Is dressing for comfort giving up?

Last weekend I was waiting on the pavement for a coffee when I saw a $40 sale rack sitting pretty in the sun outside a beautiful boutique. I started to sift through it when I laid my hands on a beautiful skirt. It was just my style. ‘Oh it’s my size too!’ I exclaimed to myself.

All the dopamine receptors in my brain started firing.

As I sized the skirt up and down, I felt my system starting to glitch. The skirt had a fitted waistband, which is a style I used to love wearing.

Used to love.

I analysed the waistband like a suspicious detective, looking for evidence that it would fit, that I could make it work. I stood at that rack for some time before finally deciding to go into the change room and try it on.

There in the mirror was my inner conflict. The fitted waistband dug uncomfortably into my waist, the skirt billowed out awkwardly over my newly padded hips and stomach.

I felt strange and silly.

I felt exposed.

Hovering beside me was the elephant in the change room. I was wearing a skirt that belonged to my former body, my former self.

It stung.

My sale skirt scenario got me thinking. Why do we cling so tightly to our former self? Why do we assume that we should still be her? Why is becoming who we are now experienced as a loss instead of an evolution?

When women talk about getting older, there is a sense that comfort means ‘giving in’ or worse ‘giving up’. That the changing needs of your body, the ups and downs of hormonal bloating and weight gain is experienced as a failure.

Why does choosing an elastic waistband, flat shoes or a roomier silhouette suggest that you've stopped trying?

Why do comfortable clothes signal a decline?

A few months ago, a friend of mine who is ten years older than me, stated that she was in her lounge wear era. And whilst I acknowledged the growing need for comfort, I replied that ‘I wasn’t there yet’, perhaps a little too defensively.

The truth is, I was confronted.

I could feel myself falling head first into the soft, pillowy embrace of comfortable clothing.

And it felt anything but comfortable.

Women suffering for beauty is a centuries old concept that traverses countries and cultures. Our dedication to this premise is so absolute that is seems impossible for a woman to love herself and her appearance, just as she is, no intervention required.

Being in your natural state as a woman is seen as wild and unruly. We are fed the idea that the female body needs to be managed, restricted and contained. Shapewear to hold in and stabilise our bodies, depilatory products and procedures to remove our body hair, tanning, skin whitening, botox and fillers.

The list goes on.

Containment equals beauty. The uncontained signals demise.

Get back to your ‘pre-baby body’, prevent and resist aging, don’t gain weight, tone your muscles so they don’t sag but don’t get bulky, tighten your skin, tame your hair and don’t show signs that you sweat or bleed.

Hide the visible signs of being alive.

Hairless.
Odourless.
Timeless.
Ageless.
Effortless.

Be less.
Be less human.

That’s what I saw reflected back at me in the change room of that beautiful boutique. A body that was no longer willing to be contained. A body that needed to bloat and breathe and skin that wanted to fold and soften.
This is not a demise, it is an expansion.

This week’s embodied style practice

This week I want you to you to wear an outfit that allows your body to fully exist, just as it is. No holding in, no correcting, no minimising, no hiding. I want you to expand fully into your own body.

Is it wearing a silhouette that ‘makes you look bigger’, one that isn’t considered ‘flattering’. Is it ditching the shapewear? Maybe it’s leaving your body hair to grow free?

Whatever it is, experiment with letting your body exist without judgement.

Comfort is not the death of style, containment is.

Containing your truth, your reality, your beauty and your body doesn’t serve you. It only seeks to keep you small.

Style is the process of expanding into your truest expression. That is not a loss, it’s an evolution.

Julie x

P.S. Share this post with a friend and help this conversation grow.