I’ve been in an intense period of self-reflection lately. Maybe it’s senior year hitting me as I schedule my graduation portraits, or a recent realization that while I am busy, I feel quite dull, but I have been thinking about myself and my narrative. Who am I? Who am I becoming? Who do I want to become? What do I value, and what do I wish to portray?

Mary Oliver put it perfectly in her poem, “Blue Iris:” “Now that I am free to be myself, who am I / and as my heart panics not to be, as I long to be, the empty, waiting, pure speechless receptacle.”

With that, I have been trying to eat more whole foods, sleep more, take care of my hair and dress better. But, weirdly enough, it is the latter I am having the most trouble with.

I’ve noticed my style changing this summer. It has become more simple — elegant, quiet, sophisticated. Although it doesn’t mean that I’ve thrown away my more out there pieces, it made me consider whether my style had elevated or simply toned itself down.

I recently came across Louis Vuitton’s Fall 1998 Ready-to-Wear collection on social media. It was simple, muted, intentionally draped, elegant and, most interestingly, so unlike the Louis Vuitton we see today. In fact, the lack of big, embossed logos and vibrant colors would have made me think it was Max Mara or Loro Piana.

I considered what has become stylish and trendy now: what patterns have come back, what shapes have dominated and why there was such a stark difference between a trendy closet and a capsule wardrobe. It dawned on me quickly that I wasn’t trying to understand through comparison, but rather trying to understand the end result — the now — of the fashion journey.

With one burning question in my mind, — in a Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) voice — I couldn’t help but wonder: since when did style have to be interesting?

Since when did Halloween costumes have to be so unique that you don’t match with anyone else? Since when did makeup looks have to be named and comparable to a bunny-cherry-martini amalgamation? Since when did my outfit have to give a thought, serve as inspiration or reference something?

I think part of the fault lies in our need to understand. We are a curious generation, and with the knowledge of the world at our disposal, it becomes hard to admit when we can’t grasp something as it is. So we categorize and name concepts, ideas and results to feel like we have an inkling of control over something as sporadic as the decision behind wearing a gold cuff over a blue pinstripe shirt.

It made me feel anxious in the lull of my outfits, when the so-called boringness really was a sense of peace and stability. As such, items hanging in my closet or folded away weren’t given the credit they deserved as the purpose they were manufactured for: My white skirt will always be a white skirt, and it doesn’t need to be long enough to be multi-use as a dress or a long tube top over dark-wash jeans and clogs (although, that could be cute).

I’m not saying that being adventurous or a unique style is no longer on-trend; what I’m saying is that there is no shame in being content when you don’t resonate with what is popular. Boring to you can be ideal for another, just as my favorite shoes (Maison Margiela Tabis) are insanely hideous to many.

And while I am still working on deciding who I am with my permission to do so — to exist, experiment, act on and improve — I am also improving the judgment in my head. Why are your decisions any less than mine? What is your place to decide my outfit is mundane when I see history, my mother and the old copies of American Vogue I would find among the stack of Japanese magazines I could never seem to translate?

Big Thief’s unreleased song, “Incomprehensible,” has been going viral on TikTok, and I think the lyrics perfectly encapsulate what I hope my message to be: “How can beauty that is living be anything but true? / Let me be naked alone with nobody there with mismatched socks and shoes and stuff stuffed in my underwear / Let me be incomprehensible.”

If to be known is to be loved, then I believe to be accepted and understood among chaos is also to be cherished, considered and remembered.

So don’t mind me and my plain, two-toned outfits out and about in the world — if I can be happy and incomprehensible, then so can you.

Hadyn Phillips is a senior writing about fashion in the 21st century, spotlighting new trends and popular controversy in her column, “That’s Fashion, Sweetie,” which runs every Wednesday.