Full disclaimer: I consider myself fashionable, but by no means am I an expert on trends or anyone’s style beyond my own. By which I mean, a portion of this post may just be me talking out of my ass, which looks really nice in my dapper casual outfit, btdubs.
Style is such an interesting facet of a person to me. It’s not so much that leaning toward any particular fashion makes someone better or worse in a qualitative sense, but there’s so much that can be revealed in the way a person chooses to dress.
I’m in this place where I’m feeling gross about my body more and more often despite very few changes to it except an extra few pounds here and there. I’m trying to stop sucking in my belly because who gives a fuck; we all have bodies. I’m still trying to fall in love with my breasts. But it’s like, the way I used to relate to my body and my clothes just…doesn’t work anymore. I have this royal blue sheath dress that I used to adore–and honestly, I fill it out better now than I used to since I’ve become curvier. (In my brain, my first thought is, “Jesus, I’m not really a girl anymore…I guess I’m…a woman…eep!”) But when I put it on it just feels off. It’s not me. It feels like I’m playing dress up even though I’ve been dressing like I’m a 30-year-old corporate businessperson since I was 12. It’s really only in the last year and a half or so that I’ve begun dressing more casually.
So here’s a fun thought experiment: I wrote the above nearly a year ago, but never posted it. In that time, I’ve moved states, started grad school, and naturally, updated my wardrobe to suit the Colorado weather (read: cold as fuck.) And even the way I would refer to my body now has changed–I’m on something of a gender journey at the moment, which has not yielded definitive changes in things like pronouns or gender identification, but does make “breasts” and “woman” sometimes feel…off? It’s like a “close, but not quite” kind of feeling.
In the context of fashion, those changes make it pretty difficult to dress in a way that feels most comfortable some days. I’ve overcome a socialized fear of venturing into “men’s” sections for clothes (I’ll take arbitrary gender designations for $200, Alex), but there’s still a huge gap in more masculine of center clothing in my closet. God forbid I forget to do laundry. From the coffee shop in Atlanta where I’m writing this post, I’m wearing a shirt I took from my ex-roommate’s ex-boyfriend (convoluted!) but shorts I’ve had since like 2011, and again, this outfit is a “close, but not quite.” I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know what feels right to put on my body besides a) nothing or b) tattoos, and dressing yourself is hard.