Who cares? (I do)
A note before today’s post — My job isn’t something I typically talk about on the internet but I’m a counselor at a Title I school and many of my students utilize SNAP benefits. New Jersey public schools are also closed for at least two days this week, which means many kids will not have access to the subsidized meals they receive while at school. Additionally, the Trump administration has changed eligibility for SNAP benefits for parents of children over 14 as of November 1st, which will impact families when benefits resume. There are a lot of great national organizations raising awareness and funds right now amidst the interruption of SNAP benefits, but the fastest way to help your neighbors (and especially families with children) in your community is to donate to your local food bank or other organizations that serve families in need. Amazon is decidedly not great but, many of these organizations use Amazon lists to efficiently request and receive necessary items, which often better serve communities than a random assortment of non-perishables you might find in your pantry. Donating funds directly to organizations is also incredibly helpful. If you could use assistance locating an organization to support near you, I’d be happy to help. Just send me a DM.
I have a really vivid memory from high school. I was around 15, and had gone shopping with friends. Growing up in rural PA, there wasn’t a lot of shopping nearby (it was a Very Big Deal when a Sears was added to our tiny mall and with it, the town’s first escalator. Like, front page of the local paper). I had come home with a distressed t-shirt from Delia’s outlet that cost around $20. Back then, that was 3-4 hours worth of my babysitting money, but I had earmarked this exact shirt in the Delia’s catalog that spring. My mom pretty immediately called me out — why would I spend so much money on a shirt that looked like it was falling apart? I felt embarrassed and irresponsible, and ultimately ended up returning the shirt later that week. My mom says she has no memory of this, but it’s burned in my brain. Isn’t that the way it always goes?
I’ve been thinking about what clothes were like growing up in my house. Utilitarian would be the best way to put it, I think. My parents both wore uniforms to work — my dad was a chef, and while he kept a chef’s jacket in his kitchen, he mostly wore a white T-shirt, apron, and jeans (pre Jeremy Allen White 😂). My mom graduated nursing school when I was six and spent her days in scrubs, until she retired last year. They both grew up in large families — my mom has eight siblings, my dad has seven — so new clothes weren’t always a priority.
As a kid, I wore a lot of my cousins’ hand me downs, dresses my mother sewed, and things we found on sale at Jamesway or JC Penny, or the outlets my mom took us to each summer. When I turned 10, my aunt took me shopping at Old Navy and I was convinced it was the coolest store I had ever seen. In middle school, I became aware of how uncool I felt in my clothes — both because of where I shopped, and my size. I was a late bloomer, and I’m often the shortest person in a room. When I started babysitting and working at the local diner in high school, I had a little more agency in buying what I wanted, but would never buy anything that wasn’t on sale — it just wasn’t what we did (hence the Delia’s situation).
Back then, I always felt a bit behind everyone else and a bit like I was trying too hard. My older brother was almost unfairly and elusively cool — he worked at the record store downtown and wore a lot of vintage clothes and irreverent t-shirts. He never spent a lot of time or energy on his clothes but he always looked like himself, in the best way. Most of my closest friends were bound for art and design schools, and they all seemed to have an innate sense of style that couldn’t be taught. I tried my best to keep up. I could never really kick the feeling of being a little sister who was painfully uncool.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve sometimes felt a little ashamed by how much I care about what I’m wearing, how things look. It’s not as though I work in a creative field, or one that prioritizes style. When I was in my twenties and working with college students, I focused on dressing “professionally,” and felt self-conscious about my height and how young I looked. Now that I’ve had two babies and I’m inching closer to 40, I care less about it and more about dressing for myself.
Lately I’ve been feeling a bit self-conscious about what I’m thinking and writing about in this space. I started writing in earnest during a really challenging postpartum period. Getting dressed feels like something I can control, when so much is out of my control. It also feels like an easy way to have a bit of fun and feel like myself. But I’d be lying if I said that it hasn’t made me feel some major imposter syndrome. Sometimes my internal voice has loudly told me that caring about what I’m wearing is silly and not worth anyone’s time (including my own).
Except I don’t think it’s silly. “If it matters to you, it matters,” is a thing I tell my students often. And the postpartum identity shift is real. Caring about finding my way back to myself (or a new version of myself) isn’t vain or frivolous, it’s worthwhile. I will never have a fancy job, or a big budget to buy things. But if committing to a low-buy year has done anything so far, it’s helped me to see that buying new things won’t really solve that imposter syndrome.
There’s a post in my drafts from the summer, about shopping for things to wear to my grandmother’s wake and funeral. When she started hospice care in August I realized that none of my usual funeral clothes would work — my pants still didn’t fit and none of my dresses would allow me to breastfeed. I spent a frustrating and fruitless afternoon at the mall, after which my mom tried to convince me to wear something in my closet. “It doesn’t matter, no one will care.” I snapped at her (and later apologized). I care.
Because I do really love reading about what people are wearing, and what’s inspiring them. I like thinking about what to wear to work and to my kids’ music class. I love when my mom or my husband let me curate shopping options for them and I love how particular and assertive my daughter is about her clothes. I like listening to Fashion People, even though half the time I don’t know the references and feel like I’m learning a foreign language. And because at the end of the day, getting dressed should be something that’s fun. It’s also one of the few things I do that’s just for me, in this very busy season of having small children.
I don’t know if I’ll ever kick the feeling of being an uncool little sister, and maybe that’s okay. I am also a friend and a mom and a wife and a counselor and a person who cares about getting dressed. That last piece gets to matter, even if it’s only to me.
Tricia, I’m so glad I found you here. I loved reading this and learning more about you. That line about: if you care, then it matters - really stuck with me. When life feels chaotic, I’m with you—getting dressed feels like the one thing I can control.
I go through constant imposter syndrome on here too, so I felt that deeply. I’m so glad this space has become a little postpartum haven for you. Please never leave…you’re doing amazing. 🤍
This was beautifully written and so much of it resonated. I 100% get imposter syndrome here too! Thank you for sharing your gift of writing.