KEY POINTS:
I hosted my first Swishing party yesterday. I was a bit nervous at first, but after a few glasses of champagne I relaxed, unwound and managed to have a really good time.
Swishing is exactly as much fun as it sounds, especially if it's your first time. Those of you who aren't au fait with the latest developments in the lingo of sustainability will be thinking all sorts at this point, but it's not exactly keys in the bowl territory we're in here.
Swishing is when a group of women get together, each one bearing a garment or accessory that she no longer wants but would be proud for someone else to leave with.
The items are displayed, the wine poured and the swapping commences.
A few hours later and everyone's off home with a new bag, jacket, dress or whatever, the glow of acquisition further stoked because the whole enterprise is untainted by filthy lucre.
No money changes hands at any time, it's all about finding a new home for something you no longer want and scoring something gorgeous in return. Well, that's the theory, anyway.
The reality was 20 pairs of covetous eyes staring at the same Karen Walker jacket until the Swish was declared open at which point it was snatched away at at speed by a greedy little monkey with lighting-quick reaction time and no shame.
That's what it's all about after all, giving up what you no longer want and getting a fabulous new something-or-other in return. Although having read about sisterly Swishes abroad, full of hugs and kisses and cocktails and giving I was expecting something more along the lines of How to Make an American Quilt and less like the first 10 minutes of the Boxing Day sales.
The scrum was intense while it lasted but mercifully brief. When the locust swarm finally abated all that remained was a forlorn looking zebra print bustier and some knackered looking shoes.
They really went against the spirit of the thing, those shoes. The item you take with you to a Swish is supposed to be gorgeous, that's what separates these parties from your average church bazaar or op-shop trawl.
Of course gorgeous is highly subjective; one woman's lovely is another woman's wouldn't be caught dead in. The safest thing to do is swish with people whose style and taste you know so you can be sure of finding a gem amongst their cast-offs. Rich friends are as good for this sort of thing as they are for everything else. But the real fun and feel-good factor comes from swishing with strangers.
There's a building sense of anticipation as the items come trickling in, and when the swapping finally starts there's that funny air of fellowship-slash-competition that any woman who's ever perused a bargain rail or shared a changing room will instantly recognise.
Swishing is the latest development in the quest for feel-good fashion, part of a continuum that embraces organic fabrics and not buying trainers made by indentured slaves in a Manchurian sweat-shop.
More cynical readers will be curling the lip at this point. And indeed there is something inherently funny about the idea of the fashion pack caring about the environment, caring about anything in fact, aside from themselves and where their next Balenciaga bag is coming from.
It is easy, and currently very on-trend, to pay lip service to the principle of ecological soundness and fair trade, but those ideals can't hold a candle to the sheer unadulterated covetousness that luxury items inspire. Your average label whore couldn't give a damn if her Louboutin pumps were cobbled together by a team of bull-whipped 5-year-olds working 29-hour shifts in saltmines.
People who worship at the temple of labels are, like all addicts, morally dead. They can be relied on for neither conscience nor restraint. Their entire lives are predicated on the now. What's hip? What's new? What's current? People who can't see past next season aren't going to be the best caretakers for the future. It's obvious.
And yet designers, for all their ego and hubris, don't tend to be stupid. Their entire process revolves around being able to accurately take the temperature of the people they want to inspire. To tap into our psyches, our needs and desires and show us a focused, idealised image of ourselves. An image we will then happily spend all our money trying to attain.
A large number of them have realised our current preoccupation with the fate of the planet might have something to do with how we want to dress. And not in the "women bought more lipstick after 9/11" way either.
Simply that, label whores aside, many of us have started to follow the chain of cause and effect when it comes to the things we use or consume, be it the food on our plates or the clothes on our backs.
Designers are recognising our increased awareness and tweaking their materials and manufacturing processes accordingly.
Which can only be a good thing, however morally indefensible one finds the fashion industry.
Meanwhile, Swishing parties are exciting because they are a rejection of commerce. That's not to say I advocate the rejection of commerce to solve our environmental woes. It would be silly when I depend upon it - you bought this paper after all.
But swishing is about being aware of how much we consume, how we make our choices as shoppers, and ultimately how much we really need.
More than one Karen Walker jacket per Swish party for a start.
