I am a writer, and with that title comes all these stereotypes about the way I might dress or act. And, while some of these are accurate, some are harmful or untrue. Writers are stereotypically alcoholics, for instance, and that does not apply to me—I barely touch the stuff.
But, then, we get to the other stereotypes, the more neutral ones. The stuff that’s not harmful, and more just a product of popular culture, and, it is here, with these, that I have an interesting relationship. Because, I don’t wear tweed or carry around a paper notebook (I have a phone, after all), and I don’t constantly wear a knapsack or a fedora. But, unlike the bad stereotypes, some of these generalities I feel tempted to adopt, even if they are clichés.
It’s hard sometimes to get recognition as a writer. The job does not lead to many moments of being visible to the public—by necessity, and probably for the best considering how introverted we tend to be—and it can feel a little like no one knows what you do.
So, again, adopting these visual shorthands holds some appeal.
If I am dressed like the caricature, then they know. If I throw in someone’s face visual cues, they cannot help but get the communication. And, that, however pretentious and shallow, sounds good to my ears. I have plans, in the works as we speak, to adopt some of these visual cues into my style. I already look like a millennial tech-head, with my deep baggy eyes, my perpetually worn and a tad threadbare at this point blue hoodie, and my constant phone and smartwatch checking; so, I may as well double down and make my outward image reflect my full persona.
And sure, perhaps it is a bad idea. But, if I am going to reinvent/upgrade my style, I may as well do it in my twenties.
After all, it’s stereotypically the best time to do so.