Does it Bode Well?
half-baked thoughts on the vintage inspired luxury brand and 30+ finds that well, are actually vintage
I didn’t spend any time in New York until a few years ago, when my previous job lead me there to organize, photograph, manage and style the wardrobes of a handful of old school, blue blood, uppity socialites. It was misery. I only saw Midtown and the Upper East Side and spent most of my time in the dusty corners of expansive walk-in closets filled with Birkin bags and Manolo mules. Despite the job leaving me feeling mentally and emotionally beat up, it did awaken this tiny little warm and cozy space in my heart for New York City.
Last year I got the itch to finally see the rest of the city outside of a billionaire’s penthouse and a lonely hotel room on Lexington. I paid a visit to one of my best friends from high school, Alexia, who lives in Williamsburg and finally got to experience what makes people fall in love with the Big Apple. So much so I decided to do it all over again this year, last week.
Having done most of the touristy things I wanted to do last time— a quick hustle through Times Square, a Broadway show, the Met, a martini at Bemelmans, this time I wanted to focus on some of the stores that have been on top of my “places to check out” list, including but not limited to, the Bode menswear and womenswear stores, which have haunted my Pinterest and Instagram timelines for years at this point.
I’m not here to try to yuck someone’s yum - there’s something out there for everyone given this expansively wide world filled to the brim with variations of stuff and things to find interest in. But I have to be honest that the fascination with Bode (pronounced BOH-dee) as a brand has always perplexed me. It gives a little bit of an Emperor’s New Clothes vibe as its popularity and praises are sung in what I can only call a very elite cool kids cliquey fashion echo chamber.
And that’s not to say I don’t like or won’t ever own anything from them. I find their visual aesthetic of wood tones and rich textures to be delightful eye candy, as well as their unique approach to vintage branding as a whole. I first came to know of them when I saw them single handedly resurrecting the senior cord, and it’s something I think they do, very very well. But a designer label built on vintage heirlooms rooted in the working class (feedsack fabric, quilting, etc) while originating from a very privileged, East Coast WASPy heritage decently irks the chip on my shoulder as someone who deeply loves old, imperfect things steeped in years of history.
I immediately became a little cynical towards the brand after seeing their Vogue home tour a few years back, where founder, Emily Adams Bode and her now husband Aaron Aujla take the viewer around their Chinatown apartment and “nearly fall asleep out of coolness” as one of the YouTube comments so aptly puts it. I’m self aware enough to see that sure, some of my apprehension can be traced back to a healthy dose of jealousy— how I would love to have the privilege to start a successful brand well on its way to being seen as a heritage designer house. But also, a good portion of it just reeks of sniffs-their-own-fart energy. Something I struggle to look past as a forever outsider in the world of nepotism and robust generational wealth.
While I can easily turn on my social butterfly, extroverted small talk “I used to work retail” personality, I don’t often enjoy it, especially when shopping. Which is why I was immediately turned off by having to ring a doorbell to enter their Hester street store (I get why, it’s just annoying) Alexia and I were the only patrons for most of our time in the shop, and I was shocked that after years of seeing hundreds of photos of the interior, how costume-y and performative everything felt when paired with a handful of bored sales associates decked out head-to-toe in the brand, evenly spread about the store like living mannequins, eager to talk at you like you were born yesterday about the ethos of it all.
I immediately felt like I was in a fish bowl, and while my confidence was slightly boosted by the salesperson complimenting my antique jewelry and scarf, I remained uneasy the entire time knowing everyone was staring at every article of clothing I touched and every step we made. I couldn’t even fully absorb being in the moment because every time I looked up I made painfully intense eye contact with an employee who was looking me up and down. The reality is we spent a little under 10 minutes inside and I left feeling very disenchanted with the space. I imagined how the experience would have differed had I looked like someone dripping in money, but even then that thought felt a little funny given everything I was wearing was vintage or handmade and minus the heirloom jewelry, cost well under $1000. I technically looked the part of their consumer, but really, I didn’t because I wasn’t dressed up in the label itself. Make it make sense?!
I remember someone somewhere at some point did a study about it, but I can’t seem to find it so maybe believe me but also maybe don’t, that psychologically speaking, people are more inclined to attribute value to clothes based on the label inside. I feel this philosophy to be deeply true, especially when it comes to a brand like Bode. I promise you I could thrift a handful of novelty sweaters, present them to an insufferable menswear dude with a Bode tag sewn inside and they wouldn’t hesitate to buy them for $950 a pop despite only costing me $8 total.
I find most folks who are vocal supporters of the brand want to be just that, vocal— shouting from the rooftops that they’re wearing head-to-toe Bode, which feels strange to me, a kind of twisted luxury fashion virtue signaling? People often love luxury because of the exclusivity but I find that feels deeply complex to wrap my head around in relation to Bode’s vintage reproductions selling for $1000+ in editions of 30-50 (which still falls under their “one-of-a-kind” category.) They are surely not the first to upcycle embroidered tablecloths, antique handmade quilts and piano shawls, yet when they do use original textiles, their price point is 3x the price of the average small shop, handmade seller doing the same thing on Etsy. Pile this on top of the fact that I’ve heard from a few friends who work with the brand in other aspects that their factory working conditions don’t equate to the steep price tag meaning fair wages for garment workers. It’s all just luxury for luxury sake and at the end of the day, feels like cosplay for the fashion person who is looking for something “eccentric” and “unique” that “sets them apart” from other fashion people.
