How 'Overdressing' Changed My Self Worth
After my escape I was a complete shell of a person. I had no idea who I was, what I liked, what I didn’t like. Let alone what sort of fashion sense suited me.
When I entered the corporate world, I was way too shy to dress like the ‘office siren’ aesthetic I kept seeing all over my social feeds. And heels? forget it.
I had no interest in dressing in any sort of way that would bring attention to me. I wanted to blend in, be a number and go home.
As I got my first paycheck, and then my second, and third; I began making the effort to ‘just have a look’ at some more corporate-y clothing. I went into Zara, CUE, Decjuba, Forever New, and SHEIKE just to name a few to surround myself in pieces that I envisioned my higher self wearing unapologetically. I would scroll Pinterest every night, saving boards of ‘one day’ outfits for both my work life and my personal life.
Image sourced from Pinterest.
I began wearing kitten heels with everything, getting used to the little extra height and the feeling of being ‘fancy’ for no apparent reason. It was strange at first and I definitely felt like I had imposter syndrome. But what was conflicting to me was that I had always adored fashion growing up and I had always deeply loved high heels.
I used to wear ridiculously high stilettos to house parties when I was 16 and 17 years old for crying out loud. I knew the diva in me was still somewhere there, I just had to make her feel safe enough for her to come out again after being brainwashed into believing she should dim herself down to please others.
I was only ever allowed to ‘look good’ when I was accompanying him. When I had a job to do - to be the trophy wife who shut up and looked pretty. To only speak when spoken to - and under no circumstances; have an opinion of your own.
But I was not allowed to look ‘too good’ for me. Make up on a nail salon errand, “Who the fuck are you looking like that for?” - a grocery run, “Why do you need to get ready for that?” a photo posted on Instagram, “Who’s attention are you trying to get with that?”.
Sigh.
My heart aches for old me. How fucking horrific is it that your own creative play with your self expression is coerced for you to believe that you’re doing it to be unfaithful. Or that you wanting to put on a nice outfit means you’re insecure and you must be dying for external validation. Or that wearing your nice things mean you think you’re better than others.
None of that was true.
But I was still not allowed to figure out parts of myself through fashion the way I had my entire life before him, because of him.
He took away a huge piece of my identity and that was my fashion sense. Which, how funny, because in the beginning of his entrapment, it was one of the things he complimented the most about me; “You dress like a BOSS!” he used to say when he’d collect me for our date nights.
I had enough of hearing his poisonous voice inside my head every time I looked at a pair of high heels or a pretty tailored dress that was forcing me to walk past it and feel sad.
So I decided to rock up to work one day looking like a different woman. I had my glossy 6 inch heels, a pair of black suit pants, a cream high neck top with a statement belt to tie it all together. I had my hair slicked back with effort and my make up was flawless. I had my best jewellery on and walked into work with a smile on my face and my heart racing. What are people going to think of me coming in like this? Yesterday I was in sneakers and my hair a loose mess with a sloppy old cardigan on. -
WHO CARES! YOU’VE LIVED LONG ENOUGH LETTING SOMEONE ELSE CONTROL YOU.
I made a choice to start showing up how I wanted to always be. And guess what? The reactions were lovely. I was complimented on how nice I looked. I was asked where my pieces were from, I was looked at like I was someone worth noticing and for the first time in god knows how long, I liked it.
Investing in clothing pieces I genuinely love and want to be in, helped me come back home to myself. Fashion has always been a major way I express myself and I feel and perform better when I like how I look.
I have no one in my face giving me side eyes or dirty looks when they don’t like how confident I am now. I don’t have anyone criticising my colour choices or telling me I just simply cannot wear something. I don’t have anyone censoring my self expression and it has been the most freeing things ever.
You don’t realise how much your clothing affects your self worth until it’s taken away from you.
Today, I am known for my consistency in fashion - and of course, my heels. My peers joke that if Chenise isn’t wearing heels, something must be wrong. And I love that. I didn’t set out to create a “personal brand” - I just authentically followed what I liked and stopped waiting for some future version of myself to do it.
What am I waiting for to wear glitter in my hair?
What am I waiting for to wear my favourite white floral dress?
What am I waiting for to wear some sexy sheer stockings?
What am I waiting for to wear my ‘good’ perfume?
What am I waiting for to show up every day feeling my best in my best things?
The promise of death is what makes me confident.
At work now, it would be bizarre for me to show up any less fabulous than I do. because that’s just authentically who I am and who I have finally allowed myself to be without guilt or shame.
I know there are people who talk shit about me because of it. And I couldn’t give two fucks because I had spent almost a decade putting others opinions of me before my own. I spent almost a decade believing the most awful things about myself, and self depreciation and I were tight friends.
But never again will you hear me say one single negative thing about myself because I have done my time. And if I’m shining too bright now for some people, they can choke on their discomfort for all I care.
Most ardently,
Chenise Sinclaire.
