Having monograms on your clothes gives them more than a touch of class

http://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2014/sep/05/monograms-clothes-touch-class

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Once upon a time there were bags. There were notepads. There were pyjamas, and you knew they were your pyjamas because you had bought them, worn them, and they lived in your drawer underneath the T-shirt you won in a team-building exercise, and a pair of slipper socks. Those days have passed. Today, an object is not yours, not truly yours unless it has your name on it, big, bold, and preferably sans serif.

Models do it best. Cara Delevingne has a monogrammed Burberry poncho and a massive Cara-printed Fendi bag. Karlie Kloss wears a bomber jacket that says Karlie all curly on the back. Georgia May Jagger has a satin Rag & Bone one which makes her look like the leader of an expensive sub-sect of the Pink Ladies. This is a trend that has crept across seasons, across bags, cushions, slippers. Smythson embossed diaries, Whistles monogrammed bags, Oliver Sweeney tattooed shoes - you can get your name on a bar of Dove soap, or a pack of M&Ms. The idea is that you're not expecting to share.

Why do we love the monogram? Why do we pay to show the thing we own is ours? Isn't there something a bit. . . childish about that? About imprinting our name on an expensive accessory, or wearing a massive initial on our chest? As if we're practising our signature in the back of a homework diary, or penning "If this book should ever roam, box its ears and send it home to. . . " in the front of a beloved novel. Or it's the first day of school, with our name scrawled in marker pen inside our collar, mum's handwriting a comfort against the skin, when everybody else is tall and already knows where the loos are. Customised fashion reminds us of this infantile memory, it's a throwback to a time when we needed reminders of who we were and what exactly we owned.

At the same time, a monogram is classy. Bottega Veneta have always foregone company branding for an understated personal monogram - "When your own initials are enough" has been their line since the 70s, when fashion was first obsessed with logos. Your initials show that an object is valuable enough to hold on to for some time, it isn't throwaway fashion. Monograms are for totes and gold necklaces and things made of emu leather. Even when your name is embroidered at little cost on something otherwise ordinary - a pair of cotton pyjamas, or a £6 notebook - your monogram makes the object 80% posher. It's been cared for, touched by a "craftsman". As if it was made especially for us.

Why should I save up for a handbag named after an It girl when I can buy one named after me? The first time that you see your name embroidered or embossed or engraved on an enviable accessory can be thrilling. It's like the impact of people telling you off by using your full name, only the name is written swishily on red leather, and it makes you swell with importance. As if you're Stella McCartney. Or Calvin bloody Klein.

As we market ourselves on Instagram and Twitter as brands, so these reminders of our identities become more covetable, even more appropriate. Yes, it's childish. Yes, it's narcissism on silk or leather. But it makes us feel important, and a feeling like that rarely goes out of style.