Fashionable happiness lies in comfort, not pleasing others
“It would be mortifying to the feelings of many ladies, could they be made to understand how little the heart of a man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire. … Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone. No man will admire her the more, no woman will like her the better for it. Neatness and fashion are enough for the former, and a something of shabbiness or impropriety will be most endearing to the latter.”
Word, Jane Austen. Somewhere among the magazine headlines of “Best Summer Hair Now,” “Perfect Date Outfits to Wow Him” and “The Right Cologne to Make Her Tingle,” women and men have become accustomed to the idea of great appearances being tied to happiness. But most importantly, the idea of other people’s approval superseding their own has taken an alarming hold.
If everyone woke up and got dressed to make themselves happy, I have a feeling that we would be seeing a lot more sweatsuit outfits around.
Unfortunately, we are often too frightened of a “nice outfit” statement with a smirk directed in our direction to care about that.
I dress according to how I feel at that moment. If I’m about to spend eight hours editing in the Avid labs in the basement of the School of Cinematic Arts, chances are a pair of leggings and a hoodie will do. Who am I trying to impress? Who am I afraid of seeing? Why would I need makeup if I’m going to be in a dark room all day?
This idea makes perfect sense to me. Me plus no daylight equals comfort dressing. Yet, that doesn’t stop the comments from friends. “I see we didn’t have enough time to put on makeup this morning,” one said. “Don’t you write a fashion column?” another asked.
Why yes. Yes I do. And at night, I love to throw on a pair of heels, get out my signature dark red lipstick and smoky eye makeup and go out for a night on the town. I love to spend an hour on my makeup. I love to go shopping. I love to read magazines and rip out pages for inspiration.
But I refuse to bow down and change the way I dress just because other people want me to. They say when you look good, you feel good — and I do agree with that statement. But I think I agree more with the idea that feeling good comes from actually feeling good — as in comfortable, handsome, beautiful — based on your own accord and not someone else’s. If I’m going to be sitting in the same spot for hours, I want to feel comfortable and not worry about whether or not my eyeliner is running.
A friend of mine recently received the chance to interview with Vogue. Heard of it? Yeah, I haven’t either but apparently they talk about fashion in it or something. This friend is beautiful, charming, funny and smart as hell — and yet she was worried about not being fashionable enough to work there.
Sure, I imagine the Vogue offices as where The Devil Wears Prada comes to life: Girls running around in $1,000 Valentino studded stilettos with J Brand distressed jeans and a Chanel tweed jacket (and those are just the interns). But honestly, if an office doesn’t hire you just because you might not look like Karlie Kloss, then screw them. As long as you like what you’re wearing, then you’re set.
There’s so much more to life than just pleasing other people, a fact that took me some time to realize. I used to pester a certain guy about his outfits: His horrible sunglasses that make it look like he’s about to go snowboarding, the same pair of sneakers in different shades of brown and some ill-fitting graphic T-shirts. I would “hint” that cutting his hair in a short-on-the-sides, longer-on-top style would flatter him, that actual shirts might be the most age-appropriate thing on a 25-year-old and that a different pair of shoes wouldn’t hurt.
His response? “I don’t care.”
What he wears makes him happy. What he wears makes him comfortable. No matter how I want him to dress, I have to respect the fact that he dresses for himself.
So start ignoring all of the hate coming your way. Want to wear all-over prints even though you’re curvy? Go for it. Want to wear sweatpants to your 8 a.m. class? Rock it — I’m from Jersey, where sweatpants are a rite of passage.
Stop worrying about everyone else’s opinion and start worrying about your own. That way, the next time that someone tells you that your dress is cute or that your shoes are fly, it’ll make you even happier to realize that you liked the outfit all along — not after the compliment.
Sheridan Watson is a junior majoring in critical studies. Her column “A Stitch In Time” ran Tuesdays.