The Girl Who Dresses Like It’s New Year’s Eve Every Day
I was described as the girl that looks like a disco ball. I was described as the girl who dresses like it’s New Year’s Eve every day.
She said, “I didn’t know you liked going out or anything…because of how you dressed.” She wore jeans and t-shirts. I wear dresses and skirts and pants and blouses and shorts and weird strange things that don’t make sense in the office.
“What I mean,” she continued, “is that you dress nicely.”
To dress casual meant to be casual, down-to-earth, the sort of person that likes to go out and likes to have fun. I understand how this works logically, even if it is ridiculous.
The conversation bothered me more than I expected. Growing older has meant losing a sense of self and gaining a sense of time. Sometimes I think I’m not doing enough for this age. Sometimes I think I can sense the dread and regret of myself five or ten or twenty years from now, looking back at the age of 24, wondering why I’m not doing enough. The 34-year-old me will think: That couch is too comfortable! Get off of it!
I never noticed plaid until I began working. People wore it, but it was as insignificant to my eye as a white t-shirt or a smart blouse. I noticed costumes. People who dressed extravagantly always caught my eye, but the people who just wear clothes and go about their day were never enthralling enough.
When you begin to adapt routines in your everyday life — especially your life at work — you begin to recognize how patterns form. Repetition is the uniform. A plaid shirt is no longer a plaid shirt. The plaid is the uniform. It is the sense of belonging. It is the actual belonging. It is the clothing of this environment. It is who we are. It is as much a costume of place as my sequins on the dance floor. It is a true choice.
If my outfits are curated, so too is the plaid shirt.
“You must spend a lot of time thinking about your outfits,” an underminer once said to me.
“You too,” I replied.
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I always wanted to give a commencement speech.
My ears listened to what they wanted me to believe.
3. Don’t get mad, get everything.
But I am here to talk about realities, realities that are based on experiences, guy talks (who cares about that?) and late night chats with good female friends of mine.