Half of my life, and in most of my years in high school, I have been surrounded by boys—some of them are still my greatest friends and the most respected men of my life. In my college years, I also hung out with very opinionated men who said what was on their mind. In the first years of my highschool life, I was an only girl around male online-gamers. In the later years of highschool when I switched schools, I was an only girl in a group of male artists. In my college internship, I was the only girl in a kitchen where all the cooks and chefs are male. I’ve interned in a bakery where everyone except for two was male. I’ve picked up some of their quirks and traits, heard the comments they say when they don’t think another girl is listening (because half the time they don’t even remember that I’m a girl, I swear), and gained insight into their pattern of thinking. One of the interesting things I’ve picked up from them is their insight on clothes.
I’m a fashionista. Of some sort, really. I’m not a know-it-all and I don’t claim to know much, but, like most girls, I like dressing up. Whether it’s breaking some of the rules of the school uniform or picking a comfy clothing combo for a shopping spree to even cosplaying, I like clothes. Who doesn’t? You’re naked without them. But I realized that what looks pretty to you may not always look the same for guys. When they start to speak to you about your clothing and sense of fashion, you know something weird is going on, and they are on to something… Continue reading