Bad Taste in Clothing: Is it Really That Hard to Have Style?

By now, we all know that fashion is subjective. What one person calls "chic," another might dub "tacky." But there are moments, fleeting and rare, when you catch a glimpse of someone's outfit and wonder: How could this be real? A piece of me believes I'm just a victim of my own awareness—awareness that bad taste in fashion is out there in full force, lurking on the streets, hiding behind sweatpants, and… un-ironed shirts.

I have my own style, which I like to call adventurously refined. I love a good trend, but I also know when a trend isn't for me—and when it's not doing anyone any favors. Let's face it, we've all seen someone decked out in sportswear—*and I mean head to toe*—who looks like they just forgot their yoga mat at home but still decided to hit the streets like they're preparing for a run they'll never take. Maybe it's me, but it overwhelms my fashion sensibilities.

I can't understand the allure of putting on something so basic that it's almost... anti-style? Clothes with no edge, no personality. I mean, is that what we're doing now? Wearing outfits solely to showcase a body part? There's this one acquaintance of mine who only buys pieces that accentuate her... butt. I can't help but wonder: Does she really think she's fooling anyone? Because, honey, we notice when you're trying too hard. There's a certain desperation that comes with overly revealing clothes. It's not "fierce," it's not "bold," it's just loud—and I mean in the worst possible way.

There's one thing in common with almost every person I know with no style the way they use logos like belts, ugly bags, etc. just because of the name of the brand that seemed to scream: "Look! I can afford this!" But the thing is, no one actually cares if you can afford it. If anything, that big, bold logo is just shouting, "Hey! I've got too much disposable income and zero taste" Logos should be like sprinkles on an already beautiful cupcake, not the cupcake itself. A refined style should be effortless, not a billboard. We've all seen the person who wears a brand's name as if it's a personality trait, but I'm here to tell you: It's not.

So, here's my advice to all you lovely ladies out there struggling with how to dress in a way that reflects your true self, without falling victim to the talkie trends (or, God forbid, athleisure as everyday wear). Get yourself a style plan. That's right, a plan.

Step One: Find two designers or brands you love and trust. This is your compass, ladies. For example, my two favorites are Alexander McQueen and Balenciaga. These are brands that consistently speak to my personal style—bold, edgy, and refined. When you're out shopping, take a mental note of the pieces that reflect the vision of these designers. Even if you can't afford the high-end stuff, their influence can guide you to similar, more affordable options.

Step Two: Identify at least three style icons who resonate with you. They don't all need to be the same vibe; in fact, the more different the better. Maybe one is a mix of punk and sophistication (hello, McQueen!), another is a timeless Hollywood diva (looking at you, Marcia cross in desperate housewives), and perhaps another is a modern muse of street style (like top model winnie harlow). The idea is to take pieces from their style and integrate them into your wardrobe, making sure they feel authentic to you.

Fashion is like a curated playlist. You can borrow a little from different genres, but when it comes together, it's your music. And the way it plays says more about who you are than any logo or brand ever will.

When you start doing this, you'll notice a shift. Not just in how others perceive you, but in how you see yourself. Style isn't just about clothes. It's about confidence. And when you dress with purpose and intention, you naturally gain more control over your own identity. This is a lesson I learned in my teenage years when I went through a "style evolution." Before, I was all about buying whatever was trendy or easy. But once I found my signature style—shaped by my favorite designers and icons—I realized that clothing is a form of self-expression. My wardrobe became an extension of who I was, and that gave me an unparalleled sense of power.

And finally, here's where the fun starts. Over the years, I've noticed something extraordinary. The men I've been with? They remember me—and they remember me not for my looks (though they won't forget those), but because I've altered their entire approach to clothing. And not just that—I've made them question their previous choices. Suddenly, a pair of sweatpants doesn't feel so appropriate for a dinner date. A good pair of sneakers no longer feels like "enough." And here's the catch: I've changed their wardrobes, their approach, and in some cases, their independence. They've learned to look at clothes as an expression, and suddenly, they're listening to me about everything. And don't get me wrong, it's empowering—but also hilarious to see the panic in their eyes when they realize they've become fashion dependent on me. Talk about independence with a side of frustration.

So, ladies, If we can all step up our fashion game, why are we still clinging to basic, uninspired looks that only aim to show off body parts instead of individuality? And, more importantly, what would happen if we stopped worrying about what everyone else thinks, and started dressing purely for ourselves?