Ending the relentless pursuit of personal style

Why I love dressing like The Dude from The Big Lebowski

I have been dressing pretty badly. And honestly, I love dressing badly. Most days, I look like Jeff Bridges’ character from The Big Lebowski, i.e. The Dude. I wear oversized ratty cardigans over stained threadbare shirts and pajama shorts, completing my sloppy looks with peeling slides and neon Crocs.

Gramercy Pictures

The Dude abides, and, well, so do I. During the Central Valley’s sweltering summers, I’ll be wearing ugly graphic tees and wrinkly cotton shorts. Right now, in the midst of a tolerable but chilly California winter, you can also catch me wearing unflattering puffer vests with pilling yoga pants when I’m not in The Dude attire.

I’ve given up the relentless pursuit of personal style, or at least style that’s narrowly defined by buying specific brands and silhouettes and colors to maintain a singular, consistent version of myself all the time. Hot take: This endeavor is as futile as it is boring.

After much navel gazing, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s impossible to develop a personal style, to lock down a fixed version of myself. With so many influencers lamenting the death of personal style in the age of TikTok microtrends, I’m here to say that I don’t think that personal style ultimately matters that much.

Here are some of my loose thoughts on why that’s the case.

1. Personal style is grounded in the desire to create the illusion of a fulfilled self

Let’s get Lacanian.¹ We desire things—in this case, personal style—to, supposedly, become more fulfilled versions of ourselves. But we can never truly become ourselves because our desires are always being molded by those of others—our desires exist within the context of society and culture. You think your desires just fell out of a coconut tree?

And desire itself relies on lack. If we fulfill our desires, they’re no longer desirable. We then find ourselves in yet another cycle of dissatisfaction, buying more stuff and further trying to fine tune what personal style means to us.

Hey, I was raised a Buddhist. I know a thing or two about how desire is the root of suffering.

Gramercy Pictures

Building a sense of self through the precarious foundation of a personal aesthetic can feel somewhat similar to following a trend—for social validation, although in a subtler way. The goal here is to be singular, individual, distinct, better. And once you’re chasing that singularity, you’ll always be chasing it—it’s kind of like western exceptionalism and expansionism in that regard.

2. The emphasis on personal style/the individual can overshadow meaningful analysis re: collective trends

This emphasis on individual style can encourage people to dismiss collective trends rather than probe deeper into what they mean. Yes, the tech bro algorithms are pushing us to buy trendy stuff mindlessly, but it’s worth keeping in mind that trends tell us something about this moment in culture and politics.

Gramercy Pictures (sorry I have no pictures so I just grabbed pics from the movie that vaguely illustrate my points LOL)

Why are opulent trends like old money, quiet luxury, and McBling being touted in an age of deepening inequality between the haves and have nots? Why are gothic and dark aesthetics about repressed desire surfacing during a time when people’s rights are being taken away? Things to think about rather than dismiss as noise.

3. Personal style is often linked to what you buy and have

I remain unconvinced that unlocking your personal style is the key to creating a sustainable wardrobe and curbing overconsumption. In many cases, it still comes back to consumption. I often find discussions about personal style revolving around what someone buys and has—not how they wear their clothes or how they use their creativity to arrange their looks. With an emphasis on capsule pieces and must-have items, I think you just end up buying more stuff to create your perceived personal style until you get bored of that.

I think a lot about Chloe Fineman’s rant on capsule wardrobes.

chloeiscrazy

A post shared by @chloeiscrazy

The TL;DR of it all? I think personal style is a myth—it’s not possible to maintain or even attain. It’s fruitless to strive to always be put together since the idea of a whole and satisfied self is impossible to begin with. And at the end of the day, I don’t think it’s possible to ground your life in how other people perceive you and the stuff you have. You are not a clothes hanger or an ornament.

I say all of this as someone who is fond of fashion. A chunk of my work revolves around writing about style. I sell purses and jewelry. I dress to the nines when I run run-of-the-mill errands. I was raised by a woman who made her own clothes and she herself was raised by my grandfather, who created a whole business around repurposing deadstock leather into new clothes.

I guess I’m not all that interested in something like personal style, where the emphasis is on the individual. I’m interested in how clothes bring people together—how they carry the history of those who came before me when I shop vintage, the politics of how they’re made and sold, the way friends and strangers alike light up when I put together a funky outfit. I’m interested in the creativity that drives style, the creativity that serves as a foundation for human connection and empathy in art.

Dressing up excites me not because it’s self-serving, but because it plugs me into a world that’s bigger than me. And TBH, thinking about clothes this way keeps me from endlessly buying crap that I think is so me.

And when style isn’t about me, I can tap out of it as I please. Sometimes, it’s just damn comfortable to dress like The Dude.

This isn’t my usual weekly update format, but I thought it would be fun to steep some of my more abstract thoughts in the Substack waters. Will be back with more thrifty updates down the line.

Have a beautiful Valentine’s Day!

XOXO

Stacey

1. Ironically, Jacques Lacan was low-key materialistic and particular about his extravagant sartorial possessions.