Was I Cooler in Middle School?

written by tehya tenasco

photographed by tehya tenasco

I often look back on my middle and early high school outfits with disgust. However, I can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia pang in my chest. Every time one of those ancient “fit checks” taken in the school bathroom mirror pops up, I’m reminded of who I used to be. An ill-fitting black and white pleated skirt, paired with an oversized graphic sweater, and fishnets. Yes, that outfit was as awful as you’re imagining. But there’s something unmistakably pure and real about the way I felt walking through the halls of my middle school wearing it. Even with my grown-out pixie cut, acne-spotted face, and uneven eyeliner, I sat in my classes with my head held high and my spirit even higher. I was confident about styling an outfit that felt so completely me. I was ignorant of the idea of being perceived—something that is intensely popular on platforms such as TikTok and Instagram today. Sometimes I think the last time I felt truly cool and comfortable with myself was the times I tend to shun and feel embarrassed by today.

Fashion has always been a large part of my life, and if Emerson College has drilled anything into me thus far, it’s to never be caught wearing a bad outfit. Whether you’re walking to your 8 a.m. or taking a late-night trip to The Max, what you wear is who you are here. Isn’t it every fashion fanatic’s dream for your identity to become synonymous with how you dress?

My question would be answered by an identity crisis hitting me over the head during the spring of my freshman year. Gone were the days when I knew exactly what I liked and disliked about clothing. Rushing in came constant uncertainty about what to wear and how I would be perceived by others on Boylston Street. Where my middle and high school self would have worn mismatched accessories and baggy band tees with pride, college me suddenly felt embarrassed for ever having worn such things. In a way, I fell victim to the “clean girl aesthetic,” which was so out of left field for me that I knew, deep down, that something wasn’t right.

Fiending for Brandy-Melville-level basics, I spent money I didn’t have on clothes that I thought would make me feel better about myself. While I did tap into the maxi skirt trend (which has become a staple in my wardrobe), I traded my layered necklaces for simpler, more subtle pieces. My dark eye makeup for lighter, “no makeup makeup” looks. A thread of desperation ran through my style choices, and I slowly became obsessed with turning myself into someone others would see as “put-together” and confident. No matter how much cash I threw at unnecessarily overpriced pieces, the desperation to be seen as “cool” slowly morphed into embarrassment that enveloped every aspect of my life. I turned my back on my middle school self, who I could picture shaking her head in disappointment every time I stepped in front of a mirror. I couldn’t help but ask myself . . . was I cooler then? I liked what I liked and wore what I wanted, at the expense of nobody.

Freshman year came and went as every school year does, and outside of the Emerson fashion bubble, I began to feel like myself again. Something akin to dormant flowers blooming in the spring, I no longer noticed what style was trendy or labeled by the majority as something I needed to emulate in order to feel more confident about who I was becoming. Instead of pushing my middle school self away, I took the time to learn a thing or two from her about self-expression.

Slowly but surely, I gravitated back to clothing that simply felt right to wear, and discarded trendy styles that had invaded my personal style. If you’ve ever struggled with the uncertainty of yourself, simply wearing an ancient, well-loved pair of pants can have a surprisingly positive impact on your day. Who would have thought that looking back on your past with an open mind would be the key to being content in the present?