Lately, I have felt plagued by overwhelming heartbreak and loss. During times of grief my sense of self-worth is at its most vulnerable, as is the case for many of us. We find ourselves ruminating over what we could have done differently, or how we managed to manifest such pain into our lives to begin with. Creativity withers in this confusion. We might cook less and order more, feel less comfortable in our skin, dress to hide and feel left with little self-esteem to enjoy our minds, our bodies or our lives. Being at our most vulnerable is when we require the most love, care and patience, yet feeling depressed can drain us of the very energy required to show up for ourselves.

Accessorizing can feel like a major burden—It’s that last bit of styling that never fails to make me late for the party. However, without that extra dash of effort a look can easily fall flat, or worse, fall apart. It sounds dramatic, but there is a reason accessories have historically existed not just for utility (typically their primary purpose), but as a symbol of self-worth, status and luxury. When we wrap an extra-soft scarf around our neck, slip on a pair of sassy shoes or sling that bag our mom finally trusts us with around our shoulder, it doesn’t just look pretty, it feels different.

I used to revel in taking people by surprise and proving their assumptions and biases wrong. In a way, it defined me. I was the Black, White and Japanese girl from Taipei, Taiwan. The one who made people curious. The girl who stood out in any room. In reality, letting these pieces of my identity define the entirety of who I was disconnected me from others, and from the very heritage that brought me here and influenced my thoughts and beliefs.

Every once in a while I sit down to write about a topic and can’t help but think, who cares? Fashion is so trivial and taking the time to research and write about it is too. In a way, I actually think thoughts like this come from the fact that fashion isn’t at all trivial.

New York Fashion Week is an especially confronting time of year. In September and February writers, editors, designers, influencers and numberless other creatives in the fashion industry emerge from their day-to-day lives to come together for a collective trend-check. From the outside it appears fun, glamorous, the perfect recipe for F.O.M.O.

You know that feeling when you’re getting dressed to be active, and then the activewear feels so uncomfortable it crushes your spirit before you’ve even begun to move your body? On the days I have felt this way, exercise seemed more like a punishment than a way to nourish my health and wellbeing.

Getting dressed begins with our bodies. When we dress to hide our arms or legs, or to mask our other insecurities, we cut ourselves off from our bodies and arguably, our style and self-esteem suffers for it. Lately, I have found authenticity in getting in touch with my body head-to-toe.

I graduated from Northeastern University in 2019 at age 22. In July of 2023, just before turning 27, I finally admitted to needing to slow down. Up to that point, the better part of my post-grad life had been spent hustling, taking every professional opportunity and leaving minimal time for friends, hobbies or love-interests. I expected to be a huge overnight success after college, and when it didn’t happen I figured the solution was to work harder. Do more. Be better.

Back in 2022, I was at a dinner party with a friend from college and two older couples who he had known since childhood. Having walked in empty-handed and overdressed after believing we would be eating at a restaurant instead of the host’s hotel room, I was already feeling edgy and eager to impress. Regardless of my faux pas, we enjoyed drinking wine, chatting and getting to know one another over a yummy home-cooked meal.

It has been a complete whirlwind. Let’s catch up. Last week, I visited Coney Island for the first time:

Lately it’s been a struggle to not find getting dressed a little monotonous. While shopping with a friend this week we agreed that wearing our summer clothing felt pretty awesome at first, but it has gotten old quickly. Two weeks into July and this season is, unfortunately, just warming up. To make it through I am implementing a little mindset shift: feel over look.

Like many of our favorite clothing basics, T-shirts were originially born out of necessity. The solid T-shirt was manufactured as an undergarment in the 1800s and has since undergone several transformations throughout the last century.

A couple months ago, seemingly out of nowhere, my parents decided to co-host a fundraiser where the Vice President of the United States would be speaking. When I found out family members of the co-hosts were welcome to come along for the ride, I was visibly over the moon.

It’s a special kind of shame, realizing you’ve gravitated toward clothing like athleisure or pajamas for the better part of your life during the summertime. Around this time of year I find myself falling into a kind of duality: I am either dressed to the nines in a flouncy, special occasion-type outfit or I’m in the same raggedy tank top and stretchy workout shorts I wore every day during lockdown.

This week I met up with an old friend at TsuruTonTan, where we discussed the relative woes of shopping for new clothes. I’m not a big shopper myself, and when it comes to investing in season-friendly clothing I, like a lot of us, become overwhelmed with decision-paralysis. Nevertheless, I managed to put together some pretty cute looks built around two new pieces I invested in lately.

When I was around 14-years-old I spent the night at the home of a girl we’ll call Jermaine. I had never really connected with her, but I knew sleeping over at her apartment with our group of friends was a good thing. I knew that, in some juvenile way, being there solidified to everyone else that I belonged in the group.

I’ll admit, I struggle with styling for warmer weather, and as a result my closet is noticeably lopsided. I’ve been on a mission to mindfully expand my wardrobe, and to avoid getting overwhelmed I’m starting simple: Denim.

Once every two years or so a pressure creeps up on me. It’s the pressure to “keep up” and buy something new, as if a new item of clothing will somehow breathe new life into the pieces I already have. After wearing a particular outfit for a couple years or more, regardless of whether anyone is paying attention or what the trend cycle is, I begin to feel self-conscious. Do I seem broke? Lazy? Uncreative?

Not that it’s on purpose, but rain coats are rude. Unlike other functional clothing, which is often made from fabrics such as denim or canvas, water-resistant clothing often utilizes materials like nylon and rubber, which make them resistant to wind and rain. While windbreakers are magic, I have too often found myself building an entire outfit around one—making the entire look “sporty” in order to accommodate a single piece that will likely be removed as soon as I’m inside. In this way, we style-conscious people tend to find ourselves faced with choosing between a sporty, rain-friendly look, or carrying an umbrella. Now that’s a shame.

Back in 2022, I was at my first runway show hideously overdressed and wedged between fashion hopefuls who donned neon wigs and fishnet tights. My colleague and I killed the minutes waiting outside by scanning attendee outfits, chatting with curious tourists and texting the event PR about when we would get in.