Some Outfits Deserve Better Friends

There is nothing quite like putting together an exceptional outfit only to meet up with people who make you wish you'd worn sweatpants.

You know the feeling.

You arrive feeling fantastic. The coat is doing exactly what you hoped it would do. The shoes were a questionable financial decision but an excellent aesthetic one. You've somehow managed to look like you have somewhere significantly more interesting to be.

And then someone looks you up and down and says:

“Wow. You're dressed up.”

Four words.

Absolutely devastating delivery.

Suddenly you're standing there wondering if the trousers are too much when, twenty minutes ago, you were considering whether you should buy them in another color.

Interesting.

Maybe the problem isn't the trousers.

Maybe some outfits deserve better friends.

There Is Always Someone Who Needs You to Explain the Outfit

“Where are you going after this?”

Nowhere.

This is the destination.

Apparently this answer is deeply unsettling to people.

We've developed this strange idea that looking good requires justification. There must be a birthday. A reservation. An event. A person we're trying to impress.

Otherwise, why would you possibly be wearing that?

Because I own it?

Because I like it?

Because it was hanging in my closet and I briefly experienced free will?

The interrogation is especially strange when it comes from someone who supposedly likes you.

You'd think friendship would involve seeing someone arrive feeling fantastic and thinking, Good for them.

Instead, sometimes it feels like you've shown up wearing evidence.

The Outfit Isn’t Really the Problem

Of course, this isn't actually about clothes.

It rarely is.

It's about that subtle little thing that happens around certain people where you start editing yourself before anyone even asks.

You don't wear the dramatic thing.

You don't order the expensive thing.

You don't mention the thing you're excited about because they'll probably make a joke.

You don't talk too much about work because you'll sound obsessed.

You don't talk about money because they'll think you're showing off.

You don't talk about your goals because they'll call you intense.

You don't take the picture because they'll roll their eyes.

You become extremely skilled at making yourself easier to digest.

And eventually, you don't even notice you're doing it.

Friendship Should Not Require a Dress-Down Code

There are friends who make you feel like you can arrive as the most exaggerated version of yourself.

Wear the coat.

Order champagne.

Tell the ridiculous story.

Take the photo.

Change your mind.

Talk about the thing you're embarrassingly excited about.

They don't need to understand every part of you to enjoy watching you enjoy it.

And then there are people who somehow make everything feel slightly embarrassing.

You care too much.

You spend too much.

You work too much.

You're too ambitious.

You're too particular.

You're too dressed up.

You're too something.

After enough time around them, you start arriving pre-shrunk.

Which is convenient for everyone except you.

“I’m Just Joking” Has Done a Lot of Heavy Lifting

Obviously, friends make fun of each other.

Some of the greatest friendships on earth are held together almost entirely by insults and screenshots.

But there's a difference between someone lovingly telling you that your sunglasses make you look like you're hiding from federal authorities and someone repeatedly making you feel stupid for liking what you like.

We know the difference.

One makes you laugh.

The other makes you explain yourself.

And if you're constantly explaining yourself around someone, eventually it's worth asking why.

Jealousy Isn’t Always Dramatic

We imagine jealousy looking obvious.

Someone openly competing with you. Someone talking behind your back. Someone doing something dramatic enough to earn a three-part voice note.

Usually, it's much quieter.

A weird expression when something good happens.

A joke immediately after you share an accomplishment.

A compliment with a tiny knife hidden inside it.

“You're brave for wearing that.”

“I could never spend that much.”

“Must be nice.”

“You've changed.”

That last one is particularly efficient.

Of course you've changed.

Were you supposed to spend the rest of your life frozen at the exact personality setting that made everyone else comfortable?

Some People Only Like the Version of You They Met

This might be the uncomfortable part.

Not everyone who loves you will love every version of you.

Some people met you when you were quieter.

Or struggling.

Or broke.

Or unsure of yourself.

Or willing to accept things you wouldn't tolerate now.

Then life changes.

You make more money.

You become more confident.

You dress differently.

You want different things.

You stop apologizing before stating an opinion.

And suddenly there's tension where there wasn't tension before.

Sometimes people miss who you were.

That doesn't necessarily make them terrible people.

But it also doesn't mean you have to become that person again to keep the friendship comfortable.

Pay Attention to Who Lets You Be a Little Ridiculous

I think one of the most underrated qualities in a friend is their willingness to let you be completely fucking ridiculous.

Not destructive.

Not cruel.

Just ridiculous.

Wear something unnecessary.

Order dessert first.

Book the trip.

Start the weird project.

Buy the absurd lamp.

Decide you're suddenly into martinis.

Change your entire living room because you saw one photo and became emotionally unstable.

A good friend doesn't necessarily say, “This is a brilliant idea.”

Sometimes a good friend says, “This is objectively insane. What time are we going?”

There is love in that.

Maybe the Outfit Deserves a Better Table

Perhaps we've spent too much time asking whether we're too much.

Too dressed up.

Too ambitious.

Too opinionated.

Too particular.

Too excited.

Too difficult.

Too expensive.

Too loud.

Maybe that's the wrong question.

Maybe the question is why we're sitting at tables where being fully ourselves feels embarrassing.

Because the right people don't necessarily make you smaller.

They make you worse.

In the best possible way.

They convince you to wear the coat.

They order another round.

They take the picture.

They tell you the outfit is insane and then demand to know where you bought it.

They don't ask why you're dressed like that.

They ask where we're going next.

And frankly, that's the kind of friend the outfit deserves.