More on fashion: A guided entry
A while ago, I decided to let some of my entries about my everyday practices to be guided by fellow humans' questions. Before I dive deeper into contemplating a fellow human's questions, there are two things I want to say. One is that I am very grateful for the questions I receive. It is a privilege when fellow humans engage with one's works deeply, carefully and with so much understanding, empathy and compassion. I could answer some of the questions I receive privately (and I do that too), but at times I want to answer them here, as these contemplations will inform my academic writing. Perhaps there is an element of accountability too. Many fellow humans who know me in everyday life (such as my colleagues and friends) can observe the unity between theory and practice, something that has always been very important to me.
I also want to say (as I mentioned in my previous entry) that my experiences may be, and very likely are, different to fellow humans' experiences. My autoethnography is an analysis of my experiences rather than those of fellow humans. For example, I acknowledge that others' personalities, preferences, modes of being, and circumstances are different. Everyone is a unique human being. The same structures may affect us differently. Others' relationship to and with fashion may be different to my own. For example, my grandmother, a playful, artistic, vibrant, extraverted person would always use fashion to create looks, if not personas. Her clothing had to match her persona. One day she is a housewife, lovingly cooking and cleaning all day in a flowy, flowery dress. She is wearing light makeup, or none at all, and some simple jewellery. Another day, she is dressed in a suit, neutral colours. Her hair is perfectly styled, she is going to her office. Yet another day, and she is looking cool in simple trousers, a bright blouse and almost excessive jewellery. She is going to meet her girlfriends for a chat. She would keep her clothes for a long time, take good care of them, repair them, tailor them to fit her perfectly. I learned much about sustainability from her, and it's certainly not my intention to say that her mode of relating with clothing is bad or wrong, or worse than mine. Mine is very different.
The uniform
I wear a self-imposed uniform. I look the same every day, for all occasions, no matter how informal or formal they are. I live with 10 items of clothing.
My uniform consists of sweatpants (or shorts when it's warm), a basic top, and a loose shirt. Everything is off-white, grey, or light beige. I feel that it's easier to wash all my clothes together if everything is the same or similar colours, and all my clothes are a background to me, rather than the other way round. Fellow humans notice that I wear a uniform (and at times gently ask me about it), but because everything is so neutral, I don't think fellow humans remember what exactly I wear. I avoid prints, logos and decorations on my clothes. Some of them have lace trims, but I feel that such trims age very quickly, so I will try to avoid them in the future. I don't want anyone to recognise the brands that I wear, as I don't want to advertise companies. I avoid anything that feels uncomfortable, so everything that I wear looks like menswear or pyjamas. To me it is important, for ecological reasons, that my clothes are made from certified organic cotton. Apart from the ecological reason, there are spiritual, aesthetic reasons, and health-related reasons. I want to be me. Recently I saw a picture from some clothing company. It featured a woman looking joyful and walking through a field. It is interesting how clothing companies try to create images in humans' minds, to sell a lifestyle when they sell clothes. If only I buy this dress, I will look as carefree, feminine, and joyful, just like this woman. Yet, in the end of the day, if I buy this dress, I will still be myself, just with this dress. The dress might be beautiful in itself, but it's certainly not something I would wear. It is impractical here in Copenhagen. I imagine how the dress would quickly become transparent in the rain. And all those wonderful cotton plants had to be transformed by fellow humans somewhere far away, for me to experience a few minutes of a dream or a fantasy, just to return to my reality.
My fellow human asked: are there any situations where you feel very vulnerable or unsafe in your uniform? Or any times when you felt a strong urge to wear something different?
I no longer feel vulnerable or unsafe in my uniform. But at times, in the very beginning, I did. I was in my early 20s. I gravitated to certain colours and styles, but didn't know how to put together a uniform that I would love to wear every day, how to ignore the looks of men when I was wearing a t-shirt without a bra. I made many mistakes. For example, I tried wearing navy and dark grey, but my cat's hairs were so visible on those items, and the colour faded very quickly. I notice that ivory and light beige last so much longer. My uniform had to be effortless, but navy, grey and black uniform was difficult for me to maintain. I tried wearing dresses and skirts, but it was so windy in England, I couldn't wear them. I tried wearing smart clothes, but I felt to overdressed in many situations, such as going to a supermarket or going for a walk in the park. I felt vulnerable partly due to the choices that I made. Over the years, I realised that wearing sweatpants, a basic top and a loose shirt worked well for me in the climate where I live and considering my lifestyle. Light beige/ivory made this outfit suitable for many occasions. Apart from falling in love with the incredibly simple aesthetic of this look, more importantly I was falling in love with my imperfect body. The uniform became a veil that gently separates me from the coldness of the outside world in winter (I live in Denmark) and something that gently protects me from the looks that I would rather not have directed at me. At times, though rarely, I feel uncomfortable when someone looks at my chest when I wear only a basic top without a bra. But I don't see it as my fault. I would feel ashamed if I realised that I was staring at a fellow human. Developing a healthy relationship with my body and my uniform made me feel indifferent to fellow academics' comments about me not claiming power via my outfit choices, not doing enough to attract men. After all, it's just a viewpoint of one (or even several) beings among billions of beings. In such moments, I pick up one of the stones that I brought home with me from a Danish beach and ask it what it thinks about my outfit. It remains silent. I look at graceful cats, majestic magpies, elegant swans. None of them are interested in fashion. They look the same every day. I am infinitely inspired by them. I am also inspired by fellow humans who wear uniforms, and it's empowering to share our experiences. My partner wears a uniform. It's a white shirt and black jeans (or light-coloured shorts in summer). He has multiples of the same item. He also has several shirts for formal occasions and a couple of sweatshirts for winter. His father wears a uniform too.
The strongest urge that I feel, when it comes to clothes, is to not wear anything when I am, for example, by a body of water. In Denmark, it is legal to swim naked, and many fellow humans practise naturism by the sea. In such situations, I feel a strong desire to wear only my own, imperfect skin. At times, I feel cold, and I feel that it would be nice to wear something warmer than a linen shirt. I borrow something from my partner then. Strangely, most of the time I simply feel the desire to wear exactly the same outfit every day. Even though I live with only 10 items of clothing, I noticed that I've been wearing only a few of them. Some of them I wore almost every day and they wore out. My soul rejects reinventing myself. I would not want to, say, wake up to discover that my hair or eye colour or my height is different: I want to be me. And it's the same with clothing.
My dream is to wear exactly the same item every day. Another dream is to discontinue wearing shirts. I feel that they have too many details on them (collars, buttons), and a plain top feels more in line with simplicity. Currently, I am contemplating what I should do in the situation that arose recently. My partner and I will be hosting his child's birthday party. The theme of the party is blue. It's the child's favourite colour. For a moment, I thought, wouldn't it be nice to wear a blue dress for this special occasion? I decided not to, as I will not be wearing this dress for other occasions. My partner will wear his one and only blue shirt himself, so I can't borrow it. I don't know what I will do yet.