I thought it was love at first sight when I fell head over heels for fashion in the second grade; neon graphics and gaudy embellishments capturing my adoration through the glass of the obnoxiously loud window display. At the time, there was nothing I wanted more in this world than an awkwardly long, highlighter yellow cotton t-shirt starring a Beanie-Baby-stylized monkey donning a glittery pink polka dot dress with a matching bow. Cute, I know.

I had to beg my mom for a year to let me shop at Justice* before I ever got to step foot in that slice of pre-teen heaven. Yet after months of reading the catalogs (cover to cover and back), I knew every spread like the back of my hand. I figured I had a photographic memory, but it must be selective or something since the ability has never quite transferred over to other facets of my life. Sucks.

So, I showed up to school the next week in full popular girl uniform, which at Norton Creek Elementary School meant mid-wash jeggings and 3-D animal-themed top. We walked so furries could run. I vaguely remember getting a few compliments, maybe … possibly? And so the Justice addiction began. Unfortunately, my mom insisted we also shop at Children’s Place and GAP Kids, but I was able to gradually increase the proportion of Justice items purchased (thanks to its never-ending 40% off sale) from roughly 0.46 to 0.95. Pretty significant if you ask me. But by the time I moved, I was starting to come to my senses. Tricked out t-rexes and tiny little tares weren’t timeless, frankly they were trashy. And I was hellbent (a term I didn’t discover until a few years later, albeit) on figuring out why I ever thought otherwise. 

Turns out, what I thought was love at first sight was merely a deep infatuation and what I wanted most in this world wasn’t a popping primate top but to fit in with my peers. St. Charles is a fairly homogenous town and other than this one other girl in my grade who had a “white-washed” name, I was the only one like me. I couldn’t straighten my frizzy hair down or wax my hairy arms away so I changed the one thing I could—my style. And while the thought nauseates me, I think deep down I may have actually kind of liked the clothes at Justice. The problem was, that was never the reason why I wore them. 

I wore them because a girl in Kindergarten once told me, while playing American Girl dolls (note: I didn’t say with, as we were quite literally pretending to be the dolls ourselves), that I could only be Kaya or Addie because I was dark. And how dare I even ask to play pretty blonde Laine or spunky little Kit, I was nothing like them. Or did I just look nothing like them? Kaya and Addie are gorgeous girls with wonderful personalities—I truly have nothing against them—but personally, I always identified more with Molly. Her orthodox nature paralleled my own in so many ways and well, I was five so I just thought the fact that she wore glasses (like me!) made her pretty darn cool. But hey, apparently my classmates didn’t think so and I was assigned to only play the Native American or African American character in all of our games. In hindsight, they probably didn’t even realize I was another race entirely. Though I left those “friends” behind when I entered public school, the incident stuck with me as a reminder to try to assimilate as much as I could. Maybe then, with an even playing field, I would get a fair shot at representing myself as I saw fit. 

It’s meant to be a telling but lighthearted story, and I definitely don’t hold anything against the two girls in my Kindergarten class (yes, there was a 3:14 girl:boy ratio, and no, I still did not find myself a boyfriend). But I think it summarizes a lot of my struggles with myself, my community, and my attempts to bridge the gap between the two for much of my early childhood. So when people ask me when I started to love fashion, I usually just say the second grade and unlock a memory long forgotten by mentioning Justice. Har-dee-har, what a good ‘ole laugh. But the story goes a little deeper than that and my relationship with my style, which has changed not just literally but symbolically over the years, says everything about me in a nutshell.

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I fell back in love, or should I say, fell in love for the first time, with fashion in the fourth grade. It was then that I started to experiment, create, dare, celebrate, and truly express myself. And though I feel myself regress back into my shell at times, something as simple as putting on a defining outfit, one that I wouldn’t normally want to showcase to the world but love to wear in the comfort of my own home, helps me fortify my sense of self. 

Not to be dramatic or anything, but fashion is definitely my soulmate. Anyone that comes after will just have to settle for second. 

*According to Google “Justice is an online clothing and lifestyle retailer targeting the tween girl market, formerly owned by Tween Brands, Inc., later by Ascena Retail Group, and currently by Bluestar Alliance LLC. Justice sells apparel, underwear, sleepwear, swimwear, lifestyle, accessories, and personal care products for girls age 6–14”