Until you're a teenager, your wardrobe is pretty much governed by your parents and, as a sweet compliant child, you don't actually mind that you and your bro were forced to wear matching sailor outfits. When those hormones kick in and puberty turns you into a gremlin half-human who refuses to sleep, though, there's no way you're letting anyone but you be the boss of you.
And so begins your quest for independence and 'coolness' - beginning with a) your choice in music and at what decibel it plays in your room and b) your wardrobe.
In some ways, I dressed better as a teenager than I do now. I was bolder and my choices were more defined, considered and diverse. Now, according to my young trendy sister, my 'bold' choices go down the middle-aged drama teacher route rather than the trendy one. At least back in the day, though, my fashion decisions were on trend only because I just copied everyone else at school.
Don't get me wrong. I still looked like a knob. But a knob that had really thought about how to look like a knob - which is basically what 'fashionable' means, as far as I can see.
But, because I spent my teenage years basically perma-grounded, I did have a LOT of time to think about my outfits back then.
I'd finish one grounding sentence, get overexcited, go overboard and end up grounded again for another six months. It was a vicious cycle. In these long periods of solitude, instead of 'thinking about what I had done' I would instead plot better sneaking-out routes and plan in advance for life 'on the outside'.
This included the outfits I would wear. Through the medium of super-slow dial-up internet connection, I would trawl through the simplistic Topshop website, listening to tunes from Napster and chatting on MSN Messenger whilst the pages loaded.
This was the time where I was in LOVE with skater boys - age 15/16. The look was a sort of mixture of emo-grunge and Avril Lavigne-chic.
The regular fave-outfit was a pair of extremely large skater jeans with a string top, perhaps with a little alien head on it, or something X-Files related. If it was a bit chilly, I'd stick on my Linkin Park hoodie. The finishing touches to the outfit were mood rings, tattoo necklaces (that have recently come back into fashion...?! WTF) and glitter eye-shadow of a pink or purple variety with matching lip gloss.
I once actually bought a beanie hat with fake brown hair BUILT into it because blonde hair wasn't emo enough and my mum wouldn't let me dye my hair. Everyone knew this was fake hair coming out of a hat. Luckily, I didn't have many friends and I wore it at the weekend so few people saw.
Back at my parents house for the weekend, I found all of these items, bar that hat - thank fuck, in my old wardrobe, and I decided to try them on.
So that was how I found myself in my childhood room dressed as my childhood self. The first thing I noticed was how my face had changed over the years. It was really quite surreal. Obviously the last time I'd looked at myself in the mirror in these clothes I had been a fresh-faced youth. I'm not saying I'm a haggard old trollop now but there was a marked difference. I immediately reminded myself I need to quit smoking.
Memories came flooding back to me that I thought I'd forgotten. Sitting on the grass beside the skate park eating Doritos, smoking a badly rolled spliff and then nipping off behind the bushes with Paul who worked at the newsagents for a quick snog. Lurking outside the offie waiting for the 6th formers to return with cheap beers and cigs.
Most of all, I was suddenly reacquainted with the memory of how much I wanted everyone to like me back then, how totally insecure I was and how much better the right 'look' made me feel - especially those ludicrously oversized jeans.
This look made sure that no one was looking at me underneath it all, they were looking at the uniform and, if I got that right, I could be left to figure out who I actually was. I didn't want to look the best, or the worst, I just wanted to blend in so that I had enough friends to hang out with at lunch.
As I stepped back into my jeans and large grey jumper, both made of quality material and bought entirely for comfort, I breathed a sigh of relief that I never had to be a teenager again.
Nowadays, admittedly, I make the wrong fashion choices pretty much all the time, but I'm kind of fine with that. Because if I like it, I don't care if anyone else does. Ain't nobody gonna be the boss of me - not even my own low self-esteem.
And with that, I flung on a lime green feather boa and went to Sainsbury's.
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Pictures: JNCO, thecobrasnake.com, Rex
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.