Cool Clothes Killed the Weird Girl
I can spot a former weird girl from a mile away. I can recognize her because I was her. I am her… because the thing about the weird girl is she never goes away. She lives inside you, squeals with delight every time you put together the perfect outfit that captures the older girl she admired but never thought she’d be able to become. Or maybe she secretly did know, but it felt like a faraway dream, existing in a realm so far away it may never become reality.
In the age of AI and overconsumption, developing a real sense of selfhood is hard to come by. Our brains are overwrought with monotonous trends and perceived perfection. In this article, I explore the intersection of personal style, identity, and psychology when it comes to how we dress. I will look at how what we wear not only impacts how we see ourselves but how others see us, utilizing personal experience and psychological research as a way to bridge that understanding. I will describe what it was like growing up feeling like a “weird girl,” and how clothing was such an integral part of building my confidence and identity.
As a little girl, I loved dressing up. Anything pink or purple, and I was sold. I still remember this one pair of tights that had a certain Groovy Chick-esque (if you know, you know), and they were my very favourite pair. I’d find myself always reaching for them, my mother giving me full autonomy to pair them with whatever dress I wanted. Sometimes, she’d ask me if I was sure and perhaps provide an alternative, but ultimately, it was my decision. Her respect for my dreams did wonders for my confidence and sense of style to this day, which blossomed into the woman she raised me to be – a person who knows what goes well together (thanks to her guidance) but also trusts themselves to make the final call (thanks to her allowing her 5-year-old to practice self-governance in the way she dressed).
But one day, I stopped reaching for those tights. The metaphorical ones, of course, because I’d long grown out of the actual pair. Somewhere along the way, I stopped reaching for clothes that made me light up and started choosing clothes that I thought my friends would think were cool. Or worse, I’d decide whether to make a purchase based on whether I thought the girls I wanted to be my friends would like. My clothing choices were made by the imaginary audience in my head whose approval I thought I desperately needed. I thought if I could look at the part, they wouldn’t notice. I could be like one of those birds that was laid in the wrong nest, and hopefully, no one would notice I was a little different. I could camouflage. This is when I began learning its power but didn’t know how to wield it yet. I didn’t realize it at the time, but ultimately, being so off course would eventually lead me right back to where I started. The girl who reached for the most unique pair of tights she owned because she loved them, and that was all that mattered.
Don’t get me wrong, the weird girl didn’t disappear. She still lives inside of me. But what did change for a time was my relationship to what I put on my body; it was no longer about what I wanted but about what others wanted. Sometimes, she still gets nervous, and I hear her voice asking if we look cool enough. Maybe I dress not in opposition to what she thinks, but in what she loves and wishes she could have worn herself. And sure, my aesthetic has changed over the years, but it’s now conducive to what I like and not anyone else. Do I still desire the approval of my friends? Of course, but it’s no longer attached to my worth. If they love my outfit and let me know, it warms my heart. If it’s not exactly their cup of tea, that’s okay, too. I am confident enough in myself now for it not to matter (I also have better friends).
All this to say, I wouldn’t be where I am now and who I am now if I was never a weird girl to begin with. Maybe cool clothes didn’t kill the weird girl; maybe they allowed her to become comfortable in who she is, find her way back to herself, and continue to discover herself because personal style never stops evolving. By cultivating my distinctiveness, with clothing as the vessel, I learned how to embody the most authentic version of myself, discovering her in a tangible way for the very first time. I wear clothing like an extra layer of skin. Without it, I wouldn’t feel like I was able to express myself fully. The clothes we wear provide so much insight into who we are to ourselves and those around us. To me, clothing informs the way I move through the world. So, the question I want to leave you with is this: do you think personal style is a journey of discovering yourself or coming back to who you always were?
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