Why I wear only black
Two style options: shock or invisibility
Before entering college, I lived for brightly-colored clothing–purples and pinks were my favorite–but, in the second semester of my first year of college, I incorporated more black into my wardrobe. Initially, it was one shirt that I justified purchasing, saying, “Well, it’s black, I can wear it with anything, right?”
Two years later, my wardrobe is exclusively black, save for a few college-affiliated t-shirts. My clothes, shoes, everything is black. Even my underwear (TMI?…whoops). Whether headed to another English class, formal event, college party, spring wedding, or anything else, I wear black. Most people don’t notice my somber studs until I acknowledge it, but, as the saying goes, once they see it, they can’t un-see it.
In a recent winter, family vacation to Washington D. C., what else could I opt to wear?
So, why do I wear all black? Are there benefits or drawbacks? Did something happen to spur my obsidian obsession?
When I first became ravenous for raven-colored clothing, I wanted to look ‘cooler.’ I noticed that when I wore black, I seemed more intimidating to others. Once, I kid you not, upon entering a local bakery, the girl behind the counter visibly jumped when she saw me in all black (there’s a small possibility she flinched because of my terrifying resting face).
That reaction made me feel powerful– noticed. While I enjoyed feeling noticed for my slate style, I also appreciated being able to fly under the radar too. Wearing all black equipped me with two style options: shock or invisibility. In more confident times, I opt for wearing all black for shock value, garnering more attention from spectators. In more anxious, self-conscious times, I opt for invisibility.
Standing with my lovely co-Service Chair for our eating house, we posed together pre-philanthropy event. Our philanthropy event, Dancing Through the Decades, encourages every bright color, pattern, and accessory. As you can see, I took that suggestion to heart.
In writing this piece, I find myself smirking in remembering comments from friends, family, and acquaintances on my funereal finery. For my sophomore formal, my date and good friend sent me a polite text asking what color I was wearing, though, when I responded with “Umm..black..are there other colors?,” he said, “I should have known.”
While planning her second wedding, my mother decided all children, hers and his, could wear an outfit of their choosing, so, naturally, I wore a sharp, shadow-inspired dress. Her reaction? “At least it’s summer-appropriate and has short sleeves.” Shopping for a Christmas present, my ex-boyfriend called me to ask whether I preferred a gold or silver finish in Alex and Ani bangles. I answered silver, and he asked, “Oh, because that goes better with black?”
Black is objectively the most formal color available, so, of course, I wore black to my junior formal as well.
Wearing all black has many benefits (like masking stains, matching with anything, never going out of style, flattering any body, and more), but what I appreciate most about wearing black, is what I’ve learned about myself. I love being known for something as trivial as wearing all black, every day, for every occasion. I’ve learned that I like being able to control how people perceive me. Black enables me to look straightforward or mysterious, approachable or intimidating, formal or casual. With my monochrome aesthetic, I am more confident and, because of this confidence, people are less focused on my attire, so, when I speak up, people pay attention to what I say rather than what I wear. My newfound confidence also makes me feel more refined, which, arguably, makes me look more polished to onlookers.
I like that I can open my color-organized closet and not have to stress about which color to don for the day because I have one onyx option. Black has been there for me through happiness, sadness, new friendships, breakups, stresses, everything. Having worn all black for two, going on three, years, I doubt I’ll ever return to bright colors. After all, nothing will ever be “the new black.”