Thoughts on personal style evolution

I’m going to start by saying, I recognise this can be viewed as a frivolous superficial concept. When babies are dying in war-besieged hospitals, it feels gross to be dedicating time to discussing clothes. However, this is a draft I’ve had sitting in my brain for months now, and I recognise we can’t all be emotionally available 100% of the time. It’s OK to take a break to read something for joy, it allows you more bandwidth to deal with the horrors of the world. I hope this post can be that firewall for you in this moment.

For context to this post, for those who don’t know, I’m 37, which I think makes me an Elder Millennial. I came of age in the 00s, when low slung jeans with your G string showing were all the rage. I never personally partook in that trend, but I did go to a girls’ school, so have many a G string burned into my retinas for all eternity. Spaghetti straps, pedal pushers, dyed black side fringes, ‘Ladettes’ and Christina vs Britney were the trends I associate most with my teen years.

I’ve never had a clear sense of my own personal style. If I’m honest, as a youngster in the 00s and 2010s, I was easily influenced by the people around me, tending to adopt the style features of whomever I considered cool or chic, whether that was a celebrity, a friend or a random person in the street. I didn’t consciously copy or emulate people, but found myself subconsciously drawn to the same things as my friendship group. I used to shop my bestie’s wardrobe, only to feel sad when wearing those clothes didn’t make me feel as cool as I perceived she looked. Turns out, style isn’t just held in the pieces of clothing, but in the person wearing those clothes.

I find it hard to parse what I like for me, versus what other people like for me. I still to this day, struggle to embrace styles or items of clothing I like, if, for example, my husband expresses aversion or I associate a particular item with someone I consider ‘uncool’. Even if objectively, that single item of clothing is not the reason they are, in my opinion, unstylish; it’s tainted in my brain.

I envy people who have a clear sense of their own style and strong preferred colour palette. Back in 2019, I used Love to Sew’s free newsletter download, ‘Sew Yourself a Dream Wardrobe’ to begin the journey of curating a personal style. Up until this point, I had bought or sewn clothes based on fabrics I had thrifted (regardless of whether the colour, pattern, or fibre fit with my desired look) or cheap deals in charity shops. It’s unsurprising, in retrospect, that this lead to an incoherent jumble of looks, with plenty of ill fitting pieces, random colour choices, and strange combos. The following year, I partook in Me Made May properly for the first time, photographing my outfits daily and found that process invaluable for starting to hone in on what I like, what I think suits me, and what makes me feel like ‘me’. I sent three bags of clothing to charity that year, aiming to keep only those clothes that fit, felt good, and were within my chosen colour palette. This is an ongoing journey, and one in which I feel more and more comfortable with the direction of travel. In the past couple of years, my bestie used the term ‘androgynous’ to describe my style and a light bulb suddenly came on for me. I’ve never been into feminine styles, right from being a small child. In the recent past I’ve got rid of all my heels and dresses, and opted to wear a suit to my brother’s wedding. Boxy work shirts, unisex shoes, and graphic tees now form the basis of my daily uniform. I switched to using ‘mens’ and ‘androgynous’ search terms on Pinterest and suddenly feel inspired by the content the algorithm serves. Side note: I don’t care what Pinterest tells me about trouser trends, as a Millennial, you can prise skinny jeans out of my cold, dead hands.

My problem now is in struggling to accept that the evolution of my personal style is an ongoing, and most likely lifelong journey. My perfectionist, all-or-nothing tendencies (thank you three rounds of counselling for identifying those unhelpful thought patterns) tend to make me feel bad about not having this stuff nailed down from the start. My aforementioned school bestie has always, to my eyes, looked effortlessly stylish, despite having gone through several style changes over the two decades since we left school. Do I judge her for it? No. Do I celebrate her evolution and look back fondly on the studded belt, dyed black fringe, emo-kid days? Absolutely yes. So why can’t I gift that same positivity and acceptance to myself? I look back at old photos and videos of me in my 20s and 30s (some of which are only a couple of years old) and all I can think is judgmental, disappointed, irritated thoughts. “Why did I think that looked good?” “Why didn’t I recognise at the time this outfit makes me look [insert nasty descriptor here I would never apply to someone else]?” “Why didn’t I listen to Andrew when he said he didn’t think these clothes suited me?”. I beat myself up over these past decisions, even whilst rationally recognising that part of finding a sense of personal style is experimentation. You don’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, as the saying goes. In science (my background), even a negative result is considered valuable, since ruling out a possibility is as important as discovering the reason for a phenomenon.

