Recently, I spent the day thrifting. I found a pair of jeans that fit perfectly, a gorgeous pair of white pants with silver sequins that made me feel like I had actually been hitting the gym, an incredible tags-still-on summer dress, and a very stuffy top. I had a branding photoshoot for my design business in less than 48 hours and “nothing to wear” (I know, right?) I thought I NEEDED this stuffy top, so it came home with me and got a very thorough bath in my sink. The truth is, I have an entire closet full of clothes, clothes that I LOVE. However, I thought I needed to look a certain way for this photoshoot, to tone myself down and be more palatable for potential clients when they come across my post or website. But why? I wasn’t trying to dress like myself—I was trying to dress like someone else. Someone more palatable. More Pinterest-friendly. Less “createdbykattie” and more “curatedbycorporations”. I felt inadequate as a woman with lots of cheap tattoos, a mullet, and a closet of loud clothes- most of which scream “made for a musical festival”, or “brunch mimosas” - not anything that said “corporate boss babe leading the industry!”
I have been there before, thinking I had to have the right clothes if I wanted to make the right impact. The truth? I don’t even WANT to be a corporate design leader. I wanna make weird designs for weird people, I want to make stunning designs for stunning people, I want to make boutique brands feel like the most badass brands in their industry. While I had a wonderful time thrifting, I realized I did in fact buy something that I would likely only wear one time because I thought I had to.
Keeping Up With the Kardashorighithm.
Fast fashion creates enormous waste and pollution, relying on exploited labor, sometimes paying as little as 23 cents an hour, to produce cheap, low-quality clothes that quickly fall apart and end up in landfills. Driven by viral trends like mob wife, indie sleaze, or neon green Brat-core (which, I’ll admit, I’m still a fan of), we buy, wear, and toss without thinking twice. This harms not only our entire planet but also our creative identities. Fashion stops being joyful and becomes performative. It’s hard to feel creative when you’re busy keeping up. But there’s a better way.
Healing our creativity starts by slowing down and asking: What do I actually love to wear? Not what’s trending, not what looks good in a reel—what feels like me?
I’m not perfect—shout out to the stuffy top currently untouched in my closet—but over the last few years, I have grown to realize that when we buy with intention, fashion becomes joyful again, not a race to the landfill. We rediscover our style. We wear clothes that boost our mood. Slowly, the pressure to be anyone else fades.
On the day of my shoot, I tried everything on again. I went back and forth with my friend and my husband with “how is this?”, “does my butt look good?”, and “do I look professional?”
— and then I chose to show up as my full self. Not toned down. Not polished for a pretend version of success. If I want to work with clients who get my vision, I have to be willing to be seen.
In a world where algorithms dictate taste, choosing your own style is a quiet protest to the billion-dollar industries that are hurting us. When we stop chasing trends and start curating intentional wardrobes, we open the door to self-expression, creativity, actual dopamine, and authenticity. Together we can make fast fashion “so last year.”
xx
Kattie Hart | UC Email Marketing Intern