The Basics on Style
What does it mean if someone has style?
I wanna get one thing straight. Taste & style aren’t the same, but they are related.
We're gonna approach this from a more abstract angle….
Taste is what pulls you in. Style is what spills out.
Taste lives inside you. I don’t mean “tasteful.” I’m not talking about neutral mood boards, oat milk aesthetics, or that brand of beige minimalism that looks like it was staged by a furniture catalog and never touched real life. I’m talking about the kind of taste that lives in your nervous system. The kind that stops you mid-scroll. The kind that feels like a raised eyebrow in outfit form. Fully embodied. Impossible to fake. It’s the attraction to a certain silhouette, a certain song, a certain mood in a photo you saved 3 years ago. You might never wear it, but you’d recognize it instantly if someone else did.
Taste is personal. Private. It’s the stuff you collect without needing to show anyone.
Style is how you show up. It’s the way you throw on that same jacket again because it just feels like you. It’s the way your hand always reaches for that silver bangle, the way your sleeves always fall the same way. Style leaks out in movement, in repetition, in the gaps between what you plan —> what you become.
Taste is the library. Style is the handwriting in the margins.
Some people have incredible taste but don’t feel the need to express it. Others have loud, unforgettable style and couldn’t tell you why they love what they love. But when someone has both, when taste and style talk to each other, you feel it. You remember them.
The way sommeliers train their palates, except it’s fabric, shape, movement, memory. It’s what you keep reaching for without having to think. The way a favorite buttery jacket falls just right every time.
That kind of taste is intelligence. More about selection and less about performance. That moves with intention. Stepfanie Tyler said it best in her Substack essay Taste Is the New Intelligence. She nailed something we’ve all felt but rarely named.
Who am I to talk about taste? I know a thing or two, but I’m no Anna Wintour.
When I lived in Greenpoint, I felt like everyone had style. It was peak hipster era BK, McCarren Pool was crawling with long, grown-out mullets and vintage concert tees and everyone had a “fixie” (fixed gear). You knew it was style if you gave it a sideways glance. Your jeans were gross but were likely Acne Studios, and your cigs were American Spirits (the yellow pack).
No one seemed to be trying. It just happened. Like steam off the sidewalk after a storm. Familiar. Unstaged. Stinky, but part of the ambience. I still remember outfits I never even saw the front of. Just the pacing of someone crossing the street. The way a ratty punk hoodie sat against a backpack. The way a jacket creases at the elbow. It came through the details, the ones you feel but can’t quite name.
Taste lives in those decisions. It shows up in how things land and when someone forgets they’re being seen.
Some people carry it like muscle memory. They’re not dressing for the scroll, but rather for themselves. Their closet is less of a collection and more of a rhythm or repeated gesture.
Taste, for me, collects memory. It remembers what looked right under a certain light or what was worn during a memorable connection. I can remember the navy white polka-dotted cardigan I wore when I first hung out my husband, and I still have/wear it. It looks good with everything, but is reserved for impact. It stayed soft after years of washing, years of crying and snotting up the sleeves. The feelings still remain tucked into the fabric. Taste, in a way, flows far beyond the closet. It can show up in how someone plates a meal or the arrangement of books beside their bed. In the room’s atmosphere after they’ve walked out.
Style is how taste moves through the world. It takes everything that’s been edited and invites it to speak. I’ve gone through phases where my wardrobe was forced and I looked pretentious and performative. But over time, my wardrobe improved through habit.
Some of the most stylish people wear the same clothes for years. Look at Chloë Sevigny!! She’s my favorite retired hipster. She’s not afraid to repeat. Her wardrobe palette is fully formed. You can tell her taste has been earned through practice. She collected pieces through trial & error, and she probably wore a ton of outfits that she’d later regret! Taste gets built in the wrong shoes and the too-tight jacket. Maybe you’re a “cool season”, but you spent yeeeeeears wearing warm tones that never looked quite right and flushed you out. You wear the wrong shade of lipstick for 5 years and only realize later that it never loved you back. You buy dresses that wrinkle too easily, jackets that never fully closed. And still, they teach you.
There was a woman I’d see at the same coffee shop every Sunday. Her outfit changed only slightly. Straight-leg jeans, cable knit sweater, soft ballet flats. Once in a while, a trench coat paired with a paisley scarf. Nothing loud, but she had rhythm. You could feel it. She trusted her own eye.
That’s what taste does. It hums. Not a roar or a display. Just a signal.
Life seasons can throw you off: A new job, a shifting body, a sudden loss, maybe moving to a different neighborhood. The signal blurs: You try too hard, you buy too fast, you look for answers in a TikTok feed. But in all actuality, taste doesn’t disappear. It just waits.
Coming back to your style is like hearing a song you used to know by heart. It just clicks. Your body remembers without trying. You don’t need a makeover. You just need some room to breathe and a little time to find your footing. And when it does come back, it feels right. You’re not getting dressed to prove anything. You’re getting dressed to feel like yourself again.
Taste matures through repetition and through use. Some people will always look expensive. Some will always turn heads. But the ones who linger in your memory? They look like no one else but themselves.
So, why not look like yourself instead of every other influencer or celebrity out there?
My question for you: What’s the piece in your closet that still feels like you, even after all this time?