Welcome back Trojans! I know it’s been two weeks since we talked, and I hope you didn’t miss me too much. And if this is your first time, welcome. I hope you’ve had a restful break full of food, sleep, family and laughter.

My social media feed lately has been talking a lot about personal style. Not just content like advice and new trends, but how style itself isn’t individual. Interestingly enough, one term that was used a lot was the idea of commodification of style and personal “twists” on things, arguing that when unique interpretations or executions of styling efforts become popular and are subsequently performed because it is popular. As such, it perpetuates the tradeoff of starting a trend by happenstance to being the first to a trend to say that you “called” or “started” it.

It stopped me in my tracks as I ravishingly took in more opinions of the same idea — kind of ironic, no? As I fell down a rabbit hole of how styling efforts aim to please the masses versus the individual and that wealthy individuals who wear only designer clothing, copying looks from campaigns, runways and lookbooks, don’t have a truly personal style, I began to feel a pit grow in my stomach.

Do I, myself, not have style? 

I look at my closet and see a variety of pieces that reflect the style of clothes I like. Some tops are those that I save for certain vibes and occasions, such as flea markets or girl brunches, while others I reach for on a more day-to-day basis. I think overall it reflects me and my various “personas” of “work-Hadyn” and “fashion-Hadyn” so then, why do I feel like I am in a creative rut?

Truthfully, I have felt in a rut for quite some time now. While I believe it has to do with missing the feeling and satisfaction of creating something, as I’ve found joy over the past year in floral arrangements, fashion has always been a lifelong passion of mine that I still can’t seem to execute the way I want to. Why is it, then, that I can observe and draw connections but not execute? 

I believe part of it is fear. I get shy when feeling overdressed sometimes, especially in the fall when I feel like I live in leggings to accommodate my job in athletics, and I frequently reminisce on the courage I held as a senior in high school, wearing vibrant neon eyeliner and pencil skirts with corsets over button downs in class. 

Maybe part of it is that I need to rediscover some of the courage and love for exploration in fashion, or maybe it is that I am scared that even after my exploration, I will still come up short in how I feel fulfilled, in how I execute and in how others perceive my journey and whether or not I could be labeled “fashionable” or not.

There’s a difference between being fashionable and looking nice, but sometimes the perception of each muddies up which category an individual can fall into, if not both. For some reason, our generation has learned to call minimalism and elegance “stylish,” “sophisticated” and “trendy” while calling those who take risks of draping, accessorizing and captivating shoes “fashionable” and “avant-garde,” even if the intention may have been flipped. 

It seems that we only give the title of creativity queen to those who actively present themselves as taking risks, when in reality, sometimes dressing in a long silk skirt is a risk for someone who has worn jeans every day of the semester.

I believe that to be fashionable and creative is to continue to take risks, even if nobody gets it, and that is because the very quintessential nature of personal style is that it makes sense to you and has been curated by you and your own inspirations, likings and life experiences. 

From my head to my toes, in my brain or on my feet, self-exploration has become a backseat passenger in my silent Uber ride. But, with New Year’s just around the corner, it feels only appropriate now to start thinking of resolutions and bouts of self-improvement.

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.