former minimalist now lives among loud objects
running from my fashion birthright just to feel something
Ordinarily, my style mantra is ‘what you gravitate towards the most is you’ but, I fear that’s too simple to describe the internal crisis that’s been brewing inside of me for months now. You see friend, for YEARS I was entrenched in the NY fashion girl uniform: black, more black and a c*nty black bob (or a pixie). And I LOVED it…..that is, until I didn’t. I have always admired colorful people from afar, with a Pinterest board full of Harajuku-esque street style stars while in the analog world I faithfully put on combat boots and Helmut Lang and braved the concrete jungle. Clothing was armor and I always wore something that subtly said ‘don’t f*ck with me’.
But these last few years, I’ve embraced color in a way I never thought I would. I began not only admiring, but actively purchasing pastel sweaters, colorful bags, you name it. I wanted to be the person who embraces color, not just have an appreciation for those people.
Looking back, I think a big part of this shift was pandemic related. I desperately wanted to surround myself with things that lifted my mood and to say that the world felt drab in 2020 is a supreme understatement. I also think another part of this shift (though I hate to admit it) is that something inside me is hardwired to be contrarian. I simply don’t want to do what the crowd is doing. Thus when the most nauseating people on the internet were championing ‘quiet luxury’ and shopping at CHICO’S at the ripe age of 23, I practically fled from the neutral palettes most brands had to offer.
But now something else has happened that I didn’t consider…...I’m insane. (In like a funny, endearing way I swear!) And by insane, I mean I’m easily overstimulated in ways that I can no longer ignore. For example: I have my own particular rule when decorating my home which is that I need to see as much of the floor as possible. I never bring it up, but if someone were to gaze around my (largely minimal) home, they would notice that I don’t have any furniture that completely blocks my view of the floor. I LOVE all the pro-maximalist home accounts I see online but I also feel an immediate sense of dread at having to be surrounded by such busy stuff, every day.
Turns out, clothes aren’t that much different! I’m not sure most people would classify my stuff as ‘busy’, but as a faithful devotee of Jil Sander, my wardrobe is certainly busy to me. On the one hand, I love how fun and expressive I think I look. Especially in a see of people who look like 90s Calvin hopefuls, I feel deliciously contrarian. On the other hand, when I still put on my all black fits my brain lets out a sigh of relief. I definitely can’t deny the ease and timelessness of the quintessential fashion girl fit. It persists for a reason lol. It’s consistent, it’s chic and I realize now…it soothes the mind.
That said, the contrarian in me is still quite strong and there’s something inherently rebellious about being a pink blob in a see of gray ones (yes, that is a Fairly Oddparents reference.)
So no, I’m not fully comfortable. Sometimes I still crave the smooth, safe color palette of my past life, the aesthetic equivalent of a Xanax. But now when I walk into a room and my eyes are assaulted by six clashing patterns and an aggressively green vase, I don’t flinch. I smirk. Because chaos, as it turns out, is kind of chic.
And if that means I live in mild visual panic half the time? So be it. It's honest panic.
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-xoxo Jenn
As an adhd overthinker brain owner , I need more fashion content that is maximalist friendly. So thank you