The one about clothes
redefining and understanding my relationship to clothes as a 30-something-year-old
Summer has the promise of beauty, the hope that, maybe, my style will peak. I have this idea in my head of what summer should look like, road trips and tanning by the pool and beach days, and summer nights, where your tan is fresh and the breeze outside slightly lifts the heat and everyone is in a good mood. Laughter in the air, cobblestoned streets, drinks with friends, art galleries, and events where you get to wear a mini dress and kitten heels, it's the Long-Awaited Summer! But the summer flees faster than it comes, even in a place like Houston where the summer stretches well past August. I can't seem to catch it. I am stuck at work, and when there are those events and summer nights I have to sort out what I can realistically wear in nearly 100-degree weather. Usually, I end up annoyed and frustrated with a mound of clothes on my chair in the bedroom and my dresser stacked high with piles of clothes I have tried on but hated, and soon I am lying on the bed with the AC blowing on me, exhausted and turned off for the summer.
Maybe it’s the timing of my life right now, the sort of natural progression of where I’m at mentally, but I have been seeing myself in a more singular light. Or perhaps it’s because I have been off Instagram, or because I let go of codependent friendships. It’s caused me to ask myself, who am I, and what would I wear, without this person's influence, the influence of Instagram, or the insecurities of a 20-something-year-old. It has been a lot of undoing. Which feels like a backward step, but to unravel is to reveal. Likely this is not as big of a revelation as I think it is. I think we all go through these periods of our lives where we are more tapped into trends and other times where we are trying to step away from them, but I think it’s fair to say that post-COVID online culture has circled trends incredibly fast, while simultaneously making us hyper-aware of individuality. Dialogue online has gotten so loud it has backed us into a corner, we rely on the trends to make us blend in, so people online don’t tell us about eyebrow blindness, or look at how embarrassing my style used to be (when it was just the trends of that time.) The internet will always be quick to voice their opinion, but that doesn’t mean it's true.
Since being off Instagram, the way I dress is less performative. I often re-wear the same outfit 3 days in a row like I used to, I am no longer consumed with creating an outfit that I know will be perceived, or hoped would be perceived in a fawning way. I am no longer consuming other girls and their beautiful style, at least not in the hyper-aware way Instagram provided. At a certain point last year before my hiatus, I started to wonder who I was outside of Instagram, content creation, and constant consumption. Am I still the same if I just be? Or maybe I am more myself now than ever before.
The argument runs in circles: classic outfits turn into trends turn into basic outfits, and repeat. The short version: nothing has truly changed except our names for everything. What started as a conversation online about sustainability in 2020, quickly turned into a discussion about over-consumption, over-produced brands like Shien, and an emphasis on being individual, a.k.a funky, colorful, out-of-the-box, not basic. Clothes play an integral role in our society. We are all trying to say something about ourselves through our clothes. Whether it's intentional or not. At first glance, we are judged by our appearance. We want to fit in, stand out, hide, and express our interests or emotions. We want to attract a mate or a friend, to impress or intimidate– we are always signaling some sort of message.
My closet is mostly a byproduct of impulsive buying and desperation buying, things I was too lazy to try on and bought anyway only to come home and find out it didn't fit. Since I was thrifting and things were only a couple of dollars each I didn't see the harm in not being super intentional in my shopping. But I was left with a closet with ill-fitting clothes and things I didn't like on me. There were phases where I “collected” articles of clothes that I knew I wouldn't wear, but still had to have for some reason, archival pieces I thought. How can they be archival for me if I never wear them? Thoughtfulness and intentionality were missing in my closet. I’m not even sure if there was ever a time when I bought clothes with true intention, with the slowed pace of an informed decision.
Shopping in real life versus gazing at people's shopping hauls online can feel a little dystopian. Like the other day when Hayden and I went to Macy's. It’s been a few years since I’d been to Macy's, and during that time I must have romanticized my memories of it. I remembered it as being bright and sort of glimmery, people everywhere with bags in their hands smiling, the home section being filled with people looking for new sheets or beds or kitchenware. There was so much life in Macy's in my memory. But present day, when we got inside, I was instantly bored. I forgot Macy's separates everything by brands, which is overwhelming and off-putting. I glance at a few garments and their price tag, $115!? for a blouse?? Next… I kept scanning and walking around the lower level. “Where is the juniors section?” I always remembered the junior section being a sanctuary, the non-junior section always seemed so old. I found a clearance rack and scanned through it briefly. It was so chaotic, I wasn't in the mood to pick through it. We walked through the jewelry section, I kept looking at price tags and being confused by the prices I saw. There’s no way anyone would pay that price for these items now, they aren't even worth these prices. I tell Hayden lets go upstairs, maybe the home section would save me. Upstairs was no better. What I once remembered as filled with life was now deserted. No one was in the bedding or kitchen section, the shelves were nearly empty. There was a section called “Macy's Backstage” or something, it was just racks and racks filled with items from downstairs on clearance, and what looked like runoff from the warehouse. It was disorganized and clothes were all over the floor from people picking through them. The quality was terrible and so were the styles. I was getting discouraged and depressed.
