editorial note: the reason i am no longer calling these interludes is so my posts are easier to navigate, and also on account of the fact that “nineteen things i learned before turning nineteen” will throw off the numbering of interludes and i’m neurotic enough to care deeply about that.
at the beginning of my first year, when i was starting the always uncomfortable transition from high school to university, i had the immediate realization that i didn’t quite know how to dress. my childhood style was largely marked by wearing things my mother disapproved of (memorably, a pair of neon pink leopard print leggings and a series of black fuzzy sweaters she threw out when they pilled). when it came to formal events in middle or high school, i tended to act far older than i was. at my elementary school graduation, i wore a green lace top and skirt combination i swear i’ve seen my grandmother in a larger version of, for middle school, an oddly plunging light pink gown from winners only a few shades off from my skin tone. with a white scarf, for the love of the lord.
outside of school i mostly wore sweatpants or leggings with the aforementioned sweaters, prompting my parents to embark on a long quest of getting me to embrace jeans. they claimed that i didn’t wear pants. (i wear jeans once every 3-4 business months now; i find the texture extraordinarily unappealing). i had a strong aversion to shorts, too, come to think of it, mostly because i didn’t like the way my legs looked. later, when i hit high school, i went to a uniform-only school where my choices were dictated for me. i loved it, in all honesty: i had my dark academia cardigans and navy blue pants/sweatpants that obscured the legs i was still embarrassed by, and when we went online for pandemic reasons i was enabled to revert to my blessed sweatpants.
of course, it came to an end, and when we restarted school in person i found a new joy in navy blue skirts, which weren’t mandatory but i nevertheless embraced (in part because i was outgrowing the pants i purchased at 14 and felt too ashamed to admit it). i think this was somewhat connected to my pursuing a serious crush i had in junior year; i felt that the skirts made me look like ‘more of a girl’ and conformed to my best friend’s (at the time, more on that later) vision of what a girl should look like. unconsciously i think i was dressing like his girlfriend at the time, given the romantic tinge that always overshadowed our friendship, but if i pursue this thread in my sartorial history i might just have to rip my hair out.
in senior year i found myself having to dress for more than occasional nights out, hangouts with friends, so on and so forth. in senior year, at least for the first half, i was also struggling with serious depression and a propensity to alcohol that was a bit more worrying than i played it at the time. consequently, my clothing choices became a mix of shorter skirts and my cardigans (convincing everyone i was fine, actually), sweatpants (when i wasn’t, actually), and fairly inappropriate black dresses for the increasingly frequent house parties, where i garnered a reputation as a lightweight perpetually doing things i shouldn’t have. as the year progressed and i began to see the light at the end of the tunnel, i brought out the big ticket item in any gay girl’s arsenal: flannels.1
(i also enjoyed borrowing my sister’s clothes for social outings, which is perhaps the best way to explain how much of my high school wardrobe was defined by dressing as someone else: my best friend’s girlfriend, in the image of a homewrecker that was so often thrust upon me, my sister, my significant other at the time… you get the idea.)
which is all to say: after successfully finishing high school and losing the comfort of having a prescribed uniform, i had to figure out how to dress for myself. i reverted to creating a university-appropriate version of my high school uniform: short skirts with black tights underneath (some that look more like uniform skirts than the navy blue ones i actually wore for school), paired with brightly coloured tops occasionally partnered with a matching cardigan. and a full face of makeup, so much so that a red lip has become my staple.
it’s probably worth noting that after breaking up with my significant other and teetering into a self-destructive relationship with the first guy who showed interest in me, the flannels all but disappeared from my wardrobe.
this self-destructive relationship, which rather neatly lined up with my mental and subsequently academic spiral, led to fashion choices that reflected that: shorter skirts, lower necklines, reverting to dressing ‘like’ someone else (in this case, i accidentally bought the same shirt one of his friends wore). i wasn’t good at sleeping or studying or going home at a reasonable hour, but i was good at looking pulled together. i once told someone that the outfits were a way for me to feel more put-together, then, they became my only defense against my depressive spiral and plummeting gpa. at least, i’d console myself putting eyeshadow on, at least you’re good at this.
now, if i’ve learned anything about the way i like to dress, it’s that i do prefer a miniskirt and a cute top. but i think a lot of what i was choosing from november through april wasn’t what made me feel best about myself, it was about what made it look like i was having the best time. i would cheer when taylor swift showed up at football matches, because we dressed similarly, and if she was having the best time of her life maybe i could convince everyone that a comeback was still possible, that i was having a great time too. one of the most diabolical parts about what i have dispassionately dubbed the worst period in my entire life is that i convinced everyone around me it was the absolute best.
(i’m not sure anything other than completing a problem set without excessive help or aforementioned best friend’s return would have made me feel better about myself, but worth noting how my second semester fashion choices weren’t in support of that.)
right now i’m wearing elevated versions of my first year looks, working with what i have in my closet to come up with outfits that actually feel like something i want to wear. and i’m sure i’ll do a big shop before season two (second year), where new and personally significant trends in my fashion are sure to emerge. in may i saw a green dress in the window of a store. and it was cute, with thin straps and a flattering cut, but most of all it was a dress i liked, not because i was trying to dress like anyone or because it reminded me of something i saw someone else wear. it was, after a year of being defined by other people’s ideas of me, a dress that just looked like something arden would wear.
top of the mind, after all, is how to dress like me.
speaking of which, if my ex or anyone associated with them is reading this, i would really like the blue one back, thank you very much.