It’s engraved in fashion history that certain silhouettes, colours, and aesthetics have become associated with designated points in time.
Brightly patterned A-line dresses enhanced with bold accessories define the ’60s, while denim accompanied with colourful but relaxed windbreakers screams the ’80s. It’s clear that certain styles have been prevalent and trendy with respect to their times, but still broad enough to allow for individuality within each trend.Â
I ask myself if the 21st century will have clearly navigated modes or style distinctions that can be textbook-defined for future fashion history reference. Or if dozens of microtrends that entertain for merely weeks with no lasting or positive impacts on our wardrobes and wallets are our contribution to fashion history.Â
To set the scene, we’ve seen the e-girl trend in 2020, which was swiftly replaced by “soft girlcore” just months later. Then, preppy style, which later turned to street-skater style shortly afterwards. Several chapters later, we’ve most recently witnessed blockette that turned into the office siren that turned into mob wife with a fairy core taking up wardrobes somewhere in between.
The next microtrend has most likely already been scouted, will soon be produced by every fast fashion website, and is waiting to reveal itself to you through your algorithms.Â
Sometime in 2021, I found myself struggling to get dressed on a regular basis in between microtrends. As I pondered what to wear, I noticed myself staring at a bunch of garments in my wardrobe with no correlation or even common themes within them. A green plaid t-shirt hung beside a pair of harshly colour-blocked denim jeans with one leg blue, and the other black, rainbow crochet tops, patchwork pants buried at the back of my clothing rack, and the list goes on.
I remember telling myself I actually didn’t like most of my wardrobe. It was a mess and definitely not wearable as a collective. Lots of colours with no common tones and pieces that were so specific they looked completely out of place next to each other. I felt a complete gap in my everyday dressing needs according to my lifestyle. I was curating a wardrobe that could be mistaken for a fast fashion museum rather than a collection of clothes that pertained to me, my likes, dislikes, and life.Â
When I acknowledged the problem, I spent time deciding what I actually liked and what I needed from my wardrobe, aside from what social media was telling me. I played a game of elimination with my closet. I tried on most of my clothes and was honest with myself about what worked and what didn’t in terms of fit, colour, and shape. Even specific details such as pant rise, skirt hem, and sleeve length played a role in my choices.
I learned that I prefer T-shirts when the sleeves fit loosely over my arms, and I don’t like collared shirts unless they are white. Confronting these facts about myself was the first step to recognizing my personal rules for dressing simply in accordance with what made me feel the best.Â
After a much-needed round of elimination, it was time for me to rebuild a wardrobe that actually pertained to me. However, I didn’t immediately hit the mall to rebuild the damage. Instead, I took time to become conscious of my personal feelings surrounding clothing with respect to my mood, comfort, and personality.
I started to notice silhouettes I loved, textures that made me feel good, and colours that improved my mood but could work with others I already owned that also made me feel good. I thought about things like my work dress code, the places I frequent, the accessories I own, sensory facts about myself, the things that inspire me, and anything that could tie a piece of clothing to my life.Â
Slowly purchasing clothing in a mindful manner allowed me to know that I love fuzz and exaggerated shapes in clothing because it makes me happy. I don’t love secondary colours unless they are muted and toned down; bright and bold primary colours suit me well, and I love a good, versatile statement coat. Purchasing slowly also ensures steering clear of overconsumption, a major issue in the current fashion industry today.Â
The biggest challenge was totally separating myself from narrow microtrends unless they actually fit my wardrobe. For example, my bubble skirts, which I love so dearly due to their exaggerated shape, have had their moment as a microtrend. But on the other hand, although I was tempted, I lasted through blockette without purchasing a jersey because it didn’t suit me or my style and I knew it wouldn’t become a staple in my closet. I’m not a big fan of sports, to begin with, so it didn’t make sense to buy one, although it completely works and could integrate well into someone else’s wardrobe.
It’s not to say you can’t participate in a trend; it’s ensuring that the clothing you buy is purchased thoughtfully and with purpose.Â
The biggest help I had in finding my style was completely laid out for me already. It was as simple as acknowledging the facts about myself and my life.
Discovering my personal style has left me with a closet I feel good about, will last my lifetime and has saved me so much money as I wasn’t searching to spend on new clothes every month in order to fit into short lived trends.
The best part is that the entire time, it was just as simple as understanding myself. Style should always be up to the interpretation of an individual for themselves and their life.