On Dressing for the Life I’m Living: Why I’m Letting Style Guide Me Instead of Define Me

I’m in a new era of my style journey.

For a long time, I felt the need to fully define my style—to know it, name it, lock it in. I needed to be something tidy and declarative. Edgy Classic. Laid-Back Upscale. Something that could live neatly in a bio or on a Pinterest board.

Lately, though, it’s felt less about the label and more about the vibe.

I’ve realized I can stop dressing to match a made-up aesthetic. I can get dressed for the life I’m actually living—and still be stylish. Maybe even more so.

To be fair, labeling my style was advice I’d been absorbing for years. Everyone who seemed to know a thing or two said the same things: define your style, know your style, find your style words. And for a while, it worked. Having language around my taste made shopping easier. It brought clarity to my closet. It quieted some of the noise.

But then something stopped clicking.

What happens when you peel back a few layers and realize you’re more complicated than a couple of buzzwords? What do you do when you’re drawn to something that technically isn’t “you,” but you know—deep down—that you need it? It’s like deciding you must have that green blouse even though your color chart says no. How do you make room for both clarity and curiosity?

I don’t think style definitions are useless. I still find them interesting, even helpful—as long as they’re allowed to direct instead of confine. I’ll probably always be drawn to edgy pieces, quirky finds, and classic mainstays. I like contrast. I like tension. I like a little friction in my outfits. What I don’t need anymore is a system that tells me those things can’t coexist.

I don’t want a chaotic closet. But I also don’t want a rigid one. I want structure and room to play. I want my wardrobe to feel considered without feeling confined.

I haven’t nailed down this new style philosophy yet, but I do know this: the way I make decisions has changed. When I get dressed now—or when I’m curating my closet—I come back to a few simple questions:

How do I feel in this?

Confident. Comfortable. Put together.

Does it fit my vibe right now?

Unbothered. Grounded. Like myself.

When I look in the mirror, do I recognize her?

Is she performing something—or is that actually Tuesday?

Currently, I’m not striving to become anything in particular. I’m not dressing for a future version of myself or trying to arrive at a final form.

I’m simply getting dressed for the life I’m living right now.

And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.