I’ve been feeling the need to reminisce, recently. While scrolling through past photos in my camera roll, noticing the clothing I wore in the past, particularly one cardigan I wore while taking Amtrak to Chicago in March of 2023. It’s made of a tan, tightly fitted knit with a faux fur trim, and I wore it all the time. Living in the Midwest for most of my life most of the people around me weren’t very interested in fashion so I almost exclusively took inspiration from my small circle of friends. Feeling self conscious to take fashion risks, that cardigan represented to me the perfect intersection between blending in and showing off my individuality. Now that I’ve moved to Seattle and started college, it sits under my bed collecting dust. What changed? My perspective on fashion has not drastically shifted, but my life is not the same as it was a year ago.

I came to realize that my shift in taste went beyond the most common culprits like spending more time on Pinterest, or subscribing and succumbing to a new aesthetic, but instead I was influenced by a new environment and new people.

It makes sense why most people attribute exposure to the internet as the biggest factor shaping people’s style today, after all, it has connected us in ways previously unimaginable. Consequently, this has created a mass culture– especially in fashion— that has propelled trend ubiquity to a new level, whittling the fashion-conscious individual’s style into something easily replicable in a formulaic race to consume the latest trends. Now, people have been pushing back and calling for others to take a step offline to develop true personal style.

Of course, uniqueness is easier if you are not constantly fed the recurrent rebirth of the new and shiny by an algorithm. But how achievable is obtaining absolute personal style? What does it mean to be unique, and how does this manifest when fashion becomes an outlet for expression?

It’s true that regularly scrolling on the internet has a substantial impact on our psyche and induces a monkey-see-monkey-do mentality in even the most conscious viewer. However, broad internet trends are not the only factor that shapes our style. Despite advertisers’ best efforts, arguably some of the most impactful influences on our style and identity come from our inner circles.

Social identity theory, created by psychologist Tajfel and colleagues posits that people’s self-identity is based on what groups they are a part of. Social identity theory also states that relying on group identity can lead to evaluation of others and pressure to assimilate. This concept is especially salient when you look at the phenomenon of designer brand loyalty. Because of careful brand identity construction, many luxury brands have a very particular consumer base. There are very niche communities based on the collecting of archival pieces of brands like Commes De Garcon and Martin Margiela. These people are initially brought together by shared values and as a result, their sense of style is shaped as they come to like and covet much of the same things as their peers, adopting membership of that group as part of their identity.

Not only do members of a niche group gain a community, but they also start signaling their group identity to others. Whether we notice it or not, we attach certain meanings to pieces of clothing and perceive others based on these choices. I am aware that when I buy a Vivienne Westwood shirt I do it not only because I like the cut or print, but also because I am aware of the reputation Vivienne Westwood has and the desire to connect with the community the brand inspires.

The people you surround yourself with change what you wear, if only by exposure. Social media algorithms push items or styles out to us repeatedly, which increases the chance that we will see the item in a way that resonates with us and come to like it. The powerful effect of repeated exposure also applies to our interpersonal relationships. A friend may wear a piece of clothing that you would’ve never looked at twice in a way that is so appealing to you that you come to like it as well. Even repeated observance of a piece of clothing on someone you admire creates a positive connotation with that item. I didn’t see a lot of people wearing leather jackets where I grew up, but after I’ve started college I’ve seen them styled in so many cool ways, and I’ve been influenced. Now I’m browsing eBay for my own perfect leather jacket.

This phenomenon is not unique to the internet age, people throughout history have always created identity from the clothing they wear. However, in the past because of the great burden of time and resources needed to make clothes, and sumptuary laws in many places that completely restricted certain materials, colors, or styles to certain classes, the meaning behind a piece of clothing was often much more concrete. You could infer someone’s class, ethnicity, and marriage status simply by looking at what they wear.

Nowadays, creating personal meaning and group identity through what we wear is becoming increasingly more important. Due to technological advancements in clothing production, the rise of ready-to-wear, and the proliferation of mass media, the meaning behind clothing is rapidly changing. Clothing is comparatively a lot cheaper than it was in the past, and as a result we buy a lot more clothes than our ancestors 200 years ago could ever dream of. Owning more creates more possibilities for personal expression, and in this capitalistic society, your personal identity is often tied to the things you buy. Think VSCO girls, hipster, gorpcore, coquette, etc; clothing and consumer items make up almost all of the requirements to be seen as a member of these groups, causing people to feel pressured to rely on their appearance to forge social connections. Instead of traditional culture dictating what people wear, the onus is on the individual to select the correct piece to wear to fit in.

I remember deeply considering the outfit I wore on the Amtrak to Chicago last year. I love riding trains so I knew I wanted to take photos for my memory. That cardigan was one of my favorites, and it was integral to my past style. But now that I’ve met more people I’m inspired by them every day, so maybe it’s time to trade that cardigan in for a leather jacket.

Reach column writer Helen Burt at musemediauw@gmail.com
Instagram @helen_b.b