When a style wasn’t meant for you

In the HBO series “Westworld”, the character played by Ed Harris spends his later years at the park searching for the meaning behind “The Maze”. He is repeatedly told by the hosts (aka, the robots), “The Maze wasn’t meant for you.” Again and again, he ignores them and devolves deeper into madness. 

I think about that quote a lot while considering new clothing and styles to try. I don’t imagine most of us are used to hearing “no”, especially in the context of buying clothing. After all, we want to buy things and store owners want to sell them to us. But the best salesmen know to keep a client from making a mistake — they just happen to be extremely rare.

Long gone are the days of developing a life-long relationship with a trusted salesman at your local men’s shop, where you’d send your son to your guy to get fitted for his first suit. I’m sure that still happens, but for most customers they’re greeted by an ever-rotating cast of youngsters who hop from one shop to the next to chase a higher hourly wage. Sales associates don’t build expertise, don’t build rapport, and crucially don’t build long-term relationships with customers at most stores.

So, imagining a scenario where a salesman tells you, “I don’t think you should buy that — it’s not really you” feels rare. But when it happens, it’s best to listen and take the advice. When one of my friends owned a boutique, he said that to me once as I considered a piece in his store. It felt good to know he cared enough to tell me what I shouldn’t wear. I think many people would benefit from hearing the word “no” more often when it comes to their wardrobe.

When it comes to trying new styles and experimenting with clothing, I’ve repeatedly encountered items that just aren’t meant for me — no matter how much I wish they were or how cool I thought they looked. Sometimes, an item of clothing truly does look better on someone else than yourself. 

For me, I’ve finally decided that ghurka trousers and shorts were not meant for me. As cool as they can look on others, I find the waistband to be too fussy and I’m just not comfortable in a higher rise. If only it hadn’t taken me two trousers and a pair of shorts to learn this lesson!

As more big department stores close and independent retailers die, we move toward online shopping, where you often don’t know until you put an item on and stand in front of a mirror. And even then, your judgment might be clouded by the dopamine rush of a new item. Doubly so if it’s an item you’ve seen on others and thought it looked cool.

I’m not going to blame social media for bad purchases and bricked fits, but in a world where algorithms feed you more of what you like, it certainly hasn’t always been helpful. Exposure to new ideas isn’t inherently bad, of course, but there is a lack of honest and thoughtful curation at an individual level. 

It’s easy to get excited about an upcoming collection from one of your favorite designers or brands. Or maybe several of your close friends are also fans — and you like their taste because after all they’re cool people! But it’s been an important lesson for me to learn that you can appreciate and love an idea in fashion without having to wear it. 

You can geek out over design, obsess over craftsmanship, and follow fads religiously. But they don’t have to end up in your closet or on your body. I’ve found that more types of clothing and styles of dress exist than what actually looks authentically good on me. 

Part of the journey of being “into fashion” or “finding your own style” is moving beyond being simply influenced into buying things and discovering who you truly are as a person. Clothing should be an extension of yourself that only becomes comfortable when you can put it on and say, “Yup, this was meant for me.”