In a world that naturally leans toward chaos, humans find comfort in order, in straight lines, and in symmetry that gives the illusion of control and stability. This instinctive pull toward balance doesn’t appear only in art and architecture; it seeps into our simplest daily choices, like the cut of a dress or the placement of a shirt collar.

In her book Fashion Psychology, Dr. Carolyn Mair, an expert in the field, points out a subtle observation: some people feel an inexplicable discomfort toward asymmetrical clothing, known in fashion design as asymmetry. This discomfort may not be a conscious behavior, but it is often tied to traits associated with perfectionism, an inner tendency that drives its owner to seek strict order and symmetry in everything, even in the balance of a garment’s edges.

The attraction to symmetry is not just a matter of taste; it reflects a deeper psychological need for discipline and clarity. A piece of clothing that strays from visual balance can trigger discomfort in some people, not because it is flawed, but because it breaks their ingrained expectations of what the “right” thing should look like.

Designers, on the other hand, choose to use asymmetry as a tool to expand the boundaries of beauty. The deliberate imbalance is not meant to confuse the eye but to open new doors of expression and question prevailing standards of elegance. Some pieces are not meant to comfort the eye; they are meant to awaken the mind.

But perfectionism is not the only force shaping our relationship with clothing. Take social anxiety for instance, when appearance feels like a battlefield of threats rather than a space for expression. Many who struggle with it tend to wear neutral colors and inconspicuous clothes, not out of modesty but as a camouflage strategy that allows them to withdraw into the crowd. In this case, clothing is not a mirror of the self, it is a thin wall that conceals it.

In this context, recent studies point to a noticeable rise in sales of dark clothing in societies where social pressure is clearly on the rise. Black and gray are no longer just symbols of classic elegance, they have become a safe psychological choice, used by people to minimize their visual presence and reduce the chances of being judged or criticized. Behind this behavior lies a desire to avoid misunderstanding or, quite simply, to avoid exposure.

Light colors or bold pieces are not always read in the same way. In some contexts, they may be linked to narcissism, especially when used as a tool to attract attention and assert presence. In other cases, however, they reflect an open and confident personality that sees fashion as a natural extension of its joy or inner clarity. Here, it is not about seeking to impress but about expressing a genuine energy that has no hesitation in being seen.

What Carolyn Mair puts forward is not a classification as much as it is an invitation to reflect. Why do we feel comfortable with one style and uneasy with another? Why do we prefer a straight line yet grow anxious at an uneven edge? What does our reaction to a piece of clothing reveal about our relationship with order, with ourselves, and with how others see us?

At its core, our wardrobe is not a record of fashion but a precise psychological map. What we wear does not only express who we are, it also reflects what we hide, what we fear, and how we wish to appear when we remain silent. Even an asymmetrical piece can expose fragility beneath a strict tone or reveal hesitation behind a composed image.

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.