Built To Last

When you own something nice, do you wear it until it falls apart or try to savour each use, hoping to preserve it for as long as possible? Can the idea of wear and tear showcase a form of love and appreciation?

- Ling Jie Tuang

"I bought this work bag two years ago from a woman who was clearing out her wardrobe. I wanted it the moment I saw it. A moment I'll never forget was when I almost lost the bag in an airport."

Jenn Teh (@eggyoek), 22, Make Up Artist

The first ding hits the hardest. I remember the first time I rolled my Rimowa around the streets of Osaka, fresh off the buyer's dissonance after having swiped my card to purchase it the day before. As the rough tarmac cut into the fresh wheels with each step forward, I felt a pang - it seemed like the brand-new piece was already getting worn down. But then I realised how silly it was of me to expect my belongings to stay pristine - they will only do so if I keep them stashed in their dust bag and not use them at all. A few more trips later, I stumbled at the airport, which sent the Rimowa hurtling down an escalator. That warranted a much different response. With the new dents, I was mainly glad that no one was at the end of that escalator and that my belongings were fine. In retrospect, the luggage was doing exactly what it was supposed to do.

Fashion purchases, especially for the working class, have always carried the idea of being signifiers of status and expression of one's identity a costume to one's character. With the oftentimes heavy price tags and scarcity in availability, it is hard not to feel like there is a need to preserve them in mint condition and only save them for special occasions.