Scared to be the 'best-dressed' in the room

Maybe being seen is not a crime?

This was originally published as a note. Some of you asked I publish it as a post so you can save it, and here it is.

You’re halfway out the door. The outfit is good. The colors hit. Your proportions are architectural in a way that feels like art. And suddenly— “Wait. Is this too much?”

Too styled. Too put-together. Too aware that you have a body and taste and feelings and maybe even ambition.

And beneath all that: a quiet fear that someone’s going to notice. That they’re going to look. And worse, they’re going to have an opinion.

Which they probably will.

Because dressing up (really dressing up) is an invitation to be perceived. And for women, being perceived has always been dangerous.

Let’s talk about that danger.

I’m not talking about literal violence. (Though, yes, that too. And I do believe there’s this sense that there’s safety in invisibility). I mean the everyday social punishment for being visible.

Especially at work. Especially when you’re not a man in male dominant industries. Especially when you’re already “different.”

I worked in a tech office where I was the only woman on my team, the only Indian person in the room, and the only one not dressed like a fresh out of Stanford CS graduate. So I did what many women do when they want to avoid making waves: I disappeared. Jeans. T-shirt. Hoodie. The uniform of harmlessness.

Meanwhile, outside of work, I was running a pole dance studio. I wore sequins to breakfast. I had friends who dressed like they were made of joy and laughter and chaos (in the best way). But I kept that part of myself off-limits. Too risky. Too loud. Too visible.

I had two closets. Two selves. One that blended. One that lived. Eventually, I reconciled those two selves. (I wrote about that here.) But what stayed with me was the deeper lesson.

Here’s the real fear: it’s not that we’ll be seen. It’s that we’ll be misread.

“She’s trying too hard.”
“She’s full of herself.”
“She’s not serious.”

You know the drill.

Women who take style seriously are often framed as frivolous. Vain. High-maintenance. God forbid you care visibly. There’s this myth that “effortless” is the gold standard. Like the best compliment is “You just threw that on!”

But effortless is a scam. A scam designed to keep us working behind the scenes. Pressing, tweaking, apologizing, while pretending we don’t care.

When you dress intentionally, you shatter the illusion. You say: I know you’re watching. And I chose this anyway. And that’s the thing people can’t handle.

The real question isn’t “Is this too much?” It’s: Who benefits when we believe that it is? When we believe WE are too much.

When we dress down to blend in, we protect other people’s comfort at the expense of our own presence. We do the emotional labor of being nonthreatening. Of softening our edges so we don’t make anyone squint too hard.

But here’s the truth: people are going to perceive you no matter what.
You don’t get to control that part. So why are you shrinking to accommodate their imagination? Personally? I’d rather be misunderstood in a great outfit.

These days, I dress like myself. At work. At dinner. At the grocery store. I wear the sculptural stuff. The loud stuff. The fun, complicated earrings. And yes, I still pause sometimes, when I realize I’m going to be the best-dressed¹ person in the room.

But now I walk in anyway. Let them perceive. I’m not dressing for their comfort. I’m dressing for my clarity.

You will be perceived. You already are. So if the only thing holding you back is someone else’s squint, someone else’s sideways comment, someone else’s discomfort, how about if we let them deal with it.

You’ve got better things to do. Like wearing that great outfit and feeling like the star you are.

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1. If it’s not clear yet, this is not a competition. But often, ‘best dressed’ means you don’t want to be someone who is dressed differently than what the default is.