Dress Up

The last time I could have been considered fashionable was probably back when my mother still dressed me. Of course any compliment ol my appearance then would have been foilowed by a pinch on the cheek. I had an extended awkward phase that transcended even the absurdity of 90's fashion. I loved poiyester pants, tucked in polos, and enormous skate shoes. Pretty much everything I wore was one to two sizes too big for me. This was a cost saving measure on my mom's part due to the alarming rate at which my body was elongating., I of course knew this strategy weil, but it still took years to accept that I had in fact stopped growing. I'd just been wearing loose underwear, baggy shirts, and clown shoes for most of my aduit life.

As probably most kids are, I was extremely self conscious of my body. ‘his was undoubtedly made worse by my mormon upbringing that strongly emphasizes modesty. As a result I almost never wore shorts. An amusing historical

point when you consider that my modern uniform includes the shortest hemp shorts I can find. Gathering up the courage to wear shorts was no small feat, Any time I was spotted bare-legged, someone would inevitably remark on

my sizable calts and deciare that I must be a runner. Imagine their disappointment when I told them it was jJust because I had a habit of walking on my toes, The heat of los angeles finally pushed me over the edge, and I slfpped into a pair of snorts that would Iorever change my dress habits,. I quickly realized everything I knew about dressing mysell was wronge. For too long 1 had tried not to draw attention to myself; wearing generic,

loose fitting t-shirts anda pants. 1 started turning over my wardrobe

with short shorts, colorful socks, and colorful shirts., all the while selecting a size or two down from what I thought was correct. Not only was this more comtortable, but I feit more contident, too. I started to teel proud of my shapely legs and lanky body. The more comfortable I felt in my clothes. the more comfortable I felt in my body. I stopped caring what

other people thought about how I iooked and started outfitting myself in increasingly wilder, more colorful clothing,.

I knew I hzd overcome my concern for other people's opinions when I bought myself a straw fedora. I always wanted a fancy hat, but was mortified by

the potential for ridicule from my surrounding ball-cap wearing peers.

I had this crippling, irrational tear that donning such a hat would

attract unscolicited verbali abuse., “Hat person, hat person. Look at

that hat person wearing a hat." they'd jeer.

This of course aid not happen. In fact, to my surprise people actually started to compliment my appearance. Who kmew that wearing what you love could be a fashion statement. I've never been one to care about trends, ana if the millenial and zoomer attire is any indication, the new trend is no trend. 1 hope that this along with the rise of thrifting spells doom

for the fast rashion industrye.

1 grow increasingly weary of the capitalist churmj replacing poorly manufactured clothing once a year. 1've adopted the "buy it once" mentality and specifically seek out ethical, sustainable brands the work with natural materials. No more polyester pants. 1 see my wararobe as an investment in my confidence. It feels good to look nice. It feels good

to wear what I want to wear and not what I think someone else would

like me to wear.

If I could give one piece of advice to anyone struggling to dress them— selves it's this:

There's a nigh probubility that your clothes are the wrong size.