Puberty, alongside other adolescent factors, left me with anxiety so bad I couldn’t leave the house. It’s a depressing start to what I promise is an uplifting story. I grew up in rural Northern Ireland in a community as deeply religious as it was agricultural – most people dressed the same and, as most people I knew were farmers who worked outside all day, fashion was not a high priority. Dressing alternatively is something that is rarely received well outside of city environments, but growing up with peers who were not even allowed to watch Harry Potter, something as inconspicuous as a Nirvana t-shirt or black box dye would be received with utter hostility.
So why did I, a teenager too afraid to talk to shopkeepers, decide to begin dressing this way? It’s a question I can’t answer; I don’t know why I started to dress like an emo when I knew it would give me negative attention (and any attention terrified me). But somewhere in the anxiety I had the courage to wear outfits that felt like me. It wasn’t a change that came naturally – the first few times I went out trailing my mum at the shops in my fishnets and big boots I was the most anxious I had ever been. But I was fine. It shocked me how fine I was. Comments did come but these were predictable; having “EMO!” screamed at me on the street started to feel more like a script being followed than like a negative comment that could actually affect me. It occurred to me that the most interesting thing about their day was someone dressed like me, and that was all I needed to stop caring. And slowly my confidence built up. I didn’t care about how others viewed me so I began skateboarding, something I had been scared to do before, and it became my favourite hobby. I started to make friends through it and soon I had a social life. I wasn’t scared to speak to people and I stopped being scared to leave the house. Dressing the way I wanted to had changed my life completely in the best way possible.
So when I got into second year of university and had long outgrown my chokers, I was stumped on what to do when the anxiety came back. It had gotten bad to the point where I couldn’t go to uni, I felt so self conscious that leaving the house was difficult again. I knew in my head that I wasn’t being perceived anywhere near the amount I felt I was, but I was so scared of being acknowledged in public that leaving the house was impossible. I decided to take a plunge into the deep end and put what I knew to the test, deciding to model some of the most questionable fits possible in public. I found clothes in my wardrobe that had no way of looking good together, the most ill-fitting, interestingly coloured fabrics I could find, clothes I had long banished to the back of the wardrobe for being too ugly. And then I wore them out to do my weekly shop, to stand at a bus stop for a bus that wasn’t coming, and eventually to larger endeavours like eating in a restaurant. The verdict? Not one person noticed or cared, not one person stared at me or looked at me weirdly. It was something I had anticipated yet still came as a pleasant surprise.
Most people don’t care or notice what you wear – and when they do it is usually out of admiration. Even in the worst case scenarios I experienced as a teenage emo it became evident that dressing the way I liked was something that both felt good for myself and something that served as an amazing people filter; any negative interaction showed me people who I would never want to be stuck in a conversation with anyway. It also taught me that you often look much better than you think. The average person doesn’t see that you spent an hour deciding on the trousers you’re wearing. Your outfits don’t look as forced as you feel they may be – the average person on the street sees a put-together outfit, and nothing looks better than dressing for your authentic self.
So this year wear what you want, wear what makes you feel good, what makes you feel like yourself. Trends will succumb to their short life-cycle and it is better to look back and see yourself wearing something you wanted to wear rather than what everyone thought looked good at the time. Clothes are an extension of ourselves and the image we put out there – take the plunge and ditch the fashion shame in 2025, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
Author: Erin Tait [she/her]
qmunicatemagazine.co.uk 