No Seriously, We Need to Shut Up About Personal Style
Prompt No. 65: Pinterest Boards, Boobs, and Badu
Editorial Note: The following is a piece critiquing the structure and discourse surrounding “personal style”. The phrase appears in quotation marks to indicate this, as opposed to describing someone’s situated style (personal/professional). This is not a criticism of specific writers or content creators (named and unnamed) or related methodologies, nor is an exhaustive argument.
I know I said we need to shut up about it, but I am still stuck on the concept of personal style and its potential for harm. The more I consider the ways in which we discuss and employ it, the less it makes sense. And yet, I almost want to be wrong. As I rebuild my wardrobe to better reflect who I am today, it is far more satisfying (read: self-aggrandizing) to see the process and outcome as distinctive rather than a moderate transformation within conventions of dress. I am simply utilizing style genres and personalizing them to my tastes. Still, I will be the first to admit that understanding this is far less intoxicating than seeing myself as some singular being gliding through the grocery store in Rick Owens. That sense of uniqueness is what “personal style” promises, but in reality is another regime through which we manage and measure ourselves through observation. Kind of like diet culture. Once you see it — this consumer culture at work — it’s hard to ignore. Its structure includes methods to make ourselves appear more attractive. Its language focuses on discipline, calling on us to take responsibility for our presentation through increased work and (implied) constant refinement. And it ignores the fact that the results of that work are still subject to the same social forces as any other aspect of our appearance, including race, class, gender expression, ethnicity, and body composition. In other words, personal style is hardly liberating unless we commit to seeing as a form of resistance. So far, no one is and that’s my problem.
What is “personal style”? Frankly, it depends on who you ask. According to a Guardian article, author and content creator Stephanie Yeboah defined it as “dressing in a way that brings out your true self and ‘the version of you that feels most honest, most alive.” In the same piece, fashion editor Rachel Tashjian clarifies that there are two types — the “frankly old-fashioned idea of finding out what silhouettes, fabrics and colors look good on you and feel right for your lifestyle” and another “based on ‘the idea that your experiences, interests, hobbies and aspirations can all come together in this creative and even mystical way.’” Stylist and content creator Laykn Carlton put an even finer point on it, stating in her Substack, “It’s how you want to dress. Full stop. It is not how you actually dress — that’s your self-expression.” Whatever “personal style” is, it requires the work of knowing ourselves in some regard, and no matter how we put it that’s additional work we’re placing on ourselves to look a certain way. It may not sound like the discipline required to lose weight, but it is all based on feelings, which inevitably shift with age, location, life experiences, etc. That does not mean the work is meaningless, it’s just constant. In order to continue feeling “powerful”, “confident”, and “comfortable” we have to continue investing — in our wardrobe.
That said, I think the apparent struggle to arrive at a definition stems from the fact that “personal style” is a tautology, or a statement or phrase that says the same thing twice — like “convicted felon”, which we hear a lot these days. Style is inherently, although not entirely personal. Further qualifying it is superfluous. So let’s define style. Multidisciplinary writer Joanna Walsh has a succinct definition: “Style is the assertion of individuality within or around a social pattern.”* Let’s break this down a bit. Social patterns, be it behaviors or structures, are established by societal and cultural norms. These norms shape our understanding of identity through conditions placed on the body. For example, in the U.S., the white, cis-gender male functions as the norm by which all other identities are relationally defined and controlled. Think of it like this:
White women are emotional, therefore are unfit to lead.
White women is the body, emotional is the condition placed on that body, and unfit to lead is one way they are controlled.
The body and its conditions also determine the meaning of dress and style, but instead of controls, we see constraints. Gwyneth Paltrow can sport multiple gold rings and necklaces and never be deemed “ghetto”, while attorney and U.S. Representative Jasmine Crockett is routinely branded as such for wearing false nails and lashes. “Personal style” ignores all of this in lieu of feelings derived from the self, and we see this in the how-tos that structure how it’s achieved.
