(Sasha Matthews • The Student Life)
The time has come for me to announce that I am leaving my goth/emo days behind and entering a new era of non-alternative fashion. Farewell to the Black Parade.
I began experimenting with alternative fashion in the summer of 2019, right about when TikTok took off. Alternative fashion is a broad umbrella term that encompasses various fashion movements and subcultures that deviate from mainstream, high street fashion — think emo, goth, punk and so on.
When summer break rolled around, I was finally able to dye my hair an unnatural color, which was forbidden in my strictly-conservative, no-jewelry, no-nail-polish, tweed-blazer-and-floor-length-woolen-skirt British boarding school.
I carefully selected a pinkish-purple color to adorn my already bleached hair and rocked it for a total of two months before cutting it all off into a bob upon my return to school.
Even though my hair may have looked “normal,” I returned to England with a whole new “e-girl” wardrobe — a fashion trend that was making its rounds across TikTok and the fad from which many modern emos and goths got their initial alternative fashion inspiration.
Multi-coloured barrette clips, neon fabrics, big ol’ eyeliner, fake freckles, at least two chains on each pair of pants, oversized graphic tees over hoodies and, of course, Billie Eilish concert merchandise. That was, regrettably, my look during my junior year of high school.
It wasn’t until the COVID-19 pandemic that I really went all out with my gothic era.
Why? Well, let’s just say that very few of my peers were fanatics of my e-girl era and I often got teased about it at school and on social media. People were outraged by my choice of black lipstick and highly concerned about the amount of piercings I was acquiring.
Exploring your style during the pandemic lockdown is likely relatable to many of you — being shut up in our own homes with minimal social interaction drove many of us to spend countless nights scrolling through social media. Plus, being stuck at home with no one around you meant that it didn’t really matter how you looked, so you could test out new looks without fear of judgment. I know a lot of you are still traumatized by the horrid pandemic haircut that your mum gave you in the family kitchen.
“The time has come for me to announce that I am leaving my goth/emo days behind and entering a new era of non-alternative fashion. Farewell to the Black Parade.”
The quarantine period allowed me to research brands and stores that catered to the gothic aesthetic, since this style was not particularly mainstream. I was able to perfect my eyeliner skills, buy some 5-inch stompers and lots of spiky jewelry to make a statement for my final year of high school.
Analyzing my senior year of high school style choices today makes me realize that many of my motivations stemmed from a frustration with conformity and a need to rebel.
My parents have always been extremely supportive of all of my fashion endeavors, yet my school and my classmates wanted to restrict my expression in a set of standards.
A few weeks ago, I realized that I hadn’t put a dark, alternative outfit together in a long time. So, I dressed myself in my usual leather vest and chunky platform boots for my morning class. When I looked at myself in the mirror, however, I felt uncomfortable.
I felt like I was forcing myself to do something I did not want to do for the sake of keeping up an image that I was ready to let go of.
When I dressed goth, both in high school and during the beginning of college, my choices were all about making a statement.
“Look at me,” my outfit choices said. “I know you don’t like this, but I don’t care, I’m going to do it anyway.”
Today, this attitude feels childish to me. I don’t need to prove a point through my fashion. Plus, when I feel like being a little controversial and outrageous, ironic fashion seems to do a better job.
Even some of the articles I wrote for this column a year ago make me cringe. In my early writing days, I was anxious to fully transition my style because the people around me knew me as the “goth girl” and I felt I would lose my identity if I lost that style of dress.
My own rebellion against rules became a type of conformity and regulation that I imposed on myself.
Perhaps the lack of regulation on self-expression I experienced in college is the reason I no longer feel attracted to alternative fashion. I have rarely received negative reactions to my gothic outfits in Claremont. This is a good thing, but it also means that whenever I do dress goth, it doesn’t seem to serve a purpose — I am not fighting against a principle and I don’t feel like myself.
It is not that I think that alternative fashion is not attractive or fashionable. I still love seeing other people wearing all black to an 8 a.m. class in the scorching California heat — it’s just that I am no longer that person. I don’t think that my fashion transition has much to do with aging or wanting to look more mature; rather, I just feel that I have outgrown the version of myself that enjoyed being goth.
Last week, I cleared out my closet and donated almost all of my gothic clothing to local thrift stores, keeping just a few pieces as mementos of my teenage fashion journey. We all go through phases in fashion, especially during our teenage years. I have no regrets about how I looked or the money I spent building my alternative wardrobe.
To all my goth rock stars out there — keep doing what you’re doing and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. But if you feel inclined to move on and leave your emo days behind, like I did, don’t feel anxious or guilty about it. Clothing is supposed to make you feel good about yourself. If it is not doing that for you anymore, then maybe it’s time for a visit to Goodwill.
Elizaveta (Lisa) Gorelik CM ’25 is from Moscow, Russia. She is ecstatic to spend the upcoming summer in non-black, heat-attracting clothing.
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