Fashion: Self-definition

I hate to be defined. Last night I told my husband I couldn’t finish my tea. He responded, “I know.” That pissed me off. I drained the cup in two large gulps, put my cup down by the sink, said something not-so-nice and walked away. (Possibly a little emotional instability popping up.) Somehow, this made me think about how fashion is so defining. Maybe I should say it the other way: we are stereotyped based on our fashion decisions. This is what I hate about fashion.

You might think that this is one of the best parts of fashion, right? I mean, one gets to make the decision how to present him or herself to the world. But I don’t want people to think they know me based on the material, styles, colors with which I choose to cover my body. And yet, many people do want to be known by their sense of style, their fashion. They like this sense of self-definition, power to proclaim who they are to anyone looking. For me, it feels claustrophobic.

We’re told not to judge a book by its cover. Do we judge a person by their cover? In one sense people’s fashion are announcing who they are and what they value. But are people more than this? This is my struggle with fashion: how to recognize the cultural signs and yet hating to be defined by something so material (or immaterial).