I don’t want this to all sound steeped in bitterness, but rather a fascination for a brand that I really want to love, but can’t fully get on board with, especially as someone that dwells predominately in the vintage space. I’m also definitely not the only person with complex feels towards Bode. If you’re looking to dive deeper into the topic, I would check out Brock Colyar’s article, “Welcome to Bodeworld” for The Cut.
I did wrap up a very successful, wonderful NYC weekend by attending the A Current Affair vintage show in Brooklyn, which was a decent palette cleanser to our fancy shopping adventures. And don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of sniffs-their-own-farts energy happening in the vintage space, but it was nice to sift through true one-of-a-kind pieces, many of which were backed up by exciting sourcing stories and whimsical histories, one of the many reasons I love true vintage. I bought a few very special pieces I am excited to show you in the next few months.
And on that note, I thought I’d do a round up of real vintage and handmade finds that might just be better than spending your entire next paycheck on one singular piece from Bode.
The Novelty Sweater
I think what Bode does well is style something that feels inherently “camp” by pairing it with a sophisticated, tailored pant and something in the oxford/loafer family. But novelty sweaters have existed in so many fun iterations for so many decades, there are so many floating around this planet already in pristine condition and well under $980.
I also love this one, this one and this one.
The Pants
To me, the Bode trouser just feels like most Ann Taylor silk pants from the 1990s, a nice silk pajama pant, or upcycled quilt pants you can find all over Etsy in a wide range of budget friendly price points. I know this gets trickier in masculine sizing, but even then I think there are options that feel Bode without the hefty price tag, like this amazing silk pajama set and these Pierre Cardin pajama pants.
I have no place to put this vintage 1960’s set, but it feels whimsically Bode-esque.
The Jacket
Bode prices start to feel particularly insane when it comes to their outerwear. Especially with some of their seemingly “everyday” pieces like the wool fringe jacket pictured above. Its secondhand twin, to the left, is literally a teeny tiny fraction of the price and if you styled it in a “Bode way” I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
The Dress
Up until this last year Bode was considered only a menswear brand. I admit I was very excited to see what she would dream up for the womenswear collection and was disappointed when it turned out to be mostly “dupes” of very popular vintage silhouettes that are fairly easy to source in a wearable original antique state or from other heritage brands, like Ralph Lauren, that have produced similar looks for years.
Speaking of Ralph Lauren, this one and this one would also pass the Bode vibe test, me thinks. Oh, and this gorgeous fringey dress! And this ruffle overcoat!!
The Top
There were too many tops I wanted to include to have room to compare them to the Bode website, but most of their tops range in price from $550 - $1,500 - which is insane when some of the small handmade shops above are making the same upcycled pieces for a fraction of the price. Someone please buy that antique chiffon blouse - it’s so dreamy!
Other fun evening tops that feel Bode-esque here, here and here.
The Accessories
Please promise me you will never pay $1,800 for a new beaded purse when you buy an antique one for well, not that much. Also, someone needs the fish coin purse!! (It’s only $12!)
If you’ve been here for awhile you know my deep, deeeep love of Bakelite, which is why I think it’s a crime to buy new reproduction “Bakelite” when you could dig for something so much more special.
Weeelll, there ya have it.
Until next time,
Xo,
G
Really appreciate you putting pen to these thoughts! I honestly struggle with all luxury brands in the same way, especially knowing how easy it is to dress similarly without forking over multiple months' rent. Like you said, you could sew in a Bode tag in a $3 sweater and no one would know the difference. I so deeply and fervently believe that you don't need to spend a lot of money to have good style so the idea of spending what luxury brands charge has always heen absurd, and almost insulting to me.
I regularly use brands like Bode, The Row, and Khaite as inspiration mainly because it *is* so easy to find pieces in the vintage and secondhand world that emulate that luxury without luxury prices.
I also lived in New York for five years and lol'd when you mentioned fart-sniffing because YES. My first job there was as a costume PA & shopper for a TV show and I would regularly go to Tom Ford, Bergdorf, Loro Piana. I love fashion and styling but am pretty plain when dressing myself and every time I walked in I felt the same eyes you described. Not only judging but so *bored*. Seems harder to hold that ground than to just let go and be open. And of course, this is not a blanket statement, I also met lovely fashion folk, but it's hard to unpair the 'not worthy' feelings from that time in my life.
These are very scattered thoughts but all of them to say: I agree and appreciate your thoughts. And also YOUR FINDS. Which are unreal and gorgeous and perfect proof of your point. ❤️
My eyebrows stayed raised while reading through this entire article. As a lifelong thrift & vintage shopper, your sentiments on Bode's popularity hit me hard. People have often looked down upon me and openly told me they couldn't possibly buy pre-owned garments because "that's filthy." What's truly filthy to me are the practices of modern brands that charge high prices while employing sub-minimum wage staff or straight up human slaves.