing on it. This handbag has cherries on it. This is a clothing item that has a Thing on it:

Buy here!

I already own too many things like this—clothes with Things. But where I really go wrong is that I love clothes that are Things. Presenting, the final form:

Buy here!

Now, I don’t actually own this bag, but I have to consciously stop myself from buying and wearing clothes that contain Things (or worse, are Things.) In fact, my most egregious almost-purchase was this pair of Kate Spade wedges meant to resemble ice cream trucks:

I also had to stop myself from buying a pair of shoes that looked like cars.

And let’s not forget these Katy Perry wedges which are a zoo enclosure for a tiny golden lion:

You might be saying, “Who cares? Wear your Things if you want to! They’re fun!” but the reality is that although I love stuff like this in the abstract, it never looks good once I’m wearing it. If your whole look is meant to be Betsy Johnson 2005-era kitsch, then perhaps these items work perfectly. But despite me frequently appearing that way against my will, I actually don’t want to appear that way. I have an aesthetic I don’t even want to have, and I blame clothes that look like Things. I just think they’re so fun that I can’t stop buying them!

Every day, I struggle to resist the temptation to buy clothes that are Things. Just yesterday, I stopped my scrolling to admire this bizarre tote bag from Tyler McGillivary, meant to look like a fried egg. Clothes that look like food were especially popular several years ago, but to me, they were more than a flash in the pan, if you will (sorry.)

If Things are a weakness of yours, avoid Tyler McGillivary at all costs. Everything he designs either has Things on it, or is a Thing. If you’re feeling “conservative” you can buy this coord set with cats on it:

Or you can buy this shirt which literally is a check. You have no idea how much willpower it took not to buy this shirt.

I actually don’t own anything from Tyler McGillivary, but I’ve been so tempted so many times, and the only thing stopping me is usually the price or the fact that a tiny voice in the back of my head is screaming, “IT’S A THING, YOU IDIOT!”

There are Things that I’ve wanted to buy, but didn’t, not because of good judgment but because I could never find it in my size or price range. For a very long time, I really wanted this Rachel Antonoff dress which is dangerously close to being a telephone, but still counts as “outfit with Thing on it.” Luckily, it was too expensive for me to take the plunge.

Perhaps this itch had already been scratched, because I already have a handbag literally decorated with telephone wires. Is this a Thing? Is this a new genre of “items made out of clearly-identifiable Things but NOT meant to look like the Thing?”

One of my favorite (and yet also most-mocked on Substack) clothing items that looks like a Thing is this yellow purse I got in 2021 (shown here in 2025.)

I feel weird about this purse. On the one hand, I love it. It’s so fun. On the other hand, I feel kind of ridiculous when I wear it. Presumably, I need to wear it differently. Perhaps the problem here, especially in the outfit photo, is that I paired it with too-matchy shoes and then an equally, unsettlingly-matching co-ord set. I do think it looked better with this less Polly Pocketish outfit, although I still think a less silly bag would have worked better:

Maybe a purse like that really needs some straight leg jeans and a plain white tank top to look fun instead of costumey. But given my natural inclination to buy and wear Things, the smartest thing to do would probably be to just say no if an item resembles a Thing.

Even as I tried to tone down my Thingness, and settle on less bright colors and less costumey shapes, I found myself buying the following Farm Rio dress, which is brown and cotton, so you’d think it would be more understated and cool, but I regret to inform you IT IS STILL A THING. IT IS A GIANT LEAF.

Speaking of brands that make clothes that look like Things, a major offender is Lirika Matoshi. Again: I like Lirika Matoshi. I think her designs are gorgeous. However, I don’t actually own anything she’s made. Part of this is because she only works with fabrics my skin can’t tolerate (aren’t I special?) but also because I know that once I go down the rabbit hole of buying a dress that looks like a literal landscape, I’m DONE.

She also makes the iconic “apartment coat” which I probably would have bought by now if it weren’t $920.

It’s no surprise that I started getting really into Things in the early 2020s. Blame covid, blame temporary insanity, but for a little while after lockdown lifted, everyone was wearing chinos with pasta on them or halter tops meant to look like butterflies. Around the peak of Lisa Says Gah, everyone was wearing clothing items that looked like Things. Sometimes, many at the same time! Want some earrings that look like hot dogs? Fuck you, why the hell not!!

This is me in mid-2021, wearing an outfit meant to look like a map (which, last I checked, was a Thing.)

The Things were, more or less, a trend of the time and I over-used the trend, then never stopped running with it. Until now.

The problem is that I love items like this…as art. I want to have my own museum full of clothes, shoes and handbags that look like Things. I think that would make me very happy. I would just have to, very consciously and firmly, abstain from wearing the articles of my museum. At least until I knew how to wear them. Right now, all bets are off. I would say that Thing-inspired items are marginally better than shirts with words on them but they are still just corny. Or at the very least, they present an aesthetic that I actually don’t want to have, even if I like them in a vacuum.

There is another way, perhaps, for me to enjoy this niche of clothing, and that is through my children. One of the many great things about kids is it’s very hard for them to look tacky. And little kids wearing clothing with Things on it, holding bags shaped like Things, or even being fully dressed as Things, is totally fine. My son is obsessed with genie lamps so this past Christmas, I had a ball picking out a genie lamp shaped handbag for him to play with:

The genie lamp bag

He later got interested in pirates, and if I was just a bit more insane (with a lot more money) I would have bought him this $400 Mary Frances bag that looks like a treasure chest.

So for now, I will have to fully restrict myself from buying or wearing clothes that look like Things. I may even have to severely restrict access to clothes that have unnecessary Things on them, although I will make exceptions for prints that aren’t too Thingy (florals, for example. Seashells are good. Sailbots are…potentially getting into the danger zone.) Perhaps some people can pull Things off. But I know my limits, and I no longer trust myself with the Thing-adjacent items.