by Grace Pappadellis ’29 on December 11, 2025
Opinion
While putting away laundry, one of my closest girlfriends asked me a “would you rather” question that left me stumped. She carefully placed her shirt on a hanger in a much neater fashion than I ever do, and said, “Would you rather have no say in your style whatsoever and have someone choose your wardrobe for the rest of your life, or only own the same items forever and never shop for new clothes again?” I was flummoxed and disturbed to hear this question, and suddenly it felt like I had to answer as if my life depended on it.
I absolutely love clothes, fashion, and creating my own sense of style—not just because my mother was a fashion merchandising major in college—but because when I pair my clothes together, when the colors meld and mix and match, when my skirts flow and sweaters rest on my shoulders and my shoes have me skipping down the street, I feel like myself. Clothes are everything! They are direct manifestations of our self-expression. Regardless of the clothes that are available to us, however we place the pieces that we do have together, we are able to display our own sense of style.
Therefore, my answer to the question was suddenly unobstructed, and it all made sense. I could never allow someone to dictate my wardrobe, even if it meant wearing the same outfit every single day. Maybe I am particular with my clothing, or I have an avid interest in fashion, but the thought of having no jurisdiction over my outfits is terrifying to even suggest. Sure, I appreciate variety. I have the privilege of wearing different outfits based on my mood, based on what makes me most comfortable, and I am also able to shop around within reason. In fact, shopping for new clothes is a special thing—especially finding items that I know I’ll wear forever, and they’re unlike anything else.
However, I stay particular when it comes to picking out clothes. The idea of somebody creating my wardrobe not only violates my autonomy, but it also builds a wave of anxiety when imagining walking out of the house in a state of discomfort, helplessly dressed in clothes I hate the color of, or detest the fit of, or simply don’t feel like me. Maybe I’m being a little dramatic, or irrational, but I cannot emphasize enough the power I feel when everything just fits, when the clothing arrangement is effortless and complete. To be frank, there is no better feeling than slipping on the same pair of jeans, weathered, stretched, flawlessly forming to your body, without any hesitation or second thought. This goes for t-shirts with just the right amount of gap for your arms in the sleeves, tank tops with soft straps, denim shorts with slight discoloration, and sweaters that slouch and hang like lush leaves on a strong, sturdy tree.
To adorn outfits with accessories is a beautiful thing—accessories that mean something to you, represent something, reminding you of special parts of life. When my childhood best friend moved away for a spell of time, she gave me her old jewelry box, cherry wood, just the right size, and filled with jewelry that had once meant a lot to her, but she didn’t wear much anymore. I cherished every piece, heedlessly pairing them with all of my outfits at the end of middle school and early high school.
Sometimes I can’t help but wince when I look at old photos of what I once called “my style,” and what I deemed to be the most chic and effortless. Regardless of the quality of the outfit in my eyes today, at the time, the outfit felt great, felt like me, and I can never blame myself for wearing something that once made me feel so comfortable and fashionable.
There’s a noticeable tastefulness in finding the clothes that work best for you, and sticking with them. Sure, I rarely follow this rule—in fact, I prefer to alter my style, attempt to acquire multiple, and embrace variety. On the flip side, I love watching others build their style based on the clothes they find most interesting, creating their own personal patterns that are sometimes only perceptible to themselves. It’s an intimate, exclusive practice that I see as a key component for self-expression.