I have no regrets when it comes to what I chose to do in college. No part of me looks back; wishes I had done it differently. I could have been a Biology major, I am smart enough. I could have been a Journalism major; I look at life as though I am reading it. But I majored in design; apparel design to be specific. At the time, it made the most sense. I had spent most of my adolescence aching to be creative; constantly looking for outlets to plug into. Mostly it came from my love of what I call “a look;” specifically these archetypes we fit into as individuals and how we either chose to blend in with society or stand out as color stands out against a white background. I think for most fashionthusiasts, they are drawn to the colorful aspect of fashion; the grand couture and the batted eyelashes from fashion’s darlings of the moment. They are drawn to the rather obvious beauty, and search from obscurity within an established industry. However, it is the search for this obscurity that creates the idealistic perspective on the fashion industry; the idea that there is something new to be found. What drew me in was the idea of recognizing what isn’t new is really what makes fashion interesting. The idea that discovering what works, and has worked for decades, is really the yellow brick road worth following in this Oz-like industry.
It isn’t the work of magic that makes all women look fabulous in a little black dress. Elves don’t make it so that all women need to have a staple-statement purse, or a striking pair of pumps. Much like in the way we can prove that gravity exists, or that all tea-party members are conservative extremist clowns, we can prove that certain types of fashion exists for a good reason. Permanence is a difficult to thing to prove, when things move as rapidly as they do. But there is permanence within fashion; and thus style is born.
My mother used to tell me, in her motherly way, “you look ridiculous in that outfit.” I was sixteen, freshly gay, and trying to prove to the world that I was plugged into the scene; that I lived and breathed fashion. I would spend hours studying trends within the men’s market; I would obsess over my hair and face. For most mothers, having a daughter requires such predictable behavior. But having a gay son is completely different ball game; in many ways. I would criticize her for being too “set in her ways.” It was always the same: a sheath dress and pump/ a blouse-cardigan combo with a pencil skirt/ coat with camel straight -legged trousers. I would tell her “BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT’S IN THIS SEASON.” She would gently pat me on the back and say “you’ll see.”
Years later I would come to realize what it means to find permanence in fashion; my mother had found it years ago and spent her life living it. I blame her mostly for my views on fashion and what it has the possibility to do to people. Fashion has never been, and never will be, about blending into the background. But it most certainly isn’t about being the strangest or the boldest. Bold is beautiful, and there is beauty in all things strange. But the true test of fashion is being able to withstand all that is thrown at you; to find your own personal sense of permanence. It is the kind of confidence you can touch; tangible beauty you create for yourself.
I’ll never regret my choice to study apparel. It is such a simple concept in terms of limitless confidence.
