It takes a lot for me to walk away, but I’ve been left with no choice. I saw all the red flags, I ignored all the signs and yet nothing could deter me. I wanted to be the person I thought they could make me - someone with a bit of mystery, someone who simply by association other people would admire or assume was cooler than I actually am. I wanted them to complete me, but they never did and I came to realise they never would.
I should have known when they said they wanted to reach a ‘26 year old girl; smart, creative, confident and comfortable in all aspects of her being’. Why on earth did I, a 40-something woman, keep going back? Maybe because sometimes we did look good together and I, foolishly, thought that meant I had ‘26-year-old' energy’?
And so it is that I’ve broken up with Free People.
It’s not a conscious-uncoupling either, it hit me like a bolt out of the blue when I was having a wardrobe cleanse. Piles of Free People clothes that I’d bought and barely worn. Bralets that looked so pretty but were impossible or uncomfortable to wear. Diaphanous tees that I thought would make me look like Star from The Lost Boys but that hung awkwardly and shapelessly and did nothing for me. Tops with sleeves so long I could easily chop off a yard and still I’d have to cuff or turn them up. Bodysuits with popper-gussets that would un-pop the second you moved in them. And, perhaps the kicker, care instructions that required you to do so much for so little return.
I felt foolish as I shook out their creases (impossible) and put them on the ‘to be photographed’ pile ready for someone else to try and love them via re-selling on Vinted. All of them had, in their own way, made me a promise, either from the Free People website, my favourite Free People dealer, ASOS, or one of their boutiques they simply couldn’t keep.
The promise of Stevie Nicks energy, the appeal of Kate Hudson in one of her early 00s rom-coms or just a cut, shape or style that was slightly different from the norm, which should have made it more interesting to wear - and thus, made the wearer more interesting too. It felt as though clothing from Free People meant you were care-free, fun, adventurous and laid back.
This is why I also fell for Free People Movement, the fitness apparel collection, which looks so good but isn’t actually that great if you want to work out in it. Every item, co-ord and outfit promised to make you look like a naturally lean fitness influencer. Think flimsy but pretty cover-ups that made me feel like someone from The Hills, co-ords that were begging to be seen at the latest Tik Tok sensation fitness class and one-pieces that made you forget how important it is to be able to use a bathroom without going completely naked.
But as I browsed Vinted, keen to get a sense of the resale value for the brand, which is definitely at the punchier end of the high street price range, I saw that I was one of thousands of jilted lovers. There are acres of crumpled bralets selling for £2, pages of tees, tanks, tops and camis selling for under £8 and so many dresses, which retail at over £150, begging to be re-homed for under £30.
I’ve talked on the podcast about how the experience of selling on Vinted has made me completely reconsider my shopping habits, but to see a bralet I bought for £32 sell for pennies or knitwear I splurged over £100 on sell for £10 is testament to how the ‘high’ of buying something from Free People never matches the experience of actually having it.
There are, however, exceptions because it hasn’t always been bad. I’ve had some incredible denim from Free People. I snagged a pair of skinny jeans in the sale on ASOS about four years ago and wore them so much that I only retired them when the seams finally split with daily wear and tear. I’ve also worn a cropped half-zip sweatshirt that always gets me compliments and is perfect for throwing on post-workout more times than I can count.
And I simply cannot talk about Free People without talking bralets. I’ve bought so many (so much so that my love of them made it into the dedication of Lindsey Kelk’s book Love Me Do) and loved them all but, truthfully, only the Straight Lines bralet is passable to actually wear for any length of time. I have just parted with all but one of my Adella bralets because, even after a breast reduction, they aren’t easy to wear. Beautiful shape, gorgeous strappy details and so pretty poking out underneath a summer top but they are scratchy and you can look down and find a nipple has made itself known and it’s never my intention to flash anyone, ever. If you need any kind of support from your bra then these bralets are not for you - and that’s such a shame.
I looked online to see if others had this experience and found pages of forums where other former fans had come out of their own Free People reverie to bemoan the lack of quality - you really could shoot peas through some of the fabrics - agonise about how a top was ruined by a spin cycle and how a dress that looked so perfect to begin with now hangs strangely and requires tonnes of fidgeting and adjusting while wearing. Sometimes it feels, and I can attest to this, as though the clothes don’t want you to wear them.
It took some time, but I’ve realised Free People is the fashion round hole that I, a square peg, have tried to fit myself into and I have tried really, really hard. The truth is, I’m too old at a full two decades older than the ‘Free People girl’ I described earlier. This description was lifted directly from the Free People website and continues, ‘A girl who likes to keep busy and push life to its limits, with travelling and hanging out and everything in between. Who loves Donovan as much as she loves The Doors and can’t resist petting any dog that passes her by.’ It’s word salad that means nothing and certainly isn’t the way I’d ever describe myself to anyone ever so I’m still baffled as to why I wanted to be her, or at least dress like her, so badly. Where’s the brand that styles the woman who is ambitious, who wants to excel at her job, create a nice, comfortable life for herself and enjoy her life on her terms, eh? Plus, I’m too short at 5’4” for clothes, which are clearly cut for someone closer to 5’9” or taller.
I’d say we had a good run, but it’s been more miss than hit and though I’m sure in the future I’ll still look and maybe even run my hands through the rails, what I see now isn’t the promise of how it’ll make me look and feel, it’s a 90% mark down when I come to sell it on…
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