Versions of You, Hanging in Your Closet
From Mini Skirts to Meaning
Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve changed. I look back at the moment I turned 20, and even though it feels like yesterday, the person standing at the start of that stairway feels much like a stranger now.
My path has always been a little different from the people I grew up with. I was always eager to run, to escape my monotonic, and what I believed to be hopeless roots. At 22, I moved to Florence, where everything changed, and where I went through what I still consider the hardest heartbreak of my life so far. I have friends and family as witnesses. Europe was crying at the time.
Up until then, growth meant little victories: a university acceptance, a scholarship, some sort of external validation. But Florence taught me that real growth comes through destruction. It shattered everything I thought I was, burned away all my certainty, and forced me to rebuild from scratch.
That’s the thing no one warns you about… how your twenties hit like a quiet storm. Life stops being measured in grades or certificates. The rules blur. Your decisions suddenly carry weight, your mistakes follow you longer. What used to be black and white becomes fifty shades of confusion. But in all that chaos, you grow. Not always gently. Sometimes through fire.
So, how does all that affect the way we dress?
I started thinking about this while trying on clothes I haven’t worn in years… but still can’t let go of. I noticed how my body’s changed. My face doesn’t show my age, but my wardrobe quietly does. I went from mini skirts and heels to oversized everything. And not in a lazy way, in a purposeful one. It’s the shift from dressing to impress (let’s be honest, mostly for men) to dressing to express.
In your twenties, you keep reintroducing yourself to yourself. Even a random Tuesday breakdown leaves a mark. And those inner shifts? They show up in your closet.
There’s actually a term for it - enclothed cognition - the idea that what you wear doesn’t just reflect your identity, it actively shapes it. Clothes become part of how you process change. When everything else in life feels unsteady, your wardrobe becomes either a mirror - or armor.
Here are 5 ideas I reflected on while looking at myself in the mirror - and in the back of my closet:
1. The Closet Cleanout That Says More Than You Think
Trying on clothes you no longer wear can feel like flipping through old diary pages. The ones that don’t fit anymore, physically or emotionally, remind you of how much you’ve grown and how much you've let go.
2. From Impressing to Expressing
Your early twenties style might’ve revolved around dressing to be seen, especially by someone else. But as the years pass, the motivation shifts. Dressing becomes less about others and more about intention, comfort, and purpose.
3. Emotional Dressing Is Real
Whether it’s oversized silhouettes on days you want to disappear, or bold lipstick to fake confidence, what you wear often reflects how you feel inside. Your wardrobe becomes your quiet translator when words aren’t enough.
4. Versions of You, Hanging in Your Closet
Every piece you keep holds a memory. The dress you wore on a first date. The jacket that made you feel powerful. The outfit you moved cities in. Your closet becomes a museum of your past selves, and a reminder of your evolution.
5. Style as a Soft Memoir
More than trends or aesthetics, your twenties wardrobe becomes a timeline of identity. As you outgrow people, places, and even parts of yourself, your clothes shift too, making space for who you're becoming.
…
Each step forward in your twenties (and I believe in life in general) strips you of something you once valued but no longer fits and dresses you in what is meant to guide you into your next adventure.
So… what’s still hanging in your closet that doesn’t fit anymore (physically or emotionally)?
Write it down. Burn it. Or wear it one last time before letting go.
Here’s an edge I added to this piece: I’ve created an open playlist where I ask you to reflect and add one song, the one that’s stayed with you no matter how many times your wardrobe has changed.
I mean that song: the one you keep going back to, no matter how much you’ve grown, how many cities you’ve moved to, or how many times your heart’s been broken. The one that instantly brings you back to the version of yourself who first discovered it.
As a follow-up, I’d love for you to complete this form and share a bit of your story connected to that song.
After receiving your entries, I’ll start a story series on Paradiso’s Instagram, sharing the beauty of your reflections, alongside my own.
And if it feels too personal or a little awkward to open up, just remember: maybe your song and your story is exactly what someone else needs to hear.
By opening yourself up, you give someone else the chance to do the same.
You connect.
You grow.
And you realize you’re not as alone in those feelings as you thought.
As I reflected on the back of my closet, I felt the need to capture that feeling, and shape it into something colorful. This is how the article looks to me. Like standing in front of a mirror and seeing every past version of myself, each shaded differently. Each one carries a color of experience, a memory, a lesson, a steppingstone that slowly brought me closer to myself.
The background? A mosaic. Why? Because that’s life: a collage of fragmented moments, seemingly random, yet when you step back, they form something coherent. Something beautiful. Every piece, every shade - light or dark - isn’t just part of you. It is you.