I’ve always loved Y2K fashion.

The vibrant colours and textures just make life a little more whimsical. Dressing up like a mood board of my favourite 2000s cool girls; a real specific look not everyone can pull off (trust me I’ve tried).

I used to lean into those fun, unapologetic styles with joy. Like it was an extension of who I was, but then life changed. After a heart attack and the meds I took for OCD, I gained weight, and with it, my confidence and sense of style started to fade. The bright colours dimmed, the fun slipped away, and I lost touch with that version of myself who felt effortlessly alive in her clothes.

Even after losing five stone, I find myself in an unexpected place of uncertainty. Becoming “skinny” didn’t automatically restore my confidence or return that old vibe. Instead, I’m relearning how to dress a new version of me, and I'm still trying to find my footing. It’s a slow process but I’m beginning to embrace it.

the days that feel heavy

Some days feel like, just a bit foggy? You wake up feeling meh, neither fully low nor fully functioning, but somewhere in that in-between space where the weight of everything sits politely on your chest.

You wander around the house in old pyjamas or a hoodie two sizes too big, drinking a diet coke and hoping the feeling will pass. You scroll through your phone but boy do you feel the guilt of not moving. Everything feels a little off, and the thought of getting dressed, really getting dressed, almost feels pointless at best.

Something I’ve learned, though, is that putting on a beautiful outfit doesn’t have to be for anyone else. You don’t have to save the special fits for a particular occasion. It can be a simple gesture to yourself, a reminder that you’re still you, even if you don’t quite feel yourself in that moment.

it’s not for the whole world to enjoy

It’s easy to think of clothes as surface-level. Like a frivolous distraction, especially when you feel like shit. But sometimes, the little, seemingly insignificant choices, like jeans that actually fit, can make such a difference to your day.

To me it feels like you get to have a say in how the day unfolds. Even if your mind is in a mess, you deserve to feel grounded in your body. Weirdly I’ve realised, after many months of oversized, baggy outfits, that clothes can do that. They almost hold you in place, steadying the instability.

carrie. charlotte. miranda. samantha.

Whenever I think about women who really understood the quiet power of dressing up, I think of Sex and the City. Carrie, with her playful tulle skirts and unapologetic romanticism. Charlotte, polished and elegant, every detail soft and intentional. Miranda, clean lines and modest confidence. Samantha, epic colours and full-volume energy.

They each had their own style, and no matter what chaos they were dealing with, whether it be breakups, work stress, heartbreak, or disappointment, they still showed up in clothes that reminded them of who they were. Clothes that said, I’m still me.

And if Carrie could walk the streets of New York in a tutu after being ghosted on a post‑it, then I can absolutely put on a linen dress and my favourite gold hoops on a day when my insides feel frazzled.

I think we also internalise it more than we realise. You don’t need to wear designer labels to feel put together. You just need to find your style; your way of communicating with the world, and with yourself. It doesn’t need a hefty price tag, just that breath of fresh air feeling when you catch yourself in the mirror, and think, yes. Her. I remember her!

the strange discomfort of becoming someone new

As I mentioned, I’ve recently lost five stone. A change I waited for and wanted so desperately. Silly me, though, I genuinely believed that once I got smaller, everything would feel lighter. But it’s been more complicated than that. I guess I had a few more problems than just being slightly overweight.

I got smaller, so much smaller, but I didn’t feel as confident as I thought I would. In fact, in a strange and frustrating way, I feel less so. Suddenly, I didn’t recognise the shape of myself, and I didn’t know how to dress this version of me. I kinda still wanna hide away from the world and pretend I’m invisible. The old clothes don’t fit. They never really did, but the new ones don’t quite fit me either. And the praise from other people, while well-meaning, feels jarring, as though they were congratulating someone I hadn’t fully become yet.

People see you in new ways, and suddenly you realise that finding your body again might be mainly a physical journey, but it’s also emotional, psychological, and mostly awkward.

I understand now that confidence doesn’t arrive with a new dress size. It’s not delivered in the package with your new size 8 jeans. It’s slow and requires building blocks with no instructions. Sleeve by sleeve, outfit by outfit.

getting dressed as a form of self-respect

Thankfully I’ve started to see the way certain clothes make me feel more like myself. Not the before or after, me in the present. The almost 30 year old who isn’t quite Y2K anymore, but still likes those small touches of it to remind herself of the girl before.

It’s not been an extravagant change, I still hardly wear makeup or do my hair, but I’ll wear a stylish summer dress and pair it with earrings, or choose to wear a pink top over a black jumper. I’m finding a new, developed style that fits who I am now, trying to find the looks that actually make me feel good rather than just settling for a trend.

Clothes hold so much more memory than we realise, they carry energy and can help you find your way back to yourself in the times you feel furthest away.

no need to pretend

I want to reassure you that dressing up when you feel awful isn’t faking it. You can’t pretend everything’s fine or hide behind nice fashion. It's making a choice that shapes the rest of your day, taking control of how you’re going to feel and react to what’s to come.

It’s telling yourself that you’re still worthy of care, even on the days where you've lost your light. You’re still allowed to feel good, even if you cried in the shower ten minutes ago. And you deserve to be held by a sense of style that’s entirely yours.

You don’t need to be happy to wear something beautiful, no lipstick requires healing, and you don’t need to be a size zero to “deserve” to wear colour. You just need to believe that how you feel is never fixed in one place, it can move, and you can move with it.

small shifts and big feelings

The next time you feel disconnected from your body, or like your mood might swallow the day whole, reach for your favourite outfit. I know, it sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? I thought the same until I swapped sweats for trousers.

It won’t fix everything, and it doesn’t have to, but it can be the softest shift into becoming a greater version of who you already are.