Clothing vs. Lifestyle: Do They Match?

Freja Beha Erichsen by Emma Summerton, i-D Spring 2010

---

Mine don’t.

My clothes and my life don’t make sense together.  Shoes are a prime example of where my wardrobe doesn’t match my lifestyle.  Because truthfully, most of the outrageous pairs of heels I own can’t be worn on a daily basis, since I don’t own a car and have to walk most places (like the grocery store, where many of my heels would be deemed outrageous and unnecessary by passersby anyway.  Not that I’ve ever really cared about that kind of thing).  If I do wear a pair of heels, it’s usually because I’m taking the bus somewhere, or have a ride – in either case, this doesn’t happen nearly as often, since I’m the type of person who rarely leaves the neighborhood (and, many days, the apartment).  Even most of my outfit photos are “everyday” outfits – things I wear just for the sake of wearing them, not because I have any sort of agenda.  Which is fine, but I admit it seems pointless at times.  So why do I do it?

---

Passion Pit – I’ve Got Your Number

---

I think a lot of us dress to fulfill personal needs.  For most fashion-conscious people, I think this is a well-known fact that we resign ourselves to without thinking about it much.  Granted, most people actually get out there more than I do, and those who have the money to spend on particularly expensive wardrobes often tend to lead lifestyles that allow their fashions to be seen and heard, whether or not said individuals are recognized in a larger professional or social sphere.  But like many of us, I’m not one of those people.  I’m not particularly well-known off the web.  I don’t build my wardrobe to satisfy social or professional needs – parties or conferences or other events (even though deep down, I probably daydream that these things happen for me far more often than they actually do).

Truthfully, I dress to express parts of myself that are simply not otherwise being expressed.  There are certain parts of my personality I tend to bottle up, especially in person, and dressing to my moods and to fit how I see myself – that is, who I think I am at my core – is my way of coping.  I wear leather and chains, for example, not simply because they look cool, but because deep down I feel as depressed and wild as a troubled rock star.  And though I don’t play (or smash) any instruments, or do any drugs (frankly, clothes are a much better, albeit still expensive, vice), I feel like I do.  I’ve been very close, in the past, with people who do.  And sometimes, I want to.  Sometimes I want to get so zonked out of my gourd that I feel like I already am.  Like I should be that person.  Like I should do these things, lead this lifestyle.  So why don’t I?

Well, that’s a whole other topic, really – I was so traumatized by certain nasty peers as a pre-teen/teenager that I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the ‘good girl,’ to avoid being like them – avoid doing everything they, and most normal teenagers, and twenty-somethings, do. But further examination would show that that’s simply not who I am (given such things as my penchant for breaking into buildings, lying in the middle of the street for fun, punching walls, and stealing other people’s boyfriends; not to mention cursing out my friends many times in high school, back when I didn’t try so hard to keep things to myself.  And believe me, it’s hard).  The resulting ongoing internal struggle has made me more moody and confused than I care to admit.  So confused that I’ve spent a good number of years of my life alternating between girly dresses and said leather and chains.  No matter how much more right the latter feels, I’ve had trouble letting go of the more positive connotations of the former – thus my somewhat confusing outfit posts.  (Incidentally, sometimes I smoke a cigarette not because I’m a smoker – I’ve spent my whole life avoiding that so-called ‘bad girl’ vice – but because it just feels so painfully right.)

My clothes and my lifestyle don’t match.  And for the sake of practicality, maybe they should.  But I don’t want them to.  Because they are more me than anyone knows.  Because, somehow, I am not my lifestyle.

Subscribe