psychology

Power Clothes

by Sally on September 25, 2012 · 30 comments

Fashion, clothing, and style are often portrayed as frivolous interests. Wasteful of time, energy, and money. Vain and self-absorbed. Unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

Which is downright hilarious when you consider how important clothing has been to human culture over time. Clothing has served as a medium for self-expression, a way to quietly rebel, and a means of delineating power structures. Now, I’m no historian and I’m sure some of you ARE historians, so I encourage you to add further evidence in the comments. But from a non-historian’s brain come the following examples: Throughout many cultures, royalty and nobility will show rank and wealth by wearing certain colors, materials, and garments. Judges and clergy wear robes to indicate authority and set the tone in courtrooms and places of worship. Athletes associate with their chosen sports through accessory, shoe, and clothing choices.

Some of these examples show how clothing can support or subtly enforce classism, and clothing’s links to power aren’t all positive or admirable. But there are many ways that modern people – especially women – can utilize clothing to summon and broadcast personal power. Here are a few examples of clothing and dressing techniques that I’ve seen used to evoke various forms of personal power.

SUITS

Although many women have celebrated the decline of the suit as required business-wear, others continue to celebrate it as a source of reliable, instantly palpable personal power. Suits have long been the uniform of powerful men, and it could certainly be argued that the power women derive from wearing suits is borrowed from a system that encourages us to look and behave in masculine ways. But it could also be argued that women’s suits are their own class of garment, and that cashing in on a style that has commanded respect and attention for decades – and making it our own – is a marvelous subversion. Most women I know avoid suits for daily wear, but rely on them for occasions that require a show of confidence, maturity, and power. A suit that fits and looks smart makes its wearer appear undeniably in command.

BOOTS

There’s a reason the song is titled, “These BOOTS Are Made for Walkin’.” Certain styles are treacherously high and difficult to wear, but even heeled boots tend to be more stable and walkable than their pump and sandal counterparts. Shoes that look cool and sexy yet root their wearer to the stable ground allow for the subtle power of stylish confidence and the pragmatic power of physical stability. There’s something undeniably mythic about boots, something rough and raw that seeps up into the wearer.

LEATHER

Those of you who abstain for ethical/personal reasons may disagree, but I think it’s possible that many people view wearers of leather garments as “tough” because in the distant past, you had to kill something yourself before you could wear it. Gross but true. Leather is primal. It calls forth ancient power that we can harness for our own uses. Even leather look-alikes can make their wearers appear mysterious, edgy, and not-to-be-trifled-with.

JEWELRY

So, crowns. They’re pretty much the ultimate wearable symbol of power. Diamonds and precious gems are still used to subtly convey the power of wealth in many cultures. But other more common types of jewelry can convey personal power, too. Pendants come in every imaginable shape, and adorning your neck with a skull, a religious icon, or a fierce animal can imbue you with power. Cuff bracelets can call up images of ancient Goddesses. (And Wonder Woman.) And, perhaps more importantly, jewelry can hold personal and emotional significance, which means that merely wearing it can buoy and empower you.

COLOR

If you’re headed to a meeting or party or event in which you’ll be confronting an enemy or bully or competitor, you’re unlikely to wear seafoam or peach. Red evokes passion and fire, black evokes ferocity, gray evokes detachment and coolness, blue evokes calm levelheadedness. Simply selecting a garment in a shade that resonates with your personal power can amp up the power that you broadcast.

Clothes that make you feel present in your body, strong, even invincible are incredibly valuable tools to have in your possession. They can be your armor or your scepter, your shield or your sword. Power clothes can help you locate and direct your own power, then radiate that power outward from within. Those who declare the world of fashion, clothing, and style to be silly, wasteful, and pointless are dismissing a potential source of strength, a resource for crafting a perceived self, a means of expressing confidence. Our clothes can be imbued with power, and they can imbue us with power, too.

What are your power clothes? Are they certain styles, materials, or colors? How did you discover them? Have they changed over time? Do you utilize suits, boots, leather, or any of the other items on this list to help you feel centered or strong? Feel free, too, to share any other historic examples of how clothing has supported or figured into power structures over time!

