No matter where you stand on the
political spectrum, it is hard to escape the weight of a world that often feels
unsettled. As a gay immigrant in these unprecedented times, my nervous system
is frequently on high alert. I carry a constant awareness of the threats facing
people like me, and that awareness inevitably shapes how I move through the
world.
Because of this, I seek resources
that offer me a sense of agency and help regulate my nervous system. Fashion
and style have become both a personal resource and a form of armor—my runway to
nervous system regulation. When I put thought into what I wear, I am not simply
getting dressed; I am preparing myself to meet the world. Each outfit is an
intentional act of protection and self-definition, allowing me to move through
uncertainty while affirming my strength. Clothing becomes more than
self-expression—it becomes a practice of resilience, presence, and
self-preservation.
Whether my clothing changes how
others perceive me is impossible to know. What I do know is that what I wear
influences how I feel, and how I feel profoundly shapes both my mind and my
body. Deciding how to present myself is one of the few areas of life where I
have complete agency. By assigning conscious meaning to what I wear, getting
dressed becomes an intentional ritual rather than a routine. Each outfit
reminds me who I am and how I want to move through the world.
Clothing does more than cover my body,
it communicates with it. The soft, smooth cotton against my skin while I walked
to the market today sent signals of safety and comfort through my sense of
touch, engaging neural pathways that connect physical sensation with emotion.
Noticing the gentle texture against my chest is not merely an indulgence; it is
a resource. It is a deliberate form of sensory input that helps regulate my
nervous system, reminding me that even in an unpredictable world, my body can
still experience moments of pleasure.
There is no universally
"nervous system-friendly" fabric because sensory responses are deeply
individual. My skin, the body's largest sensory organ, is constantly gathering
information from the environment. On days when everything feels overwhelming
and my sympathetic nervous system is activated, I pay closer attention to how
clothing feels against my body. Over time, I have noticed that softer, smoother
fabrics provide a more supportive sensory experience, offering gentle tactile
input that helps me feel grounded, regulated, and more connected to myself.
Wearing cologne is not simply a
luxury; it is another intentional act of regulation. Scent has a unique
relationship with the brain because the olfactory system is directly connected
to regions involved in emotion and memory, including the amygdala and hippocampus.
The fragrance I choose can influence my emotional state before I even leave
home, creating a sense of familiarity, grounding, or calm. Like clothing, scent
becomes part of a ritual of preparation—a quiet reminder to my nervous system
that I can carry moments of safety with me, even when the world outside feels
uncertain.
Unlike Imelda Marcos, the former
First Lady of the Philippines, I do not own 3,000 pairs of shoes. But the
collection I do have plays an important role in my personal style. For me,
shoes are more than fashion accessories. They are part of my neuroaesthetic
experience. The right pair supports a sense of confidence and grounding while
contributing to the sensory and emotional experience of getting dressed. Like
the rest of my wardrobe, my shoes are not simply about appearance; they are
part of how I regulate my nervous system and prepare to meet the world.
I discovered fashion and style as
a resource when I deepened my understanding of the workings of the autonomic
nervous system (ANS). That understanding sparked what I can only describe as a
love affair with my nervous system. The more I learned about stress,
regulation, and resilience, the more intentional I became about surrounding
myself with resources that support my nervous system. I also began to see my
environment differently. Clothing is part of that environment. What touches my
body affects my body. Over time, I realized that style is less about vanity
than about well-being. Getting dressed has become a daily practice of
regulation, resilience, and self-protection. I am, quite literally, dressing
for safety.
In my somatic therapy practice, I
often work with people who have sensory processing issues, many of whom are
neurodivergent. I encourage them to pay close attention to how different
fabrics feel against their skin. For many of them, everyday sensory stimuli
feel threatening because their nervous systems detect danger at lower
thresholds than those of most people. The goal is not to eliminate sensory
input but to choose input that does not unnecessarily compete for attention.
Sensory-friendly clothing does not mean wearing oversized or ill-fitting
garments. In fact, clothing that constantly requires adjustment can create
additional stress by demanding ongoing attention. Rather, sensory-friendly
clothing is clothing that supports comfort, ease, and regulation while
respecting each person's unique sensory needs.
