We’ve all done it: worn heels when what we really needed was flats, grabbed an umbrella when the occasion called for a raincoat. Worried about cramping our personal style, we cast aside the practical items that make our lives easier in favour of items that look more appealing. There exists something in the collective consciousness worse than being sore or soggy: being unfashionable.

On my 19th birthday, my parents gifted me a navy raincoat. On the surface it was not very exciting, but for me this coat represented two things: one, that I was moving out and would no longer be able to steal my sister’s from the hall cupboard, and two, that in my new adult life, practicality would be expected to supersede fashion. Although it has not gone so far as superseding, my approach to dressing has undoubtedly changed.

“When I was a cripplingly self-conscious teenager, fashion meant fitting in – even if that meant freezing”

Nowadays, when it rains, I put on my raincoat, something that I’m sure my 16 year old self would sneer at me for. If you, like me, have ever left your coat at home on the coldest day of the year because “nobody else at school wears one” you know how it feels to sacrifice comfort for conformity. When I was a cripplingly self-conscious teenager, fashion meant fitting in – even if that meant freezing. This sacrifice seems ridiculous in hindsight, however it represents the first time I ever prioritised ‘fashion’ over practicality (insofar as a rolled-up skirt and blazer can be considered fashionable).

By the time college rolled around, my personal style had undergone several revisions, transitioning from lockdown ‘indie kid’ (thank you, Pinterest) to something I would loosely term as alternative. As I stepped onto the bus every morning, it was me, my stub of an eyeliner pencil, and my New Rock boots against the world. However, as I stood shivering in the college smoking area, refusing to zip up my leather jacket lest I hide the outfit I had so painstakingly curated, it dawned on me that nothing had really changed. In secondary school I had been terrified to stand out, whereas now I strive to. My style reflected my identity in a way I was proud of, but was I really confident? My reluctance to compromise fashion for the sake of my own comfort signified that I still had some identity-building to do.

“Would it have killed me to wear trainers instead of heeled boots to that concert?”

This brings us conveniently to the present. Although a few of my college-era clothes have found their way into my Cambridge wardrobe, my style has settled into something undefinable and deeply personal. As I reach the ripe old age of 20, I reflect on the outfits of my past with both nostalgia and reproach. Would it have killed me to wear trainers instead of heeled boots to that concert? Was it truly anathema to my soul to wear gloves when it was sub-zero?

That said, half a decade on from the era of skirt rolling and freezing, I am still by no means immune to the occasional desire to prioritise style. (Just two weeks ago, my ill-advised decision to wear heels to a formal across town ended with me hobbling around from an ankle injury!) Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to be perceived as stylish; our sense of style is, after all, an aspect of our identity. The clothes we wear can say a lot about our values, preferences, and interests (I’m looking at you, band-tee warriors). I am not advocating for a loss of self-expression, but do we really need to be fashionable all of the time?

Stepping outside in purely functional clothes may feel daunting for some – I still get self-conscious trekking through town in my muddy walking boots – but it can also be freeing. Both online, where curated aesthetics and ‘fit checks’ rule, and offline, where camera-wielding friends are constantly hunting for the next photo opportunity, it is easy to forget that dressing for the occasion does not always mean dressing up.

So next time you need some coziness for that 9am, hang onto those joggers. Next time you make a late night Jack’s dash, dig out that hat, scarf and gloves. And next time it rains, wear a raincoat.