I hopscotch between stages of being obsessed with clothes and the joy I get from styling myself, to dry-spells of inspiration. I’ll feel unmotivated to put any effort into my presentation. It’s usually in those moments of lacked interest that I tend to throw on a pair of denim pants with a vintage shirt and call it a day. And truth be told, I’m not much of a jeans guy. To me, they’re pretty much the equivalent to sweatpants – they’re what I wear when I’m feeling lazy. 

So why do clothes matter and why are they such a huge piece of my life? Well, there’s the obvious, as much as I would love to frolic around in the buff, clothing is legally required. And from my shallow research into this particular subject, people who aren’t fashion conscious usually leave it at that. It’s purely a social requirement rather than a practiced and expressed curation. It’s the difference between saying “I’m here” and “I HAVE ARRIVED”.

Clothes, fashion, styling, whatever you want to call it, serves as an expression – a creative outlet. It’s the billboard that proudly displays who you are and what you’re into without having to mutter a word. It’s the receptionist at the front desk of how your feeling today and the representative responsible for telling the world what you’re into. It’s creative, it’s cultural, it’s expressive, it’s personal, and in a lot of ways – it’s the external medication for our internal deficiencies.