Some people dismiss fashion and
style as superficial. My instinctive response—perhaps my nervous system briefly
slipping into fight mode—is, "Then please don't be seen with me."
Beneath the humor lies something more serious: style is often misunderstood.
Caring about how I dress does not mean I care less about people or the planet.
In fact, it has made me more intentional about both.
Before I buy something, I take
time to learn about the people and communities behind it. I want to know that a
garment was made under fair working conditions and that the people who created
it were treated with dignity rather than exploited. For me, style is not just
about aesthetics; it is an expression of my values.
I admire how Michelle Obama
intentionally wore clothing by emerging and diverse designers—including Sergio
Hudson, Jason Wu, and Tracy Reese—to elevate underrepresented talent and
promote greater inclusion in the fashion industry. Her wardrobe demonstrated
that style can be both beautiful and purposeful. When our clothing reflects our
values, fashion becomes more than self-expression; it becomes a form of
advocacy.
When it comes to clothing, I
support body-positive fashion. To me, that means choosing clothing that fits
and flatters my body rather than trying to conceal or reshape it. When we rely
on clothing for validation instead of self-expression, we may find ourselves
wearing garments that are stiff, restrictive, or uncomfortable simply because
they look good. Even if we are not consciously aware of it, our bodies often
register that discomfort. Tight waistbands, scratchy fabrics, or shoes that
pinch can create a steady stream of low-level stress signals that make it
harder for the nervous system to feel at ease.
The good news is that comfort and
style do not have to compete. We can choose clothing that feels good against
our bodies while expressing our creativity and individuality. When our clothes
support both physical comfort and authentic self-expression, getting dressed
becomes an act of self-care rather than self-criticism.
My relationship with clothing is
also shaped by my belief that the Earth is not merely a resource to be consumed
but a living planet deserving of care and respect. One way I honor that belief
is by gladly accepting clothing from my husband, friends, and family members
whose style I admire when they no longer wear certain pieces. Giving these
garments a second life reduces the demand for new production, conserves
valuable resources such as water and energy, lowers the carbon footprint
associated with clothing, and helps keep textiles out of landfills. Dressing
well and caring for the planet are not competing values—they are expressions of
the same commitment to living intentionally.
When it comes to using clothing
and fashion as a form of activism, I admire drag queens. Each has a unique
sense of style, and with wit as sharp as their heels and creativity as
boundless as their wardrobes, they challenge the norms that seek to limit us.
My admiration also comes from a nervous system perspective. I once worked with someone
who performed in drag and often struggled with feelings of shutdown and
collapse in daily life. Yet when they stepped into drag, they described feeling
more alive, energized, and fully themselves. Their clothing, makeup, and
performance were not simply a costume—they became powerful resources that
helped shift their nervous system into a state where connection, confidence,
and creative expression felt possible. Drag queens are not merely entertainers;
they are artists of expression, advocates for visibility, and fearless
catalysts for social change. I could never be a drag queen because I lack the
extraordinary talent required to take fabulousness to such a high level, but I
deeply appreciate the way they use style to cultivate vitality, dignity,
equality, and joy.
Inspired by Coco Chanel's quote,
"Life is a fashion show, and the world is my runway," I believe that
when we approach style with sensory awareness, clothing serves a purpose far
greater than simply covering our bodies. What I wear has become a form of
protection. Choosing clothes that fit well, flatter my body, and help me
project confidence, competence, and resourcefulness is one way I navigate a
world that can often feel unpredictable and unsafe. Dressing with intention
does not erase the realities I face, but it gives me a greater sense of agency
in how I meet them.
As someone who has crossed
borders, I have come to think of my body as my country, my home. Home is not
only a place, it is also a nervous system. Caring for it has become an act of
citizenship. Clothing, chosen with intention and sensory awareness, is one way
I practice that care.
© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com),
Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com),
writer (https://www.drpayam.com/articles_and_book)
,and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)
Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in
CA, OR & FL.
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