Last week, I woke up late for class. Actually, scratch that, I woke up on time for class, got ready, decided I had time to lie down on my bed and relax for a little bit, fell asleep, and THEN woke up late for class. After contemplating how I ever managed to get into an Ivy League university, I quickly donned my jacket and backpack and ran out the door. When all my classes for the day had finished, I returned to my room, caught a glance of myself in the mirror, and promptly spat out a sizeable muffin chunk. In my haste to leave earlier that day, I had neglected to realize that I was wearing jeans, and the jacket I had put on? A jean jacket. Yes, I had committed the same atrocity as JT and Britney at the 2001 AMAs… mixed denims.
And I didn’t even have a sweet hat to go along with it.
Later that night, I mentioned my tragic mistake to a particularly fashion-conscious acquaintance of mine, who merely shrugged her shoulders.
“I actually think denim-on-denim looks all right. It’s just a matter of pulling it off.”
I promptly pulled out my phone and showed her a selfie of the outfit in question.
“My point stands! It’s just a matter of pulling it off…and you can’t.”
Then I hit her with a breadstick.
She had a point, though. I really love clothes, but I wouldn’t consider myself particularly fashionable. Whenever I wear something more complicated than jeans and a sweater to class, people tend to comment “What’s the occasion?” or “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before, are you a transfer student?” I’m just not one of those people who can pull off a “look,” whether it’s vintage poodle skirts or modern soft grunge or anything in between. However, I was curious to see how people would react if I tried…
So, for an entire school week, I wore a different outfit each day that I knew I couldn’t pull off and recorded people’s reactions. The results are below.
Outfit 1: All Black, a.k.a. Goth/Emo/Punk/Art Babe/Vampire?
When I first came to Brown, I brought a bunch of black clothing so that I could reinvent myself as an artsy type. This little number is an amalgamation of all that, with the added bonus of a shitload of eyeliner.
I don’t know if you can see how bad the eyeliner is. It’s real bad.
“Is the all black for Good Friday or something?”
“I think… I think you maybe smudged your eyeliner…”
“You look like me in middle school!”
“Hahhahahahahhahahha! No, sorry, sorry, it looks good.”
“Hot.”
“You look sad, but not in a way that makes me care about your sadness, you know?”
Additionally, someone in my American Sign Language class signed to me that my legs looked nice. Or that they looked like a vase. I’m not very good at ASL.
Outfit 2: Mismatched, a.k.a. Overgrown Kindergartener
I can tell you in all honesty that I have actually considered wearing this outfit as a serious fashion choice. If you can’t tell, those patterned tights have polka dots, and I’m wearing pigtails. Sorry for the blur–I got to use my boyfriend’s iPhone 6 to take my picture on the first day, but for all the rest I had to selfie with my MacBook and Photobooth.
Because, understandably, I have no friends.
“When is this article thing going to be over? I don’t know how much longer I can be seen with you.”
“Wow, I really like your, uh… shoes.”
“Aesthetic.”
“You’re like a slutty mime or something!”
“I feel like you should have a stupid name like Lucy Goosey and be the main character on a children’s TV show and have a talking penguin as a sidekick.”
“Honestly, if anyone can pull that outfit off, it’s you.”
Outfit 3: The Formal Dress, a.k.a. Real Life Disney Princess
All right, folks, let’s be real. This dress looks amazing on me, and I definitely pull it off. I’m humble enough to admit that. However, I wore it for this article anyway because no matter how good something formal looks on you, it will never be appropriate to wear to the Ratty when you want to shovel Lucky Charms in your face.
Bonus dress twirl, because I’m the prettiest.
“I don’t understand how you can walk around in that without being paralyzed by self-consciousness.”
“Do you have a hot date with, like, a rich white boy from the 1950s?”
“Great costume!”
“I’m not going to feel sorry for you if you spill your coffee on that dress.”
“Aww, you’re like a doll!” “What the fuck kinda dolls did you play with?”
“For the love of god, please stop twirling.”
Outfit 4: The Cowgirl, a.k.a. Miley Cyrus circa 2009
I have a confession to make. I didn’t keep the cowboy hat on all day. Call me a horrible journalist if you must. Even I’m not that shameless.
I hope you can still see the rest of the picture, what with the glare off my sheet-white legs.
“What made you decide that bringing a cowboy hat to college was a good idea?”
“See, when I got into Brown and realized I was going to be going to uni overseas, that’s what I assumed all Americans would look like.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re going to wear that to class?”
“I actually think it looks good, but I have a very specific hybrid librarian/cowgirl fetish, so…”
“Well, if you’re going to wear that, you have to at least do an accent.”
“Oh, for the love of God, wear that if you must but will you SHUT UP WITH THE ACCENT?!”
Outfit 5: The Athlete, a.k.a. The Clothes at the Very Back of My Closet
I wore the most athletic looking-shorts that I own for this. Said shorts have the Space Camp logo on the front.
You found me out. I was a jock in high school.
“The gym is nowhere near here…”
“Please keep eating that brownie forever. This is the most ironic thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
“See, me knowing you… This just looks like you didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas this morning.”
“You need to stop saying the word ‘gains.’ I mean, I know you’re just kidding around, but I’m this close to punching you in the face.”
“I honest to goodness didn’t recognize you until just now.”
“To me, this doesn’t say ‘athletic wear.’ This says ‘awkward middle schooler in gym class.’”
So, clearly, there are some things that I just should not wear. Or maybe I just have terrible friends…
On a serious note, I was actually pleasantly surprised by the reactions–or lack thereof–that I received. I was hoping to just record the comments that people gave me without prompt, but on the first day of my experiment I quickly realized that most people really don’t give a fuck what anyone else is wearing. I had to prod my friends into insulting me, and even then it was all in good fun. And as I got dressed in a new ridiculous outfit each morning, I realized that I was spending infinitely more time worried about my own appearance than I spent concerned about someone else’s. Maybe that means that next time I accidentally don white shoes after Labor Day or wear navy with black, I’ll remember that lesson, and go through my day with one less thing to stress about…
Or maybe that means I’ll finally buy that jellyfish dress I’ve always wanted, and nobody can judge me when I wear it everywhere!
Yes? Yes.
Haha! good for you