One thing you should know about me is that I love giving compliments. Everyone takes pride in how they present themselves, and this effort deserves some recognition. So, when I meet someone new, my favorite way to break the ice is to compliment something I find interesting about their look. Even if we’re just strangers passing in the hallway — if your makeup looks amazing, I’m going to tell you. It’s such a small, easy gesture, but it has the power to make someone’s day, so why not?
This got me thinking about what I tend to be complimented on, and how I came to possess those traits. I obviously didn’t pop out of the womb with the personality or sense of style that I have today, so where does it come from?
Lately, when someone compliments me, I’ve tried to answer that exact question. Whether it originated when I was 9 years old or 15, I noticed that each trait started off as something I admired in the people around me. That could mean loving how a celebrity styles her hair or resonating with a character’s sense of humor on TV. However, most of my childhood role models were girls around my age. Girls who I thought were gorgeous or perfect — who I would’ve done anything to be more similar to.
The first trait I thought of might sound silly, but I always get complimented on my eyelashes. Whenever someone asks about my lash routine, I immediately think of a friend I met in fourth grade homeroom. As we grew up and started to experiment more with makeup, she developed a routine that I thought was so cool. Her eyeliner was always perfect, and her natural lashes were long and full enough to be mistaken for extensions. When I expressed interest, she taught me her ways — even bought me the mascara she swears by — and I immediately saw results. Now whenever someone thinks I’m wearing lash extensions or have some secret technique, I mentally pass the compliment along to her as well.
My style has a similar story behind it. My friends know me as the girl who always wears these vibrant statement sweatshirts, but the compliments I receive for this style extend far beyond me. When I was a kid, I met a pair of twin sisters through theater who quickly became role models of mine. They were so confident and grounded — everything I wanted to be. The same could be said about their presence on stage and how captivating they were to watch. Even their sense of style seemed magnetic to me. This was back when Urban Outfitters’ graphic collection went viral, and everyone was wearing the hot pink Nirvana sweatshirt. There was something unique about the way they styled these pieces, and I was obsessed.
Looking back, I can’t decide if the allure came from the look itself, or if it had to do more with my perspective of the girls who modeled it. Nevertheless, I adopted the Urban Outfitters wardrobe (despite my wallet’s protests) and started collecting similar items. As I got older, this obsession with statement pieces grew and changed with me — going from an imitation to simply an influence on what I wore. With each purchase, I found items more tailored to my personal style, and made it my own. Now, every time someone comes up to me and asks where I got my outfit, or tells me that they love my sweatshirt, I think of those girls. I never expected that Nirvana merch would mean so much to me, and it’s crazy to think about how different my style could be if we never crossed paths.
The same goes for my personality. My college friends never believe me when I say I used to be painfully introverted, but it’s true. As a kid, I let people walk all over me and never stood up for myself. I was too nervous to take up space in any situation, so I would just stay quiet. However, in high school, I met someone who transformed the way I moved through the world. My best friend was unapologetically herself, always. It didn’t matter who she was surrounded by — she would never change or shrink herself for other people. She’s the most outgoing person I’ve ever met, and it was daunting at first. Each of these attributes were things I could never have claimed to possess — but, secretly, I wanted to feel that free.
From her, I learned how to stand up for what I believed in and to stop changing myself to be perceived as more likable. If someone didn’t like who I was or how I acted, maybe they just weren’t meant to be around me. Flash forward a couple years, and I’m now the friend who seems to have zero social anxiety. Yes, I will tell the waiter your order is wrong when you’re too nervous to speak up. As we established earlier, I will also strike up a conversation with a complete stranger without hesitation. I think of her every time someone calls me an extrovert, because who knows if I’d have ever found this confidence otherwise.
What I’m trying to say through my many anecdotes is that I am a scrapbook of sorts — molded from the attributes of people I look up to. I could go through nearly every trait I have and tell you about who inspired it, and I think that’s something to be proud of. I know that being completely unique is something many people chase, and that being “too similar to everyone else” is looked down upon, but I think there’s something special about girlhood and this culture within it of sharing the best parts of ourselves. I love the idea that we are all so interconnected without even realizing it. I’m willing to bet that at some point, I was one of these role models for somebody else — and I think that you were too.
So maybe, every once in a while, we should look back on who we are and how we got here, and either directly or mentally say thank you to those who influenced us the most. I bring my role models with me wherever I go, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.