'Fabricating' My Identity Through Fashion

By Annabel Taylor

An outfit is never just fabric and thread. From the Buddha necklace strung around my neck on a thin chain to the ‘70s fringe purse I found on a thrift trip with my best friend, everything I wear holds memory and meaning.

My closet is a map of who I am and where I’ve been, from the preppy green skirt I wore on my first day of high school to the pink bandana top I wore to my first Billy Joel concert. Linen sundresses and maxi skirts are reminiscent of my tween summers spent in Sonoma Valley. There’s no doubt I hang onto certain pieces I’ve outgrown but I promise I have good reason. I am saving the one-of-a-kind pieces like my taupe-colored cowgirl boots, for my little girl cousins who I know will one day appreciate them.

My mom always said that she equates her memories with clothes and I believe the same. The cinnamon-colored wool funnelneck sweater that sits high up on her closet shelves is a reminder of the warmth she felt surrounded by lifelong friends on the most brutally cold days back in college. Her pointed-toe kitten heels I used to clomp around in when I was seven years-old brought her back to her first big purchase once she started her “big girl job” in Midtown Manhattan. 

I like to think that my love for fashion began long before I entered the world. My great-grandmother loved sewing, a passion that was passed down to my mother who sewed many of her own clothes, including her knockoff Laura Ashley high school graduation dress.

I discovered the same affinity for making my own clothes when I caught a terrible spell of the flu in third grade. I spent an entire week at my desk, my feet swinging back and forth as I worked diligently at my childproof sewing machine without needle or thread, creating headbands and accessories for my family. Soon, my obsession with fashion inspired me to create my own hand-drawn fashion magazine sent quarterly to family and friends in the years that followed.

Then in fourth grade, I began crocheting after learning the basics from a summer camp counselor. By the time I graduated middle school, I had created my own collection of clothes out of dozen skeins of yarn. I now have several drawers in my closet packed with halter tops, mini skirts, beanies and bucket hats that I crocheted for myself. 

Social media floods our feeds with aesthetics and "cores" — each one trying to box people into curated identities. I have learned over the years that the best way to develop one’s style is to try on a variety of different looks and find what you feel comfortable in. I don’t know how I would categorize my style besides that it feels like me – as cliche as that may be. My style has always reflected my moods, artistically and emotionally. To know how I’m feeling, one doesn’t have to look any further than my current cut of jean, whether boot-cut or straight leg. 

Fashion, ultimately, has brought me closer than ever to the women in my family. I’ve studied grainy photos that capture my grandmother, who I call Ba, in Paris during the many years she lived there. She carried an air of timeless elegance that can’t be learned, only inherited. In several photos, she and her sisters pose somewhere in the French Riviera in large sunglasses, relaxed mustard-yellow halter tops and bell-bottom jeans, epitomizing yet simultaneously elevating the style of the ‘70s.

In the ‘80s, Ba can be seen seated next to my grandfather at the piano bench, wearing a pair of black and white slingback stilettos and a DVF-style blue and green patterned dress. To this day, I still love sifting through the pages of Ba’s French edition Elle and Marie Claire magazines, and talking about designers with her — whether it’s her appreciation for the colorful branding of Missoni or the all-American elegance of Ralph Lauren.

With my mom too, fashion is a daily dialogue, whether that means shopping together frequently or trading clothes between us invariably. Ba, my mom, my aunt, and I share not only the same obsession but also the same taste in fashion, so it’s not surprising we often shop for each other and our closets are full of identical pieces! I also often dig through my aunt’s closet, discovering awe-inspiring Y2K relics that I half-jokingly ask to “borrow,” knowing that she is just as attached to those memories.

Fashion has given me a means to express who I am in a world where many things are out of my control. While fashion can oftentimes be seen as frivolous by those who lack, well, the passion, for me it’s as essential as the air I breathe. When I walk out the door in a crocheted belt I made and bootcut jeans, I’m not just dressed — I’m armored with my own sense of identity, creativity and confidence.

Annabel Taylor is serving as a summer intern for The Falls Church Independent. She's a rising junior at Walt Whitman High School, and an opinion writer for the student-run newspaper. In her free time, she loves to read and write, crochet, and play basketball. This summer, Annabel looks forward to covering a wide variety of topics, from personal blogs to features on the arts, cuisine and culture.