I recently came across a video of design student Remy Rossier making cocoon-like garments inspired by the Swiss Alps. Interestingly, the video discussed how some of these garments were character-like, with the large, doming structure covering the body as a means to develop privately in the cocoons. At first glance, the abstract form seems almost comparable to the sandworms in Dune or mythical creatures, but as you look longer, the abstract form begins to take on a shape of beauty and intrigue. 

It reminded me of this excerpt I read from Diana Vreeland’s book, “D.V.,” who is the former editor-in-chief of Vogue and fashion editor of Harper’s Bazaar. Talking about growing up in Paris, she recalled watching the beautiful women in the Bois, where she was “brought up in the world of ‘great beauties,’ a world where lookers had something to give the world, a world where the cocottes, the women of the demi-monde, were the great personalities of Paris.”

Immediately, I thought about what beauty means from an outside perspective, and I didn’t mean what perceived beauty signifies. When things, people, art, music or whatever are beautiful, they are noticed. Not only that, but beauty is often the first describing factor — “Oh, look at that beautiful painting,” or “Do you remember that gorgeous girl with the long hair?”

And so we all strive for beauty in some shape or form, whether we like to admit it or not. But is it because we like to feel important like that? Or is it because it allows us to feel relevant and remembered as such characters? Like the characters we admire, see and mimic on TV or on the red carpet? Like the Pam Andersons or Monica Belluccis of the world?

Being beautiful is a tough thing to swallow, or I imagine it to be. As I called myself out two years ago, I still struggle with seeing myself the way I am. There is always something wrong with my appearance in my eyes, and I can’t help but compare myself to the beautiful people I see online. And no, it’s not the problem of social media — it’s a problem of my thinking.

It’s been heavily emphasized recently that beauty standards should be expanded, and oddly, they seem to have merely been loosened around the edges as we continue to market types of beauty according to their similarity to fruits or animals. And still, we can’t seem to get away from jealousy too. 

For me, it’s wondering why I can’t seem to look like these women; regardless of how hard I try, it can be violent for others. I can’t help but think about Natalia Vodianova, the Russian model who walked over 175 runway shows. After a successful career in the United States, she returned to Russia to visit — where one night — an old classmate, who was jealous of her success and beauty, tried to corner her in a club and cut her face to ruin it. For those curious, thankfully, she was saved by the bodyguard on shift that night.

Going back to “D.V.,” Vreeland later discusses watching a German film and reaching the fata morgana, explaining that it “means if you desire a woman, you see a woman, if you desire water, you see water — everything you dream, you see. But you never reach it. It’s all an illusion.”

So, then, is beauty nonexistent? Has it become so because the standards, while growing, still retain such a narrow definition? Is it so narrow because, to the core, it serves as a reflection not of what is so strongly desired but of indecision masked behind the comfort of mass agreement? Or is beauty and the beauty I want for myself an illusion — to me? My fata morgana?

If I take a nihilist view and believe beauty is an illusion, then maybe everyone possesses it — or maybe beauty doesn’t exist at all. Or, opposingly, everything has beauty: the idea I much prefer. It’s like The Smiths song: “I was looking for a job and then I found a job / And heaven knows I’m miserable now.”

What makes it difficult for me is knowing I can be beautiful — but never sure. On the plane back from Puerto Rico, I watched the 1952 musical “Singin’ in the Rain,” and it dawned on me that some things are undeniable, like the talent of Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor and Debbie Reynolds as they danced and sang into their own success on the silver screen. Similar to more binary professions like banking or real estate, you can be great or not depending on measurable results — or lack thereof.  

Beauty is more like art and writing; It can be gorgeous depending on who you ask, but that doesn’t make the fact that it was at least once found beautiful any less true. And, one thing I am absolutely sure about is that you, reader, are beautiful — and you get bonus beauty points simply because you are reading this article, too.

But for me, it seems I can’t shake the curse of maybes. Maybe I am beautiful, maybe I’m not and maybe I’m delusional. But that is for me to deal with, and I guess you to read about. 

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.