7.19.2018

My Entire Summer Wardrobe is Filled with Pink

The most shocking sartorial decision I've made, well, ever.




My entire life, I've played with the idea of femininity—through my actions, through my identity, and, most prominently, through my style choices. Probably every 20-something woman would say the same thing; in a world where femininity is both praised and demonized, questioning how much is too much, or if none at all is acceptable, feels like a staple of every woman's coming of age story. But when that woman (like myself!) is also questioning her sexuality, or if she even fits into the ideals of womanhood at all and wishes to experiment with different types of gender expressions, the concept of "what it means to be a woman" is very, very confusing. As carrying a deviant sexuality or gender already goes against all notions of what that truly means, at least based on the patriarchy's definition, my adolescent self who had no clue she would be labelling herself as queer ten years later used her femininity to overcompensate with what she was subconsciously yet also deathly afraid of.

We're talking long, blonde hair, dresses practically every day, and the liking of only so-called "girly" things—Cinderella was my favorite Disney princess, and I spent the entirety of my young, adolescent, and teenage life dancing ballet. I also only pretended to like camping and outdoorsy things when my family would force me on those trips, and sports still, to this day, only disgust me, unless you want to call competitive dance a sport or if you invite me to watch Olympic figure skating (which I will transform into a full-on fangirl for the latter, btw). I took these feminine tendencies into high school, too, where I became so feminine that I wore a bright pink tutu when I was Sugar Plum my senior year and decided to entirely swear off of pants when I turned 15 because they didn't fit with my girly style.

(We could also go into my darker past, where I forced myself to like unattainable boys from age 12 to 18 and called an attraction to a girl as simply a "friend crush," but I digress.)

Then, upon understanding my queerness, I suddenly hated everything feminine. I decided to stop dancing, I didn't wear a dress for six months straight, and I changed my 20-minute makeup routine into an under-five-minute one. I omitted every piece of color from my wardrobe, because apparently color is a so-called "feminine" attribute of clothing, and instead stuck to neutrals and muted undertones, especially come the winter months—how depressing is that? My old self had been obsessed with throwing bright hues into an outfit, maybe to overcompensate for not knowing who the fuck I was at the moment, but looking back, at least I was having a blast getting dressed in the morning

And then, it hit me—I've liked the art of style for over a decade mostly because, as I said above, getting dressed should be fun. Avoiding certain styles solely because they seem to clash with my identity is not only complete bullshit but also just downright boring. I attempted to rid all the femininity in my life for many complicated reasons, but mostly because it felt like a betrayal to my personal identity and style. However, it is possible to wear a shit ton of color and still carry a sense of masculine energy in one's style.

Apart from carrying a wonderful mess of androgyny, playing with color is simply an enjoyable sartorial choice to play with whether you want to experiment with the idea of femininity or not. I did a test run on this a few months ago, and I continue to throw in a splash of color with (almost) every 'fit this summer because a) #lovesummerhateeverythingelse and b) resembling different colors of the Pride flag during the queerest summer (aka June through August of 20gayteen) seems like the best way to showcase my membership.

But why pink?

Why?


Shirt is vintage, from The Break. Dickies pants are from Urban Outfitters (find vintage ones here). Sneakers are Vans.

The last time I remember myself consciously choosing to wear pink was in 3rd grade, when I had declared pink to be my favorite color. I soon abandoned the idea simply because my girly side began to fade at age 10 into middle school, where pink was replaced by greens, blues, and even purples, which I decided would be my new favorite color as it still carried femininity but was cooler, a little subtler. And then I ditched color altogether, and soon reclaimed it as a staple in my wardrobe only two years later. I went through a lot of style evolutions, as you can tell. 

But again.

Why pink?

You could pinpoint it to the moment when I impulsively bought these pastel pink Dickies last summer days before NYC Pride because I was in desperate need of finding colorful pants to go with my 100% Human shirt for the parade on Sunday. I thought they would exist in my closet as "those pants that I wore to Pride in 2017 but have not touched since," but they soon become a staple in my closet that I constantly slipped on. However, always with neutrals—never would I pair the pants with a bright red top, of all things.

But obviously, I've changed since.



Only recently did I stop associating color with gender and the divide between masculinity and feminity. Seeing men wear hot pink and women wear army green and everyone in between wear whatever they wanted gave me the realization that of all things, why the hell was color a gendered phenomenon? The concept of gendering most anything is strange—why are we labelling boats as women and why do some people simply refuse to respect people's they/them pronouns? Can't color simply exist as a way to express oneself without being sorted into the rigid binary of gender?

Yes, all of this is true—but I realized I've been shifting towards pinks and reds and other pieces like floral mini dresses because maybe I miss that feminine side that I used to be so heavily attached to when I was younger. I abandoned her because I was in a strange battle with my sexuality and felt that my previous connection to all things feminine was simply me being too afraid to admit to myself my true queerness, but now I realize that I loved that feminine side. Looking back, it felt like overcompensation, but now that I'm the surest of myself that I've ever been, all I want to do is reclaim that femininity as my own, as I now am redefining womanhood by being a lesbian but also deciding that I will always hold a strong tether to femininity. I still love dance, but I ditched ballet for a postmodern style that ignores antiquated gender roles seen in the more classical style. I could care less about sports and still find the outdoors to be a dark and scary place that I'd rather not partake in, and makeup, although I wear far less of it, excites me beyond belief. The above 'fit shows that I'm obsessed with so-called "feminine" colors and details like ruffles, but still throw in my personal style to the mix with my Vans, style of pants, and short hair.

And then came my final epiphany: it is possible to simply dip into the pool of femininity instead of diving head-first.

Should I make that my Instagram bio?


All photos shot by the WONDERFUL Geordon when I visited NYC last month.



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