#59: on costumes and being yourself
+ lots of photos of makeup and outfits
When I was in the middle of a closet clean out a few years ago, I watched a video from a stylist explaining how she shopped for clothes.
Her rule:
“If it feels like a costume I’m putting on, I’ll leave it. If it makes me feel more like myself, I’ll buy it.”
It was an idea that stuck with me, coming at a time when I was very focused on becoming more myself. Not just “becoming”, but learning who I was and then reinforcing that every way I could.
(The desire to “be more myself” was also a big driver behind me stopping to wear makeup. There was a severity to cutting off all the things that “weren’t me” so I could more clearly see whatever lay below that.)
I kept thinking about the stylist’s rule not because it resonated, but because it felt like it was missing something crucial.
When I thought of the clothes in my closet that I never wore — a white feather mini skirt, sequin short-shorts, a black wool jacket with lambskin sleeves — they did feel like costumes. So what was my problem?
For the next few years, that question kept ringing in my head every time I went to buy new clothes.
Does this make me feel more like myself? Or is this a costume?
I’d summon that question, poking at it like a loose tooth, never able to find the weak spot that would let me unravel what it was missing.
Shopping became less about pleasure and more a test on how well I knew myself.
Is this a costume or is it me?
These past few weeks (as part of my quest to be as boring and stupid as I’d like), I’ve let myself go back to shopping for clothes for fun. Fuck it who cares, buy whatever you want and then regret it when you make a stupid choice.
Not only did I buy lots of things that have brought me so much joy, I’ve also started wearing clothes I bought years ago and shelved when I decided they were “too costume-y” and “not me”.
A pair of cargo pants tucked into calf-high brown suede boots. A lace-edged skirt with a thigh-high slit. Statement tortoiseshell sunglasses. Red lipstick.
Here’s the latest thing I’ve learned about “becoming more myself.”
I don’t think “myself” is a constant thing. And I think costumes and masks can let us be more ourselves than a rigid adherence to “what’s true”. Because “what’s true” - for me - varies from moment to moment and day to day.
There are days when the most me thing is jeans, a t-shirt, slides, and no makeup.
There are days when it’s red lipstick, a high ponytail, and a skintight black jumpsuit that unzips to my breastbone.
Because there are days when I want to feel sharp and strong, playful and soft, beautiful and desired, and a thousand other permutations and contradictions of being. And that expression comes out in my clothes and my makeup and how I talk and how I look.
I’d consider those clothes a costume because I’m using them to say something, to reflect an inner experience to the outside world, and to heighten its expression.
To eliminate that because “it’s a costume” feels wrong, and makes me feel less myself.
I also think costumes (and masks) can help us get to know ourselves better. It lets us embody an aspect of ourselves in its fullest expression, in a way that (I think) is harder to do without it.
Anyway, all of this clicked when a friend invited me to a themed costume sex party and I had to figure out what to wear.
My first thoughts:
sexy necromancer (black lingerie under a sheer shift dress)
ranger (open white linen shirt tucked into leather pants, a dark green cloak over)
a shapeshifter (something with animal print or fur)
And all of them filled me with dread lol. The necromancer was too revealing (I have no idea what to expect from the party and did not want to go 9/10 naked). The ranger felt too practical, like I was trying to “solve” the problem of the costume instead of allowing myself to play with possibilities. The shapeshifter was a funny take, more to deflect my nerves than something I actually thought would be fun.
The costume I eventually settled on felt like I was owning something real to me.
(Photos to come when I finish styling the whole thing, it’s very G-rated).
All to say. I think costumes can be incredibly powerful and revealing (literally and metaphorically). And you could say that the way I’ve defined “costume” here isn’t a costume at all, and probably not what the stylist meant.
WHATEVER.
It was a revelation to me when those two ideas came together, and helped me figure out my own relationship to how I shop, what I wear, and why.
That white feather mini skirt, the sequin short-shorts, and the wool jacket with the lambskin sleeves? I might not wear them often, but they speak very strongly to different parts of me.
And the rare days that I do wear them, I feel so incredibly like myself.
✨
Warmly yours,
Nina