What Does Fashion Mean to Me?
Warning - This post will most likely contain grammatical errors, run on sentences, and unnecessary descriptions. For more information as to why please see future blog title “Confessions from a former Gifted Kid Who Cannot Spell to Save Her Life.”
Fashion for me has always been something hard to define yet very definable at the same time.
Before I left for college, critically engaging in fashion was something I thought I could never do because everyone in my city pretty much wore the same thing and everything I wore had to fit a specific criteria. For the most part, people wore beat-up Sperry loafers, pastel vineyard vine tees, massive faux Tiffany’s inspired pearl earrings, oversized fishing shirts over tiny neon running shorts, and dirty and I mean DIRTY white shoes that could be seen almost every single day. My personal style consisted of elements of this classic southern preppy uniform. As someone whose body was constantly being hyper watched I discovered early on the protection, power, and restrictions that could come from dabbling into this white, upper-middle class, elite, and performative aesthetic. While I was never going to be the poster girl for southern girl preppy fashion, I could - to the best of my abilities- try to take on portions of this look to fit in.
Looking back, what is interesting is how much my mother unconsciously influenced my style. I was never one of those kids who got to wear anything they wanted regardless of clashing patterns, mismatched elements, and an overall chaotic vibe. My mother was intentional about “looking presentable” and wearing clothes that were never “too grown.” My hair had to be done neatly, my clothes had to match, and I had to always carry myself accordingly. Despite barely affording to get by, my mom always found a way to make do with what we had access to. I vividly remember shopping on a strict schedule based on what stores had the best deals, thrifting whenever possible, and constantly assessing if an item at full price was worth purchasing. My mother ensured I took care of my clothes, knew their value, and understood that replacing items was not easy for us. Reflecting back it is astonishing how my mom kept us stylish with nothing. She truly has an eye for fashion and I love that she never let not having money prevent her from looking fly as hell. What's funny is that because my mom has impeccable taste, rich moms who could afford to shop anywhere would and still do turn to her for style advice.
At some point during my last year of middle school, I was allowed more style freedom which I appreciated because I thought I outgrew a lot of my mom's style choices. I grew to detest the constant flurry of compliments I would get from teachers or parents on what I was wearing because I knew that: A. Most of them were just surprised a Black kid had the capacity to dress better than their kids, B. I was tired of being hyper-analyzed like an exotic doll, and C. I knew that I had to dress a certain way to protect myself because I was Black. While I HATED some of my mom’s style choices, I grew so accustomed to them that even with more freedom to make my own decisions I still continued to select clothing items that fit a specific image. What's even more interesting is that as an adult I can see now that the style I thought my mom wanted for me was not even all she really wanted. Rather, it was an amalgamation of her choices, repealing negative stereotypes, and trying to the best of her abilities protect me from racism or shield me from the adultification of Black girls. Moreover, the fashion my selects for herself is in part due to her protecting herself from everything she attempted to protect me from.
Until about two years ago, I thought my “true” style was the exact opposite of my mom's. I conflated the southern preppy aesthetic with my forced “presentability” as a complete view of my mom’s fashion. I think my view of her clothing choice changed after I came out. Over the past couple of years, my mother and I have grown a lot and have been more open about our thoughts on life. I think we can see how alike or different we are and appreciate that. I love her Pilcro, Molly Ringwald meets Dior/Ralph Lauren mixed with a 90s fly girl aesthetic and she retrospectively values my Raven Baxter has just jumped out of a Delia's catalog and is on her way to fish on the bay with Miley Stewart, Bratz, with Tia and Tamera thrown together vibe. We have discovered that core elements of each style are very much our own with some key variations in execution, brands, and purpose. I like her classic preppy vibe that gives off Hillary Banks energy. However, as I learn more about myself I start to gravitate towards a mystical, fantastical Buffy meets HelloTefi with sprinkles of Tracey Ellis Ross and Monica Bucheli style. I don't think I have fully nailed down what my style is and I don’t know if I want to. I love experimentation and I want to push myself to grow comfortable in presentation. I will end this all-over blog post with this, fashion has been hard to define for me because fashion was always something I navigated on others terms.
Fashion = an art that is inextricably connected to who we are as people.
*I do not own the rights to the image used as the cover