“Fashion is a solution to say who you’re with out having to talk.” ~Rachel Zoe
I didn’t got down to discover myself.
I simply seemed within the mirror in the future and thought, “Wait, when did I cease wanting like me?”
It was after a breakup—the type that leaves you foggy, emotionally threadbare, attempting to make sense of the place you misplaced your self.
There I used to be, standing in my bed room, carrying one thing practical, outdoorsy, and… fully not me.
Not that there’s something unsuitable with cargo pants and fleece. If that’s your type, it’s lovely.
However I’m a girl who grew up in Paris… who loves texture, form, and colour… who used to put on lipstick to the grocery retailer simply because it made her really feel fancy.
And I couldn’t keep in mind the final time I’d wearing a method that made me really feel alive.
That second wasn’t dramatic. However it caught—like a pebble in my shoe, a quiet consciousness I couldn’t unfeel.
I didn’t know what to do with it at first. So I simply began noticing. What I wore. What I reached for. What I missed.
What felt like one tiny step nearer to me—and what felt like somebody (anybody) else.
And slowly, with out that means to, I began discovering my method again.
Not by way of journaling. Not by way of remedy. By means of type.
I didn’t understand it then, however I used to be beginning to come house to myself—one outfit at a time.
I’ve all the time felt like a cultural mosaic—superbly complicated in idea, however arduous to carry in a single piece.
Indian by heritage. East African household roots. Raised throughout 4 international locations. A mixture of accents, traditions, languages, and methods of seeing the world.
And for a very long time, I wasn’t positive who I used to be presupposed to be in the course of all that.
In some circles, I used to be too Western. In others, I felt too brown, too “different.” Even inside my very own neighborhood, I usually sensed I used to be too totally different… not conventional sufficient.
I turned expert at shape-shifting—mixing in the place I might, firming down what felt inconvenient. Quietly accumulating contradictions I didn’t know easy methods to resolve.
I attempted, after all. I learn the books. Took the workshops. Employed the coaches. I journaled and meditated and therapized and “mantra-ed” myself half to demise. I even turned a coach.
Most of it helped, in its personal method.
However the strangest, most trustworthy type of therapeutic didn’t occur in a training session or on a yoga mat. It occurred in my closet.
It began quietly. One night time, I discovered myself selecting out an outfit for the following day… To not impress. To not curate a glance. Simply to really feel a bit extra like myself. And for some purpose, that felt good. Mild. Reassuring.
So I did it once more the following night time. And the following.
Finally, it turned a ritual. Simply me, slowing down lengthy sufficient to test in with myself.
I began to ask questions like:
- What components of me wish to present up tomorrow?
- What feeling do I wish to carry into the day?
- Which items make me really feel alive?
Then I might select garments that mirrored no matter solutions got here by way of.
Typically that meant daring colour and structured traces—one thing that stated, I’m right here, and I’m not hiding.
Typically it meant mushy, draping materials—one thing that allow me exhale.
Typically it meant a mixture of issues that didn’t “go” however someway felt just like the truest model of me.
Like I used to be letting the paradoxes stay on my physique as an alternative of simply in my head.
And in doing that—in truly carrying my contradictions, wrapping them in silk and denim and thread—I started to make peace with them. And I started to cease seeing them as flaws to elucidate away or cover and begin seeing them as richness. Texture. Proof of a life deeply lived.
As a substitute of attempting to resolve the strain, I let it’s lovely. I let it belong. And surprisingly, that softened one thing in me.
The disgrace that when whispered, “Decide a aspect, be clearer, be much less complicated” quieted.
I started to belief that I might maintain multitudes—and nonetheless be entire.
Within the morning, once I’d slip into these garments, it wasn’t nearly getting dressed. It was an act of permitting. Permitting myself to be seen. To take up area. To be complicated, contradictory, and nonetheless worthy of magnificence. A quiet sure to the fullness of who I’m—who I’ve all the time been.
What shocked me most was how I began to really feel.
How might one thing exterior—one thing as seemingly superficial as clothes—give me the elusive confidence I’d spent years chasing on the within?
Possibly it wasn’t concerning the garments in any respect. Possibly it was about permission.
To be seen. To really feel lovely by myself phrases. To inform the reality of who I’m—not with phrases, however with material and colour and silhouette.
Possibly it was about giving my physique an opportunity to talk… and studying easy methods to pay attention.
Each night, I nonetheless take just a few quiet minutes to select what I’ll put on the following day. Not as a result of I’m attempting to mission one thing. However as a result of it helps me hook up with one thing.
It’s one of many solely components of my day that feels fully mine—not rushed, not reactive. A mushy pause. A second to land.
Clothes has develop into a type of mirror. And that second of dressing has develop into a type of meditation. Not the sitting-still type. The remembering type. The reconnecting type.
I believed I used to be simply enjoying with materials and silhouettes. However I used to be truly coming house to myself—piece by piece.
Listening to what felt good. Letting go of what didn’t. Making area for a number of components of me to coexist.
That’s the factor I by no means anticipated: one thing as odd as selecting an outfit—one thing all of us should do anyway—can develop into a love letter to your self. In the event you let it.
Discussion about this post