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Presentation

by Sally on September 13, 2012 · 20 comments

I consider style to be an integral part of presentation of self. We all have private selves that few people get to know or see, and we all have public selves that we must share with strangers and the observing world. Our public selves may speak, walk, emote, and interact differently from our private selves. Those are behavioral choices we make, actions we finesse in order to convey certain aspects of our personalities. How we hold our bodies influences presentation of self, as does how we engage in eye contact, tone and volume of speaking voice, and expressive gestures. Dressing also contributes to the public self that we craft, and the clothing we choose to wear and the ways in which we wear it can broadcast certain beliefs, traits, or preferences that we hold.

And that’s important. We must dress every day in order to participate in society, and taking as much control as possible over what we’re presenting about our public selves can feel empowering. We have to do it, so why not make it intentional, creative, even fun? There may be things we can’t control about how our bodies look, but there are some things we can control about how we dress, accessorize, and present those bodies when they’re clothed.

And it’s also dangerous. Our external appearance gives observers the tiniest sample of who we are, the surface level of our identities, a carefully selected but woefully inadequate picture of our true selves. It can be frustrating to realize that most strangers will only see that one dimension, and may choose to judge us based upon such limited information. Even more so that what we WANT to convey may be misconstrued or misinterpreted by observers based on their own beliefs, experiences, and prejudices. Or when outside forces make it difficult or impossible for us to present the visual selves we wish to.

Personally, I consider dressing to be a presentation opportunity. An imperfect one, to be sure, but one worth some energy and consideration. I will never be able to control exactly what people think of me, and I don’t aim to. But by dressing in ways that make me feel grounded, strong, comfortable, and like my best self, I can rig the game in my favor. When I feel grounded, strong, comfortable, and like my best self, I can focus on the other aspects of presentation that are less visual: Eye contact, tone and volume of speaking voice, expressive gestures, emotion and interaction. Dressing well allows me to worry less about how I look and concentrate more on how I act.

What are your thoughts on dressing as a factor in overall personal presentation? Is it important to you? Why or why not? How do you reconcile the idea that dressing and visual appearance are important, but so inadequate in representing the whole person?

Image courtesy Igigi.

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Already Prettypoll: Coloring Grays

by Sally on September 5, 2012 · 100 comments

My grandma will turn 89 in a few weeks. Back in January, she finally stopped coloring her hair and let her gorgeous silver mane show through. Choosing to color/cover gray or white hair is a very personal decision, and I don’t believe that it’s a right/wrong situation. I have no idea if – when I start to show more than the occasional wild white hair – I’ll feel compelled to dye over. But I’d wager some of you feel more strongly one way or another.

Do you have gray hair that you color? Do you have gray hair that you leave natural? Have you ever given thought to coloring your grays, even if they’re not showing/growing in yet? How do you think coloring grays influences social views of aging women? How do you think coloring grays might influence individual women in terms of self-image?

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Many style rules rankle me because they seem subjective, arbitrary, and confining. And now that I’m 35 and can see 40 on the horizon, I’m thinking more and more about age-related dressing maxims, and find them to be just as subjective, arbitrary, and confining as the rest. I’ve penned a post on age-appropriate dressing, and outlined some loose style guidelines for women over 40, but can’t say I’m happy with either piece. Even loaded with caveats, those ideas still reinforce the notion that older women need to watch what they wear more carefully than younger women do. That, after a certain point, wearing certain items will make you look foolish no matter your personality, style, figure, or profession.

The main message I get is that, after “a certain age,” you’re just plain too old to have fun with fashion. Your prime directive should be looking sophisticated, classic, elegant, refined. You need to avoid looking like you WANT to be younger, while also doing several costly, time-consuming, sneaky things to make yourself APPEAR younger. You must stop playing with clothes and be serious, damn it. Fun time is over. You’ve got wrinkles now. Style will be a deadly serious business for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not.

Of course, there’s eccentricity. The gal in the photo at the beginning of this post has likely gone that route with her duotone hair and avant-garde earrings. At a certain point in your life and style evolution, having fun with your dressing choices ceases to be “mutton dressed as lamb” and begins to be “zany.” I fully intend to be zany when I’m in my 80s: Loud, proud, and an embarrassment to my relatives. But some of us would like a middle ground between classic and eccentric. Especially since sartorial eccentricity is generally more accepted in women over 70, less so in younger women.

