Have you ever moved to a new place and suddenly felt like you had nothing appropriate to wear?
Stylists like to act like “personal style” is intransigent. That it is some intrinsic part of you that can be formed without much outside influence. I have never experienced it that way.
As an adult, I have lived in six different cities across 4 states. Not only does weather impact what I wear, the *vibes* of the place do, too.
St. Augustine was a conservative beach town, with clothes to match. Tallahassee was a southern college town, where a modest artsiness was allowable. Charlottesville was preppy and outdoorsy. New Haven was a mix of New England prep and upscale eccentric, but mostly it was just cold outside. Houston was super laid back. And Austin is a convergence of genteel, weird, and tech bro.
In each place I live, I feel compelled to find a way to merge my personal taste – at least the parts that are fairly static – with the silhouettes, colors, and styles of the place. As a frequent thrifter, I am also influenced by what is available on the secondhand market.
And sometimes, I’m trying to reinvent myself.
Personal Style in a New City
Since moving to Austin, I have felt much freer in what I can wear. Though my church/professional setting is fairly traditional, it’s very normal to bare tattoos and experiment with style here. The population skews quite young, and Austin is historically known for being “weird.”
When I moved here, I also entered a new phase in my career. No longer a “baby priest,” I am growing into my role with more confidence and courage.
Both the context and my career move have made me feel less burdened. But experimenting with my style over the last few months hasn’t led me to make coherent or ultimately satisfying sartorial decisions.
My need to break the mold has mostly led me to overbuy on funky, secondhand clothing that I’m just not comfortable wearing.
While I appreciate that I can wear tank tops that expose my tattoos and dabble in more eccentric accessories, I can only skew so far before feeling like I’m playing dress-up.
I guess what I’m getting at is that Austin is the least judgmental place I’ve lived when it comes to clothing choices. And there is freedom in that, but I still keep putting pressure on myself to figure out the Austin formula so I can fit in.
But fitting in can’t be the goal. I have also been working to pinpoint ongoing health issues and accommodate recent weight gain. Clothing function and comfort matter, too. Wearing shapes and styles that make me feel good matter, too. Other things besides clothes matter.
So, last week, I took a good, hard look at my closet and cleared out all the weird colors and ill-fitting pieces and said goodbye to aspirational. I don’t need to hoard a version of myself that no longer or never will exist. I can be me, albeit with a few things that feel like Austin.
I think it’s natural, and even kind of fun, to be influenced by the dominant aesthetics of the place I live. It’s unreasonable to expect that this won’t happen. But being swayed toward a way of dressing doesn’t have to mean tearing apart my preexisting wardrobe. It doesn’t have to mean competing with the younger, more affluent people who have different resources and different priorities. Here at least, it can mean freedom.
And maybe the freedom I should be after is being free from obsessing over what I’m wearing.
