There was a girl who ruled the world and kept a diary of what she’d done;
See nothin’ terrified or compromised her livin’ in the midnight sun.
I asked her honestly how she keep the shimmer that was in her eye;
Or find the energy to live as free and never let a moment by.
She said “Be yourself.”; Just be yourself.
Coz everybody’s gettin’ dizzy, kinda busy being someone else.
I never listened to Arctic Monkeys and I never liked the bottles of sweet, synthetic stench from Hollister. I’m weird. I always have been. I got on better with boys until boys were scared of girls, and fed up with boys when they eventually wanted my attention. I never had a niche; I liked too many things. When most of the girls around me grew boobs and hips and showed them off in mini skirts and crop tops, I covered up in jeans and baggy shirts. Cliques were impossible in my world as I fit all – and therefore none. Even in what I wore, I had aspects of every group and every stereotype, so no stereotype was adequate to describe me.
Everybody’s an arse; it’s called being human.
But don’t stereotypes seem a little outdated? Nowadays, can you really tell what music a person listens to just from what they’re wearing? No. Even band shirts no longer necessarily mean the wearer has any notion of who Pink Floyd or Nirvana is. Can you look up and down at an outfit and decide whether or not you will click with the individual inside? Of course not. And yet, have you ever pushed your phone slightly further into your pocket when walking down a dark street, quite late at night, and seeing a group of people wearing certain clothing? Or maybe turned down an applicant because they weren’t dressed professionally enough? Perhaps you steered clear from fluorescent colours or the lack thereof. Perhaps you rolled your eyes at yet another teenage girl in leggings and a crop top of the same seasonal colours that every high street outlet is providing. Or perhaps you are one of the clones who forget that having a personality is a natural human trait. Whatever your offence, we’ve all been there. It’s not a sin, it’s just being an arse. And everybody’s an arse; it’s called being human.
Style stereotypes may not be accurate anymore but your clothing is still your brand. It provides every stranger with your personality’s blurb. It can’t explain your history or who you are to the very core, but it can be a window through which to peek inside. So take pride in it. Wear trainers and a blazer if that’s what you feel comfortable in. Wear a 50’s dress and kitten heels if that’s what you want. Wear typical band shirts with ripped skinny jeans and converse. Wear clothes reminiscent of a child’s. Wear a wedding dress everyday if you really want to. But be you. Have your own unique identity. Don’t wear another person’s blurb, it’s just false advertising. Be as wonderfully weird or uniquely boring as you’ve ever wanted and don’t pay attention to any odd looks you receive; they’re just being
an arse human.