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Fashion has long been an intimidating, even hostile, world to me. When I was younger and came downstairs dressed for the day, my mother would usually point out the numerous fashion laws I was violating.
“White after Labor Day? Heavy knits with a summer dress? Your earrings and necklace don’t match. Did you do your hair? Good lord! Are you wearing black and brown?”
I never got it quite right, and it didn’t take long for me to rebel and wear whatever I pleased, with rather embarrassing pictures to prove it. Somewhere between outfits making me my mother’s doll and my own painfully creative costumes, I found something called style. But fashion was still a dirty word that meant money, judgment, insecurity and millions of potential missteps.
So it was with some trepidation that I left to work in France, the unequivocal motherland of Fashion with a capital F. When I left, I was ready to face the disapproving glances and the judgmental “tsks.” I knew how I liked to look – haute couture be damned. The funny thing was that all the French people I met had only nice things to say.
“Que belle” about my scarves, my hair, my funky clothes – maybe I wasn’t as unfashionable as I thought.
I soon realized two truths. First, my mom may know more than I give her credit for, but more importantly, it wasn’t me — it was American culture that had kind of missed the point.
Fashion is not what you can or can’t afford, it is not whether you look fat, or what style or trend you wear. It is all about how you wear it. The care, confidence and self-respect you have for yourself are worn on your sleeve for everyone to see. Your art, your passions, the way you’re feeling that day — fashion is about representing your best self.
In France, it is the difference between “belle” and “vulgaire.” My friend, former Floridian and now five year Frenchie Amanda Pardue explains it best.
“There is a definite difference between the French and the American concept of beauty,” she said. “I feel like in the US, beauty is more subjective, and French are more objective about what looks nice. Like, you don’t have to be beautiful to look belle. In France, it is considered belle to be well put together, it doesn’t matter what shape or style. However, something like wearing too much makeup, looking sloppy, or being unhealthy is considered vulgaire. In America, people sometimes think trashy chicks are hot anyway just because they have a pretty face.”
But I want that je ne sais quoi of “Pahree!” Fine, they wear a lot of black and other somber colors. I mean a lot, almost exclusively.
“There is a common belief in France that British and Americans wear outrageous colors,” Pardue said.
But each of the pieces they wear is perfectly matched and balanced, by fabric and cut, to their bodies. When I was there in May, leather jackets, converse, ballooning gypsy pants and Middle Eastern style scarves were everywhere.
However, the biggest difference is that there is no stigma against wearing the same clothes day after day, as long as they are carefully chosen. I look at my bulging closet and drawers with a sigh – streamlining is the next project on my list.
Other rules: Work clothes are for work; Home clothes (sweats) are strictly for home, and gym clothes are for the gym only. You end up changing quite a bit, but I find that putting my nice clothes before leaving the house feels like donning armor. Getting a drastic haircut lets you see a fresh face in the mirror. Putting yourself together just right makes you feel stronger and more confident, which is always sexy. Our image affects our psyche. By dressing up, whatever that means to you, you’re making a statement about your worth to the world.
So whatever your style is — goth, boho, prep, sporty, glam, however you are comfortable and confident – that is fashionable. As long as you take a few extra moments to really think about each piece you’re wearing and how they fit together. Nothing is off limits, as long as you’re aiming for the truest expression of yourself.
Oh, and wear black.
