When Vintage Designer Meets Shame

If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?

Black leggings, because nothing screams functional adult woman who occasionally cries on her commute, like an elasticated waistband.

Oversized hoodie? Absolutely essential. Preferably one that says “I’m totally fine” in Comic Sans. Trainers that carry the emotional weight of three failed talking stages and one panic attack in Tesco. Sorted. Sartorial bliss.

But, what I really wear on repeat, day in, day out, it’s not fabric. It’s a feeling.

I’ve worn shame like a heavy winter coat since I was a small child, zipped right up my the chin. Guilt is my everyday “go to bag”, slung over one shoulder so long I forget it is even there. And don’t get me started on that old jumper labelled “not good enough”, worn so many times it’s basically vintage designer now. 

The trouble is, no one can see these outfits.

They just see the woman in leggings. They don’t see the stitched in beliefs, the hand-me-down trauma, the emotional Velcro I’ve been trying to peel off for years.

But lately… I’ve been clearing out my wardrobe.

Choosing what actually fits me.

Not what was handed down, expected, or forced.

And one day, I’ll wake up, pull on the same leggings and hoodie, and feel light.

Because this time, I’ll know I’m not wearing the past too.

Lottie x