The Bibliotheca theme for August 2021 is self-care, which makes the perfect chance for me to talk about myself. J-fashion wasn't always my priority; in fact, like many lolitas my age, I only learned about it through anime conventions.
By the time I bought my first lolita dress, I had been researching, watching auctions, and lurking on threads for over 3 years. Turning to lolita was initially a way for me to lift the load of con-crunch after myself after one-too-many meltdowns. I've had many a panic attack finishing cosplays and styling character wigs, so wearing clothes that already existed seemed like the perfect solution. Despite this, lolita was more than just a convenience; it was a choice. In a way, this stressor removal was self-care. By showing up at a con in lolita, I (and anyone else) am making several statements: this is me, this is how I dress, and my personal style is powerful enough to stand up to cosplay. Wearing cosplay is an exercise in mimicry: the goal is to be the best version of someone else. Lolitas, in contrast, are announcing ourselves.
Recently, I began a job that requires a uniform, including my very first pairs of khaki trousers. There is something profoundly uncomfortable about seeing myself in a uniform; by its nature, a uniform disguises the individual and creates a predictable, known collective. I'm fine with this in theory, but in practice, I simply do not vibe with it. Every day I wear khakis gives me constant worries about stains and depletes the individuality on which I thrive.
Lolita is, once again, the treatment. I went to my first indoor in-person meetup since the SARS-CoV19 sabbatical began, and I felt like myself again, even with my hoopskirt falling down and my ribbons coming untied. Sure, I came home and immediately switched my JSK and blouse for an old tee and athletic shorts, but in those three short hours, my creative battery was completely recharged. Besides, there's nothing like a hot shower after a meetup to ease the headdress headache.
I've been wearing various alternative-leaning fashions my entire adult life: I honestly don't know myself in 'normal' clothes. This sense of depersonalization when asked to play 'normal' roles (which I jokingly call my worksona) drags at my self esteem and mental wellbeing.
Self care can be many things to many people, from the physical (bathing, hydration, eating) to the spiritual (meditation, journaling, art). Although the physical aspects of lolita can be tiring and may need a little self care to recover from, the mental affirmation of seeing myself not as I'm expected to be, but as the ridiculous surreal mess I feel I truly am, is undeniable.
As a bonus, here's some actual lolita self-care tips:
- Wear hair accessories without hard headbands if you have a larger head, or take breaks while wearing them. Headaches are not kawaii.
- Taking a painkiller is nice and good and better than suffering with a headache or cramps.
- Clothes that fit poorly and feel bad will likely make you feel bad. This goes double for shoes and undergarments. Wear well-fitting clothing, and don't be afraid to alter things to fit or sell what doesn't.
- Eat well and hydrate, especially at cons.
- Add insoles to your shoes if you plan on actually wearing them for more than an hour.
- Always wash your face after wearing makeup.
- Don't feel guilty for wearing lolita too often or not enough or if you think you look wrong. This is your style, you don't owe other people anything. Sometimes we all need breaks. Be selfish and enjoy.
Thanks for reading! Check out Bibliotheca for even more tips and musings about lolita, self care, and more.
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