As I’ve said before, I think clothing’s ideal main function is emotional: Clothing should make you feel good. When you look good in your clothing, it’s easier to feel good in that same clothing. But it’s the feeling, the emotions, the swell of pride or jolt of confidence that really matters. And the style rules I read for women over 30 or 40 or 50 or 60 seem to focus exclusively on looks. You don’t get to feel creative or nostalgic or cutting-edge if you’re an older woman. You get to feel stately and composed, worldly and wise. Small, controlled emotions that befit your chronological age even if they grate against your internal age.

I get dignity. I get that dressing in sophisticated, grown-up, classic pieces as an older women reflects a certain dignity, and that it could be seen as a way of saying, “I know I’m not a girl anymore, and I’m just fine with that.” In our youth-obsessed culture, loving yourself as you age is a praiseworthy accomplishment. But I just can’t get behind the idea that any woman over 40 who wants to wear leather shorts is wrong no matter how great her gams or how perfectly she styles them. I can’t believe that any woman in her 50s who dares to wear an above-the-knee skirt is foolish, or that any woman pushing 70 should confine her palette to subdued neutrals.

Wear what makes you feel great, and feel free to tone down the colors and alter the hemlines if that’s what works best for you. But remember: You’re never too old to have fun with fashion.

Image courtesy Advanced Style.

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Emily e-mailed this request:

I wonder if you’d be interested in doing a post about the discomfort, early discomfort anyway, involved in making the right choices for your body type. When you wear flattering clothes, clothes that fit to the body, well, they show the body shape. And as many many guests on What Not to Wear show with their reactions to belts and waisted dresses, it’s uncomfortable, at first, to wear things on your waist when you’ve been hiding your waist under baggier clothes, or bloused clothes, or what have you.

It’s taken me a long time to learn about my body. Both in terms of appreciating its lovely form as-is, and in terms of helping it look amazing as often as possible by wearing clothes that work WITH it instead of AGAINST it. And before I learned these things, I hid inside my clothes. Husband Mike and I even called a certain segment of my wardrobe my “hide-inside” clothes. They were oversized, bulky, thick, formless, and dark. They masked every lump and bump and I felt secure knowing that no one could see my supposed “flaws” through all that billowing cloth.

But a turning point came when Husband Mike pointed out that I didn’t actually look better, prettier, slimmer, or cooler in these clothes. They masked everything about my figure, including the aspects that I liked and wanted to show off. They made me look big and formless, messy and careless. They were hindering, not helping.

And so I coined a personal mantra: It is better to show the world an “imperfect” form than a formless mass.* I started looking for clothes that showed off my assets, even if it meant exposing some of my non-assets. And the more I saw my body, the more aware of it I became. The more engaged I felt, and the more inclined to care for myself, the more able to nurture my body and cultivate my style. Yes, it’s a giant cliché, but I felt like I was emerging from a cocoon and stretching my wings for the very first time.

And, for me, that mantra still holds true. I feel and look better in clothes that show my body’s form – lumps, bumps, and all. So I gravitate toward fitted items, dresses that nip in at the waist, tailored blazers, slim pants. Sure I play around with proportion and dabble in the oversized sometimes, but I’ve learned to balance those garments with closely fitted ones. And I feel that a style based on clothes that SHOW me works better than a style based on clothes that HIDE me.

But I don’t think this mantra can be applied across the board. The underlying sentiment is that you can and should show your body’s form, no matter how short, tall, bumpy, smooth, big, or small that form may be – proudly, happily, and without shame or fear. The basic theory is that wearing nothing but oversized tops and voluminous pants will create the optical illusion of more body, larger body, out-of-proportion body. And although I stand by both sentiment and theory, the look good/feel good connection swings both ways: Some women will never be comfortable in fitted clothing. Ever. No matter how many compliments roll in. And that could be because of abuse, or anxiety, or plain old personal preference. No woman will ever look good if she doesn’t feel good, and part of feeling good is feeling comfortable as well as confident, beautiful, and powerful. So, in the end, I can only say this:

Your body should be seen. Do not let anyone make you feel like your body is not good enough to show off. Showing your figure is a right, not a privilege. If you are timid about or unhappy with your figure, bear in mind that hiding inside oversized clothes may cause the observing eye to fill in what it cannot discern with “body” that isn’t really there. Although going fitted may feel scary, it may do your body more favors in the end. But, as always, the choice is yours. Wear what makes you look as you want to look, feel confident, tap into your unique aesthetic self.

