Getting Dressed is No Small Feat
No jeans on planes;
No turtlenecks when anxious;
A good heel for presentations;
And florals for depression? Groundbreaking.
I have a few other fashion rules that are slightly more personal, such as:
Always dress well for a haircut (you’ll be much less likely to freak out after a bad trim);
And don’t wear high-waisted skinny jeans when stressed—nerves cause bloating. Thank you, IBS!
The many rules I’ve gathered for myself are clear defense mechanisms, perhaps maintained by the slight conviction that, should I break them, everything will fall apart. Of course, this is not true. If I forget to put on the bracelet I’ve been wearing since high school graduation, my whole mood is off. But aside from the anxious wait until I see it resting safe and sound on my nightstand, my day is pretty much the same. This is an example of a potentially harmful anxiety, adding unnecessary stress to a perfectly normal day.
Others, like those mentioned above, are tools. They’re tips and tricks I’ve picked up to feel the most comfortable in specific situations. As a person who needs order in my life, rules are a welcome means of setting a higher baseline of self-respect to my days.
Model protests against straight-jacket fashion at Gucci show via.
This might not be impressive to most, but I started making my bed religiously during my senior year of high school. My messy bedroom and an inclination to hoarding (I now throw EVERYTHING out, sorry to anyone who’s ever given me a birthday card) were always points of tension between me and my parents. But I didn’t change my habits for them.
I was going through a difficult time in my life when it occurred to me that even if I couldn’t bring myself to eat, sleep, or reach out to a friend, at the very least I could dress my bed. Was I cured? Definitely not. But, ever so slowly, I began to do Normal Human Things ™.
A quick Google search on the topic is enough to reveal the strength of the relation between dress and emotion. It is a particularly common theme amongst people with chronic illness, depression, and (as is explained in a 2008 Scientific American article) young people living in Western societies with non-Western identities.
In the study described, Bangladeshi students in London had varied mental health status later on in life based upon their choices to dress in traditional clothing or in a more “integrated” style. Interestingly enough, girls who dressed more traditionally exhibited better mental health later on. For them, it seems that traditional clothing acted as a sort of protective layer for the girls and their culture. However, boys who dressed in integrated clothing were better off as adults, a potential nod to the stronger encouragement young boys are given to work and integrate with Western cultures. For the Bangladeshi boys, integrated style is a sign of individual freedom.
While this study doesn’t explore the ins and outs of the role that cultural and gender identity play, it certainly provides us with some food for thought. Just how deep does the connection between mental health and fashion run? Is it okay to use clothing as protection if that safety comes from conforming to societal expectations? I’d like to think that mental health improves as we distance ourselves from ill-intentioned judgement, but perhaps it’s not that simple.
The lead designer of Pyer Moss and Erykah Badu collaborate on a collection shining a light on mental health and the last words of BLM activist MarShawn McCarrel (seen in the featured image). Image via.
Fashion is a tool. A bit of yellow on a dark day can do wonders for your mood. But finding a routine, forming a set of rules, and taking charge of how you present yourself is undeniably a component (however big or small) of establishing self-care. A pinch of blush won’t make your problems go away. But for some of us, it may just be the first step of many to better mental health.
Featured image via.
