“What do you think my personal style is?”

There’s no way to answer that since “style” is so varied. As a term pertaining to the way one dresses, it’s defined as having a distinctive appearance. You look at someone like Marilyn Manson and you say, “Oh, he’s goth” or “He’s a rocker.” You look at Elle Woods from Legally Blonde and you immediately think pink.

Whenever I’m posed with a question like this, I can’t help but think of the millions of connotations belonging to one’s personal style. She wears a lot black so she must be goth. Or punk. Or grunge? Obviously, she wears it because she listens to angsty music, though. Or maybe heavy metal. Alternative? But anyway, it doesn’t matter because it isn’t country music and it isn’t hip hop so she must drink a lot of coffee, black, and smoke cigarettes on the front porch of her house because that’s what people who wear black do. That’s what your outfit says about you.

It’s like this: you wear a Pokémon t-shirt so you must like Pokémon. Your style thus defines a facet of your interests in pop-culture. And if you like Pokémon, then according to the various other people that like Pokémon, you must like Digimon and you must like Adventure Time and you must like x, y, and z items by default. If you’re an adult, then it’s presumed you grew up with Pokémon and that you’re still holding onto your childlike sense of wonder. To some, you might seem immature, but to other people that like Pokémon, you seem cool and relatable. Your shirt then becomes a signifier of who you are as a person, categorizing you into a million other sub-genres of culture, but ultimately type-casting you as “that kid who likes Pokémon.” Especially if you have more than one Pokémon shirt.

I spent the latter years of my adolescence trying to find a signature style. I listened to bands that wore black and I felt secure knowing that other people who liked the same music probably wear those similar clothes too. I definitely used my clothing as a crutch, hoping that other people with a similar style would flock to me and be my friends because we looked similar, so of course, we’d have similar interests.

That wasn’t what happened.

All those other people that wore black weren’t interested in the same shows as me. They weren’t interested in the same movies, the same books, the same core life values that make me who I am. Our personalities didn’t mesh. Conversation didn’t flow. I never settled into the comfy stereotype pertaining to black clothing like I’d hoped, mostly because I like my coffee sweeter and my cigarettes in someone else’s mouth. Luckily, I later realized that I just feel comfortable wearing black. I felt most confident wearing clothes that I liked and stopped worrying about “where I fit in.” It wasn’t fair of me to try to typecast myself and fit in with people that looked like me, but weren’t interested in me.

Style is awesome and having a personal style can certainly make you feel more grounded as a person. Just like some people wouldn’t want to wear black every day, the thought of putting on athletic attire or a pretty pink pair of pants would make me feel uncomfortable. It’s when you start to worry about how other people perceive you that you’re delving into a more stressful territory.

Wear what makes you feel confident. Personal styles can and should be, ever-changing and diverse. Who you are means so much more than what you wear.