Over the past few years, my affinity for preppy clothes has grown immensely. Since my freshman year at college, my collection of band t-shirts and tattered jeans has slowly dissipated and turned into a wardrobe filled with twill slacks and J. Crew Oxford button downs. I hadn’t really thought much about this casual aesthetic progression before, but after our discussions in class, and sitting down in my room to analyze my surroundings, my eyes went straight to my overabundant closet and the significance of the clothing I now possess.

My clothing and the way I dress have always been things I have been extremely cognizant of. Growing up in a relatively poor family in an upper-middle class area, I was always judged, and even bullied, for the clothes I wore. Subsequently, I have become extremely meticulous of how I present myself to the world through my clothing choices, and now use my clothing as a medium of self expression.

The J. Crew Oxford has consequently become a staple of my wardrobe, primarily because of the intrinsic aesthetic significance of the Oxford style shirt, but also because of the ascribed status of the J. Crew brand. (I am admittedly not immune to the trivial associations of brand named goods and status, like most people in society). I chose to work with my collection of Oxfords because of what they mean to me now, and how they resonate with my experiences as a poor kid in my past.

At first glance, my closet can be a tad overwhelming. After counting the shirts lining the span of it, my collection came to a total of 29 Oxford shirts. I was actually a bit surprised by this number, not realizing how many shirts I had accumulated over my past few years of sporadic online shopping sprees. After recognizing this number, I was eager to get rid of some of the shirts that I wasn’t too crazy about. I ended up finding 5 shirts that I’m going to be giving to my younger brother; freeing up some space in my closet, while also having a stash of birthday gifts for him for the next few years.

Emotionally, I was a bit torn. Even though many of the shirts I was willing to give away didn’t ignite the “spark of joy” Marie Kondo spoke of, I was still a bit reluctant to get rid of some of them. I thought about how important my collection of shirts was to me; how they helped me present myself meaningfully to the world, and how I used them as an extension of myself and my desires. I was however glad to recognize this unreasonable attachment to my shirts, and quickly bagged them up before I could change my mind. The collection I was left with was a bit smaller, but I honestly felt better getting rid of the Oxfords I wasn’t too crazy about. I feel as if my downsizing did help me hone my “joy” for my better shirts, and I ended the downsizing ultimately feeling more organized.

The most significant part of going through my shirts was in fact the thought processes I underwent throughout the haul. The main themes I thought about were regarding image and self-extension, both of which pertained highly to my collection. I thought about how society’s perception of people based on the way the dressed stylistically was so arbitrary, and how the association of style and status has defined generations for centuries. I also realized that my relationships to my objects were rooted in self-loathing, self-consciousness, and memories of bullying from my past. I used my J. Crew Oxford collection to detach myself from the poor, fat kid I used to be in middle school, and to obtain self-worth and pride from a silly label every time I button myself up in one of my pieces. I thought about how I use my Oxfords as a shield from people’s negative perceptions of me, because how can anyone think negatively of a boy in a nice plaid Oxford, right? My relationship to my shirts is subsequently dichotomous, serving as both a way to make myself feel good and clean and worthy, while also serving as a harrowing reminder of my past.

A small snapshot of my shirts