The Unspoken Fashion Rules
All my life, I’ve carried a list of rules in my head. I’ve never told anyone about these rules, nor were they something enforced on me by my friends and family. I don’t know how they materialised, perhaps they were gleamed from scraps of old tabloids and movie clips. All I know is that I carry them with me, like the worst kind of luggage, from outfit to outfit and day to day.
The rules are, as follows
Don’t show your upper arms.
Don’t wear clingy, tight outfits.
Don’t show your stomach. Not even a hint of an outline. Nothing.
Yeah, I know, it’s more than a little fucked up. But the truth is, most of us have at least some secret fashion rules ruminating in the back of our minds and wardrobes. Things we feel like we can’t wear, or can only wear. Maybe you’re afraid of colour, patterns or certain shapes. Maybe you’re just afraid, full stop. Massive spoke to students about what’s their big bad wolf when it comes to fashion, and how we can dismantle our fears, bit by bit.
Jessica says she avoided stripes growing up, and to this day is hesitant about the pattern. To her, the old wives’ tale about horizontal stripes making one look “wider” really “fucked her up”. She says, “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it installed such a fear in me. I felt so big already, and I was terrified of looking even bigger.” Jessica admits once even throwing out a birthday gift from her mother because of her fashion anxiety. “I was, like, 12 right? And my mum bought me this gorgeous navy and white striped jumper from Glassons. We didn’t tend to go shopping much because of my dressing room issues, so the fact she went out and got me something was really, really sweet. I just couldn’t wear it, because it was striped. I hid it in the back of my closet for about a year then threw it out shortly after that.” Years later, she still thinks of that jumper, and the “terrible” excuses she had to come up with as to why she wasn’t wearing it. “My mum never really bought me anything again, clothes-wise, I think she thought I hated her style or something. I just couldn’t tell her the truth.” Now, years later, articles have come out about how horizontal stripes actually have a slimming effect. Jessica just bitterly laughs. “Who gives a fuck. I never want to be on the internet again at 2am googling ‘how to look skinny’. I want to wear what I want, regardless of what people write.”
Naomi steered clear of heels as a teenager. She was the tallest girl in her class, and was terrified of “no one wanting to date me because of my height. I avoided shoes with even the tiniest bit of height, like chunky trainers, and always wore flats. Fuck, I hate flats.” Remember the $5 ballet flats sold at Rubi, which would always fall to pieces after a week? God, they were the worst. Especially the white ones (they really showed the dirt, okay). For Naomi, formal season was the worst time of the year because heels were considered the go-to shoe. “I would cave and wear heels, but then spend the whole time feeling self-conscious. I wish I danced with my friends more.” She recently watched the Netflix movie Tall Girl this year and found the whole thing comical. “Like yeah, it’s a bit of a weird and very specific movie, but that kinda was my vibe growing up. Did I have a gorgeous Swedish boy courting me? No, but I did try and date guys taller than me. Guilty as charged.” Nowadays, Naomi still tends to stick with sneakers over heels, but “for comfort, rather than insecurity. If I wanted to wear heels, I would. I feel like, with age, you stop caring as much. High school really was a breeding ground for every little bit of self-doubt. It’s nice to be older.”
For Tim, his sore spot was shorts. “I felt like my legs were bigger than everyone else around me, and not in the cool, muscly kind of way. I just felt huge, and shorts, in my mind, only seemed to showcase that.” In summer, he wore cargo pants (“Yes, I know, cargo pants. I make fun of myself too”) or even floaty harem pants he picked up from a summer in Thailand. Looking back, he wonders if he made the right choices in his approach to his insecurity. “Maybe it would have just been better to, I don’t know, have my legs out rather than be the cargo pant kid. Or have to field questions about why I was wearing jeans in 23-degree weather. I guess I can only try and do better, going forwards, and try to let go of that stuff a bit.”
Jenny admits that her one big fashion rule is: no jeans. “Urgh, don’t even get me started on jeans! Or really, any pants for that matter. I wear pyjama pants around the house, but that’s pretty much it.” Growing up, she struggled to find jeans that properly fit her. Maybe they were too tall, or too short. Too tight in the front, but too roomy in the back. When she did find a pair that was “like…okay” then the trouble switched to styling them. “I wanted to wear a long top, to hide my belly, but then there were all those fashion rules about that drowning your waist, and making you look bigger. But if I wore a more cropped top, I just felt so exposed. Sure, you could do a half-tuck, or a French-tuck, but I still felt too on-display. I couldn’t win, no matter what,” she says. It’s an emotional process to this day, one that Jenny tries to avoid by wearing dresses and skirts, but she admits that the whole “road-block” in her mind is something she’s currently trying to unpack in therapy. Jenny says, “I think now, where I’m at, is trying to decipher what’s fear or what’s preference. Do I hate jeans because I hate how I look in them, or do I hate them because I genuinely prefer wearing dresses? Honestly, I don’t know, and I’m just trying to detangle mTy thoughts about it all, really.”
As for me, I’d like to say that I’ve let go of my rules. Loosened the metaphorical belt, so to speak. It’s 2021, who gives a fuck, right? But if anything, the opposite has happened. Now instead of mostly being self-conscious of my arms and stomach, the itch to cover up has extended to my legs. Seriously, I dress like a high school teacher (still sexy tho). Thank God, long dresses have been “in” recently. But with summer impending, I can’t help but feel a pool of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. For me, fashion still feels like an endless jigsaw, piecing together a string of directives into a workable outfit. You know, the thoughts of “I can only wear this top with these jeans, because they’re high-waisted” or “this dress is sleeveless, so I need to pair it with a jacket”. If I do wear something tight, I’m left juggling between the choice to wear spandex (and spend the whole evening feeling physically uncomfortable and hating myself) or wear comfortable underwear (and spend the whole evening feeling emotionally uncomfortable and hating myself). Sometimes these rules are like a security blanket, and letting them go feels like both the best and worst thing in the world.
The thing is, these rules have less power over us if we talk about them more. If we expose those parts of ourselves that we consider unlovable, and let them be loved. Fashion is meant to empower, not burden us. We should use clothing to highlight the best of ourselves, rather than hide behind swathes of fabric. Compliment your friends. Compliment those drunk boys and girls in the club bathroom. Everyone is hot as shit, and they deserve to feel that way. Let go of those hidden rules, wear whatever the fuck you want.