Later that day I saw a mom and daughter wearing a copy-and-paste trendy outfit from the “clean aesthetic” or “off-duty model” style. I remember someone somewhere saying that trends become a thing because people are always trying to blend in. No one wants to be thought of as different, weird, or ugly, no one wants to be an outcast so most people herd together and “like” the same things. I wondered if they knew the reasons “why” they were wearing what they were wearing, or if that even mattered.
My sister and I went to Marshall’s one night after work. We both had a shitty day and wanted to cheer ourselves up. Browsing went something like this: Trend after trend…Oh, Zara?..Lipstick stain..deodorant stain..white linen vest… a trend, sure, but also a classic and something I've been wanting for a while, so I grab it to try on. I also see a Steve Madden one in the clearance section, obviously better quality, and in the fitting room ended up being better fitting sans the broken button…but the color washes me out anyway. After leaving the dressing room with one item (after each taking in 7 things to try on), we zombie walked to the shoes, feeling worse than before and hoping the shoes may have something to turn this unsuccessful shopping trip around. We walk where the size 5/6 shoes are and there's a handful of pairs in each size. I point to a black wedge sandal and say to my sister, “This one’s kind of cute.” But then I think about how the recurring question at every store lately has been, wait do I actually like this or is it just the best piece from this huge bunch of stuff that nobody actually wants? Is this just playing into the instinct that we all desperately want to find something we love? For it to change our lives even?
In Allison Bornstein's book, Wear it Well, she talks about having 3 words that define your style. She gives a word wheel and lists some examples of famous people and what she assumes their 3 words are. I suppose mine would be sporty, academic, and relaxed – Ralph Lauren meets oversized boy clothes meets cosplaying living on a farm. I want to be the girly girl who wears a ton of jewelry, but I have never felt comfortable in that skin. I tried that in 2022, I wore rings on every finger and stacked necklaces, and it was cool, but at times it felt heavy to me. My problem is that if I think something isn't my inherent style, it can't or shouldn't be at all, but what is style, voice, without a forming of? The only thing stopping us from becoming who we want to be is the uncomfortableness in between, the vulnerability of people saying hey you look different, you dont look how you always look, of people making a big deal of the subtle or not-so-subtle changes of yourself, but people get over things pretty quickly, they adjust to who you are, because we never really change even if our hair color or cut does or even if we go from grunge to coquette. They are just versions of us, skins we either shed or evolve, a way of navigating through our lifetime in this society.
I have donated all the clothes I bought that were funky and cool that I only wore once or twice because I didn’t like how I looked/ felt in them, and I only bought them out of the sheer influence of how cool and individual the style seemed on everyone else. The problem with being online is that it seems like we are always trying to emulate someone, someone who isn't us, a fantasy, a dream, or an idea. The reason trends keep spiraling out of control and why we are all addicted to social media is partly because of this never-ending dream of being someone else. I think the real aha moment is realizing that what we perceive as cool about someone else is simply how they carry themselves, and maybe a little bit of the fascination is the rose-colored glasses we see others with.
I am trying to look more inward and less outward at what makes me feel good. Lately, I’ve been obsessed with this one outfit: a strapless black shirt I thrifted that I think was originally from Forever 21, paired with a black skirt that hits just a touch below my knee (I'm 5’3) The skirt material is made of some sort of athletic breathable material. It’s so comfortable, and flattering, and I like to throw on a tan button-down over it. The button-down over it makes it playful and creates more movement and dialogue with the all-black ensemble. Maybe the secret to being the main character of your life is wearing your favorite outfit, even if it isn't daring, new, or trendy.
I am writing this at a coffee shop while wearing a white vintage Ralph Lauren button-down. I found it thrifting one day in the men’s section. It’s a size small and 100% cotton. I love the emblem of the RL, it's an older version of the logo, blue and gold. I paired it with my crop Nike workout pants, which might seem odd, but I wanted a black crop legging moment with this button-down and my black Birkenstocks. I wanted comfort in the heat but didn’t feel like wearing shorts. I accessorized with my usual early 00s red leather Marc New York bag, adorned with a scarf and trinkets, paired with my gold hoop earrings, gold goat bracelet Hayden’s grandma gave me, and orange framed glasses. I like this look. I like the way it makes me feel. It's casual while still maintaining some elegance.
We might be far away from the original inception of clothing. The functions and rules have changed drastically over the years. Much like our language, it is ever-evolving, keeping up with the current trends, as a way to communicate. I think the point now is to have fun. Getting to choose what we wear every day is an act of freedom. Trends can sometimes feel like rules, of how we should all squeeze ourselves into some stereotype. The discussion is endless, male gaze vs female gaze, styling vs wearing. The topic of clothes doesn't have to be vain. There is so much to learn about ourselves with what we decide to wear, and who we decide to become for ourselves or the world, maybe we are dressing for the future for who we want to become, or maybe we are stripping ourselves down to the basics to understand who we are again. Maybe our favorite outfit says more about our souls than not.
loved this! i also think (for me personally) what unfortunately plays a huge role in the way i dress is my environment: an outfit in which i would feel cool and trendy (and thus comfortable i guess) in one setting could make me feel really out of place in other places. this just goes to proof your point that we need to look more into ourselves in order to figure out what we like <3
Smart and stylish and totally one of one! <3