Clothing has always been more than just fabric and a silhouette; it’s a statement, an extension of who we are, and often a reflection of where we come from. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with clothes. My love for fashion is deeply rooted in my family history, inspired by my grandmother’s sister, who was like a grandmother to me. A Holocaust survivor, she lost everything but rebuilt her life, becoming a successful seamstress in a new country. Her resilience, creativity, and ability to craft beauty from hardship have always been a great source of inspiration for me.

As a child, I was mesmerized by colors and fabrics. I loved dressing up, mixing and matching outfits in different combinations in such a way that my classmates thought I had an endless wardrobe. It was never about having the most clothes; it was about the art of styling and the creativity of expression. But as life changed, so did my relationship with fashion.

The evolution of personal style: motherhood and change

Fashion has always been my comfort zone, my creative playground, my way of presenting myself to the world. But after becoming a mother, my body changed, and so did my approach to dressing. Staying fashionable became more challenging, but my passion for style never wavered. I found ways to adapt, to embrace my new body while still honoring my love for fashion.

However, the biggest transformation happened 3.5 years ago when I moved with my family to Costa Rica. Living in a beach town where the heat is relentless and humidity clings to everything, my wardrobe drastically shifted. Gone were the structured outfits, layers, and statement pieces I once loved. Instead, my daily uniform became light, breathable clothes and flip-flops! Practical, comfortable, but far from what I once considered “stylish.”

It made sense for the climate, but something inside me started to feel different.

Can our clothes shape our identity?

Every time I travel to San José, Costa Rica’s bustling capital, I’m confronted with a stark contrast. The city is full of people dressed sharply, elegantly, and with intention. I find myself feeling a little out of place, almost embarrassed by my casual beach attire. In these moments, I feel judged as one of the “beach people,” as if my clothing somehow reduces me to a stereotype.

This experience raises a deeper question: do our clothes define us? And if so, what happens when our environment forces us to dress differently?

For most of my life, clothing has been a way to express my personality. But here in Costa Rica, where practicality rules, I sometimes feel like I’ve lost a piece of myself. Does adapting to a new way of dressing mean sacrificing a part of who I am? And as a fashion designer, is it “wrong” to no longer embody the aesthetic I once embraced?

The psychological impact of clothing

Studies show that clothing can influence our mood, confidence, and even our perception of self. This is known as “enclothed cognition”, the idea that what we wear affects how we think, feel, and behave. When I wear something stylish and well put together, I feel powerful, creative, and aligned with my identity. But when I default to the easiest, most practical outfit, I sometimes feel like I’m losing touch with that part of myself.

However, this experience has also been a lesson in balance. Fashion isn’t just about aesthetics – it’s also about adapting to your circumstances while staying true to who you are.

Clothing, culture, and stereotypes: the power of perception

Clothing is a language that speaks before we do. Across cultures, clothing has long been a marker of identity, status, and belonging. In today's world, however, it also fuels stereotypes. The way we dress can instantly place us into categories, shaping how others perceive us, sometimes unfairly.

For example, in professional settings, a tailored suit exudes authority, while casual attire might suggest a lack of seriousness, even if the person wearing it is highly competent. In social environments, someone dressed in high fashion might be labeled as superficial, while a minimalist dresser could be seen as effortlessly cool. And in places like Costa Rica, where beach life and city life exist side by side, these stereotypes are even more pronounced.

As someone who now lives in a beach town, I’ve experienced this firsthand. When I go to San José, the contrast in fashion is obvious, and I sometimes feel judged as "one of the beach people" as if dressing casually somehow means I am less sophisticated or less engaged with style. Similarly, people who dress in designer labels and polished outfits in urban environments may be viewed as overly materialistic or disconnected from nature. These assumptions, while often subconscious, reveal how deeply ingrained fashion-based stereotypes are in our society.

The reality is that clothing does not define intelligence, character, or success; it only reflects one aspect of a person’s life. However, because fashion is such a visible and immediate form of communication, it continues to shape first impressions and social interactions. The challenge is to break free from these limiting labels and embrace fashion as a form of self-expression rather than a tool for judgment.

Finding a new balance: fashion meets function

Living in a beach town doesn’t mean giving up on style. It means redefining it. I’ve started to embrace a new approach, one that merges comfort with creativity, function with flair.

Here are a few ways I’ve learned to reconnect with my love for fashion while respecting the climate and culture I now live in:

1. Elevating the essentials

  • Lightweight, breathable fabrics don’t have to be boring. Flowy dresses, linen pants, and chic jumpsuits can be just as comfortable as shorts and tank tops.

  • Accessories make all the difference. A well-chosen pair of earrings, a stylish hat, or a statement bag can elevate even the most relaxed outfit.

2. Bringing a bit of "me" into my wardrobe

  • Instead of feeling like I have to choose between "beach casual" and "city chic," I’m creating a personal style that blends both.

  • Choosing colors, patterns, and silhouettes that still feel like “me” has helped me regain a sense of confidence in my clothing.

3. Releasing the fear of judgment

  • Whether I’m in flip-flops at the grocery store or in a carefully curated outfit for a night out, I remind myself that clothing is an extension of identity, not the entirety of it.

  • I can honor my love for fashion without feeling pressured to meet external expectations.

A new perspective on fashion and identity

My journey with fashion has taught me that our clothes don’t define us, but they do help us express who we are. Moving to Costa Rica challenged me to rethink my relationship with style, and while I sometimes miss the polished looks of my past, I’ve found new ways to integrate fashion into my daily life.

Clothing is powerful, but it’s not about dressing for others, it’s about dressing for yourself. Whether in the city or by the ocean, whether in heels or barefoot, the most important thing is feeling at home in your own skin.

And maybe that’s what true style really is: not about what we wear, but about how we carry ourselves in whatever we choose. True style isn’t about conforming to expectations, it’s about wearing what makes you feel like the best version of yourself, no matter where you are or how others perceive you.