Dressing with Purpose and Pride
She once commanded attention with every step, her impeccable style crafted to turn heads rather than blend into the background. Her wardrobe was an ode to sophistication, accentuating her elegant and confident persona. Passersby—young and old alike—were often mesmerized, their gazes lingering longer than politeness allowed. These uninvited admirers, emboldened by their fantasies, tried clumsily to woo her as if their gawking could win her over.
But she was never one to entertain nonsense. With cutting words, she’d snap at them, “Don’t stare at me like stray dogs!” before walking away in righteous anger. Yet, her reprimands barely registered; the street-side Romeos remained undeterred, their attentions persistent, if ultimately harmless.
Time moved on, and so did she. College beckoned, taking her far from the streets where she’d once walked like a queen among commoners. The unwelcome stares became a distant memory.
When she returned home a year later during winter break, the streets that had once buzzed with unsolicited attention seemed eerily subdued. The Romeos were gone, their buildings razed to make way for modern developments.
Strangely, their absence didn’t bring the satisfaction she had expected. Instead, a peculiar emptiness set in. The thrill of being noticed, even begrudgingly, was gone. Slowly, her sense of fashion—once her armor and expression—faded. The outfits she had so carefully curated during her time away hung untouched in her wardrobe.
Carelessness took over. She began wandering those same streets in unkempt attire, her appearance a shadow of its former self. Her indifference was met in kind—no lingering stares, no hushed comments. She had become invisible in a world she once dominated.
One day, as her break drew to a close, she crossed paths with familiar faces—the same men who had once ogled and whispered their futile attempts at charm. They passed her without so much as a glance. The indifference stung in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
Hurrying home, she confronted her reflection in the mirror. The sight shocked her: hair left untamed, a face untouched by care or adornment, and clothes that barely fit the dignity she once prided herself on. Tears of frustration welled up as she realized what she had lost—not the attention of strangers, but her own sense of self-worth.
With renewed resolve, she vowed to never again neglect her appearance or allow her circumstances to dictate her pride. Dressing well, she realized, wasn’t about vanity or impressing others; it was about respecting herself.
The next day, she walked those same streets, now clad in attire that was stylish yet sensible, elegant yet understated. The admiration returned—not from Romeos, but from life itself. Vendors greeted her warmly, neighbors acknowledged her presence. Yet, this time, she didn’t dress for their approval. She dressed for herself.
As her vacation ended, she left her hometown not just as a student, but as someone profoundly changed. She understood now that dressing with dignity was a reflection of inner pride, a statement of values, and a testament to self-respect.
Shakespeare’s words echoed in her mind, a timeless reminder:
“Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.”
Indeed, clothes proclaim not just the woman, but her strength, her resolve, and her unwavering dignity. From that day forward, she dressed with purpose—not for the eyes of the world, but for her own reflection and her God, knowing that every stitch told a story of her worth.
By Rashid Sultan, Kashmir
