Whether we like it or not, what we wear says something. Maybe it’s “I’m comfortable wearing pajama pants outside my home,” or maybe, “I am quite sophisticated and can afford to be.” Working on a college campus, I see all sorts of statements. Sometimes I want my outfit to say the same thing theirs does.
Usually I want to say something along the lines of, “I’ve lived. I have interesting stories and care about learning new cultures. I have a sense of style that blends an eclectic set of clothes into one cohesive outfit. Because I’m cool like that and can handle it. These clothes didn’t all come straight from Target, but an amazing list of thrift stores that somehow all manage to carry my size and look like they have just the right amount of character. I have had adventures and therefore, some good stories to tell. I’ve lived.”
Whether that’s all true or not, that’s the direction I aim for when I try to let my clothes tell the story for me. But then it occurred to me—if I focus so much on what my attire portrays, what part of my life is lacking? If I let my clothes do all of the talking, what’s left to say? I want people to know that I’ve lived? Well how about I live that life as opposed to constantly searching for an item of clothing, household decoration, piece of jewelry or instagram evidence that says so. I want to live my life. Not pretend to.