The times I feel particularly frustrated about how I looked in the past, are the times when I remember thinking those thoughts, or feeling those feelings at the time but not listening to them. I tend to have an “it’ll be fine” attitude to life in general, relying on my smarts to figure out any problems along the way. This has generally served me well, but does lend itself to a ‘learn from your mistakes’ process. The problem with learning from your mistakes, is you have to accept that mistakes will be made. If you’re a perfectionist over thinker, mistakes represent failure. And what do we do when we fall/fail Master Bruce? Beat ourselves up over it for many years to come Alfred. No wait, that’s not right…

My counsellor recently introduced me to the concept of your inner child. This part of yourself is formed during childhood and represents the vulnerable, impressionable parts of your personality that often come forth when you feel you have unmet needs. Exploring your inner child can help you understand your wants, needs, and triggers. Healing my inner child means working to accept mistakes, recognising that change and evolution does not represent failure, and that ‘perfect’ is an unattainable goal. This is obviously oversimplifying a complex, lifelong process but you get the gist.

In the meantime, I'm trying to give myself space to experiment and grace to fail. I'm reading and absorbing information on style and fashion, and learning to apply those lessons to my own wardrobe. Some people and accounts I've found particularly inspiring are The Real Professor X and Advanced Style on Instagram. Xander of the Real Professor X, does these fascinating video breakdowns of celebrity style and his delivery is impeccable. Advanced Style is an account sharing fashionable older people, some of whom are in their 80s and 90s. It's so inspiring to think your later years don't have to be all beige slacks and elasticated waistbands, unless that's your chosen ‘fit.

I've followed Elise Joy's online journey for over a decade and whilst our style choices don't align anymore, I find her positive attitude to change very inspiring. I recently reached out to her in DMs, in response to her posting a shot of herself from 8 years previously, asking if she ever cringes or criticizes when she looks back. She responded with her trademark positivity and grace,

“sometimes I cringe, of course, but never criticize! past me deserves kindness just as much as current me.”

So true and so obvious, when someone external to you states it out loud.

I bought a book recently in a charity shop, ‘What Artists Wear’ by Charlie Porter. It’s a nice size, the type that feels good in your hand, and I was drawn to the mix of photos and writing. I’m looking forward to digging into that over the coming months, for inspiration.

A classic favourite from my childhood, is Vogue’s More Dash Than Cash. I’ve had this book since I was a teen, stealing it from my Mum’s bookshelf. I browse it every few years, taking inspiration from the photos and re-reading and absorbing the text. I used to have a subscription to Vogue, many years ago, and still love browsing it in the hairdresser, arriving 10 minutes early for this specific activity. I can’t in good conscious buy it any more, the glossy paper that is so hard to recycle and the proliferation of adverts encouraging the reader to buy expensive, resource-intensive items means it doesn’t sit comfortably with my eco-conscious self. However, Vogue have an entire back catalogue of fashion books and I’m going to keep my eyes peeled online and in charity shops, for secondhand inspiration books.

I’m excited for this (hopefully) lifelong journey of style experimentation and evolution. I just need to continue working on acceptance and love of past Amy and her sometimes questionable fashion choices. I feel anxious that my current choices will become the outfits future Amy criticises, and that fear can make getting dressed more difficult than it needs to be. But I’d rather continue to make mistakes and learn, than stay in the same place for the rest of my life.