Anyone could compare my style moodboards (that don’t actually exist) to my instagram outfit photos and deduce that my fashion tastes far outweigh my execution of them. While I normally blame this gap on my lack of funds, I’m starting to think that excuse is giving me too much credit.
I came to this realization when my friend Becca came into town about six months ago.
“My goal today is to find some looser-fitting high-waisted mom jeans,” I announced to her as we stood on Pine trying to hail a cab to the mall. Becca started laughing. “I swear to god that was your EXACT goal last time I was here, like, six months ago.”
Just to further solidify her argument, I still don’t have the jeans. You do the math.
OK, I’ll do the math. It’s a year later. This timeline begs the very important question: am I fronting? Am I claiming to be obsessed with terrible jeans without actually being a wearer of said terrible jeans? This strikes me as a front.
I remember spending a lot of my last visit to New York being fascinated by people’s blatant disregard for what flatters their body when it comes to getting dressed. Unique personal style is ruling those subways like a rat king, while trends and seasonal relevance take a tidy backseat. Although some may say that dressing for your body is a cardinal rule of personal style, I’m starting to feel like this should be the last consideration (if it’s considered at all) if you’re looking to reach the ~rEaLeSt~ man-repelling-levels of personal style. Because there is no denying that’s where the magic happens. It’s the odd shape or the unexpected fabric pairing that makes you look twice.
SO LISTEN UP. Screw our bodies and their limits! Let’s dress for our brains and not our butts! I’m mustering up all the rebellious teen steam I never had the chance to blow off until now and I hope that’s really coming through via my all caps and exclamation points.
My heretofore hypocrisy reminds me of the old expression: “We judge ourselves by our intentions, and others by their actions.” I pride myself on having a pinky on the pulse of what’s going on in fashion (merely a pinky), yet I so frequently fail to translate the funkiest, thereby coolest (in my book), parts into my own everyday vibe. I’m judging my personal style by my personal taste – but these are not one in the same!
CREDIT RESCINDED, SELF.
I need to toughen up and take some more fashion risks. Screw a skinny jean. Or don’t screw a skinny jean but at least pair it with a weird sandal and a grossly oversized button-down, all in the exact same shade of beige. This year I’m going to try to shake off my instinct to make sure my clothes flatter me physically, and instead focus on them flattering me emotionally.
That said, if I ever actually find it, you’ll have to pry my cold dead hands away from the perfect white t-shirt.