Style and Sensitivity

How and Why Honing My Style Has Helped Me as a Highly Sensitive Person

There’s a saying that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. Well, have you ever thought that the same could be said for style?

As a highly sensitive person, I’ve realised that small things can have a surprisingly big impact on how I feel in my day—especially what I’m wearing.

Over time, I’ve started to notice just how much my clothing affects my sense of comfort, focus, and confidence.

Some people say that style is somehow shallow, as if by caring about what we wear we are missing the most important aspects of life, or focusing on all the wrong things.

But for the majority of us, I don’t think this is the case. At a basic level, we just want to feel good in what we’re wearing so we’re comfortable and confident enough to get on with our day.

Now obviously, there are some people whose love of style has become out of balance, and like a binge eater who is struggling, they can develop a tendency to buy more than their budget allows. But for most of us, we are simply on a style journey—working out what does and doesn’t work for us in a quiet quest to refine how we present ourselves.

So why does our image matter to us so much?

Well, as a highly sensitive person (HSP), I’ve found that my style can significantly lift my confidence on days when I’m not feeling at my best. If my clothes feel “on point,” I feel a strong sense of being prepared for whatever the day might hold. There’s a feeling of authenticity in it—like I’m in alignment with myself.

For example, as an HSP, I’m very aware of subtle changes in the weather. By adjusting my outfit—choosing linen in the summer and merino in the winter—I can stay comfortable and regulated, with the sense that my clothing is a subtle safety net supporting me through the day. Because let’s face it, as we all know, there is nothing more distracting for a highly sensitive person than cold feet on a snowy day.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that when my outfit feels right, I stop noticing it altogether. It just feels like a second skin. And to me, that is one of the best feelings in the world, because it allows me to fully focus on what’s in front of me without any background distraction.

Now, before I make this next point, I want to say that I am a firm believer that we should not judge people by what they wear. But the reality is that clothes do tell a story—your story.

Take this example: a woman dressed in a structured all-black suit and high heels. In the first instance, does she give off the vibe of a stay-at-home mum? Of course not. Her outfit perhaps suggests a corporate career. And that’s the point. No one would accuse her of being shallow for dressing in a way that is appropriate, intentional, and confidence-boosting for her professional environment.

If anything, if she turned out to be a stay-at-home mum, her outfit would simply feel incongruent with the assumption being made. So my point is this: clothing gives people a small glimpse into how we spend our time and what certain parts of our lives look like. And for me, it doesn’t feel shallow to want to feel aligned with that expression.

Because without saying a word, our clothes are already speaking for us. And for a highly sensitive person, that can feel like a small relief—a moment of ease in new situations. Before you’ve even spoken, your outfit has already communicated something, which means less explanation is needed. Phew.

Now I say glimpse, because clothes are only one piece of the puzzle that makes up a person and their personality. To assume anything beyond that is too much—and as the saying goes, assumptions can make an ass out of you.

After all, lifestyles are multifaceted, and who’s to say that the woman we mentioned earlier isn’t a stay-at-home mum and someone who also spends part of her week juggling a corporate career?

After all, don’t we all wear many hats?