Whether or not we like to admit it, our outward appearance speaks to who we are. Many don’t know, but my admiration for fashion is rooted in the core of my personality. From spending summers as a child in Fashion Camp, to suffering the monthly anguish of anticipating a new magazine. I grew up in a family of women who dominated department stores. I watched every fashion-themed show and followed industry news consistently. I also applied to every East and West coast fashion program for college. It was the fabric of my life. There’s an indescribable magic about wearing something I love. I transform into a shining version of myself. Head a little higher, shoulders pushed back. I stand taller with presence, ready to take on the world.
The problem?
When the clothes disappeared, the magical confidence went right along with it.
One of the most difficult adjustments moving to NYC was essentially letting go of my style identity. When we started packing I had two closets, two dressers, and five storage boxes FULL of clothing and shoes. When we arrived here, I literally had two, small duffel bags. It was allllllways my dream to #slay in the city * the city also referred to as Fashion Capital of the World. My post-move wardrobe? Not so much. After moving here, I wore the same 20 pieces of clothing until I got on my feet financially (abouuut three and a half months in). I was wearing summer flats halfway through November. The elderly women at our train stop used to tell me I was going to get sick every day. lol I got irrationally bitter too.
Just ask Evan. He can attest that most mornings, I'd be near tears.. hating the way I looked and trying to put together outfits that didn't even reflect the weather outside. Some days I wore his sweaters because I literally ran out of stuff to wear. Becoming more defeated with every subway stop, as I saw girls wearing all the things I longed to. Knowing it wasn't even remotely possible to buy at the time. It damaged my confidence for a while. I would say the meanest things out loud about myself for 45 minutes. "UUUGGGHHH I look like TRASSSHHH", "I feel so disgusting". The list went on. He handled it like a great bf and always reminded me it wasn't true, but many days I walked with that self-induced loathing. OVER CLOTHES?!?!?!? Whyyyyy??? (Oh yeah, that whole "romanticizing a TV show character's life" thing)
Looking back, it was a necessary life lesson to stop equating my self-worth to material possessions. While wearing a bomb outfit feels incredible, it's really about what I'm bringing to the table as a human. Having little wasn't ideal, but I actually needed to live that mantra out for once, rather than recite it out of habit. I honestly reflect and feel a little repulsed with how seemingly shallow I was. Day by day, I started to pull it together though. No, I didn't look like I just walked out of WWD, but I was walking in the city I've talked about since I was 17. No, I wasn't walking down 5th Avenue with SAKS bags, but I also wasn't sleeping under a blanket on the street in 10-degree weather.
Being here unraveled an aspect of myself I didn't realize I needed to. Yes, I have a deep appreciation and love for fashion as an art form. Yes, personal styling a secret hobby of mine. However, there's a HUGE difference when prioritization comes into play. I built my self-confidence on how I looked, whether or not I wanted to admit it. I used to need clothes as the foundation for my confidence. I needed my red blazer to reinforce I was talented. I needed my fitted dress to reinforce I was beautiful. I needed my bag filled with $450 worth of makeup to feel like I was up to par. Instead of owning all those things for the fun of style, I used them as merit to determine if I was actually worthy of respect. I wanted everyone here to see my value before they even knew me. When sadly, I didn't even fully see myself. Because when I was stripped of all those items, I also lost sight of all the associated traits. In fact, I didn't even believe they existed without them.
How twisted is that??
I know I'm not alone though. This speaks to a larger trait of our society. We often direct so much focus toward physical appearance, we lose sight of what people have to offer internally. Our self-worth fluctuates with our access to material things. I have no issue with people feeling great in what they wear because again, my love for fashion isn't going anywhere. I also believe dressing up does make you feel great. There's nothing wrong with that! Personally, I just need to continue to make sure those sentiments are coming from a healthy place. Take joy in owning your items, but also remember if you had nothing, you would STILL be all of those characteristics too. Your shoes might be falling apart, but walk in there and deliver what people actually see in you. Your talent, charm, skill, intelligence, personality - your light.
Now, I'm currently building up my wardrobe piece by piece again. Do I have a meltdown getting ready in the morning thinking about what I used to own and could presently be wearing? Eh. sometimes, but I keep it in perspective. At least I'm getting ready in a heated apartment. I still appreciate designers and style influencers, but they wear isn't a reflection of the my lack. Shopping isn't always financially accessible and it's usually the first thing to go when living on a budget. It's not the end of the world though. I can't emphasize enough that what truly matters is your presence period. Don't miss out life thinking you're not dressed for the part. Do your best with what you have and show up with that personality of yours. Because that can never be taken away from you. Do I still dream of the day I get my Louboutins? Sure. The difference will just be my perspective.
Even if she never have the opportunity to own a pair, Shelbs will be "Shelbs" until her last breath. And from now on, I will always love her regardless of what shoes she has on her feet.
Style on my friends, but just remember the clothes don't make you, you 100% make the clothes.
Sending love and light always.
Sincerely,
Shelbs
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