That’s fashion, Sweet: Miss it

Every morning, we make decisions: should we hit snooze? Should we buy another Starbucks coffee for an extra 20 stars? How attractive is speech today?

This decision between A or B or C also applies to clothing, but not in the way you might think. For me, at least, when I’m choosing tops to pair with skirts or my trusty baggy dad jeans, I always think about what kind of bra I’ll wear underneath. Wearing a sports bra? If I wear this bra under my white t-shirt, is the color too bright? The bra should provide some comfort and support, not necessarily be part of the outfit.

I never knew that last thought until I saw an ad from an old underwear seller. The bra was beautifully made, and the straight silhouette and architecture of the flowing lines was stunning. Knowing it was an older La Perla piece sealed the deal. I decided that this was one of those special pieces that pushed my creativity and talent, so I immediately asked the seller about the dimensions.

I dared myself and started daydreaming about how to do it. Inspired by Giambattista Valley RTW S/S 17, I felt it would pair beautifully with a bolero, a simple, white down or a tube top under a blazer with a La Ta parka.

However, I was too nervous to hit “checkout”, and another shopper immediately snapped it up. When I shared my regrets about not buying with my friends, I realized it wasn’t about shipping accidents, seller fraud, or hesitation in general cleanliness – I did my research on the seller – but the way I thought about it in my head instead of asking how much I could wear it.

I wanted the bra to be seen and appreciated by others the way I did, but I knew it would never happen for two reasons: I would be a woman in a bra, and I was terrified of it.

Especially when people regularly style underwear as outerwear and incorporate garters, bustiers, corsets and bra-tops into their looks – especially in Gen Z, I felt that underwear was becoming more casual – and I felt like I was reclaiming that and feeling female empowerment. Still, while I’ve made mood boards and swooned over Prada denim bra-tops, GCDS dew bralettes, and Issa Boulder sweaters, even if I had the money I still wouldn’t buy them out of the same fear.

I wanted to reflect more, perhaps thinking about not studying for the midterms and basically started. Was it insecurity – the way they sat on my short legs or the way I saw myself? Or was it the discomfort of moving away from what I learned and knew?

It was the first and it still totally works, but I was on a self-love journey where I no longer tolerated negative self-talk. But the latter thoughts hit me in the chest a little. At the time I thought it might be fear of being perceived as hypersexual or simply insecurity.

When I imagined myself in my dream outfit with a La Perla bra, my imaginary self didn’t even have the confidence to take them off, instead I felt like a little girl trying on a women’s dress that swallowed me whole. But after some Trader Joe’s “catch the cons” and a phone call with a friend from home, I realized that this insecurity wasn’t my inner conscience, but a cultural mirage.

Growing up in Japan was a great experience; The culture has greatly shaped my morals, being a polyglot has made my inner speech interesting and I’ve grown up in a city that pushes cultural norms while maintaining general respect and a strong sense of community. But, of course, I still had weaknesses: I was more scrutinized for my mistakes because, being a foreigner, I was frequently the target of hostile sidebars, held foreigners to ransom on the streets for overpriced fake watches and bags, and my clothing choices—when not in uniform—were were important.

I was taught very early to maintain modesty, especially as a young woman: to blend in with the crowd, stay away from hostile people, and if I felt unwanted somewhere, I probably was and I should go. Still, as I grew older and visited America more, I thought I might as well try my fashion with the growing progressive style in Japan, opting for spaghetti straps and skirts that fell above my knees.

I was mentally unprepared for the stares and awkward energy I would receive, despising the fact that my parents had saved me from terrible fashion choices. The paranoia of hearing those flashbacks, stares, and phone calls aimed at me immediately made me buy more modest clothes and wear them from the store.

Regardless, I don’t blame Japan or anyone for instilling that kind of attitude and clothing in me. Every culture and society goes along with its moral understanding that it is ugly, and seeing people, places or things through anti-colored lenses is useful and (perhaps) dangerous. But just because there’s no one to blame doesn’t mean reflection and self-improvement can’t happen.

That’s one of the best things about those late-night Depop browsing and Pinterest scrolling sessions: you never know which pieces will trigger which emotions or lines of thought. I’m past my second fashion puberty and ready to start the next phase of exploration — recently drawn to accent pieces and statement jewelry — but I’m not yet comfortable wearing underwear as outerwear.

And maybe I never will, but in these moments of reflection, I feel content with this open-ended possibility. Style isn’t defined or contained, but rather constantly changing – so, who’s to say tomorrow might not be the day?

Hadin Phillips is a secondary text that discusses fashion in the 21st century, particularly new trends and popular controversies. Her column, “This is Fashion, Sweet,” runs every Tuesday.