In Praise of Trashy Clothes and Trashy Outfits
Zero fucks given
I’m sick this week, probably with strep throat, given that my partner just had it and it was THE WORST illness he’s had in our 11 years of being together. My case is not that bad yet, but I am headed to the doctor’s office today for a diagnosis and (hopefully) antibiotics.
I threw on this extremely unpolished, perhaps even trashy, outfit today to pick up lunch for us, and it was surprisingly delightful. I wouldn’t say I looked great, but I actually felt great in it. First, the outfit:
I’m wearing this plaid flannel shirt over a black crop top and black bike shorts. I’ve got five-day-old hair pinned up and zero makeup or jewelry.
So, what makes this outfit trashy? For me, the main element is that the bike shorts, while comfortable, ride up enough such that they look more like a bathing suit bottom. The waist stays in place incredibly well, but the legs ride up and I just leave them there. I can’t say I recommend these bottoms, but I also seem to like them enough to keep them. I like the ribbing on them, and for now, they fill the slot of “black bike shorts.” Because they ride up so much, they feel inappropriate for all but the most casual of situations.
For me, one criterion for “trashy” is beachwear worn when you aren’t at the beach or in a beach town. Another criterion is activewear worn outside of being active. A crop top is like a sister to a sports bra, and my feeling is that when either is worn exposed outside of exercise time, it reads as trashy.
So trashy seems to include one or more of the following elements: exposed skin, slightly ill-fitting clothing, and/or out-of-context items.
Now, listen. I’m writing this piece in defense of wearing trashy outfits, and I’ll get to that in a moment. This essay isn’t about judging other people’s outfits as trashy. For me, as someone who was raised to be “ladylike” and “dressed appropriately,” if not modestly, this is about liberation. Wearing a trashy outfit when that’s what I feel like wearing—it’s a kind of freedom. And by writing here about it, I wanted to explore the ways that a trashy outfit might look and feel.
* Trashy outfits are comfortable and good for hot weather.
Because a trashy outfit might include ripped hems, exposed seams, holes, and exposed skin, it is often great for hot weather (think tube tops and distressed denim shorts or a too-short tank dress). It might contain your most beat-up clothing, the kind of comfortable stuff that you love but is wildly inappropriate for anything but a sick day or a day off from anything vaguely professional or formal.
* Trashy outfits feel a little feral.
I love this aspect of a trashy outfit. It’s the antithesis of ladylike. Feral feels deeply connected to primal needs, like food and sex. It’s the opposite of polished. And because feral is so little effort, it’s good for days when you are just worn out.
* Trashy outfits are unpretentious.
Is this the same as feral? I’m not sure. Wearing unpretentious clothing can help restore a sense of balance, especially if you do dress up a lot for work or feel you need to look a certain way in specific settings. I think this may be especially important if your obligations take a lot out of you socially. Low-effort outfits are like a signal to yourself that today, we are recharging our battery.
* Trashy outfits might be unflattering…and this is a good thing!
I don’t think today’s outfit for me is super-duper flattering, mostly due to the shorts and their tendency to ride up. And yet, I still feel cute when I wear it.
I think women and femme-presenting people are under enormous pressure to wear “flattering” clothing, as though our bodies are only acceptable in just the right outfits. This is nonsense, of course, but the feeling persists.
I don’t want to speak for any trans or nonbinary folks who might be reading this because I think they experience different pressures around gender presentation than I do as a cis woman. What I will say is that for me, wearing unflattering clothing is a good reminder that generally people don’t care that much about my appearance. I don’t need to stress about my body or my appearance, at least outside of professional settings.
Given that my mom’s greatest wish for me was that I look and be ladylike, I think this love letter to trashy outfits might be proof that we are drawn like magnets to things our parents hate! This explains why my son can’t stop making butt jokes to me…