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Illustration by Mary Kirkpatrick
My breakout fashion moment happened in the fourth grade.
On this particular day, I was really feeling myself. I pulled on wildly colourful, floral tights and a black ruffled skirt followed by a lime green T-shirt with dark purple polka dots that made me look a bit like a magical lizard with measles. Not feeling that the look was complete, I slid on a cropped, fuchsia jacket with small shoulder pads, pulled my hair into a side ponytail and added my final touch … canary yellow, slouchy rain boots; because nothing says “style moment” like the most outrageous pair of footwear you own.
I climbed onto the school bus, beaming and feeling like a total star. But when I got off the bus my childhood crush looked me up and down and said, “WHAT are you wearing!?”
Everyone turned and stared, and I deflated like a balloon. To be fair, he wasn’t trying to be mean, he was genuinely shocked, like someone seeing a kaleidoscope for the first time, unable to make sense of all those shapes and colours tumbling into themselves. And in hindsight, the outfit was a lot, even for the 1980s. But while my ego took a minute to sulk, a rebellious twinge in the back of my mind said, ”No, I’m NOT showing up like everyone else.”
From playing dress up with clothes far too big for me as a little girl to blowing my hard-earned babysitting earnings on Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar, style has always lit me up and felt essential to my life on this planet.
My love of clothes continued through junior high, as I begged for houndstooth suits and wide-brimmed hats. In high school, in the glorious era of 1990s grunge, where I layered vintage thrift finds on top of the latest trends. Still, every morning I open my closet wide and sing like a Disney character, “Hello clothes!”
Through all my years, that whisper has remained. “I’m not showing up like everyone else.”
But the truth is, it isn’t about clothes. It’s about a powerful need to be embraced by the world as my true self. Personal style isn’t about being defiant or flashy for the sake of attention. It’s not about shock value, bucking convention or a longing to disturb the status quo, and honestly, it’s not even about the art of fashion itself (although I could go on and on about the art of fashion itself). Personal style is deeply rooted in a primal desire to be seen; not looked at – seen. To be taken in as a whole and unique person by others. Whether through monochromatic shades, clean lines, hot pink ruffles, power suits or layers of fabric and prints, our clothes tell the prologue of our stories; the opening act of whatever our lives are playing out.
But somehow society can fall short of honouring and understanding this. We can forget that every single one of us, regardless of age, gender, sexual orientation, race, income, religion or whatever categories language has tried to divide us into, has a right to uniqueness. Because when we say, “You can be whatever you want to be in this life,” that statement shouldn’t come with the disclaimer “as long as it’s not too much for someone else to bear.”
There is a quote often credited to Ralph Waldo Emerson that states, “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you into something else, is the greatest accomplishment.” When it comes to style and clothes, this world very much has ideas on the “something else,” we should be.
Some people regard individualism and nonconformity as potentially dangerous; and colouring outside the lines is in some way threatening. And the sad truth is that for many, what they wear does put them in danger. For a transgender or gender-diverse person, walking down the street in clothes they love, because of the intolerance of others, could subject them to physical or verbal violence. It’s not just what we wear that represents who we are but also the way in which we react to what others wear.
For years someone tried to crush my spirit by saying, “Why do you have to try so hard to be different?” What they did not have the capacity to grasp was that it wasn’t that I cared about standing apart from everyone else, but rather I wanted to stand with everyone else, but as me. I’m not showing up like anyone else.
I’m not saying you have to dance out your door, embracing your inner Carrie Bradshaw in outlandish wardrobe combinations to be fully you (but if you do please send me a photo). If jeans and T-shirts, sportswear or organic cotton pantaloons sewn by monks drinking green tea in a field of wildflowers represents your full, authentic self, then shine brightly on! Because the most important thread in any piece of clothing isn’t the one that stitches in the label or holds seams together but rather it’s the invisible thread that ties the clothes to you; it’s the thread that weaves your story.
The next time you see someone whose style or fashion surprises, intrigues or upsets you, pause, be curious and ask yourself why? Then be kind enough to create space for that person’s story and love yourself enough to create space for your own. Wear the clothes you love, let others do the same and embrace the fact that in our short time here in this life together, it’s a beautiful privilege to be human kaleidoscopes, purple polka dots and all.
Jenessa Blanchet lives in Cochrane, Alta.