When I was younger, I used to dress for occasions according to what I thought the people I was with would approve of, or what I thought made me look attractive.  The heap of discarded outfits would grow larger along with my frustration as I proclaimed I had nothing to wear!  My schoolgirl error was trying to dress for other people, instead of for myself.  As I’ve aged, I’ve dressed more intuitively, choosing what I’m drawn to on any particular morning, and the more I’ve done this the more I’m noticing the impact of what I wear on how I feel. 

Some mornings I’ll roll out of bed and do a workout in my t-shirt.  These workouts are fine and functional, but when I put on some lycra and a sports bra my body seems to know I mean business! I’m more likely to pick an intense workout and go for it.  It’s like my years of attending bootcamps have linked lycra and high intensity workouts in my brain, and my body gets the signal to focus.  For me, workout gear has become unintentionally ritualised as part of a workout!

Apparently, there’s a term for the effect that clothing has on our brains: enclothed cognition.  A study in 2012 by Hajo Adam and Adam D. Galinsky asked students to perform a series of tests while wearing a white coat.  They performed better when they were told it was a doctor’s coat than when they were told it was a painter’s coat.  The symbolic meaning attached to a doctor’s coat helped them focus better on the tests.

Now, I’m not a fan of this aspect of the human psychology.  In an ideal world, it wouldn’t matter what people wore, we’d be able to see them for who they are, appreciate their ideas and stories, and most importantly appreciate ourselves, whether we’re wearing a tracksuit or a business suit. But clearly this stuff matters. How many times during lockdown did we hear about the importance of not sitting round in our PJ’s all day? (though I’ll be honest, I spent a good portion of this time in elasticated waistbands that have been hard to part with). We choose our clothes to fit in, to distinguish ourselves and to symbolise our belonging to a particular group or profession.  If you had to choose between two lawyers to represent you, would you be more likely choose the one in a tailored suit or the one in jeans and trainers?  (I’ve been binge watching the Lincoln Lawyer so lawyers are on my brain!) Like it or not, we have certain expectations of what to wear for ourselves and others (though I do enjoy witnessing people subvert these unwritten rules on occasion). 

Symbolism doesn’t just apply to clothes, it can apply to anything, which demonstrates the power of our beliefs!  I’m going to let you in on one of my idiosyncrasies: I have a jewellery ritual.  I put on my jewellery in a certain order each day, and how much jewellery I wear will reflect how much ‘armour’ I feel I need.  Yes, I think of jewellery as my armour, a protective talisman.  I’m not sure why really, it’s always been this way, but lately I’ve acquired pieces of jewellery with crystals that have specific functions, like rose quartz to open my heart, and this adds an extra level of symbolic meaning to my jewellery choices.  When I’m relaxed in my own home, I don’t wear any jewellery other than my wedding and engagement rings which I never take off, another symbol!

I’ve also noticed it works the other way round: as well as dressing or adorning myself to feel a certain way or to project a certain image, what I feel often impacts what I wear.  My baseline is neutral colours and no patterns, but when I’m high in energy I can lean towards bright colours and bold patterns.  On days when I’m low in energy my clothing is as comfortable as possible, cocooning myself in soft joggers and a hoodie or a loose-fitting dress. 

There are clothing mantras in popular discourse like dress for the job you want and dress to impress, and whilst I can feel the constraints of social norms to wear certain outfits on certain occasions, I also recognise their importance.  I wouldn’t, for example, wear my joggers and hoodie to a funeral, no matter how sad I was feeling.  But it’s interesting to notice how in day-to-day life, when there is no dress-code, my clothes often mirror my mood.  If enclothed cognition is a thing, perhaps a solution to low energy days could be to throw on some of those bold colours and patterns instead of the hoodie and signal to my brain that it’s time to get a little bounce in my step.

What are your thoughts on clothes and mood?  Do you dress to impress, wear what you feel, or do you not really think about it all that much?