Walking into school was never an easy task, and doing it knowing my parents had dressed me from the bottoms of my feet to the top of my head made it even harder. They took time and care to curate my curious ensemble of clothes, coming anywhere from Lacoste to Costco. Granted, I had a say in the matter, but the problem was that I never cared for fashion in general, so I would thoughtlessly accept the choices they made for me.
I would frequently find myself overdressed for every single one of my classes all the way up to junior high, and I decided there’s no better time than the present to change my ways. I broke away from the guidance of my parents, but as someone with no experience expressing themselves through clothing I ended up with the worst combinations imaginable. I mixed a white dress shirt with neon green Nike shorts, a pink Vineyard Vines hoodie with bright blue corduroy dress pants, the possibilities were unfortunately endless. It came as a surprise to me when my friends would often voice their concerns, telling me how poor my decision making skills were every morning when I would determine the next bizarre combination that the world was not ready for.
Eventually, I learned that I can’t quite express myself through my clothes because they were never my clothes to begin with. They were residual—relics of a time long past. There was only one thing left to do: buy my own clothes. That was easier said than done for a teen in high school with no money or idea of what to buy, so I did the first thing anyone does to answer an undying question.
The Google search bar read “How to get good style with no money” and I knew the second that I pressed enter that my life would finally change for the better. I was confronted with a deluge of articles mostly saying the same thing: telling me to buy second hand clothing and to pay attention to proportion, size, silhouette, color, and more. My eyes were finally open, and I was seeing far beyond the narrow horizons of my previous closet.
I drove with a few friends to the closest undisclosed thrift store and was awestruck by the sheer amount of promise there was hidden within those walls. I ended up splurging the entire 20 dollars I brought as a budget, but considering that my clothes were all 89 cents a pound I saw this as an unequivocal win. With a few similar trips I lined my closet with clothes that I could finally create adequate outfits with, slowly but surely trial-and-erroring my way to express myself through clothing.
Even at Stevens, I find myself experimenting with every outfit and changing it at least twice before deciding on my final fit for the day. By no means does this indicate that I am dressing in something groundbreaking every time I leave my room, but it just means that I am wearing what would make me the most happy. This may be a waste of time for some, but this custom has led me to enjoy far more out of every day, thrilled for every opportunity to look like the best version of myself.
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