How much does our style define us? What should we assume about people based on their clothes? I notice how peoples’ choices in clothing develop their own personal style. I can wear a white tee with a pair of boyfriend jeans and Converse and someone can take that same shirt and wear it with a vintage leather skirt and heels.
The point of this article honestly doesn’t stem from my curiosity of someone’s choices in clothing; I guess it’s a bit more than that. It’s the clothes we wear, how we chose to style them and what people assume about us.
I catch myself wondering about people’s opinions more often than I should. What do people think of me? What if they don’t like it? I usually just say “who cares?!” because and I am a firm believer in confidence. I will wear what I like and never make excuses for the way I dress. Every now and then, however, this imaginary judgmental panel of bitches stops me in my tracks. They remind me of the self-doubt and insecurities no one should feel.
I, like most, am aware of how I am being perceived. If someone offers their opinion, I remember it. So every time I wear my hair the way my friend said she hated, my confidence boost deflates. We have to stop caring about what others think because at the end of the day you need to be happy with the reflection in the mirror and all that you accomplish.
We are placed in these invisible categories based on the clothes we wear. Certain styles, we are told, don’t look good on us but in fact they just don’t fit into the norm or typical style we wear. I tried to wear a pair of sky high pumps and I was told “they weren’t me.” What does that even mean? They’re shoes, not a piece of my soul. I will say it again, I can wear anything that I want to and it doesn’t change my personality. Some days I want to look like an Olsen twin, others I want to look like I stepped out of a J. Crew catalog and then they are some days a sports bra and Nikes are the only way to go.
Our outward appearance is a signifier for people. I find myself more threatened by girls who seem “prettier” then me. I get very uncomfortable in my own skin for some reason, when I dub someone more attractive. But who is this panel that defines beauty and how do we fire them all? As I get older I have come to realize that looks mean nothing in ANY relationship, friend or significant other. If I can’t have a conversation with you about the weird and messed up shit I think about, you weren’t going to like to me anyway.
I try to be a good daughter, friend, girlfriend, and over all a generally good person. I love animals. I am an athlete, a lover of art, an explorer. Sometimes I am lazy and most times I am stubborn. Other times I am quite the opposite. I hate to read but I love movies. I am a terrible story teller because details are important to me. I prefer to clean my bathroom over washing dirty dishes any day (the smells make me gag). These traits define me not what adorns my body.
If you find yourself looking around a room, staring at your fellow sister from across it thinking “how could she wear that?” please evaluate yourself and your own insecurities. Find a nice thought about that woman. I promise you one exists somewhere. After all, that nasty thought you gave to her, five other girls have already given to you. Choose to think with positivity, and toss your cattiness out the door — because it defines you far more than what you wear ever could.