In a world where trends change every few weeks and beauty standards shift at a rapid pace, clothing is no longer just a visual act. It has become a repeated psychological decision, a daily negotiation between comfort and belonging, expression and adaptation, the self and the expectations of others. This idea is echoed in a recent study from India, which explored the link between clothing choices, self-esteem, and mental well-being through concepts such as the “ideal self,” “mental sustainability,” and “dress as a medium of expression.”
The study shows that what we wear often does not reflect who we truly are, but rather who we wish to be. More often than not, we dress ourselves in the image we want others to see. This state is scientifically known as alignment with the “ideal self,” referring to a person’s desire to appear consistent with the mental image of their perfect self. In this sense, clothing is not a mirror but an inner guide, steering our daily choices in an effort to get closer to that ideal version.
But the tension begins when the gap between this ideal self and reality grows wider. With the constant exposure to ever changing fashion trends, consciously designed by the industry to fuel consumption, many people feel as though they are caught in a race with no finish line. It is a race that demands ongoing mental effort to make the right choices, to appear presentable, to keep up, or even to stand out in a calculated way. Over time, this pressure can turn into what might be called “visual mental fatigue,” a subtle sense of exhaustion born from the daily repetition of wardrobe decisions and the constant self assessment of whether we look the way we should.
From here, the responses begin to diverge. While some engage with fashion trends passionately, finding joy in the chase, others withdraw from the scene altogether. In this context emerges a clothing phenomenon known as the ordinary style, or what has come to be called globally as “normcore.” This approach is built on stripping away anything visually distinctive and returning to a single simple and repetitive outfit that draws no attention and requires no decision. This is what Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of Facebook, adopted with his habit of wearing the same gray t-shirt every day as a way to simplify his mental load and reduce distraction. The aim here is not to reject fashion, but to minimize its mental impact: fewer decisions, less effort, a clearer mind.
And if this response reflects a desire to withdraw from the pressure of choice, another response has emerged in the opposite direction: turning to stylists, professionals who are hired or consulted to help individuals make clothing decisions that express who they are without draining their mental energy. In an environment crowded with options and escalating standards of appearance, the stylist has become something like a “visual identity manager,” easing the mental burden on the individual and guiding their taste toward what suits them without exhausting them with the daily question of what to wear.
The study shows that the factors with the greatest impact on mental well being are not trends or brand names, but rather “self congruence” and “physical comfort.” When an individual feels that their clothing truly reflects who they are and provides tangible comfort, their self esteem rises and their relationship with their body improves. By contrast, an excessive effort to conform to external standards can lead to the opposite effect, especially for those who are sensitive to social judgment or who struggle internally with body image.
What is striking is that the new concept of “sustainability” is no longer tied only to the environment, but has entered the realm of psychological consumption. Mental sustainability means choosing clothing as a conscious decision rather than a passive one, a choice that reduces stress instead of adding to it and enables a person to build a healthier relationship with themselves and their body. Clothing choice, then, is no longer just a material act but a mental decision that carries within it the keys to either balance or chaos.
Amid this organized chaos we call fashion, it seems the question is not only about what we wear, but how and why we wear it. Is it an act of expression? An escape? A message? Or simply an attempt to say: this is me, as I see myself, not as I am expected to be?
This article is supported by the King Abdulaziz Center for World Culture (Ithra) and the Cultural Development Fund as part of the #Ithra_Arabic_Content_Initiative.
