For me and androgyny, it all started at a young age. I can remember as a child asking my mother if I could have some of my older cousin Damien’s ‘hand me downs’. What kid ASKS for ‘hand me downs’?! Well a kid who wanted to wear boys athletic pieces, that’s who. My mom was always reasonable about buying me clothes I wanted and liked. I guess I just didn’t know how to come out and ask for boys clothes.
(Me *Right* and my childhood ‘ride or die’)
My mom being the forever pleasing parent, followed through and gave me some of Damien’s clothes. I’m not sure why, because there wasn’t a chance in hell they would fit. Damien was tall, slim built like a sculpted olympian – the kind of kid that has a six-pack at age 6. We were about as opposite as could be. He had white blond hair and a dark tan. I was about a foot shorter, had freckles and was soft around the edges. So when I put on his clothes, nothing I could manage to get on ever looked right. It pulled in the hip, I walked on the pant legs and crotch sagged only not in a cool 90’s hip hop sort of vibe.
By Jr high i’d figured out I needed a better fit if I was going to make this work. My mom’s youngest brother Johnny, was still living at home, and I was always at my grandparents. My friends all lived in their neighbourhood, so after school I’d often head over to spend my evenings there. I’d help with chores, sit on some curb with my friends incoherently laughing about stuff tween girls laugh about and finish my night falling asleep watching sitcoms with my grandma. While we watched sitcoms my grandma would always ask “What are you gonna wear tomorrow? Want me to wash your clothes?” This was my opportunity. I’d practically tell her. “No it’s ok. I can just wear something of Johnny’s. Besides I can’t wear the same thing twice in a row to school.” She’d say “Ok” and I go to sleep buzzing about picking out an outfit in the morning.
I loved wearing Johnny’s clothes. He was so fashionable. It was the mid 90’s and he had the widest selection of everything that was on trend. Every colour of waffle shirt you could imagine: Wine, charcoal, olive. Great vests to finish them with. Flannel shirts, and a collection of concert T’s to die for. Although Johnny’s clothes were a bit big for me, I felt more comfortable in them than I did anything else. They hid my newly changing body and didn’t hug my figure or make me feel constricted like some of the skorts and sweaters in my wardrobe. I just felt more at ease and confident in men’s clothes.
I didn’t know “clearly” then that I was queer. (Or rather hadn’t thought it relevant enough yet to admit.) My clothing choices and preferences weren’t complicated by identity issues. I knew what it was to be a female. I just didn’t get what that meant for me in terms of my aesthetic. While my friends were effortlessly feminine and revelled in bikinis and make-up. I awkwardly experimented with burgundy lipstick and swam in a T-Shirt over my bathing suit. I just almost always felt awkward. I wanted to wear comfortable men’s style clothing, but I also wanted to wear eyeliner, tell secrets and be considered pretty.
Thank god for grunge. My saving grace. Plaid shirts, boyfriend jeans, concert T’s and Khakis. Between that and soccer uniforms, my high school years were saved. I was comfortable, walked with my own easy spirit and got to be socially accepted while doing so. Thank fuck! Cause’ high school had potential to be a ride for lesbian in a small town. Lucky for me though, instead, my thrift store vintage jackets had me accused of being stylish once or twice and not queer. High school was an interesting époque of hat wearing for me. I experimented a lot with fashion. There were many fails, but I learned they usually came when I was trying to be something I wasn’t. Like “busty” or into platforms. I learned up-doo’s and semi formal dresses made me feel terribly awkward and over done, but that I was “okay” with a prom queen nomination. I was introduced to who I felt I was outwardly, and fell in deeply love with androgyny – the one who really understood me.
Today not much has changed with my relationship to fashion. Other than I dress more for myself now, than ever. I feel a lot less pressure to experiment with things to fit in, or be on trend. I know what I like and I know what works for me. I stick to a few basic rules for myself:
- Is this comfortable.?
- Does it feel natural?
- Do I feel confident?
As much as I love fashion, I try not to get too caught up in trends that aren’t “me”. Sure I love crop tops and high waisted jeans! Boy do I! *heart eyes* But I’m NOT a crop top and high waisted jeans kind of girl. I like my jeans low and loose in the hip with a skinny leg. So that’s what I wear.
“Androgyny” may be popularly understood as this phenom trend currently transforming the fashion industry. But what is really is, is an identity and a way of life. The fashion industry is only mimicking and selling the lifestyle of a group of people who don’t fit into their polarized binary of mens and womens fashions. It’s not about becoming the most androgynous person who has ever lived to be fashionable. Being who we are bravely when it wasn’t popular is what made androgyny fashionable. Being who we are, is what continues to liberate us. Image is nothing, the thirst is everything. That’s why I love androgyny, because it is us. In loving androgyny we are learning to love ourselves.