The way we present ourselves is a performance. Through the clothes we wear we signal to others who we are and who we want to be. But what if that person is someone else entirely?
It’s like clockwork. Out of the ashes, a new IT girl arises, and with her, a flood of videos on how to replicate her style. Basics from Zara, bright colours, neutrals, patterns, gold jewellery, silver, none at all, more basics, statement pieces, another white tshirt, a different kind of jean.
This is not a new phenomenon by any means, but social media has completely changed the landscape of style and influence. Never before have we had such unrelenting access to images of other people. It’s not the inspiration which is the problem, that is a natural part of style. But there is something empty in simple replication. Style is about exploration and incorporation, assembling patterns from interests and influences to create something unique. The way we dress also allows us to find community, signalling to others the things we share with them. There is something precious in this and something deeply personal. When we forgo this to instead base our style of dress purely on images, seeking to emulate another person or vibe, we lose touch with this part of ourselves.
With the premiere of ‘Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette’, this month’s IT girl and style icon is Carolyn Bassette Kennedy, with her chic, effortless, 90s minimalism. Social media is aflame with videos on how to style jeans and a white t-shirt, all brand new of course, to match this chic effortlessness. Although, buying a whole new wardrobe seems to take an awful lot of effort. So too does recreating her exact hair colour. If you ever wondered what the wealthy spend their money on, apparently it’s a full day at the hair salon. But why wouldn’t you want to look like CBK? Her style is elegant, effortless, chic, and timeless.The videos I have seen labour on this point. Did I mention it’s effortless?
I do not seek to disparage those who follow this trend. Perhaps it is a step to finding what represents them. The truth is. I see myself in them. I too have ached to be someone else. If I just dressed right, if I looked the part, then I could transform into a perfectly curated vision of someone who knew exactly who they were. The early days of TikTok were intoxicating. Into my brain exploded images of dusty college libraries and antique manuscripts all under the guise of ‘dark academia’. It seems so long ago now. This experiment in presentation helped me understand myself, it set some foundations for who I would become. But Penny’s sweater vests and H&M trousers do not an academic make. It couldn’t last forever, trends change and people change. Ultimately, clinging to aesthetics can only take you so far. When you forgo the bright colours you love to conform to this projected idea of yourself, the line between style and costume becomes finer. I still have my inspirations of course, but I hope I am not so shameless now as to treat pinterest boards as my bible. Like most of my fellow Arts Block dwellers I like to think my clothes reflect the things I am interested in. I no longer mistake that for being the same as who I am. The music I love, the books I read, the clothes I admire, none of these things define me in my entirety. They do not define you either. My devotion to internet aesthetics served me in those in between years when I was uncertain of who I was. Maybe this is the crux of the issue. When you don’t know who you are, it seems to be much easier to be someone else than to find out.
Another thing that has caught my attention is the way that our obsession with photos of Bassette Kennedy and her clothes have reduced in the public eye to an object to be replicated. She has become a figure of ‘quiet luxury’, a phrase which, to me, encapsulates the sinister encroachment of right leaning aesthetics and rhetoric which prize women who have resigned themselves to silence. Bassette was anything but silent. She was a woman, as complicated as any. I would also like to point out that curating photos of her wearing black cashmere jumpers does not negate the fact that there was so much more to her. It is a disservice to both the real person behind the photos and to ourselves to forget this. Her style has been lauded as iconic, yet no amount of time and money spent in Zara can buy the essential element; her. Her clothes reflected her time, her personality, and her views. In short, it is unique because it is hers.
So why does any of this matter? Perhaps it doesn’t. But trapped in that constant cycle of consumption and emulation cannot be good for the soul. An ever-wise Lucy Dacus recently said that sometimes you have to wear the clothes before they become the costume. We must not rush to judge when someone tries to reinvent themselves, sometimes they might need to experiment before allowing the outside to reflect within. Or sometimes they will shed it off when the next IT girl emerges. The problem is that every month or so there is a new icon who we must follow, an influx of videos in an endless algorithmic cycle telling us to buy, buy, buy. It’s the weekly hauls and yesterday’s trends ending up in landfills. It’s getting lost in it all and not knowing who you are when no one is there to tell you. Maybe if I dressed like Carolyn Bassette Kennedy I would be happier and feel more like myself. I doubt it.
