Dressed to Impress

By Sara Yuan

Art by Ruby Mae Colson

You can wear whatever you want on most streets of New York City and not get a second glance. This oversaturation of style has turned the city into a playground for self-expression, where thrift stores become jungles of teenagers curating their identities, and sample sales draw lines that wrap around the block, each person waiting for the perfect accessory to bring them closer to their vision board self.

Brooklyn is no exception, and as we all know, neither is Pratt Institute. Uniqueness is rewarded; extravagance is customary. Clothing is one of the most powerful forms of creative language. It allows you to express your personality, try on a new character, and project an image of who you are or who you want

to be.

Your freshman year of college is a scary and exciting time of new experiences and explorations. Walking around Pratt’s Brooklyn campus for the first few times, I was starstruck by the sheer fearlessness of personal expression, and flooded by a motivation to reach this level of confidence and authenticity in how I presented myself. I saw frilly skirts layered over baggy jeans, silk stacked over chunky knits, ties worn as scarves, hiking shoes paired with leg warmers, and ripped suit jackets revealing bright checkered dresses underneath. Hair striped blond and black, shaved heads with eyebrow piercings, pants deliberately cut to frame thigh tattoos, nothing was off-limits. Body hair wasn’t just accepted- it was almost cool, and gender norms in fashion felt more like suggestions than rules. While growing up in a suburban Queens neighborhood did expose me to different types of communities, I felt the crowd at Pratt was a different breed altogether. Students here were bold and fearless with their style expression, far away from their

parent’s opinions and high school dress codes. The boundaries of what “looked good” had shifted for me, replaced by a celebration of boldness and individuality, where creativity took precedence over convention.

At Pratt, I have never felt overdressed or like my outfit was “too much”- not for class, or a quick walk to the mailroom. The clothes I once saved for special occasions no longer collected dust at the back of my closet. When I combined my tye-dye giraffe top that I got when I was 12, with my new fuzzy vest from L-train, and some Jeans I found in someones giveaway pile on their stoop, it felt like I was presenting this new community with both who I was and who I wanted to be. I wouldn’t go back and skip the nights in our shared Pantas Dorm bathroom that led to microbangs which made me look like a coconut, and the red box dye that left its mark on most of my pillowcases and our shower curtain. Some form of impulsive self-makeover was practically a rite of passage.

But you will soon realize that this experience unfolds to be more than just a campus-wide fashion show. The same environment that encourages fearless self-expression also creates a kind of unspoken pressure to constantly evolve, to stay visually interesting. As one friend put it, “I literally refused to wear my glasses for the first year of college because I thought they were lame. Being able to see was just not my vibe I guess. Everyone was just trying to outperform each other and collect each other like pokemon if they looked “cool” enough ... so weird. I definitely fed into it though lol I had my fit picked out like a night in advance.”

But, over time, the era of experimentation slowly peels back to reveal a version of yourself that no longer feels the need to reach for the most unusual cut of blouse at the thrift store or for the wackiest patterned jacket for the sake of spicing up the wardrobe. I soon realized that some statement pieces you grow out of after two months of wear, while some stick around season after season. I still do pull out my fuzzy vest from L-Train from time to time and I still do wear those jeans I found on someone's stoop. But what I learned from those days of dressing to impress is that it is okay to let go of the tye-dye giraffe top that I

got when I was 12, and it's okay to leave the thrift store empty handed when nothing calls my name. I can confidently say that I still have fun putting on a fit for class if I’m in the mood, but I no longer stress about repeating outfits, or not having time to do my makeup before class. As I walk around campus now, I

can pick out the freshman from a mile away. Partly because of their giant portfolio bags for foundation year classes, but mostly because they are dressed for that imaginary runway that every newcomer must confront.