Drawing Style From Pain

“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” is an old adage many of us have used to feel better about the hard times we face. It reminds us that we must draw our strength from pain, whether we want to or not, in order to survive, or better yet, thrive. A closely related concept is the idea of creating art out of pain. History is filled with individuals and people groups who have created something beautiful from pain. In fact, much of creativity evolves from some sort of dis-ease, a desire to get something out in a way that relieves the uneasiness. I’m often interested in cultural movements like hip-hop— a culture that originated from the creative minds of an oppressed people with few resources. It’s not only expressed through music but through clothing and the way people style themselves. That is in essence, drawing style from pain, clothing style to be exact. And by pain, I mean anything that creates a disturbance in us. Of course, fashion never takes the place of dealing with emotional difficulties through clinical interventions like therapy and medication. But it can be used as a supplement in much the same way art therapy uses art to assist with healing.

So if whole cultural movements do it, how do we as individuals use pain to develop our style? Is that even a thing? Let’s consider the Rudd and Lennon model of body aesthetics. According to the model, we internalize cultural ideas of beauty and create our appearance accordingly. When we are not satisfied with our created appearance or others’ assessments of it, we develop coping strategies. Some of them include, trying harder, giving up and feeling badly about how we look, and changing our own personal standard of what is beautiful.

So this model gives us some insight into a few things. 1. It’s difficult to develop our sense of style without responding to a cultural ideal. 2. We should try to be aware of how we have internalized these standards and how they affect us. And 3. We can create our own personal style based upon the standards we have internalized and rework them to express various aspects of ourselves. I believe it is in this re-working process that we draw style from pain. Let’s say someone perceives us as shall we say, less than attractive. We can try harder to fit their ideal or feel badly about ourselves (neither is appealing). Or we can change our personal standard of what is beautiful. One way to do that is to dig deep, figure out what interests us, what we like, and how that relates to who we are. If we are successful at doing this, we stop placing so much value on our looks (so it’s fine if you are considered beautiful or average) and place it on the things that give us joy. This is where our beauty lies. It is from this space we can create. And ironically, what started as painful becomes art. So how do we do turn pain into clothing style, practically speaking?

Ok. Here are my ideas.

1. Exposure

Study your surroundings. Watch people, nature, and the way things move and interact around you. What do you like or don’t like? I loved the grey hair with pink tint on this lady, or the way that girl wore her head scarf, or the unique swagger that guy had. I also liked the way that flamingo looked perched on the gate... (you get the idea). We may not always know how these experiences will translate into our clothing style, but keep it stored and see if we can use it to turn pain into something creative later.

Study different forms of media- art books, art history books, magazines, coffee table books, online images. We can get inundated with social media so looking at books can be a refreshing change, particularly old design books that can provide a wealth of context for our modern world, and maybe even our pain.

2. Dress the Different Parts of you

During periods of discouragement or sadness you still have to get dressed. So what parts of you would you be excited to express. An edgy side, a feminine side, a [insert here] side… The idea is that we have all seen some aspects of someone or something we connect to, and this is in an indication that what we see is a part of us. Similar to actors who are able to play different roles b/c they pull from a part of them that can relate to the character, even if it isn’t pretty. I have these floral, wide leg pants that I call my Jimi Hendrix pants. They remind me of something Jimi Hendrix would wear, and I love them. But what is it that I really love? Jimi Hendrix is way more wild than I’ll ever be, yet something about his wild, cool vibe, and crazy colored clothing seems exciting and fun—that is, there is a little bit of that I can relate to. So I wear it to express that part. Maybe it just makes me feel better; or it’s a side of me that is being overshadowed by a more discouraged side, and I want to let the wild side out. Whatever the reason, we can use positive self-expression to drown out the pain. Here are some different sides that I like to express with my clothes.

Rock star Pants (i.e., my jimi hendrix pants)

quirky school teacher or maybe Librarian Chic

3. Make the details the main thing

In this age of the internet, there is no new outfit under the sun. There isn’t going to be a store no one else has access to. There isn’t going to be an item of clothing only you have—unless you make it yourself maybe. The point is, everyone has access to everything, so developing your style based upon clothing pieces alone may not feel unique or interesting enough to combat the pain. It’s all about how you put pieces together—how you mix the ingredients. And starting from a place of pain has it’s advantages because our pain is unique to us. What does your discomfort make you feel; and how can you put outfits together in a way that draws from the pain in a creative way? Often, if my outfit isn’t really speaking to me, I make it about my nail color or jewelry, the way a shirt is tucked in, or the way I wear a scarf, and somehow it makes me feel better about my outfit. The other day I saw a celebrity in a string of pearls and a T-shirt and was immediately drawn to it. Why? It’s no secret I love juxtaposition but somehow it seemed fresh—maybe because it was just one string of pearls, understated and elegant with a throw away T-shirt. It felt accessible and faux upscale in a fun way—it felt like a energizing way to combat some of the discouragement I was feeling. More recently, I was admiring pointy black nails and minty green short nails—both very different looks, but both expressed something beyond my pain. A little vamp, a little uptown…something other than discouragement. In much the same way a boxer might box to release tension, drawing style from pain allows us to release our negative energy into something productive.