That’s Fashion, Sweetie: Get ready with me

This year, I’ve been focusing a lot on my mental health. Working to get over toxic tendencies, being more in tune with myself and practicing radical self-acceptance isn’t the easiest thing to do, especially when you’re not sure how to start. 

I’ve noticed that journaling has helped a lot, especially when I do it to songs like Mazzy Star’s “Fade into You” or unreleased Lana Del Rey demos, but another thing that has helped me really be in touch with my inner child is dressing up. 

I love shopping and trying on clothes, but nothing has felt more nurturing and mentally stimulating than raiding my mom’s closet as if I were five again, waiting for my feet to grow into her fantastic and hand-selected shoe collection. 

But dress-up would end as I grew too insecure to wear my curations in public. While I’m still working on that, peeling off my clothes made me think about why we dress in certain ways. 

For designer shows, guests and celebrities are expected to wear the designer’s label: new, unreleased or vintage. It’s a giant slap in the face to wear another brand, and one of the most disrespectful, conscious things a celebrity or influencer can do at a runway.

But there’s still scrutiny on why celebrities would wear the label if they look “bad” in the clothes. This is because it’s celebrating the future and showing respect for the work behind the debut collection. If the outfit truly doesn’t look good, blame falls more on the stylists rather than the celebrity themselves (although, the celebrity is the one who must take the public lashing). 

This is also because it is a form of a test: How much effort is the ambassador or guest willing to put in for their host? 

Some may think this phenomenon is stupid or silly, but we do the same every day in a form of social dress code. 

When I go to business or networking events, I understand my skirt must be longer, and if not then tights must be worn. Blouses musn’t be see through and sneakers are not permitted. 

When we meet the parents of our significant others, we put on our nicest clothes, our brightest smiles and our resume personality. 

Part of this is the literal, spoken dress code (although, this can also be unspoken) — but moreover, it’s about respect for the social dress code. 

The hardest part, though, is not adhering to the dress code, but understanding it and learning how to piece together an appropriate outfit in response to it. 

Some may think it’s about matching and complementing. The dress should follow a third proportion rule, longer or shorter depending on the situation. Heel height follows the same rules. Pants and skirts follow the one-third to two-third ratio to look like you have taller legs or flip it to elongate your torso. 

While the math and calculation portion is helpful, it isn’t the key to a good outfit. One, because matching and pairing is subjective to the person and their personal style. But most importantly, because the secret to an appropriate outfit is not 100% about how it looks physically to the human eye. 

Secretly, it’s only about 50%. The other half is about intention: intention in color, intention in silhouette, intention in brand and intention in your response to the situation at hand. 

How you respond with your outfit will result in different reactions, expectations (in the moment and the future) and perceptions, and each can be a conversation starter for you or among others and can set you apart in a memorable way — but be careful, this can be a good and bad thing. 

Of course, it will depend on your intention. 

Your response to societal and general dress codes is also important because a key to mastering intention is understanding that outfits are not just clothes. Clothes are what you throw on and think, “Good enough.” 

An outfit has been planned out, inspected from multiple angles and (sometimes) consulted with a second party. An outfit becomes an extension and expression of the self and can transform between a bridge and a shield in a single, swift shift of body language. 

An outfit also inspires confidence and requires that internal glow from your chest out. You strut instead of walk, and every moment feels like a movie scene. It’s not a matter of looking conventionally attractive or having an all-designer, hand-picked outfit by Karl Lagerfeld’s spirit himself. It’s internal, set and confirmed intention. 

It transforms your physical space from a body to an entity, and your mindset from neutral and content to radiant, confident and of abundance. 

This is the exact same with makeup as performance art. Doja Cat has been key in transforming the application and intention behind makeup, past concealing and enhancement into performance art in everyday life. Part of her expertise comes from her incredibly creative and specific mind, which helps her execute her vision of the beat-up look for Balenciaga, the false eyelashes as mustaches for Viktor & Rolf and her Swarovski-glued face and body for Schiaparelli.  

Of course, part of the hesitation comes from the purpose behind makeup as a product. I’ve covered up hickeys for almost all of my guy friends at this point and have finally perfected my hack to cover the most angry pimples. I also have finally mastered my face shape and how I can use blush to enhance my cheeks. 

But suddenly, when considering art, makeup isn’t in the same conversation. 

Part of this inability to view makeup as a means of storytelling in our day-to-day lives comes from the stigma we hold toward art. Art, unless commercialized through clothing or overtime with artists like Yayoi Kusama, Keith Haring and Takashi Murakami, is supposed to be scarce and literally made with blood, sweat and tears. 

It takes an astronomical amount of time that is (supposed to be) unfathomable to us uncreative, unartistic bland human beings. That way, we ponder the meaning of pieces and our impact on the world as we walk through art galleries. Thus, we appreciate the art even more as we come to terms with our artistic limits and the fact that we are (most likely) seeing one of one, original artist-print pieces. 

The joke of the art world is whether art is even art at all, and if so, if all art is art, then does art even exist? It’s a cyclical loop of what-ifs and existentialism that is only physically confirmed by the art market, investors, commercialization and the literal presence of museums and galleries. 

So then, if this same idea is applied to makeup, what makes makeup, makeup, instead of art? It also boils down to purpose. 

Makeup as performance art doesn’t need to be obvious and in your face, just as contemporary art can comprise blank canvases that make people scoff and think, “I could do that.” Intending to portray the image of a sweet girl with bubblegum #ffc1cc pink instead of the sultry, mysterious, Parisian woman who wears no blush but blood-maroon #381313 red lips are still valid. My face and my makeup products are choices that, as a result of intention, tell a story. 

So next time you have to go somewhere that requires some sort of dress code — formally stated or even something daily like class — choose an outfit and do your makeup with intention.

Not only will you realize your mind has immense creative space with your “boring,” “everyday,” “I have nothing to wear” clothes, but you might also surprise yourself with how your response to people, life and new opportunities change. 

Hadyn Phillips is a sophomore writing about fashion in the 21st century, specifically spotlighting new trends and popular controversy. Her column, “That’s Fashion, Sweetie,” runs every Tuesday.