What does it mean to say that “wrinkles have character”?
There are still times when I don't really understand.
What is it about the wrinkles that form in linen that gives them this “character”?
When talking about linen clothing, I often hear people say, “The wrinkles are part of its character.”
But what exactly is that “character”?
Do wrinkles alone give it character?
Does a garment become stylish simply by being worn until it's limp and exhausted?
I sometimes find myself thinking about such things.
Hello.
I'm Tomioka from cliché.
What does it mean to say that “wrinkles have character”?
I don't think linen's wrinkles themselves inherently have character.
If the wrinkles themselves were what made it beautiful, then simply making something wrinkled would be enough.
But surely that isn't all there is to it.
As the wearer bends their arms, sits, and walks, the marks gradually etched through the course of the day remain in the garment as wrinkles.
The phrase “linen wrinkles have character” may describe something that encompasses the wearer's life as well.
That is why I don't simply think, “It's good because it has wrinkles.”
Why do I find those wrinkles beautiful?
What is it about those wrinkles that draws me in?
I feel that only when I think about it for myself and discover its appeal within myself can I truly say, “I love the wrinkles in linen.”
Rather than taking words I've heard from someone else and making them my own answer,
I want to wear it myself, look at it myself, and discover its qualities in my own way.
That's what I believe.
And recently, I came to love linen shirts.
That said, I've never found linen shirts particularly cool. I don't often think, “I'll wear this in summer because it's cool,” and at least for me, coolness is not why I came to love them.
So, why did I come to love linen?
When I think about it, the reason was once again found in the “wrinkles” I've been writing about.
That said, I don't simply like wrinkles themselves.
By wearing it, a person's movements remain in the garment.
Bend your arms and wrinkles form in the sleeves; sit down and the body develops its own character. Wash it and wear it again, and that character gradually changes.
Perhaps what draws me to linen is that these changes appear more honestly than they do in other fabrics.
Perhaps what I love is the “character” created by those wrinkles.
Even with the same shirt, its character changes little by little depending on who wears it and how they wear it.
Things that were not yet there when it was new gradually emerge through wear.
I find the appeal of linen in that the wearer's time remains in the garment.
The sleeves are what I particularly love when wearing it.
As I bend and straighten my arms, fine wrinkles build up across the sleeves. Rather than appearing flat, the fabric gradually overlaps, creating depth and shadow.
I especially love how it looks from the side.
Perhaps the fact that its character gradually changes each time I wear it is another reason I keep reaching for this shirt.
And the piece I've been wearing often lately is the Essential Linen Shirt.
<cantáte>
" Essential Linen Shirt "
COL : NOIR , BLEU GRIS , WHITE
¥60,500 TAX IN
It comes in three colors: NOIR, BLEU GRIS, and WHITE.
Linen made from high-quality flax from Normandy, with a smooth feel and subtle sheen.
When you touch it, it clearly has the substance characteristic of linen. But it is by no means stiff; there is also a certain suppleness to it.
It is because of this strength and suppleness that the wrinkles formed when worn do not simply crumple the fabric. Fine shadows emerge, and its expression gradually changes the more you wear it.
I think the “expression created by wrinkles” I mentioned earlier is possible precisely because of this fabric.
In its new state, you can clearly appreciate the fabric’s smoothness and subtle sheen.
But this neat appearance is not the finished form.
As you repeat the cycle of wearing and washing it, not only fine wrinkles but sometimes a broader, wave-like texture begins to appear across the fabric.
As light falls on those ridges and valleys, shadows emerge, and a once-flat shirt gradually begins to look three-dimensional.
I think that kind of change is what I love.
The relaxed silhouette and easy collar are balanced by the material’s inherent substance, allowing the construction to remain intentionally soft and the overall look light.
The shoulders are not dropped too much, while the body retains a proper amount of room.
It is not simply oversized; it is room for the fabric to move.
Because there is an appropriate amount of space between the body and the fabric, the fabric moves with you whenever you walk or move your arms. Each time, the way the wrinkles form and the play of light and shadow gradually change.
I think this shirt’s silhouette includes not only how it looks when standing, but also the expression it takes on when you move.
The collar is a regular collar, but because it is not reinforced too heavily, it never looks unnecessarily stiff.
Buttoned all the way to the top, it looks refined. Leave it slightly open, and its expression naturally becomes more relaxed.
It does not lean too heavily into linen’s casualness, while retaining the clean beauty of a shirt.
I think it is this balance that allows its appearance to change with the mood of the day, without dictating how it should be worn.
It retains the refined form of a shirt while being easy to wear, relaxed and freshly laundered.
Of course, it is also nice to iron it and wear it neatly pressed. But I also like the way it looks when, after washing and drying, you simply put it on as it is.
The wrinkles created by washing are layered with different wrinkles formed by wearing it and moving the body.
Different people move their arms differently and wear it with different frequency. Naturally, the wrinkles that remain will not be the same.
That is precisely why, even when it is the same shirt, it gradually takes on an expression unique to its wearer.
I think I can now understand, at least a little, what I was thinking at the beginning when I said, “Wrinkles have character.”
It isn’t the wrinkles themselves that give it character; what makes them interesting is that the time someone has spent wearing it remains in the form of wrinkles.
I think that, for me, “character” is probably something like this.
And one more thing.
“I wear linen in summer because it’s linen.”
When you think about it that way, the phrase “wearing linen in winter” may sound a little strange.
but perhaps we simply pay too much attention to the seasons.
Not because it’s summer, or because it’s cool,
“I wear it because I like linen.”
Wearing the materials I love whenever I want, without thinking too much about the season.
At this point in my life, I feel that this is just about right for me.
cliché Tomioka
