I never had issues with my body before- which I guess makes it very surreal for me to confront that I do have them now. Especially in a blog post; especially online; for an entire Internet audience to see; I’m now realizing that a simple ‘hello,’ is overdue- by the way.

While this is a fashion blog, I feel as though beauty and clothing go hand-in-hand. As storefront mannequins continue to be stand-in for what the ‘common’ male and female body looks like, I can’t help but notice that the garment industry is manufacturing pieces meant for plastic torsos, hips, legs, and arms. We’ve chalked it up to sizing issues- that a particular pair of jeans or blouse didn’t fit right because we were either an inch too small or too big. But maybe- here me out- it’s because it was never tailored to someone that was real in the first place. Beauty standards, the ever cruel mistress birthed by social media and the male gaze.

Back when I was young, I thought myself lucky to be blessed with a thin body. I had some pre-conceived notion that skinny girls were usually marked to be valuable and something to be desired in terms of shape. I kept it to myself, strolled by those early elementary school years and past my high school phase. Body issues? please, I had homework to stress over other than thigh gaps and a cinched waist.

But as I reached the end of my university period, I found myself in a position I’ve never expected to be in. The pandemic of 2020 hit. We were forced to cancel our plans and put our dreams on hold as we stayed indoors. I had a lot of time on my hands- and my bank account seemed stagnant from that point on. So I turned to online shopping to help pass time and give some sort of escapism. Zara, ThredUp, Amazon, Reformation, and other websites started to pop up on my recommended feed on Instagram and Facebook. Occasionally, I would purchase from said sites, but after weeks of anticipation-I would be met with this weird feeling of disappointment. The quality of clothes was unquestionable, but it was the way I looked in them made me feel some type of way.

See, the ‘pretty girl’ Asian mindset that I had- at least, from what I society has poisoned me with- was that I needed have a slight hourglass shape. Still thin, but with some definable hips and chest. What I soon realized, was the reality that I wanted to buy a certain body shape that I unconsciously desired. I thought that spring dress and skirt would look as great as the girl did in the picture. But after weeks of patiently updating my Canada Post tracking page, I would slip this small cutout of fabric onto my body to find out I was nothing like those models. I’m fat, I would tell myself, I don’t have the body to fill out this top.

Now, telling myself that I should loose a couple of pounds is nothing less than terrifying when I first thought of it. Those that are close to me know that I’m underweight. I’ve always been 100. No fluctuations- just a solid number that stayed with me since my high school years. I was certain that I didn’t need to loose any fat- in fact, I should actually be gaining some. Then I started working out in hopes that I would turn out to be a picture-perfect girl in the end. I hated feeling shallow and vain. I was angry at myself for wanting to loose weight and angry that I didn’t feel pretty enough.

For those looking for a solid conclusion, I’m going to have to let you down. I have no redeeming remark that I’ve passed through this phase and I’m on a healthy road to mental recovery. But to be real with you, I feel like every girl on earth will never truly be free of societal’s grasp of physical beauty. We are all living in social media, especially when the internet is all we have during the unsteady period of COVID-19. What I can say is- I’m glad that I at least accepted that I have this belittling mindset. Even though I’ll still feel a bit self conscious the next time I go dress-shopping, I have some comfort knowing that I’m certainly not the only one who feels this way. Because in the midst of millions of social media and clothing product pages being updated everyday- there are billions of real people out there who live filter free.

It’s time for an intervention. You are in trouble and we desperately need to have a one on one with this. Fashion, I get that trends are what keep you relevant. I, myself love a bit of vintage inspo- as it can invoke those lock and key memories of nostalgia or better times. But to be serious, some fads need to go Thelma and Louise style. Guns ablazing, hands knit together, cowabunga style- the low rise jean had its moment and its time that we leave that grave untouched.

