can i still love fashion as a healthcare provider and educator?

because let me tell you...

…as someone who has now worked in the healthcare and education industries for over 10 years, there are times when I feel a disconnect as a healthcare provider/ educator and fashion lover. For a while, despite my interest and love for fashion, the latest trends and artistic impression through clothes were not something I considered when getting dressed when I was a high school teacher or speech language pathologist. The reason being? I felt that it was out of my depth.

OOTD: The chunkiest and coziest sweater I own was perfect for a Sunday morning of half-day work. Paired with black straight legged denim and styled with tabi boots, I felt very comfortable. Because of my laptop, I opted for my sturdy, stiff canvas L.L.Bean tote (open top, in medium) for extra protection.

I got into the unfortunate habit of listing things that I couldn’t wear. Throughout my twenties and even into my late thirties, I have been mistaken for a student (whether it be high school, college, graduate, etc. through the gradual progression of years).

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When I was a high school teacher fresh out of graduate school, I overdressed (cue the restrictive pencil skirts, blouses with stiff collars, slacks, kitten heels) because the then department chair emphasized we needed to be professionals which meant no jeans, t-shirts, sneakers¹). When I switched careers and entered the speech language pathology profession, toe covered footwear was essential for safety and health reasons. I had to buy my own lab coat and also wore a pair of scrubs on rotation when I worked in a hospital. As I transitioned from the hospitals to schools, out came the sneakers, t-shirts, jeans, and pullovers, anything that helped me move, run, walk, sit cross legged on the floor when working with children. Even though I loved clothes, accessories, hairstyles, and everything fashion, I felt like it wasn’t a space for me because I was not part of “that world” that I loved to read about online, in fashion magazines, and scroll through on Instagram.

Because I was always told what to wear at work by my peers and superiors, I chose my garments based on what was acceptable/appropriate/professional. And at 4’11 with a petite frame, I felt so insecure with the way I looked (if I complained I was mistaken for a student, it was “because I look young”). If I mentioned I wasn’t looked upon as an equal and expressed my desire to be seen as such, well too bad, it wasn’t meant to be, “because [I am] short, small, look younger than my years.” Despite resenting this hand I was dealt with at birth, the mindset I was raised to believe was, this is how you were born and this is how you will be treated from now on.

As a result, I carried myself as someone who felt she was looked upon as less than. Over the years this scarcity mindset (“you can’t do/say/wear _______ because of factors X/Y/Z”) really wore me down. Because at some point, I was tired of feeling like I couldn’t be treated with respect just because of the way I looked.

“I can’t wear this shirt because I am too short. Instead of trying to make it work with the frame I have, I will avoid it entirely and wear something that I am less happy with so I will be treated equally and with respect.”

This thought process came from a deeper sense of insecurity mentally and emotionally, which was also reflected in the way I carried myself and thought of myself.

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Over the years, with many hours of therapy and reflection, I realized that this was complete bullshit because I was letting other people’s words, opinions and thoughts dictate what I should and shouldn’t wear and I wasn’t planning on continuing to let others tell me who I was (“you look young, so people think you are young/inferior/powerless/shy/quiet/stock character”) and what I should be (“stay quiet/silent/observe/ignore/just move on”).

So what?

What I love about fashion is the culture, how they play into who we are as individuals and the stories told through visualization.

I thoroughly enjoy reading newsletter after newsletter on discourse about fashion and culture. I love scrolling through social media because those platforms provide the access to design ideas, the actual artistry into make a garment, where the artistic concept comes from and the design process. What I find fascinating are look books, fashion inspos, mood boards, the reasoning behind the how and the when and why to styling a fitted shirt or an oversized pair of trousers, the technical aspects of dressing, styling, the method in which colors and light, texture and movement tell stories and provide an enriching space to share histories.

I love critiques, the technicalities, what works and what doesn’t, how to feel confident, beautiful, chic, undone, “effortless,” sloppy, slouchy. Throughout this process, I like feeling inspired and encouraged, learning about cultural nuances that play into fashions and styles. Clothes tell stories.

So I guess through this Substack post, I am trying to answer my own question: Can I still love fashion as a healthcare provider and educator?

I guess the more accurate question is, “Can I still love fashion as a healthcare provider and educator despite not having any sort of background in fashion?”

Or to take it a bit further:

“Will I be taken seriously in the fashion space even though my professional background is in healthcare/education and not in fashion?”

I really don’t know.

But what I DO know is I really like what I am doing; experimenting with colors, styles, textures, fabrics I would have never dreamed I would wear and love. I enjoy listening to stylists and taking suggestions, learning tips and tricks, watching videos and shorts around these topics. I love talking about, clothes, brands, designers, runway collections, and learning from fellow fashion lovers and enthusiasts.

And getting back to the genesis of my quiet luxuries Substack newsletter, I find it so refreshing to discuss clothes, culture, accessories, etc. while working in healthcare and education. Because style is also more than just what we put on our body. It’s who we are. And in the words of Amy Smilovic, I am a person first, with deep feelings, and I am not just a C.V. or checklist of what I am and what I am not.

1. At this particular school, jeans, t-shirts, sneakers, and sandals were strictly forbidden. During my very first week as a teacher, I remember I misunderstood the rules and wore a pair of jeans, top and a light jacket. The assistant principal later handed me a jersey to change into because that was the only exception when wearing denim.