Laylah Beattie: ‘For people like me, fashion can serve as armour from the world’

I think everyone considers what they put on their bodies to some degree. Getting dressed is the first step we take to prepare for leaving the house. Do these shoes go with this top? Should I wear this outfit again, even though I wore it last week? Is this dress too tight? Can I get away with these jeans even though they have a stain? These are thoughts many of us have in the morning. Clothes are a huge part of how you present yourself to the world. Even those who don’t care about what they wear are making a statement. There’s no avoiding fashion when you have to wear clothes. But for people like me, fashion can effectively serve as an armour from the outside world. When I’m talking about fashion, I’m not talking about what’s trending or on the high-street racks. I mean the fashion choices that each of us makes according to our personal styles.

When I am out in public, people stare. Whether it’s because I’m trans, I’m six foot three, or because I staunchly refuse to wear a bra, I can never really say. This is a fact I accepted a long time ago. It was tough when I was younger and self-conscious. Particularly when I first started attending college in the city centre. This was the time I found myself increasingly interested in my fashion and style in what I now see as a method to cope with my hyper-visibility.

For this reason, I understand why fashion holds a special place for minorities, in particular the queer community. When you’re in a minority, people are constantly forming opinions of you based on their own preconceived ideas. And when you feel like an outlier, or like you can’t control how the world sees you, it makes a lot of sense to focus on what you can control: your image. In other words, if you feel like you’re under a microscope, it’s natural to look at yourself and think, “what do I want to look like to people?”

I’m by no means a psychologist, but perhaps there is a psychological reason behind it. Maybe it’s a method to cope and feel safe. To tell yourself, “well okay, if I wear these bright colours and eye-catching accessories, maybe I’ll be less hurt by people feeling the need to stare at me.” In the case of being queer, it could be because you’ve repeatedly been told how to behave in life or instructed to hide parts of yourself. Through that lens, it’s understandable that fashion would become such an important method of expression.

When I think back to my youth and my obsession with wearing massive hats and colourful berets, it does make me wonder whether I was subconsciously giving people something to look at. So it would feel easier when I noticed someone looking me up and down. I can often struggle to love my past self. This isn’t an uncommon experience, but when you’re trans, it’s inarguably a lot more layered. I find it hard to love that spiky teen who consistently put herself out there with her eccentric fashion choices, who wore things I would now never put on my body or approve of. But I also know that I have no business judging her, because I’m in a very different place than she was. As a skinny, ridiculously tall, androgynous individual, she was ridiculed a lot more than I am. Thankfully, that’s not really the case for me anymore.

People are surprised to discover that I still face a lot of difficulties when I’m in public. I can’t walk down the street without getting stared at, or in some cases, glared at. A common thing is for someone to nudge their friend or partner so they can also have a good look at me. People often film me or try to take pictures. And unfortunately, because of my history, I’m hyperaware of all this. Constantly trying to look around and spot it. I wish I could ignore it or not let it affect me. For a long time, I pretended that it didn’t. But what person would genuinely feel okay with being othered in this way?

Of course, you don’t have to be a member of a minority group to be conscious about what you wear. Women, who are constantly scrutinised by how they look, have historically had the burden of needing to look a certain way to be taken seriously. You don’t want to dress too slutty, or wear the wrong garment for your shape, look ugly or break out of any of the other stupid roles society insists women adhere to. Many men I’ve spoken to have also expressed an anxiety about dressing strangely or not wearing the correct ‘uniform’ to be respected by other men.

I think there’s a privilege in being ambivalent towards fashion; it tells me that you have a freedom that I don’t. I don’t say that in a particularly envious or resentful way. But if you’re never really concerned with how you’re presenting yourself to the world, then you mustn’t feel the need to armour yourself the way I do. And to me, that would be a huge privilege. I’m not saying that everyone who is interested in fashion or cares about how they look is some traumatised individual but for people who feel unwanted or judged by society, they can learn to cope or even be comforted by their individual style.

To this day, if I’m feeling stressed or anxious, if I’m for some reason feeling nervous about what event I’m attending, or who I’ll be meeting there, I immediately take it out on my appearance. I’ll repeatedly change outfits or empty my accessory drawers, trying on different combinations. I’ll remove and reapply my make-up numerous times. I seem to feel that I have to look a certain way in order to feel properly prepared. My looks are my armour against vitriol. I’m very aware that feeling validated or worthy because of my looks isn’t particularly healthy or wise and believe me, I’m working on that. But no matter what kind of bad hair day I’m having or however old or ‘ugly’ I get, I’m comforted by the fact that I’ll (hopefully) always be able to control how I dress myself. And I intend to be that fabulous old lady wearing a sparkly jacket and big earrings, hopefully not caring in the slightest about getting looked at.

Photography via @laybeattie.