If you know me personally, you’ve probably noticed I’m not one to resolve my fears by facing them; I prefer to let them own me for years. And once I’ve sponged all I can from that “learning experience” I discuss the what-ifs ceaselessly with my poor friends for a couple more. Eventually, worn ragged, I suspend the anxiety. Clearly, it’s a flawless technique because I am the poster child of confidence and security.
Given my passive approach, I find my fears often face me head-on. Take the gnarly cavity I’ve been harboring since high school; it's not going away, and I like to say that neither will my fear of the dentist, but—call me psychic—I think I know who’s gonna take the win. Lately though I’m a little gutsy (at least in the wardrobe), and I can only attribute it to a new thought circulating in my head: “It’s about the outfit—not you.”
When I style an outfit I fear will earn me ridicule, I remember I'm dressing for a purpose greater than my ranking on a scale of one to ten. When I’ve constructed a look that I want to display to the world I choose the outfit over the monologue that whines, does this look flatter me? Am I ‘in style’? Anyone can mindlessly repeat the mantra, so how do you make yourself believe the merit of an outfit is more important than how bone-able you look?
For me it was finding a purpose to preoccupy myself with: keep my style evolving—I can't stay slamming maximalism forever just because I don’t know how to use it. But your purpose could be anything, and it can (and should) be one of several. However, if you’re as flighty as I am, how do you hold yourself accountable for these personal development projects?
As someone who prides herself on her independence, it's taken awhile to accept the answer: it takes a community. Undertake a hobby and share it with an audience. Start a blog, for instance. The hobby itself doesn’t matter, nor does your aptitude. But when people are watching, you work harder. I swear I’m no masochist; being accountable to a group of people is more reward than punishment. Their gaze alone reminds you that your craft has a stake in the real world. Rewarding, right?
Then when you’re out in the world, interacting with fellow humans, you no longer question your place, whether you belong or not. You belong somewhere, even if you carved out the space yourself. You’ll find yourself ascribing your value not to your degree of conventional beauty, but to your dedication to the larger scheme you serve. And I am dedicated--to alienating myself from everyone I know with what I wear, that is.
Nevertheless, one Saturday night (and many before it) found me deliberating whether or not to wear the embodiment of everything tacky about the ‘80s in the form of a dress—its existence alone is a sartorial feat not to be overlooked. And of course, that’s precisely why I bought it. But the thought of wearing it didn’t taste as sweet as this dress looked. Yurik, friend and fellow purveyor of all things eccentric, suspected he would feel similarly out of place wearing bold makeup just anywhere. So when an invite to a costume party came our way (thanks Holland!), we rejoiced in reducing some of the shock value of the looks we’d been dying to try by blending in with other partygoers. Is that cheating?
Given my passive approach, I find my fears often face me head-on. Take the gnarly cavity I’ve been harboring since high school; it's not going away, and I like to say that neither will my fear of the dentist, but—call me psychic—I think I know who’s gonna take the win. Lately though I’m a little gutsy (at least in the wardrobe), and I can only attribute it to a new thought circulating in my head: “It’s about the outfit—not you.”
When I style an outfit I fear will earn me ridicule, I remember I'm dressing for a purpose greater than my ranking on a scale of one to ten. When I’ve constructed a look that I want to display to the world I choose the outfit over the monologue that whines, does this look flatter me? Am I ‘in style’? Anyone can mindlessly repeat the mantra, so how do you make yourself believe the merit of an outfit is more important than how bone-able you look?
For me it was finding a purpose to preoccupy myself with: keep my style evolving—I can't stay slamming maximalism forever just because I don’t know how to use it. But your purpose could be anything, and it can (and should) be one of several. However, if you’re as flighty as I am, how do you hold yourself accountable for these personal development projects?
As someone who prides herself on her independence, it's taken awhile to accept the answer: it takes a community. Undertake a hobby and share it with an audience. Start a blog, for instance. The hobby itself doesn’t matter, nor does your aptitude. But when people are watching, you work harder. I swear I’m no masochist; being accountable to a group of people is more reward than punishment. Their gaze alone reminds you that your craft has a stake in the real world. Rewarding, right?
Then when you’re out in the world, interacting with fellow humans, you no longer question your place, whether you belong or not. You belong somewhere, even if you carved out the space yourself. You’ll find yourself ascribing your value not to your degree of conventional beauty, but to your dedication to the larger scheme you serve. And I am dedicated--to alienating myself from everyone I know with what I wear, that is.
Nevertheless, one Saturday night (and many before it) found me deliberating whether or not to wear the embodiment of everything tacky about the ‘80s in the form of a dress—its existence alone is a sartorial feat not to be overlooked. And of course, that’s precisely why I bought it. But the thought of wearing it didn’t taste as sweet as this dress looked. Yurik, friend and fellow purveyor of all things eccentric, suspected he would feel similarly out of place wearing bold makeup just anywhere. So when an invite to a costume party came our way (thanks Holland!), we rejoiced in reducing some of the shock value of the looks we’d been dying to try by blending in with other partygoers. Is that cheating?
Yurik has another approach to dressing fearlessly that I think we can all relate to: if you want to dress strangely, use the obscurity of night to your advantage. “Night time is my liberty,” he says. “I feel the most comfortable [at night.]” and “it adds a certain layer of sensuality to the atmosphere.”
I’ll leave you with some corny words. The next time you want to dress up, remember: your clichè “greater purpose”, whatever it may be, is larger than the insecurities that come with it. When you can see a larger scheme, anxieties naturally descend to a lower priority. Next weekend, I won’t worry that I look like a sad, off-brand Emma Watson playing dress-up; I’m giving anxiety the weekend off while I dress like a maniac in the name of Fashion! Will you join me?