my outfit is my elevator pitch

why i love getting dressed and why i hate the question, "so, tell me about yourself"

one of the earliest memories i can recall was when my mom described me as “shy” to a cashier at our local the supermarket. internally, i remember feeling hotly defensive by this characterization, externally i pouted in the voluminous floral dress i insisted on wearing that day, crossing my toddler-chubby arms as a signal for my iciness. what my perceived “shyness” was, was a certain powerlessness i felt through the act of describing myself. i often mumbled and stumbled over my words which in turn made me feel weak and incapable, i used to answer questions about myself in careful anticipation of what i assumed whoever i was talking to wanted to hear, maliciously creating a cycle that rinses my own brain from knowing who i actually “am”.

i’ve grown into myself considerably since adolescence, i don’t think anyone who meets me now would consider me shy necessarily, but i still feel a tightness in my lower stomach every time i hear the question. “so, tell me about yourself” hurled at me. what usually uncontrollably spills from my mouth is a columniation of hollow accomplishments that never really have anything to do with who i am. “i grew up outside of philadelphia.. haha go eagles! i went to syracuse for college.. yes it IS very cold! and then i moved to new york to start my career.. i live in the east village now!” while i do believe where you are from inherently informs who you are (i will never not say “water ice” instead of “italian ice” and “hoagie” instead of “sub”), i still find it reductive to describe myself in such finite geographic terms. nothing about this sterile description tells you that when i am sad i like buy a print magazine, twizzlers and diet coke. it doesn’t tell you that one of my favorite moments of humanity is the look exchanged between two people when taking an amazing first bite of something, eyes wide in pleasure. it doesn’t tell you that i value humor and a subtle casualness imbedded in all my relationships, and that anything too “serious” easily makes me feel overwhelmed. it doesn’t tell you that i relentlessly look for beauty in everything, both in aesthetics but also in the optimistic belief that we are put on this earth to inspire the brightest, fullest experience possible in all relationships spanning from a stranger on the street to your very best friend.

i went on a date a few weeks ago, and when a friend asked how it went i said something along the lines of “i’m not totally sure…. i really just hate talking about myself”. she questioned me on this and then asked what i wore, i said “oh well that’s the easy part” and she replied, “emily. getting dressed for most people takes up so much of their brain.. and for you it just comes so naturally it amazes me.” when i walked home alone that night i had a carrie bradshaw level epiphany realizing that i’ve channeled all the unspoken, frustrated, dormant energy failing to “describe who i am” into how i dress.

our clothes (as strategically designed by brands) are wordless signals that you “get it”, that you understand and fit into a certain type of cultural subsect you wish to inhibit. when you create an outfit, you are not subject to the self-critical voice in the back of your head chastising the way you avoided eye contact or how high your voice sounded when asking a question, but you are still communicating droplets of your personality and values. i am the first to admit that in the past, i have dressed aiming to communicate an idealized version of myself, as opposed to dressing for who i actually am. this has taken the form of in mirroring whatever the “going out outfit” was perpetuated in college at the moment (lace-up bodysuit+ skinny jeans + choker…) in hopes it would signal that i was a hot, cool, girl who loves to have fun (lol). during my first internship, i subconsciously dressed in a similar way to other women on my team (straight-leg medium washed jeans, zara blazers, way too many of those headbands that twisted in the middle….), hoping to wordlessly signal that i fit into the culture and could be seen as indispensable talent to the company. if i spend too much time in dimes square i still wonder if i too, could wear y2k sunglasses and look cool (i can’t).

in my perfect world, i would exist solely listening to other people... allowing my outfit and typed words to represent depths of the personality i fail to verbally enunciate. unfortunately, this is not how it works… and so, i continue to go on the inevitably awkward first dates, parties where i barely know anyone, dinners with fresh acquaintances, and volunteer to lead scary presentations at work; because even though these situations will varyingly cause my heart to beat faster than its base and inevitably conjure a voice crack or two, at least i’ll like my outfit.

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!! as always, let me know if this connected with you in any way- i appreciate you so much. <3

more fun to come! i promise i will write about my first date theory whenever i get myself on a first date…

AND MY ADVICE COLUMN IS LAUNCHING THIS WEEEEEK! please email any advice questions to angelcake@substack.com - will be 10000% anonymous!

XOXOXOOXOXO