I can’t remember the exact moment I started hating the way I looked. I’d grown up as an awkward-looking primary school girl with a questionable haircut, but it never crossed my mind that appearance was an issue until a few years into secondary school. From then, like most girls my age, crippling insecurity weighed me down with conviction and intention.

“If I couldn’t feel pretty, then by God I was going to have my fashion efforts recognised”

As a child, I sourced my confidence from other places, such as being an advanced reader for my age and being called ‘a pleasure to teach’ at my Year 6 parents’ evening. Shockingly, as I got older, this wholesome praise stopped having the same impact and, after accepting the ugly truth, I leant on clothes to give me pride in my appearance. If I couldn’t feel pretty, then by God I was going to have my fashion efforts recognised.

Now, at the wise age of 20, I adore fashion and feel comfortable in my own skin like I never have before. But I can’t pretend that I don’t feel happiest in clothes that make me look my best in the eyes of others. Do I really love fashion like I claim, or am I just a fashion victim obsessed with people thinking I have good style? Potentially. Sadly, I think much of my love of dressing myself stems from a fundamental need to fix myself. Personal style can often be a strange melange of self-esteem boosters and artistic inspiration. It’s hard to unpick our relationship with fashion as a whole because it exists in so many forms; it’s a means of expression both at the level of haute couture and, equally, for the ordinary person getting ready to run a quick morning errand. Fashion is deeply intertwined with the human image and beauty like no other art form. We don’t get to opt-out of our own image.

“Clothing is woven so carefully in with my self-esteem that I pass by fashion concepts I know I love because I just can’t risk feeling ugly”

For most people, relationships with clothing go beyond function. There’s no denying that clothing is emotional, whether it’s a bag with sentimental value or an outfit that makes us feel body-confident. However, we can find ourselves trapped and unsatisfied as a result of tying personal style too tightly to our personal identity. Fashion’s ability to control our mood is maintained by a broad association between looking good and feeling good. Dressing smartly and looking ‘put together’ is a trait we expect from successful people, and dressing in line with a sub-culture seems to be a principal entry requirement. An unkempt appearance is associated with depression, laziness, a lack of care for oneself, and certain styles of dress with certain groups of people or interests – this all leads us to feel that clothing has to be an extension of your personality, 24/7. At that point, fashion is no longer a means of self-expression but a way to keep others satisfied. The notion that your clothing should always say something about you or represent you is absurd, and will likely never be truly fulfilled – a person cannot be distilled into a few items of clothing and some quirky accessories.

How creative you can be with your style is directly limited by your confidence, or what you believe you can ‘pull off’. This often results in some extremely boring looks and a proclivity to just follow trends. To be fixated on clothing being ‘flattering’ is to be led down a restrictive and decidedly un-creative, boring path.

To be honest, I’m definitely, and regrettably, in that headspace right now – after a few months of low self-esteem I can’t bear to see myself in anything which makes my body look any way other than its ‘best’. Clothing is woven so carefully in with my self-esteem that I pass by fashion concepts I know I love because I just can’t risk feeling ugly. Clothing is my comfort blanket. And I haven’t even touched on my habit of single-handedly funding the entire staff of Vinted’s holiday pay in one teary-eyed sitting after a bad day at Sidge.

I love fashion because it’s an art form so personal and connected to the human form – but that’s also why it pains me. Clothes can make me feel amazing, but they can also ruin my day. And to be honest, I’m tired of letting the photos posted the morning after the night before ruin my memory of the time I enjoyed when I was living it rather than examining myself under a microscope.