How a Fashion Psychology graduate read fashion without Crystal
How a Fashion Psychology graduate read fashion without Crystal
A Fashion Psychic
One of the questions I used to get as a fashion psychology student — and still get as a graduate — is: “What do you think about my outfit? Can you tell anything about me?”
Unfortunately, despite the very real international tuition fees, no one actually taught me how to read crystals, palms, people, or outfits. But with my reliable “can-do” mindset, I can give it a go.
If I see you in an office look on a weekday, I might assume you’re employed (good for you) or you’re leaning into the office siren aesthetic. Or both.
If I see you in baggy trousers barely defying gravity, I might think you’re a skater or really into hip-hop.
If I see you not wearing anything in public, I might assume you’re a naturalist (is it a thing?) or a pervert. (I know this is a thing.)
Now tell me — did I get anything right?
Despite my jokey attempt to be the very first fashion psychic ready to be hired, a lot of people might think It sounds judgmental. And sometimes it probably is. But it also reflects something quite human: we notice patterns. People who share interests often share visual codes. At music festivals, you can sometimes guess the artist a group is queuing for. Around Soho or Canary Wharf, you might think you’ve spotted a “guy in finance, 6’5, blue eyes, trust fund” purely based on his outfit.
And yet, the heavy-metal-looking fans could turn out to be K-pop fans, and the men in finance vests could turn out to be that one unemployed friend on a random Tuesday morning.
As a graduate of Fashion Psych(ology), not Psych(ic), I’m less interested in predicting who someone is and more interested in understanding why fashion and individuals interact the way they do. Clothing can signal, suggest, and communicate — but it rarely tells the whole story. It shouldn’t be reduced to neat categories simply for judgement.
Fashion and Fantasy
Fantasies are light enough to lift us out of the ordinary, but powerful enough to shape how we see ourselves.
If I could experience zero gravity without astronaut training or a terrifying rollercoaster, I would. And I think that’s what a healthy fashion fantasy can feel like — a slight suspension from routine.
If I can participate in a fashion fantasy that supports my mental wellbeing and motivates my daily life, I’m happy to live in a small one. To romanticize the everyday, while staying grounded in reality.
I believe fashion is for everyone. Not always glamorous, not always dramatic — but something accessible, personal, and open to interpretation.
A Fashion Psychic
One of the questions I used to get as a fashion psychology student — and still get as a graduate — is: “What do you think about my outfit? Can you tell anything about me?”
Unfortunately, despite the very real international tuition fees, no one actually taught me how to read crystals, palms, people, or outfits. But with my reliable “can-do” mindset, I can give it a go.
If I see you in an office look on a weekday, I might assume you’re employed (good for you) or you’re leaning into the office siren aesthetic. Or both.
If I see you in baggy trousers barely defying gravity, I might think you’re a skater or really into hip-hop.
If I see you not wearing anything in public, I might assume you’re a naturalist (is it a thing?) or a pervert. (I know this is a thing.)
Now tell me — did I get anything right?
Despite my jokey attempt to be the very first fashion psychic ready to be hired, a lot of people might think It sounds judgmental. And sometimes it probably is. But it also reflects something quite human: we notice patterns. People who share interests often share visual codes. At music festivals, you can sometimes guess the artist a group is queuing for. Around Soho or Canary Wharf, you might think you’ve spotted a “guy in finance, 6’5, blue eyes, trust fund” purely based on his outfit.
And yet, the heavy-metal-looking fans could turn out to be K-pop fans, and the men in finance vests could turn out to be that one unemployed friend on a random Tuesday morning.
As a graduate of Fashion Psych(ology), not Psych(ic), I’m less interested in predicting who someone is and more interested in understanding why fashion and individuals interact the way they do. Clothing can signal, suggest, and communicate — but it rarely tells the whole story. It shouldn’t be reduced to neat categories simply for judgement.
Fashion and Fantasy
Fantasies are light enough to lift us out of the ordinary, but powerful enough to shape how we see ourselves.
If I could experience zero gravity without astronaut training or a terrifying rollercoaster, I would. And I think that’s what a healthy fashion fantasy can feel like — a slight suspension from routine.
If I can participate in a fashion fantasy that supports my mental wellbeing and motivates my daily life, I’m happy to live in a small one. To romanticize the everyday, while staying grounded in reality.
I believe fashion is for everyone. Not always glamorous, not always dramatic — but something accessible, personal, and open to interpretation.