In the uneventful year of 2020, fashion has actually shown us some interesting moments now and then. With the rise of Tik Tok, its so much easier to know what’s in and what’s out. On my feed, sage-green cowl-neck silk dresses are being fitted and flattered, DIY bleach art on baggy jeans garner thousands of likes, and then there’s Y2K. In between cottage core and dark academia, I was honestly quite baffled that something like this would rise from the ashes. For those that don’t know, Y2K is a form of early 2000s fashion. While the name is commonly associated with the widespread panic in the baby Internet age, it has nothing to do with the actual event. Think of crop tops and low rise everything. Being a late 90s baby, I was smack dab peer pressured to conform to the elementary fashion code that was ‘low rise everything.’ It was a lot of torso and the unfortunate butt crack. I hated it, to be short.

Then I hated it even more when it showed up on my feed. I came across this video in which a girl was showing off her latest thrift haul. I could not believe my eyes and ears when she pulled up a low rise mini skirt, the same cut of jeans, one of those ugly 2000s print long sleeves, and those ‘beach’ wave neon colored Karen dresses that I swear is only sold at farmer’s markets. To be clear, I’m all for people wearing what they want to wear. My problem with this trend is that I know it will definitely pass. It’s timeline is very short, and I have this nagging annoyance of people who don’t look ahead to the future. Low rise jeans will never come back- and the people will buy them, to only donate their pair to Goodwill once it’s worn only once or twice.

In my last in-depth article, I pointed fingers at trends being the most unsustainable thing towards fashion. They are short lived, but they create hype- which is why everyone will want to get into what’s cool and in. Y2K is basically the text-book definition of a unsteady trend. We laugh and make top ten articles of the worst 2000s fashion clothing pieces that were popular at the time. And it’s good that we do, because we at least validate the claim that we can do so much better. Low rise bottoms are a classic example of the importance of fashion and function working together. This cut of skirt or pant will always make your figure look short and unproportionable- not to mention that it always sags down. Strange patterns with clashing colors are hard to pair with other items of clothing, as it’s often ditched to the underbelly of the closet that’s left to be forgotten. I’m not going back there, and you shouldn’t either.

The 2000s was an era of experimentation. Nobody really knew what to wear. We experimented with different combinations, we thought that it expressed some level of individuality and personality. If we really put things into perspective, that decade essentially captured what it was like figuring out our dress sense when we were. No one had a clue of what to do, we just threw things together in hopes of cohesiveness. But we grew up, looked back, and fixed our mistakes. There’s a reason why we cringe. It’s because we know that there was a better way of doing things, and we just didn’t realize it at the time.

I think there may be a reason for this revival of clothing. Compared to the dumpster fire of this year and it’s prior time, the 2000s was a relatively fun decade to be a part of. Teens now are nostalgic of those childhood memories when things were better. For the most of us, we weren’t exposed to the horrors of the real world just yet- we were still living in blissful ignorance while playing with our Barbies and Bratz dolls. And now, some individuals are trying to reclaim that past glory of a time where we had a decent social life.

I’m all in for living for those glory days, but I implore you. Some trends make it blatantly obvious that it’s only around for a short amount of time. I’d say we cut our losses before we start making 2021 the year of questionable fashion.

Here’s the thing about revelations; it’s supposed to be this grandiose realization that becomes the foundation of your current beliefs. You’ve mapped things out. One plus one equals two and nobody can tell you any different. But as time runs its course, the paradigm starts to shift. One nagging fact quickly gives birth to a domino train of consistencies that you can no longer ignore, and then suddenly it all clicks into place. Dramatics aside, if you want to get down to the nitty gritty- I’ve completely changed my opinion on what it means to be sustainable. 

While it may seem like a miniscule revelation, to me, it’s been the foundation of my fashion thesis whenever I shop for new clothing. I’ve written dozens of articles upon the subject, spent hours gathering research and watching a lot of documentaries. I’ve always pointed the finger towards fast fashion. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still problematic. Changing the way we manufacture our Adidas sweatpants has to be aligned with eco-friendly and ethical labour practices. 

In my teenage years, I rarely shopped for new clothing at the mall. You could see me perusing through aisle upon aisle at my local thrift store. For many fashion nerds, it’s a cheap and ‘environmentally friendly’ way to try out new trends and styles. I hate to say this- particularly because it’s a phase in my life that I still cringe thinking about- but I was able to get into that cutesy kawaii Japanese trend by shopping at my local Value Village. I completely avoided sites like YesStyle or AsianiCandy. 

