On an unusually warm December morning, I woke up in a foul mood. For what felt like the 100th day in a row, it was too hot—80°F during the holidays requires a taste I haven't yet acquired—and I was less than thrilled to be ushered out of bed by the abrasive Los Angeles sun. I was sick of wearing a summer wardrobe year-round, but more important, my excitement for getting dressed each morning was replaced with resentment and a deflated self-esteem. As I scrutinized several outfit combinations in the mirror that morning, I had an unrevolutionary but transformative thought: My morning routine would be a lot better if I stopped judging my reflection.
I decided that if I wanted to rebuild confidence and reconnect with my love of bricolage and clothing, I needed to part ways with my full-length mirror. I'd gotten into the habit of lovingly picking out an outfit I felt good in but then rethinking it when I looked in the mirror. Suddenly I'd become hyper-aware of how I'd be perceived, wondering if I looked too quirky, too loud, too big, too childish, too this, too that—all things I otherwise knew better than to internalize. And I'm not sure when I started shying away from bold fashion choices and getting so self-critical, or if this was only a reflection of one profoundly grumpy Monday, but I knew I wasn't going to let an inanimate object get in my way anymore.
And a few months later, I can say the hiatus has paid off, big time. Unrestrained by a mirror, I stopped fixating on finding a "flattering" outfit and let myself fall back into the rhythm of dressing for my mood and having fun with it. Suddenly my old clothes were sparkling with memories and new possibilities. Don't get me wrong, there were a few hilariously disastrous outfits, but the difference was that I still felt confident in them all day long, and instead of retroactively putting myself down, I felt proud for experimenting, letting go of my vanity a little, and learning not to take myself so seriously.
Not looking in the mirror while getting dressed seems like such a simple decision. Yet there's also something radical about resisting the pressure to internalize gendered messaging around beauty and presentation, and instead insisting upon loving our bodies and dressing for nobody but ourselves. So here's how it worked: For the first month, I jotted down notes about my mood each day and why I chose each outfit accordingly and then documented it with a photo. So whether you already get dressed without looking in the mirror or you want to try this challenge yourself, scroll through to see six days of mood-driven, mirror-free outfits, plus what I learned from each of them.
