I’m talking about styling oneself so badly that you become transparent; unseen by the world because you didn’t know enough to dress to be seen. You’re not Channel hulling a Céline gown down the red carpet (although if that’s your jam, more power to you). You’re not even… basic-balling it with corporate hardpants and a crisp white shirt.
Invisible dressing is a whole other level of wardrobe malfunction. Let me explain. A few years ago I attended networking event for young professionals in the publishing industry.
I wore a sensible navy blazer (too big in the shoulders), beige chinos (too long) and brown leather loafers (well worn). I shook hands with junior editors and junior agents, exchanging pleasantries and politely inquiring about their literary interests.
Later that evening I started receiving congratulations on actually talking to people. “Were you the girl in the…” they’d start, hand gesturing vaguely towards their lapels. “You don’t remember who I am?!?
We literally just spoke!” “Oh… yes?
Sorry, you…” Charlotte, my style-confident friend since university who clearly gets hers from her mother and spends her weekends traversing London on search for the world’s most pristine-white jeans, leaned over and whispered in my ear: “Darling, you’ve styled yourself out of existence. You’re apologising with your clothes.” Charlotte was mean.
But she was right. I fell into the worst styling trap there is. Confusing bland with tasteful.
Misinterpreting invisible for inoffensive. Dreading drawing any attention to myself that I ended up drawing no attention at all. Note: there is something to be said for subtle dressing.
But there’s a difference between styling yourself with care and not giving a damn what you wear. It’s the difference between architecture and accidentally parking your house. I spent the next few months casing the joint, people watching and taking mental notes on who looked present and who looked like they were going through life with the invisibility cloak on.
It wasn’t long before I noticed a trend of common style crimes that did nothing to elevate one’s look, but everything to hide it. Ah, The Almost-Fit. trousers that are just slightly too long or too short. Jackets with shoulders not quite broad enough for your frame.
Shirts that end mid-bicep. None of these pieces are awful on their own merit. But together they create a look of doesn’t-care.
A bloke I used to work with, James was his name; was highly intelligent but continually overlooked at work. His outfits were always James-style; shirts too loose, trousers too short. When he finally took my advice and invested in some tailoring (I almost cried with relief), he was promoted three months later.
Same Jim. Different shirts. “I didn’t realise clothes were that important,” he said to me later. “I thought it was vain to care about stuff like that.” Which is exactly the problem. There’s this idea that if you care too much about how you look you’re being vain, narcissistic or simply shallow.
But caring about your appearance isn’t a bad thing. It just means you realise that the way you present yourself to the world is a form of communication. Whether you like it or not you’re sending out signals with your clothing.
Make sure you’re sending out the right ones. Speaking of sending out the wrong signals… Wearing stuff badly just because that’s how “the rules” say you’re supposed to. We’ve all seen it; the guy wearing a tie because it’s proper.
But he paired it with a shirt one too many sadist girlfriends gave him for valentines day and hasn’t shaved his legs in God knows how long. Or the girl who ONLY wears neutrals because they’re safe. But the colour combo makes her look as washed out as her underwear.
Rule following isn’t stylish, no matter how painfully“correct” you think you look. Don’t get me started on how many times I sat in lectures with a guy who wore the same outfit every Tuesday; black trousers, blue shirt, desert boots. Nothing wrong with that get-up; in fact some may say it’s tried and tested gentleman’s wear.
But he wore the same underwear too. Why? Who cares what jeans someone wears on their bottom half, but his top half was impossible to ignore; beige it was his MO.
The same shirt, trousers, shoes, and chore jacket every week. He may as well have handed outCVs when we signed our register. He dressed down to avoid making a decision.
And trust me, people noticed. I once heard that you shouldn’t wear more than 2 colours unless you’re Kate Moss (which, trust me, she isn’t). Now, there is some wisdom in that statement.
Dressing head-to-toe in your greys, navys and beiges might seem effortlessly stylish but chances are it’s making you disappear. Of course, we all know that a well curated neutral wardrobe is a winner. But that doesn’t mean riffing of fifty different shades of white from the top of your head to the tip of your toes looks anything other than…meh.
Add some interest. Even the classics need a pop of…something. Trust me,I’ve been there done that dress-headhaircut combo too.
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I started taking notice. Of fit. Of fabric.
Of complementary colours. Hell, I even started caring about shoes. My style evolved naturally.
I didn’t suddenly become a Sex-and-the-City extremist overnight. But I did start paying attention. Instead of throwing on whatever was clean each day; every item of clothing now had to earn its place in my wardrobe.
My fabrics became finer. My colours more thoughtful. Hell, I even bought some coloured shirts.
I realised that just because an outfit was appropriate it didn’t have to be boring. Same goes for workplaces and formal occasions. “I didn’t realise that dress worked with those colours,” I had a friend complain to me once as she adjusted her tie Blair Waldorf style. Work appropriate doesn’t mean ditching your personality at the door.
It just means wearing things that fit properly. Speaking of colours; Needing to wear all neutrals like you’re about to photoshoot for your next Victorian romance. I recall a boyfriend of mine wearing a bright red scarf to death one winter. “It goes with everything!” he would exclaim as he casually threw it over his pastel coloured jumper and beige chinos. “How?” I deadpanned, sipping on my gin and vermouth.
And he was right. It did. Forest green looks incredible on me now that I actually wear it instead of boring beige!
Get to know what colours suit you and stop hiding behind fucking beige all the time. People. Stop making me say it.
Colour is your friend, not the entity ruining your picnic.You just need to find the ones that flatter you and steer clear of the rest. Anyway, the biggest crime of all. The unforgivable sin.
Wearing things that don’t suit you. This one kills me. Look, I get it.
We all want to look sleek in a well tailored suit. Or boho in our floaty, free spirit maxi dresses. But if THAT’s not you, then you’re fighting a losing battle against yourself.
I have a friend named David. Vibrant, warm and sweet as they come. Yet for years he would rock up to work and social functions wearing staid, grey pieces in muted blocks.
He wore himself down to nothing. Until one day he changed. He started wearing colours that suited his personality.
Clothes that complimented his lively character. You could see the difference as soon as he walked into a room. Again.
Let yourself be you. Otherwise you’ll just look…sad. Listen.
Clothes don’t have to be expensive to look expensive. But they do have to fit right and be intentionally put together. Look in the mirror.
Really look.
At your clothes.
See if they actually fit you or not.
Stop making excuses for those baggy jeans. They don’t flatter anybody. You know those colours you’re drawn too?
Stop worrying about being trendy and just wear them. And for fuck sake, make sure the clothes you’re wearing like actually like you back. Like mum used to say about her vegetable garden: “The best layouts are invisible.
You don’t see the garden, you just know it’s neat as fuck.”. Same rules apply to your wardrobe. Once you get it right.
People won’t compliment your outfit. They’ll compliment YOU.