But as I grew older, I found myself generally unhappy with my style. I had too many clothes in the closet that often didn’t match- and if they did, it would take a good amount of time to find what pieces looked good together. I essentially had 4 or 5 different fashion styles I loved converged in one tiny wardrobe. I had no focus, mostly because I believed that fashion gave me the power to wear whatever I wanted. 

It wasn’t until a random Tik Tok video landed on my for you page. In what I found to be a generally defensive tone, this woman was arguing that fast fashion isn’t the problem- it’s all big brand companies like Apple and Amazon that essentially do the same thing. I thought to myself, ‘well, everyone has to start somewhere right? I won’t judge someone if they decide to start things small with fashion and work their way up.’ 

I then countered the fact that most people can’t afford sustainable fashion brands, as they are generally expensive. But then people argued that if you can afford $200 worth of Shein inventory, you can afford to shop at these eco-friendly companies. However, that’s not a fair comparison. $200 gets you multiple sets of t-shirts, jeans, and dresses at Zaful. In comparison, $200 gets you maybe one pair of jeans and t-shirt at Reformation. 

But Sophie, you may be thinking, these fast fashion brands usually produce low quality clothing that’ll only last you for a few years! I can’t really vet for that, considering I used to own two Old Navy Jeans that lasted throughout my elementary school years. I didn’t discard them because I found rips in them, I gave them up because I simply couldn’t fit in them anymore as I aged. 

The debate of what is sustainable and what is not is clusterfuck. I found myself hating these people who had the money to afford these eco-friendly brands and bragging how they only commit to environmentally friendly clothing. I’m broke, I can’t afford House of Sunny and the Girlfriend Collective. And so I was left with a general confused buzz of what exactly to do, as I already knew that thrifting for 40 additional clothing pieces for my already full wardrobe wasn’t going to make me truly happy. 

And then I realized the true culprit behind the crime- and wasn’t it already obvious to us from the very beginning? Trends, more specifically, the way our society views and discards them. Trends basically go hand in hand with fashion, as seasonal collections determine what’s in and what’s not. Social media plays a big part in what is considered popular. For instance, the 90s trend has come back in full force with scrunchies, bright TV colors, and highwaisted everything. On top of that, it branched to other core aesthetics, such as Y2K and cupid core. 

Trends aren’t sustainable, which sounds more obvious the more than I think about it. As each upcoming generation dictates the direction of the way we should dress-our love of a certain aesthetic seems to die and wither away as we gravitate to something that’s new and exciting. I’m positively sure that clothing trends like funky print pants, inverted stitching, and corset tops will end up on an obscure top 10 list of ugly fashion that 2021 kids wore. 

I’m not saying that following trends are bad, it’s an inherent part of being human. We like things that are shiny and new. To plain it simply- no matter how ‘alternative’ you think you are, your tastes are more mainstream than you think. It’s perfectly fine to like one or more aesthetics, it actually makes you look more adventurous in the long run. While it’s impossible to fight against the current, there’s one solution that everyone can try out. 

It’s called moderation. 

You don’t have to empty out your wallets to purchase a sustainably made jacket. You don’t have to make a weekly thrift store trip every time you want to invest in another trendy wardrobe. Like eating chocolates, everything is better in moderation. Instead of buying more, challenge yourself to only include items that you know you will wear. Pick clothing that you think will last you a long time. Choose styles that are timeless, and can pair with various outfits. 

Slow fashion is not only defined by buying sustainably made, eco-friendly brands. It’s about slowing down your consumption. If you buy dozens of clothing pieces from environmentally friendly brands- yes, you are a more conscious consumer, but if you don’t end up wearing them all that often, it’s still considered wasteful.

So please, let’s stop shaming people left and right if they buy clothing from H&M or Forever 21. The best way to save your wallet and keep the planet happy is to be excruciatingly picky in your decisions.