Is it just me, or do we all look back at pictures from our teenage years and feel instant embarrassment and regret for our questionable style choices? It can’t just be us 2000’s teenagers; although we did grow up thinking that wearing cheap and shiny polyester tunics paired with colored leggings and a wide belt on our hips was the epitome of fashion (yeah, I know, fashion did us millennials bad back then). I mean, I guess back then it was, but seriously… Why did no one tell us we’d regret that look 15 years later? Our parents must’ve known the feeling, since I’m pretty sure I’ve heard my mom complain about the questionable style choices she made in her youth.
Back then it felt like the end of the world not owning an Aeropostale polo shirt in every single color, as well as the Old Navy one dollar flip-flops to match (oh, G’d, remember when we thought flip-flops were acceptable footwear anywhere other than the beach?!). I remember begging my dad to let me buy as many gaucho pants as possible, only for the answer to be “no, you can only get one” every single time. Ah, to be young again…
Looking back at photos of my younger years, I’m able to understand how I felt in each time period. As a kid, my parents picked my clothes. Big dresses, embroidered and made my one of my aunts, and huge, larger-than-my-head bows on my hair. I don’t remember having much of a choice in the matter of what I wore back then. I’d simply find my clothes neatly laid out next to my closet and someone would eventually come help me get dressed. I was basically my parents’ human doll, always dressed in pretty, vibrant colors and bold patterns. I’m pretty sure the objective here was to make me look as sweet as possible, but my RBF has always been there, to make it known when I am uncomfortable. (See photographic evidence above.) To be honest, I think the face I was making just made me look that much cuter. Still, those bows were the devil.
As a pre-teen, I filled my closet with as much Limited-Too, Old Navy and Gap as my parents would allow. I basically looked like a carbon copy of every other girl who I went to school with. Same peasant skirts, same denim mini-skirts and low-rise jeans, same graphic tops. Hell, even same undies from Ltd Too. I wanted to blend in, to be one with the crowd and to be accepted in the “cool girl tribe”. Of course, as a surprise to no one, that never happened. Of course, that didn’t stop me from trying.
I started experimenting a bit more with how I dressed around high school. My clothes still had to be vetted by my mom, since it was her money paying for them, but I was given way more liberty to pick whatever I felt like. My closet went from graphic tees and gaucho pants to dressy tops, embroidered jeans and glitter Converse.
At this point it’s pretty obvious that I’ve been experimenting with my clothes and trying to figure out what makes me feel comfortable and more like myself since I was little. My years in design school were fundamental for me to be able to freely experiment with my look, going full glam one day and an absolute mess the next. It was during this time that I realized just how powerful clothes can be, and how much of myself I was letting show in whatever outfit I chose. The cut, the color, the style… It all played an important role in helping me figure out who “Ces” was back then and who I wanted her to be in the future. Those four years are the reason why I am now aware of how my mood changes throughout the day, week or month. They’re the reason why I can see how my wardrobe evolves with me; it’s more a direct reflection of who I am, than an afterthought.
Thanks to fashion school I understand why I’m suddenly drawn to all black clothing, or why as of late my closet suddenly filled with hues of red and green (which were colors that I never really liked before). I find myself drawn to pieces that hold their shape, pieces with a bit of architecture to them, if you will. My closet is filled half with bold colors and bold prints, and half with white t-shirts and skinny mom jeans. Out of my 50 plus pairs of shoes, I find myself constantly drawn to the same five or six pairs.
Through therapy (friendly reminder that therapy is amazing and everyone should try it), meditation and research about fashion history and fashion psychology I’ve been able to build a wardrobe that more accurately represents the woman I want to be. Looking back I can see that this side of my style was always there. I was the girl trying to wear a miniskirt over bell bottom jeans, and the girl who wore a pleated skirt as a halter top to a school function (I was lucky enough to go to school with no dress-code, so, there’s that). Going through those cringe-worthy albums on my Facebook, I can see the evolution of Ces through my clothes… From shy, awkward kid/pre-teen, to fake-it-till-you-make-it confident high-schooler, to young woman with violet hair wearing Elmo fuzzy slippers to school, to who I am now.
Fashion is, and will always be my favorite personal historian. It’s helped me understand myself in ways that I wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. It’s helped me mold myself into a better version of me. Yes, clothes are that powerful. I can’t help but wonder if Future Me will cringe (she/I probably will) when she looks back at what I wear now. I’m sure my style journey is far from over, or at least I hope it’s not. There’s so much of myself left to discover still…
Xo,
C.