I haven't always imagined I like fashion. This is mainly because in my early teens I had this misconception that fashion was about simply fitting in to a preordained formula of aesthetics and ideals. On the train home from work tonight sat in my uniform I began to think about all the time I've spent dressing to specification, and how much energy I've put in to rebelling against it. The first time I began to explore the idea of rebellion in dress it was directed not at my actual school uniform, but at the uniform adopted by my peers. Mufti day was a chance to show your classmates that the similarities in appearance were not simply controlled by our school but manifested in an esoteric form of similarity. I didn't think it through to this degree at 13 but I knew what I was doing, I knew what everyone else would look like. Insolence, even then I wanted to shake the world up. I remember my mom looking at me and asking me if I was sure that was what I wanted to wear. I wore it anyway.
Now I'm not going to claim it was an ensemble of stylistic genius, because it wasn't, it was a vile combination of shiny silver and black floral dress worn over a jersey top with a fur collar. Everyone who saw me that day, every slogan branded sports wear clad peer laughed at me. "Why are you wearing that?!" I told them it was a "movement" I didn't know what I meant then, but I think I've come to find out.
The unofficial 'best dressed' award of the day went to a girl called Kat, she was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with 'WAREHOUSE' written across her chest. All day they ridiculed me for my strangeness and complimented her on her stand-in uniform. I was slightly jealous on the day, mildly mortified at my uncontrollable outlandishness, but in hindsight, I'm quite smug about it. It was the first tangible step in the separation of myself from the idea of fashion being about conformity.
