Edited by: Rishika Agarwal
18th October, 2019
The smell of banana and vanilla batter stirred me awake, and as I opened my eyes, my room greeted me with its vibrant yellow, blue, and orange posters, closely hung together, leaving no visible gaps between them. These posters were placed side by side, not overlapping. My outfit for the day was a simple one: a plain tee tucked into mom jeans, fastened with a broad black belt, and the hems of my jeans neatly folded. The only accessory that mattered was an orange scrunchie on my left wrist.
When I first dabbled in the world of fashion, it was an uncomplicated and clear journey. I created Pinterest boards and acquired a few items that resonated with my style, similar to my pinned inspirations. Browsing Emma Chamberlain’s YouTube channel and excitedly texting ‘skskksks’ to my friends were simply enjoyable activities, not attempts to stand out.
18th October, 2020
Turning sixteen felt like a significant milestone, just as I had often heard. Choosing what to wear on that day became quite the puzzle, as fashion seemed confined within distinct categories. Would I adopt the “e-girl” style, characterized by striped black attire and heavy eyeliner, or embrace the indie look with colorful tees and blue jeans? My personal favorite was the “soft girl” aesthetic, a style I had started exploring during the lockdown, marked by soft, pastel-colored makeup, and white inner eyeliner, along with plenty of blush.
The pastel pink posters adorning my room seemed to compel me to follow my heart and dress like a “soft girl.” However, a lingering doubt, symbolized by a subtle red shadow, cautioned against it.
I observed how fashion was becoming increasingly categorized, a notion that appealed to my appreciation for clear distinctions. Yet, another categorization was evident — how specific styles appeared to be reserved for people who conformed to particular appearance standards. My aim was to express myself uniquely while feeling good about it, all without transgressing the societal boundaries imposed upon me.
18th October, 2021 and 2022
TikTok seemed to romanticize the ages 17 and 18. During those times, a trend of minimalism emerged, with the color brown dominating every aspect of my life. My room was adorned with Matisse posters and affirmation notes. However, I quickly discovered that minimalism did not suit me, prompting a complete transformation of my room. My desk became a haven for Monster cans, and the soft glow of my pink keyboard illuminated the space. The room was perpetually bathed in purple or blue lights. Being 17 was enjoyable, but it also marked my gradual entry into adulthood, accompanied by various realizations. When I turned 18, I couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed. Dressed in a white outfit with pearls around my neck, glittering eye makeup, and my favorite pink lip tint, I felt a sense of internal emptiness. This was the best I had done, but something still felt amiss.
Societal expectations imposed upon me triggered jealousy towards those who didn’t conform, leading me to adopt an air of superiority as a defense mechanism. Being different provided a fleeting sense of self-worth, and I continually reassured myself that this was the path I should follow. However, I found myself trapped in a toxic, unending cycle where I constantly needed to do more, dress differently, and like different things from those around me, while still emulating the people I admired online. In the midst of all this, I lost sight of where and who I truly was. It was then that I realized — I didn’t really know myself.
18th October, 2023
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t celebrating my birthday at home. The fragrance of my caramel almond vanilla mist transported me back to the time when I had turned 15. I selected my cherished pink dress, paired it with black boots, and put ribbons in my hair. My dorm room was adorned with vines, fairy lights, and handcrafted flowers, complemented by pink and white posters that created a magical atmosphere, especially when they twinkled at night. It dawned upon me that the things I liked, I genuinely enjoyed for myself.
To discover my true self was surprisingly uncomplicated. There it was — I already knew who I was. The challenge, however, lay in shedding the cumbersome layer of other people’s opinions. Those opinions had served as defensive shields in my mind, but gradually, they crumbled. I no longer engaged in behaviors that momentarily elevated me with a false sense of superiority, leaving behind a lingering emptiness. There was no other way; to be authentic, I had to let others be themselves.