Unravelling the Self in Style

What does it mean not to be yourself? It sounds impossible. How can you ever be anything but you? Yet, it happens quietly, every day. Each time you silence a thought, tame a gesture, or put on something that doesn’t feel like it belongs on your body, you step away from yourself. The hardest part is that it doesn’t feel like a dramatic betrayal; it’s subtle, gradual, and often unnoticed.

For me, the realization came through fashion. For years, I wore what was expected. Outfits that looked “presentable.” Clothes that made me blend, not stand out. I didn’t think of it as censorship at the time; I thought I was being “appropriate.” But eventually, I grew older, and one day it hit me: this isn’t me. This isn’t how I want to walk through the world.

Fashion is supposed to be personal. But it’s often the most public negotiation we make with society. Every hemline, every fabric, every heel height is loaded with social commentary. “Appropriate.” “Respectable.” “Professional.” These words dictate closets far more than personal joy or instinct. You might think you’re free, but are you really? Why do you dress the way you do? Is it because it feels right on your skin, or because it feels safe in the eyes of others?

Take a simple example: walking into a restaurant. Imagine wearing something you truly wanted; maybe an oversized sequined blazer, maybe sneakers under a gown, maybe nothing that matches at all. Would people stare? Absolutely. Would they judge? Probably. And that’s the irony: even in countries that pride themselves on freedom, society itself becomes the unspoken dress code.

But here’s where fashion becomes radical: it can give you back to yourself. When you put on something that feels honest, whether it’s a vintage slip dress, your grandfather’s worn leather jacket, or an outrageous pair of shoes that make no sense to anyone but you, you experience a shift. Suddenly, you’re not dressing to be accepted. You’re dressing to exist, to declare, to take up space. That is the power of fashion.

Throughout history, fashion has often been a form of rebellion. Coco Chanel shortened skirts and freed women from corsets. Punk culture ripped clothes apart to protest conformity. Hip-hop redefined luxury through streetwear, making sneakers as powerful as silk ties. Today, designers such as Demna, a former Balenciaga designer and current Gucci designer, or Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons continue to challenge the very idea of ‘beauty’ by creating silhouettes that distort the body, forcing us to question what elegance really is. None of it was ever just about clothes. It was about identity, power, and the refusal to be silenced.

So maybe the question isn’t what should I wear? but who am I when I wear this? Am I shrinking or expanding? Hiding or revealing? Playing by someone else’s rules, or writing my own?

So maybe the question isn’t what should I wear? But who am I when I wear this? Am I shrinking or expanding? Am I hiding or revealing? Am I playing by someone else’s rules, or writing my own?

Fashion is more than fabric stitched together; it’s a language, a shield, a manifesto. It can be conformity, or it can be resistance. The choice is yours.

The next time you get dressed, pause. Don’t ask, is this appropriate? Ask instead: Is this me?

Because the moment you stop editing yourself for the sake of social norms, that’s when fashion stops being costume and starts being freedom.