Fear

The Personality, the Sexuality, and the Wardrobe

It has been stated that the clothing we wear is an extension of who we are, that we consciously or unconsciously choose our clothing based on our personalities and sexuality. Perhaps this is true, and perhaps it isn’t, but in either case it’s an interesting point, and one well worth discussion. Can examining a person’s clothes give one an idea of who they are? If I examine my own, I find that this is only a partial truth. The clothes we wear aren’t all about out inner thoughts and feelings, they’re also about outside views on fashion, our favorite colors, and our opinions of what looks good.

Looking at my clothes, the most immediate effect is near-schizophrenic duality. I have two specific categories in my wardrobe: The items of practicality, and the items of fashion. My clothes themselves, and my fun accessories. Most of my clothing consists of jeans and T-shirts. This is endlessly practical, because all of my pants match all of my shirts, and therefor anything I pull out will automatically be a coordinated outfit. The T-shirts themselves are blatant in their communication. I wear pictures of wild animals, free, proud, aggressive, and dangerous. I’d like to be seen as all of these things, even if I’m not really dangerous or particularly aggressive. In the area of sexuality, my jeans-and-T ensembles are as close to mute as one can be, for they are totally unisex. 90% of my outfits would look completely normal on a man with the same worldviews as me (Lurie makes no mention of what it says about a heterosexual female when she wears men’s clothing, which I do frequently. I’ve yet to find any theory on this practice). So T-shirts, unless the messages printed on them are sexual as in the shirt cited by Allison Lurie “HAPPINESS IS A WARM PUSSY” (80), are more about personality than sex. So we move on to different aspects of wardrobe, the textures and colors.

Lurie has lots of opinions on the wearing of fur, skin and leather and what the texture and color of a fabric says about its wearer. My jeans and T-shirts are all of generally expected color, texture, and weight. They offer no clue as to sexuality or personality, other than the fact that they are casual and practical. We’ll have to look at some of my other clothing items. I own and wear three leather jackets, two denim jackets, and numerous flannel lumberjack shirts. Lurie cites the wearing of skins as “One of the oldest sartorial messages” (80), and that the ancients believed that wearing the skin of an animal imparted the wearer with the animal’s aspects. I love leather, and wear it as much as possible. I don’t do this because I want to be seen as a cow, calf, or in the case of my favorite jacket, a deer. I wear it because I like the texture of leather in any form. I like its natural color; it’s ancient scent, and the adventurous aspect that leather-wearers have. I’m not a cow; I’m Indiana Jones. Her views on fur are interesting, but I’ve never been much of a fur-wearer, and I doubt that the faux-fur edging on my winter coat has enough effect to be considered as a personality trait. As to the denim and flannel jackets, I think they say nothing more about me that that I like the comfort and practicality of casual clothing. Now that I’ve covered the clothing basics, on to the more adventurous aspects of fashion: Accessories!

I’m very interested in the sexual signals of handbags and shoes, because I’ve forever been in search of the perfect pair of shoes and the perfect handbag: Those that really express who I am. The shoes I’ve found: brown leather Timberland Mountaineers. I’ll talk more about my shoes later, but suffice it to say that they are strong, adventurous shoes. The handbag, on the other hand, is harder to find. Lurie cites that the handbag is “…The most universally recognized sexual indicator for women…” (87) I had no idea that this was so, and had never heard anything to that effect before. I don’t know how universal it could possibly be, if it’s so unknown in the general populace. My handbag shows very little insight into who I am, because it’s not the one that I’d like to have. I’ve had to ‘settle’ with many an unattractive purse because I needed one that functioned well. My perfect bag would have more than 20 pockets. My current one has only 7. Numerous pockets are supposed to show organization in the carrier, but my friends and teachers can surely attest to the fact that I’m far from organized. Lurie states that there is a “…female readiness to discard even a slightly worn bag…” (87) This is untrue. If I like a bag, I’ll only get rid of it when it’s literally coming apart at the seams (and then only if the seams are beyond repair). A bag I dislike, however, will be ditched the moment I find a better one. My ideal handbag will be made of leather, be bucket-shaped, have a very tight drawstring or zipper top, be lined with a labyrinth of pockets, and if at all possible, will be brown. According to Lurie, this bag would make me sensual (leather), on guard with my privacy (tightly closed), organized and highly varied (the pockets), and disinterested in sex (the dull color). A quick glance shows these things themselves to be contradictory, and I can assure you that they don’t reflect my actual personality. I choose my bag for its practicality, not for it’s sexual and social messages.

And now, as I’ve promised, a word on my shoes. Shoes are, in my opinion, a more universally understood sexual signal than handbags. We all know that high heels are supposed to be sexy, while business pumps are no-nonsense. I refuse to wear high heels unless absolutely necessary, because they’re totally impractical, they hurt, and they send messages that I don’t want sent. I own 4 pairs of shoes that I wear regularly. My two most common pairs are my Timberlands, those shoes of rugged adventure and strength that go with my leather coats, and my New Balance sneakers, those endlessly practical day-to-day shoes. My fun shoes are my pirate’s boots: black, dramatic and wicked, to be worn with my black renaissance cape when I’m in a dramatic mood (Come, D’Artagnan, there’s a quest afoot!). I also have my city shoes, no-nonsense ankle boots in smooth, low-gloss leather with an inch heel. I have two pairs of the exact same style (which is why I count them as just one pair), one brown and one black, which go with all my business-like attire. They resemble nothing more than a feminized version of the man’s oxford, and state that while I’m strong and self-reliant, I am in fact female.

Finally, I’d like to say a few words about hats and jewelry. I have two main hats, and I wear them for different occasions. When it becomes cool enough, I’ll probably be wearing the Ott of power on a daily basis. This hat came originally from Nepal, was procured by me at the Museum of Science in Boston, and is lucky. I wear it because people ask about it, because it looks good on me, and because it’s become something of a legend among my friends and I. I’m wearing it in the picture on my ID card. It’s one of my favorite hats, but I think it says less about my sexuality than about my personality. My safari hat, on the other hand, gives clear messages. I wear it when I go out on a quest (Shopping in the city, for example, or more bluntly, on a first date). I’m a huntress, and a dangerous animal. I’m wild, and it’s quite likely you’ll see me wandering through the unexplored wilderness of the world.

My jewelry is a rare thing, the finishing pieces to my outfits. I have two necklaces, and one bracelet that I’ve deemed important enough to bring to college with me. There’s my Australian stone pendant on the leather cord, which is very rugged and shot through with wild beauty, and there’s my silver dragon-claw-clutching-crystal, which is refined and dramatic and goes with all things renaissance. The bracelet is a chain of silver lions, and goes along the same lines as the dragon claw, but I seldom wear it because it conflicts with my annoying, ugly, practical little digital watch.

So, in conclusion, I find that many of my clothes aren’t about my personality (though most of my accessories do), and that they certainly aren’t about my sexuality. They’re about comfort and practicality, with dashes of taste and style tossed in. Granted, the taste and style are derived from my personality and therefor reflect it well, but not to the extent implied in Lurie’s essay. Clothing doesn’t define who we are, we define what our clothing is, and we’re not usually paying that close attention. If we seek to know a person, we’ll have to do more than take a close look at what’s in their closet. We’ll have to take a close look at what’s in their heart, mind, and soul.

Works Cited Lurie, Allison. “Sex and Fashion” Writing, CC101. 2001. 79-97.

Cellular Window Shades | Necklace | Shades | Personel Review Site Perfectmatch | Fabric Sliding Panel