What Good Personal Style Has in Common

And why it confuses social media algorithms.

There’s a pervasive idea that consistency is the hallmark of good personal style, the logic being that some degree of thematic sameness suggests you truly “know” what your style is, and can therefore replicate it in perpetuity. There are millions of TikTok videos and quiz-style articles guiding us on how to distill our style proclivities down to a single aesthetic — sometimes even a single descriptor: indie sleaze, French girl chic, bohemian, preppy. The wardrobe equivalent of a tidy Meyers-Briggs diagnosis. But the longer I’ve thought about, written about, and explored the thrills and challenges of tapping into an authentic sense of personal style, the more I’ve begun to consider the possibility that we’ve been led astray.

A social media algorithm is designed to identify patterns and therefore — you guessed it — consistencies. When online creators behave in consistent ways, algorithms know exactly what to do with them. In other words: how to categorize them, and who to serve their content to. It rewards them with likes and comments and engagement in exchange for being well-behaved, easily categorizable user. They keep playing by the rules in order to maintain said engagement, and thus the cycle continues. It’s no surprise then, that in an age where social media dictates so much of our thinking around how we get dressed, either knowingly or unknowingly — style would be swept up by the gravitational pull toward categorization as well.

Prime examples come by way of fashion influencer feeds and corresponding outfits that look like something lifted out of a Hollywood set — more Emily in Paris than IRL Parisian walking home from the grocery store. Or outfits that appear so fine-tuned, so consistent in theme, it’s as if someone typed “quiet luxury style ideas” into ChatGPT and copy pasted all the results. I call this phenomenon algorithmic airbrushing: the process by which quirks and impulse are subconsciously buffed away for the sake of engagement, leaving behind something (a person, an outfit, an idea, a recipe) that is more easily categorizable, but also less interesting and true-to-life. It is, essentially, the transition from three-dimensional to two, in both a figurative and literal sense.

You don’t have to have a career that involves posting publicly on a social media platform to experience the impact of algorithmic airbrushing. The trickle-down effect of the homogeneity-for-likes economy is inescapable, and when it comes to the in-practice applications of getting dressed and cultivating a sense of highly personal style, I think it sets people up for frustration. Because when I consider the qualities of personal style that truly inspire me, consistency doesn’t come to mind. In many ways, the opposite does: surprise, idiosyncrasy, emotion, singularity. Style that requires a second look to fully appreciate, maybe even a third. That lingers on the palate like a strong cheese.

It’s important to clarify here that you can dress very simply or minimally while still conveying emotion and eliciting intrigue with your clothing. Phoebe Philo and Sade, for example, are masters of the art of “doing a lot with a little,” largely through experimentation with proportion, shape, accessorizing, and texture.

My style proclivities often trend in a more colorful direction, and yet the categorization of “maximalist” doesn’t always feel like it fits the way it’s supposed to. I used to think that meant I was stylistically confused — why else would Sade’s crisp and classic black-and-white ensemble inspire me just as much as Chloë Sevigny in tiger-striped tights? Now I’m pretty sure it just means I’m a human being who isn’t getting dressed inside of a video game, but rather in the three-dimensional real world where various moods, practicalities, occasions, and desires are constantly shaping and reshaping my perspective.

Chloe’s style also brings up another relevant clarification, which is that defying categorization doesn’t mean lacking in specificity. Experimental though her outfits may be, they are never lacking in deliberateness. The intentionality behind them isn’t derived from embodying a particular aesthetic, though, but rather from being able to move fluidly between different ones while still looking exactly like herself.

I certainly won’t try to dissuade you from strictly labeling your sense of style if it’s a tool that makes it easier for you to shop and get dressed. However, if you’ve tried that and it hasn’t proved as helpful as you thought it would be, or if you haven’t tried anything but like the idea of channeling surprise and delight with your personal style in lieu of thematic rigidity while still being thoughtful about what you’re wearing and why, here is my advice:

A selection of shapes, colors, and proportions I rely on consistently.

Let shapes, colors, and proportions be the through-line in your outfits instead of a particular aesthetic. This sets you up for success by stocking your closet with pieces that work for you and your body while still allowing for experimentation and play.

Outfits featuring some of my favorite secondhand and small brand finds.

When possible, buy vintage and secondhand. Not only is it better for the environment, but it’s also better fodder for cultivating personal style. An outfit is guaranteed to be more interesting and singular if its components are one-of-a-kind. (Shopping from small, up-and-coming brands can facilitate a similar outcome).

I have a long black puffer coat that kind of sucks my soul every time I wear it because it’s so lacking in charm, but I wear it anyways (frequently!) in the winter because it’s practical and warm. I found this vintage long dijon yellow puffer while browsing on Etsy and just bought it this week. I have high hopes that it will deliver on the same warmth come winter, but in a much more distinctive fashion.

Shop like a collector, not a retail buyer. A retail buyer, i.e. someone who selects and purchases the items that are sold by a retailer, shops according to external patterns like seasonality and trends in alignment with a preset calendar. A collector browses patiently all year long, only considering a purchase when it explicitly fills a hole in or complements their existing collection. Sometimes that means buying a puffer coat in June because that’s when you happened to come across a promising vintage specimen on Etsy.

Two variations on the same outfit.

Repeat outfits with gusto. Observing how a single outfit evolves based on where you’re going and what you’re doing is the best way to unlock its potential. (Like a dish you make often because it’s delicious, but also because each time you make it presents a fresh opportunity for riffing to see what improves the flavor). This is a great way to streamline the process of getting dressed while still deepening your understanding of your personal style instead of buffing away what makes it special.

Outfits dictated by circumstance and weather. On the left: Running errands in the dead of winter before meeting friends at the movies. On the right: Walking 20 blocks to a work breakfast on a hot summer day (not the best photo, but I’m wearing white track shorts, Birks, and an airy cotton blouse).

Embrace the constraints of circumstance and weather. There’s a reason the outfits you observe when you’re standing on a New York City subway platform are often more likely to inspire you to go home and rifle through your closet than anything you’re seeing on Instagram. The power of witnessing wearability in action is undeniable (and to that point, your intuition is smart enough to sense when an outfit was concocted simply for the purpose of snapping a photo). Filtering your personal style through the prism of real-life constraints like where you’re headed, what type of transportation you’re taking to get there, and what weather you may encounter along the way is an ideal vehicle for the kinds of idiosyncrasies that make a real-life outfit compelling. Case in point: as rich and interesting as Carrie Bradshaw’s style legacy is, it will always be undermined by the fact that she paired every outfit with sky-high stilettos. Lol. The idea of her traipsing around the city in those is inconceivable, something that could only exist within a fictional, two-dimensional world. I genuinely believe that many of her outfits would have looked better with flats — a testament to how the driving force behind a great outfit is someone’s ability to actually… wear it.

Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments, if you have the inclination to share. I suspect some readers might disagree with me about the helpfulness of defining one’s style by a single aesthetic or descriptor. Different opinions are always welcome, as are other perspectives on what makes style feel especially personal. I am endlessly fascinated by this topic.

xo Harling