All that said – and I know it’s a lot – Emily wanted some advice specific to the mental and emotional adjustments that come with wearing fitted garments. In addition to remembering that your body is absolutely worthy of showing off, here are a couple of things to bear in mind:

  • It’s a truth about humanity that hurts a bit to repeat, but here it is: Most people are far too busy worrying about themselves to notice you. Especially details about you like occasional torso bulge. Think about it: You’re self-conscious about those fitted garments and concerned about how people around you may perceive you. In all likelihood, they’re mired in their own set of worries about how they look and seem to others. What seems glaringly obvious to you is likely lost in the shuffle to most observers.
  • If you’re concerned about a reaction from a peer or coworker group after you’ve made the change from loose to fitted clothing, remember that the average shelf life for interest in a sartorial change is two weeks. This nugget comes from the ever-wise Husband Mike. Several years ago, he decided to wear suits to his SUPER casual office. Every day. He wanted to make it his personal uniform. And, as you might expect, he got a stream of “job interview” jokes and curious comments. But they lasted for two weeks, then tapered, then stopped completely. When I cut my hair off, my coworkers and friends took about two weeks to get their surprise/shock comments out of their systems. It may feel awkward for a while, but just remember that it’ll end. (Tips on dealing with clothing commentary here.)
  • And, finally, try to wear fitted clothing almost every day. If you force yourself to do curve-hugging garments during the week and revert to formless ones on the weekend, you’ll associate those fitted clothes with work/duty/chores/unpleasantness. Try to make them a part of your style every day. Doing so will help you gradually acclimate to their presence in your life and wardrobe.

Have any of you made the switch from relatively formless to relatively formfitting clothing? Was the transition tough? Because of your own feelings, outside commentary, or both? Can you offer any other tips for Emily?

*Imperfect, in this context, means “contrary to the dominant beauty paradigm.” I don’t believe body shapes that fall outside the norm are flawed, hence the quote marks. There is no such thing as a perfect human form and all features deemed “flaws” are no more than simple physical traits.

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Some Thoughts on Confidence

by Sally on July 20, 2012 · 7 comments

This video is a collaboration with my good friend Sarah Von of Yes and Yes fame. All explanations can be found within the vid itself, so enjoy!

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How Not to Thrift

by Sally on July 9, 2012 · 45 comments

My love for That Mitchell and Webb Look has been well documented here on the blog, and over the years this BBC show has done some great bits about marketing, feminism, and style. I have mixed feelings about the content of the sketch itself, but love that they titled their parody of fashion makeover TV shows, “How What Not to Look Like.”

Because, after all, “What Not to Wear” is an awkward phrase. AWKWARD, I say! So please consider the title of this post in the same fun-poking vein as Messrs Mitchell and Webb.

And now, on with the show!

Tired

Thrifting itself is tiring. There’s searching through the endless racks, hauling around potential purchases, trying them on, making decisions, considering your budget. Just about any type of shopping will make you a bit tired, but I feel like thrifting can be more sapping than most. Do not thrift when you’re tired.

Overwhelmed

Department stores, mall stores, and online shops are all relatively neat, organized, and orderly places to browse. (Most of them, anyway.) Thrift stores are generally large and echo-y. You won’t find size runs of anything. If you’re already overwhelmed by work, worry, stress, or virtually anything in your life, throwing yourself into an overwhelming shopping environment is just going to add to your burden. Do not thrift when you’re overwhelmed.

In need of something very specific

I’m a HUGE fan of thrifting for trends, basics, and wardrobe frosting. But turning to thrift stores when you need a pair of high-waisted, skinny-fit, size 00 pants is ill-advised. Heading to Goodwill to find a lined red floral miniskirt will likely frustrate you. I highly recommend online shopping if you’re in search of an item that has more than, say, two non-negotiable criteria. Do not thrift when you are in need of something very specific.

On a timeline

Popping into a thrift store for five minutes is a good idea if you’re just killing time between other activities and don’t actually plan to shop. It’ll work if you visit that same thrift store regularly, know where everything is, and can spot new inventory right away. But most thrift shopping is time-consuming and requires careful attention. If you’re in a shopping mood and swing by a secondhand store, but only have 20 minutes before you need to drive across town for a meeting, you’re setting yourself up to fail. Do not thrift when you’re on a timeline.

