When I younger, I wanted to be like everybody else. I wanted to wear the same clothes and shoes as my friends, even if it wasn’t what I truly felt good wearing. So, in elementary school, when my friends went through a tomboy phase and started wearing basketball shorts to school everyday, I begged my mom to get me some from the boys section. Every piece of clothing I picked out at the store, every outfit I stepped into in the morning was dictated by what my friend’s would think. I just wanted to be cool.
I remember finding this amazing pair of polka-dot canvas flats at Ross; I loved them so much but wouldn’t wear them to school because I thought they were too fancy and girly. All of my friends wore sneakers, so I knew they would poke fun at them, and as a fairly new member of my friend group, I didn’t want to do anything that might put my membership in jeopardy.
Then, a new girl showed up at our school. She dressed super cute, and was unapologetic about it. Her outfits had embellishments: ribbons, sequins, patterns – everything that my sporty friends wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. She reminded me of every fashionista I’d seen on Disney Channel that I wanted to dress like but didn’t dare to.
But what impressed me even more about her style, was how unapologetic she was about it. She looked cool – she was cool, because she felt good and confident in what she was wearing. She made everything she wore cool, and nobody gave her a hard time for it, because she just decided that that was who she was, and she didn’t care if anybody else didn’t like it. She had nothing to lose.
I then realized that by not dressing according to what I felt good in, I wasn’t being me, and that wasn’t cool. – so if the other kids didn’t like me when I was trying to fit in, I had nothing to lose either if I tried to stand out. If they still wanted to be my friends, great; if they didn’t want to be my friends anymore because I didn’t’ want my wardrobe to consist of t-shirts and 5 pairs of polyester sport shorts, so be it.
One morning, I worked up the courage to step into the brown, green and pink dotted flats from Ross, instead of the Payless sneakers I wore in an attempt to blend in. I paired the flats with some brown gaucho pants, and an embellished tank that came attached to a brown, cropped sweater. I loved this outfit, but felt terrified to show it off to my friends.
When I arrived at school, they laughed at me.
“What are you wearing?”, said friend #1, still dressed in blue basketball shorts, a sweatshirt, and nike shoes.
“Why are you wearing flats?“, said friend #2, dressed in a green t-shirt f rom the previous year’s Fun Run, sweatpants and converse.
Initially, I was hurt, but I finally shrugged and replied, “Because I want to. I like what I’m wearing”
And that was that. Nothing else happened. They didn’t shun me from their friend group, they didn’t continue making fun of me. They didn’t have a reason to do anything else because they didn’t have a reason to. I was still me, I was just dressed differently than they were used to.
My outfit also sparked a conversation, and eventually a close friendship with the fashionable new girl. I started hanging out with her more often, and we would have fun talking about new trends and showing each other the deals we got.
Eventually, not only did my other friends get used to my new style, they even started taking notes from my outfits, and asking me for style tips. By the end of the year, a lot of them had bought a pair of flats and gaucho pants, while some still preferred sneakers and basketball shorts but never made fun of anyone else for their fashion choices- and we all remained friends.
Looking back, I realized that it was then that I developed my style and my confidence by allowing myself to decide what I felt good in, and deciding that if anyone had a problem with that decision, that was their problem, not mine.
As Dr. Seuss once said, “Be who you are and say how you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”