Clothes as performative magic

What we wear affects not only how others see us, but how we perceive ourselves

“You’re so lucky to have a built-in fashion consultant,” my friend Bernett said years ago when we were both teaching. I agreed it was true, I was lucky to have a daughter, and I told her having a consultant worked not only when buying clothes but also trying on outfits.

My daughter Jocelyn, like everyone in our family, has decided opinions she’s never been shy to express. There have been occasions when she’s prevented me from committing serious faux-pas, at least in her eyes, by saying, “Mom, you’re not leaving the house wearing that, are you?”

Still it was a diminishment of my fashion sense to get called out on my outfit by my daughter, who only meant well, I know.

Not a fashion statement, this, but oh, I was proud of earning full crew status in the Marine Search and Rescue! I felt great putting on that bulky gear.

The thing is, I like clothes. I like looking whatever my version of nice is. I give it some thought. Now that I’m not teaching and have to present myself as serious and professional, what I wear are bright deep colours, blues, burgundies, reds, and purples. I’ve known to mix patterns with enjoyment, usually by way of a silk scarf and a shirt. I think of it as dressing with panache. Back in the 80s, when doing colours was popular, my sister, the fine writer Marjorie Simmins, did mine and pronounced me a true winter who looked best in jewel tones. We both laughed since it was what I was already wearing.

Jocelyn, who dresses well, wears classic neutrals, beiges, blacks, grey. Is some of our difference between dressing for an urban environment and for in the country?

Still, for me, decades later, echoes of those early mother-daughter discussions remain, and to smarten myself up, I recently signed up for a Substack fashion newsletter by Becky Malinsky in New York, 5 Things You Should Buy. What, you may say? Why? You live on an island with a winter population of around 3,000 people. You walk your dog in the bush, get dirty in your garden, and you what? Surely if I wanted to go to a concert in the evening, I have clean jeans, a cashmere sweater and if I wanted to go wild, plenty of pretty jackets still in my cupboard?

Well, okay, the idea of the fashion newsletter was to keep me from buying something that was completely out of style. Like what kind of jeans should I be thinking of? And maybe to defend something ancient. I could say, “My fifteen-year-old LL Bean jeans with a few small holes in them look just like the boyfriend jeans this size 2 woman has just bought.” We will leave my size out of it. That has nothing to do with anything except I can tell you that odd things go on with a woman’s waist as she gets older. Never mind the hourglass shape, think Humpty Dumpty. A little smaller perhaps. Of course this is not a personal observation but one extrapolated from looking at friends.

With all the other indignities that come with aging, dressing with care keeps my spirits up. It’s a way of throwing my arms open to the universe and saying, Hey, I’m showing up with as much dignity and appreciation as I can manage. I might as well wear earrings to write, I have all kinds of them in a box. Right now, I’m getting up early to work on the detailed revisions that my editor at Ianna Press has asked me to consider in Sigrene’s Bargain with Odin. “This epic poem sweeps us along, immersing us in Norse mythology. The text flows smoothly, with clear plot points and vivid characterizations.”

Vivid. Now that’s a good word. When I consider what to wear in the morning, I think of trees. They are beautiful, some with blooms, others with peeling bark, and some with exuberant health and lovely leaves. I need a little work to keep up with my trees. How I add about a silver bracelet for courage?

I remember once in my early days of teaching, I had an especially bouncy class of first year university students. They were enthusiastic about Creative Writing and there was a glow about all of them together; they enjoyed one another’s company. It was a special class, the kind of alchemy that happens maybe every two years.

The students had fun with the writing exercises we did where I broke them up into small groups and they’d present back to the class. They liked the groups, which I changed all the time, so much it became a bit of a chore to return them to the larger class of 22 students. After one exercise, I said, “Okay people, that’s enough.” The students kept on talking. This had never happened to me before in any class.

I stood up, raised my voice and tried again. Still no response.

On my third attempt, I heard a bellow which I was astonished to recognize as mine. Holy smokers, I was loud. That got their attention. Any tug boat skipper on the coast would’ve been proud of that yell.

It was also a real pedagogical failure. While I did my best to carry on as normal for the rest of the class, I thought, I never want to raise my voice like that again. I was mortified.

Afterward, I thought about pattern recognition. Although I’d been told that casual dress for instructors was fine, had I become too relaxed in in wearing a nice sweater and good pants? How was I differentiating myself visually from my students?

The day after, I went out and bought a smart black suit. The next week when I walked into that class I wore my suit, a silk shirt and dressy shoes. Several young women complimented me before we even started. I never had to raise my voice, even slightly, to that class again.

Clothes are performative magic. Especially when I am feeling wretched, I get dressed to show up for walking my dog, writing, critiquing writer friends’ work, and the life-sustaining trivia we all deal with.

Although I browse 5 Things You Should Buy with enjoyment, have I actually bought any of the suggested goods? Not a chance. Jocelyn calls me a “recreational shopper” which means I usually pick up what I’m searching for at a substantial discount. The newsletter content does give me shapes and colours to look at, something to compare with the goods in my less expensive stores. I’m having fun and learning. As well, the writer, Becky Malinsky, comes over as a very real and likeable. She makes me smile.

And the sheer ridiculousness of me living on back-of-beyond Pender Island and reading about fashion in NY and Paris makes me laugh and remember again my good fortune in having a daughter.