So when SHOULD you thrift? Ideally, when you’re relatively relaxed and feeling open to whatever the Thrift Goddesses have to offer up. When you’ve got at least an hour to browse and try on. When you’re feeling a little more creative than pragmatic, and when the bounty of the thrift store strikes you as exciting and invigorating. Actually, any two of these factors together should make for good thrifting conditions. Believe me, I encourage any and everyone to thrift as often as they can for basics and un-basics alike! But it’s important to know how NOT to thrift. Because a string of bad thrifting experiences under bad conditions can turn you off the practice for good.

Related:

Have you ever thrifted when you were tired, overwhelmed, seeking a specific item, or on a tight timeline? Any luck? Any other times you’d suggest steering clear of the thrift stores? When do you think are the BEST times to thrift? Or do you feel like you can thrift successfully regardless of conditions? (Some certainly can!)

Image courtesy ilovememphis.

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I was never a popular girl. Ever. The popular girls in my world scorned and teased me actively in middle school, studiously ignored me in high school. And my actual friends talked a good game about the importance of non-conformism as an important and valuable characteristic. They relied on it as a means of feeling detached and superior, but in reality we all wished to be just a little more like the in-crowd. And we made many concessions to their preferences and edicts, often wore what they said we should, frequently looked and acted how they wanted us to.

Non-conformism was a theme in college, too, and my brainiac friends held up individuality as a brave and worthy trait. Even though we had few truly original thoughts rattling around in our noggins, we prided ourselves on being slightly quirky, making off-kilter choices when we could, and veering from the norm in admittedly convenient ways. We were thrift store shoppers and DIYers while our peers roamed the mall. But sometimes, we roamed the mall for our DIY supplies and made short side trips to the Gap. In secret.

At this point in my life, I feel like I conform less than I ever have. I’m a 35-year-old married woman who has no children. I’m an entrepreneur in a down economy. I’m a style blogger who isn’t tanned, toned, and wealthy. I also conform more than I ever have. I am interested in and actively seek out trendy clothing. I listen to whatever the local indie radio station tells me to. I apply light makeup on a daily basis. But as an adult, I hardly ever receive praise or censure for my choices as they relate to conformism.

I look back on all the non-conformist rhetoric of my youth, and feel amused and proud. Declaring myself to be different did create an emotional buffer, and running with a crowd that felt equally odd had its comforts. But looking back on that time also makes me feel somewhat resentful. I feel like, as a teenager and young woman, I fell naturally outside the mainstream and - to ease the pain of default social rejection - was told by my peers that “being a non-conformist” was a good and valuable trait. And unfortunately, that dichotomy made me feel guilty and shameful when I found myself longing to fit in, or dressing and acting in ways that fit smoothly into social norms. It made me feel like a coward and a sell-out, a dolt and a lemming.

Individuality is gold, and non-conformism is brave. But life is social, dressing is social, people are social. And in many ways, we seek to be understood, accepted, connected. Yes, we should express our uniqueness, dress to show our personalities, and feel proud of our differences. But I see absolutely nothing wrong with expressing our mutual desires, dressing to mesh with a group, or feeling proud of what we have in common. ESPECIALLY as young people, when identities are so fluid and social structures so punishing. Anything taken to extremes can become harmful, and conforming to the point that you lose sight of your individuality can be catastrophic. I would never advise anyone at any age to sacrifice all uniqueness for the sake of social acceptance. But a little conformity here and there? It might make your life easier, more fun, less stressful.

Especially when it comes to style. My impression is that the generation of young women coming up right now has more choices than my generation ever had. More is available, more is acceptable, more is affordable. And that means that there are some bold non-conformists roaming the halls of middle and high schools worldwide, shirking trends and flaunting their sartorial choices. My hat is off to them. Even in a world brimming with choices and variety, it takes real chutzpah to purposely stand out. But I hold equal love for the young women who find comfort in dressing like their peers, who relate to their friends through style.

Because in my experience, non-conformism is a double-edged sword. I’d say embrace it if it makes you feel strong and powerful, express yourself as proudly and loudly and often as you can, show the world your uniqueness. But don’t flog yourself for wanting to blend in. Humans are social creatures, and it’s OK to want to belong sometimes.

Image courtesy Lee Tzung-Tze

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