Despite Tashjian’s claim that there’s an old and new way to discover “personal style”, a lot of content generated on the topic relies on the old, rule-driven way that has little to do with the body. Moodboards, three or four word descriptions, and female archetypes analyze emotion. Astrological placements and outfit tracking (different from moodboards in that they help visualize what you already own versus what you want) utilize existing markers and signifiers. Color analysis and body typing (Kibbe) are the only popularized techniques that take the body in consideration, but address neither conditions nor constraints. Still, the results moralize clothing preferences — the “right” colors, the “wrong” silhouettes — that new methods avoid. Although not inherently deceptive or misleading, both ways can suggest conformity if not centered around individuality. That may seem obvious, but it’s not — for either the wearer or observer. The wearer can easily fall into the trap of increased consumption (as Carlton explains, chasing the personal preferences of others). However, the observer can get stuck on constraints that limit what we deem acceptable in terms of style. One particularly controversial bust line illustrates this point.
People have a lot to say about how model and television personality Olandria (mononymous) wears her bust. Athough I have briefly discussed this on TikTok, I want to revisit it through the limits of personal style. During her appearance on the reality dating show, Love Island, the former elevator sales rep often wore her string bikini so that the top was secured close to her frame, giving her bust a “smashed” effect. Given that she could easily adjust the straps, it was clear the look was intentional. Now, routinely dressed by celebrity “Style-Design-Tailor” duo, Matthew and Reginald Reisman, Olandria brings the look to many red carpets and still appears on best-dressed lists. (Notably, she forgoes the effect when wearing Christian Siriano, whose gowns are expressly constructed so that “the girls” appear comfortable, regardless of exposure — that’s his signature). In other words, how Olandria showcases her body is obviously part of her style, but that fact has not stopped observers from commenting negatively on that choice. Why? Because the point of “personal style” is to look appropriate, even appealing, when asserting individuality within social patterns. Olandria does not break enough sartorial rules to get away with shirking that one. The smashed effect is subsequently read as poor fit and tailoring rather than an intentional and subversive aesthetic decision. And that’s a rather generous assessment. A more cynical one would include the ways in which observers reflexively uphold sartorial standards rooted in white supremacy (which Western tailoring does) over Black aesthetics that often call their validity into question.
Conversely, Erykah Badu throws out so many rules that no one bats an eye, regardless of whether she drowns herself in clothing, jewelry, and kinky hair or strips down to her skivvies. As observers, we understand she fashions herself around patterns of race, gender, and spiritual beliefs that have little to do with the norm. As such, her aesthetic decisions are clearly understood as “personal style” and thus hardly ever criticized. The same goes for Grace Jones, Lady Gaga, Björk, Daphne Guinness, David Bowie, Sun Ra, even Solange. Because these bodies are situated in an inherently creative area, their style is expected to mirror their work. As a model, Olandria’s body is also professionalized, but subject to all of the rules dictated by the system of fashion. Having anything more mature than prepubescent body is already a tough sell. Forcing observers to reckon with flesh may ask too much of some with a vested interest in maintaining the rules.
This goes well beyond Pinterest boards and boobs. We need to shut up about “personal style” because we don’t actually practice or respect it. Most of us are not situated in spaces that permit us to assert our individuality around social patterns, only within them. We still need to dress appropriately, still want to look attractive, and “personal style” seems to offer a solution: revision and transformation on our terms. No endless trend cycle or increasingly expensive trappings of upward mobility. No diets, exercise, or cosmetic surgery. We can shave off the years by looking great in our clothes. But none of that’s style. It’s simply social control. Until everyone can flout a rule or two without judgment and rebuke, will this redundant phrase make sense. But trust me, I get it.
Donald Trump is a convicted felon.
I have personal style.
It’s gratifying.
*Joanna Walsh admittedly co-creates with AI, co-authoring two books utilizing AI she coded. Although I have mixed feelings about this, there is no evidence that she wrote her fashion and critical theory column, from which this is taken, with AI. I should also note that she also has an article on “personal style” that I have not read, but having scrolled through it, my guess is it’s worth perusing. Maybe she will change my mind.
Since I was late with this one, I will publish an accompanying Acquisitions post on Easter Sunday (April 5). All of this “personal style” talk is going to tie into my new favorite movie that I also cannot shut up about.
This is SO good and please never shut up about personal style discourse! Never thought abt style as another form of social control, especially the constant self surveillance work the “new” practices require. I dont think I will ever unsee this now, thank you! Great piece!