I don’t like making decisions except when it’s about picking an outfit

Other days, I begin with a brilliant outfit already constructed in my mind. That’s when I take way too long to get ready, trying to figure out why reality won’t match my imagination. I don’t know why this gap exists, but in two years, I’ll have a fully developed prefrontal cortex. Maybe then my mood boards won’t crumble in front of a mirror.

I run through this charade until I feel utterly and wholly like me, or at least, who I am on that day. It’s only when I reach that feeling of me-ness, like the outfit is an extension of myself, that I feel confident. I firmly believe that confidence is what makes any look. Well, confidence and the same three necklaces I’ve been wearing since I was 19.

Getting ready may seem messy and chaotic (re: the pile of clothes on my bedroom floor), but there is a method to my madness. It goes picking an outfit, hair, makeup, accessories, and hair again (depending on the humidity). It’s fun, yes, but it’s also a space where I’m entirely in control, where the decisions I make aren’t going to affect anyone else. I decide alone, and I reap the benefits alone. It may not be very high stakes, but the days build on each other, and so does the confidence.

There will come a time when I won’t rely on my clothes to give me that sense of identity, of surety. I’ll find it within myself, and picking an outfit won’t be much more than a daily routine. But until then, please, don’t ask me to pick a restaurant.

Also read:

I struggled to find my personal style until I started dressing like a five-year-old

As a man, borrowing my sister’s clothes shaped my style

How to dress like a main character—according to four stylish women