The Tyranny of In/Out Lists

They're everywhere...why are they so annoying?

It’s that time of year again, when general users of the internet brandish their pens to record their annual in/out lists, a rather ridiculous exercise that can be both fun to read—and disagree with. 

What’s In and Out was conceived by Washington Post fashion editor Nina Hyde in 1977. Some examples of items she found worthy of praise include Billy Joel and androgyny, while sequins and hairstylists received a pan. However, the tradition stretches back much further, from Diana Vreeland’s extravagant “Why Don’t You…” pronouncements in Harper’s Bazaar to Mr. Blackwell’s catty evaluations of Hollywood’s best and worst dressed. ("The list is the origin of culture,” Umberto Eco once proclaimed.)

But what was once a symbol of rarefied tastes has transformed into a national pastime. For the past couple years, I’ve noticed that the work of trend reporting has become individualized. In/out lists were once top-down proclamations made by an exclusive cadre of tastemakers, now they’re commonplace ways to compile one’s likes and dislikes. In a way, the in/out list is akin to an outfit; an externalized declaration of one’s personalized tastes to the rest of the world. 

Frankly, I find these amateur lists grating because they seem like a weird exercise in ego. I suspect that the people who make them seek validation and the people who consume them are insecure and crave structure and direction when it comes to their own preferences. Taste is an oligarchy. Some people have it and others don’t, and the ones who don’t will forever try to mimic the ones who do. In this sense, in/out lists serve a counterintuitive function to their initial purpose because instead of communicating what’s cool, they create the additional barrier of determining whose list is worthy of consideration and whose is bullshit disguised as a Fabergé egg before taking the advice to heart. The entire enterprise is more or less a way to flex one’s imaginary social capital because…only cool people would be putting these together, right?

And yet! Has any of this stopped me from compiling my own In/Out list? Absolutely not. So without further ado…

In

Lazing about
Finding treasures
Orgasmic meditation
Orthopedic shoes
Coloured glassware
Fur coats
Ancient grains
White cotton underwear
Farmer’s Almanac
Lithuania/Poland/Bulgaria/Croatia as tourist destinations
Paint-by-number
Stained glass
Gatekeeping
Old friends
Paté/foods made with liver

Out

Climate change
Bows
Red tights
Outfit reels
Going viral
Corsets
Silly little treats
Texting
Ceramics
Acrylic/Polyesters
Calling things “sustainable”
Autofiction
Y2K revival
Therapyspeak (aka pathologizing normal human behaviour)
Complaining
Italy/Greece/Mexico City as tourist destinations

Latest obsession: Giant “men’s” button-down shirts

Midway through the year, I was seized with the uncontrollable urge to begin wearing baggy clothing. Specifically, an oversized men’s button down Oxford shirt, preferably made from thick, soft yet substantial, 100% cotton fabric. I believe this vision manifested unconsciously after witnessing so many of “the youths” don incomprehensibly baggy clothing that shows little regard for the concept of “fit.” It dawned on me that my penchant for well-fitting clothing was aging me, so I decided to seek out an entry-level way to dip my toe into the trend. It’s not that I am worried about “looking old” or compromising my style in any way — merely a particular silhouette I had never found compelling before began to hold new interest. That’s just how fashion works; tastes change and certain items start to feel 'right’ or ‘wrong’. I am delighted my stye is evolving. Stagnancy is the real enemy! The best thing about these shirts is that they’re spectacularly inexpensive and easy to find. I began my collection with this khaki Eddie Bauer piece from Value Village. Then loved it so much I acquired a cobalt Band of Outsiders one from Common Sort. Now, I check the men’s shirt rack of the thrift store before I go to any other section. Lately I found this festive-coloured Roots number (I love the vintage label) and a green Timberland one that emits “safari” energy.

What I’m buying

All of the home improvement I’ve engaged in lately has really helped shift my purchasing desires into the home zone. So instead of buying clothes, I have decided to replace my absolute garbage hand vacuum with a life-long investment in a Henry Hoover vacuum.

For those unfamiliar, Henry Hoover is a delightful anthropomorphic vacuum which has been produced at one factory in England since 1981 - you can appraise yourself on more of their history in this charming Guardian story. There used to be (or still is?) an appliance store on Bloor West somewhere between Ossington and Lansdowne that had Henry Hoover vacuums in the window — alongside his compatriots Hetty and James — and I always stopped to marvel at their mischievous demeanour. Something about their averted gaze is both wholly innocent yet seems to conceal a delicious secret. I am very excited to be welcoming this beautiful boy as a new addition in my home.