04: what happens if we forget how to get dressed?

not *actually* but actually

Whether your wardrobe is trend-phobic or -philic, rooted in minimalism or maximalism, I have never considered getting dressed a skill but more of a kaleidoscope of personal signals to a social aim. In getting dressed or getting dressed, clothes reveal:

1. A person’s conformity to rebelliousness ratio (because like the Kinsey scale, this aspect of dressing exists on a spectrum);

2. apparently some kind of enlightened view of the world revealed by “not caring” about how one is perceived through their garments;

3. and whatever parts of their innards people are willing to share with others.

Clothing is an important part of the social fabric that unites and divides us, overtly and covertly.

But will that still be true if we all forget how to get dressed?

I have not been one of those people who has put on my favorite dress to just sit on the couch. Nor am I going to. Though I love Marc Jacobs for doing so on everyone’s behalf. It is not just because I realized dressing is how I metabolize the world around me and since there has not been much to see or do IRL, it’s more because getting really dressed up for the day feels like a depressing reminder of how long COVID has been affecting our lives.

The reference to getting dressed being a skill was typed out in full sincerity. Like any form of expression, the ability to externalize parts of oneself relies on practice since each attempt gets closer to the truth. Some days are closer than other, but on the long, never-ending path towards becoming every step counts.

I realized that my dressing muscles were weak when I could not even get a basic outfit together. I could not get the sleeve cuff right so I put on a plain t-shirt. The denim jacket I usually wear suddenly looked basic. And the proportions of my favorite slightly cropped flare trousers did not look right with the Air Force 1s I usually love wearing with these pants. I felt the exact same degree of blandness as I do when I put on a pair of trusty Nike track pants that somehow ended up in my possession during my freshman year of college and fit perfectly, a grey Uniqlo cashmere sweater, a t-shirt and socks because it has been cold in my apartment since early October. The outfit I put together was objectively fine—fine in the way that pretzels are an unbearably bland, but fine snack.

For those of us whose sartorial muscles will be very weak once(!) this is over, what will the restrengthening process be like? Is tuning into digital fashion events the equivalent of yoga? Is the doubling-down of influencer content that never miss our feeds like watching workout videos on YouTube that one never actually does? Will dressing for the first thing you are really excited to get dressed for be like starting with a Barry’s Bootcamp Class after months of doing nothing?

In the absence of sartorial experimentation and expression, and perhaps (hopefully) fewer clothing purchases, is this time maybe just a much-needed palette cleanser?

I think yes. And perhaps an explanation for why Instagram wasn’t able to furtively boost the Shop feature in its latest update.

Feeling good means something different now than it did 8 months ago. It seems we may be returning to a mentality where fashion matters less and clothes matter more. Perhaps wearing things that feel bland, that bring us to a neutral place, like 80 BPM, has planted seeds that are connecting us more deeply to our own personal style. And while we may not be acting on it yet, when those flowers bloom and we’re really dressing, it is my great hope that the garden of life we comprise will be reinvigorated with an abundance of color and individuality to make up for the many months of greys and sweats.

Maybe one day we’ll see that forgetting was the only way to remember how to get dressed.