MUSE Magazine Issue XIX

By Claudia Rupnik This semester, I’m on exchange in Paris —an environment that sharply contrasts the Kingston campus I’ve called home for the last couple of years. As I build a life in the city, I’m gradually adapting to the cultural nuances, and so is my personal style.

Unlike Queen’s campus, which is a contained environment, my exchange school is in the centre of a metropolitan city, specifically situated in the SaintGermain-des-Pres neighbourhood on the left bank of the Seine. As a result of its location, the campus is embedded within greater Parisian society, making it a playground for locals and expats alike. The exchange program is designed to facilitate an exchange of ideas between like-minded students from every part of the world, so my classes are filled with Parisians and other international students, who share their cultural backgrounds among their peers at nearly the same rate they absorb ideas from the French society around them. On campus, there’s a constant stream of interactions between people with different concepts of what’s considered culturally interesting, a discrepancy particularly evident in how students dress for class. Here, students weave grunge ideals into a business-casual aesthetic allowing them to look like culturallyaware, young professionals. It’s not uncommon for students to wear old band tees under tailored blazers, or a sweater vest and a knit beanie—some lean further

into the professional end of the spectrum by sporting a tie to a Friday morning lecture. Of course, the coexistence of international students ensures there are outliers to these general observations. I’ve seen preppy students dressed in structured cardigans, dark tights, and brogues, while others represent classic French style through flowery midi-skirts, white Chuck Taylor sneakers, and leather jackets. Still, others sport colourful rain jackets and Fjallraven Kanken backpacks. For me, exchange is a live-action inspiration board of ideas concerning how I’d like to dress myself—and my personal style is changing to reflect the best of them. For example, while I used to prefer a backpack for carrying my school things, I now fit my stuff into a tote bag. I’ve also taken to layering my clothes in the style of the French, wherein an outfit is not complete without a couple of shirts, a sweater, and a coat. As well, I recently acquired a trench coat and a silk scarf. Other aspects of my style are the same as they were before I moved to France—I still like button-down shirts, wide-legged pants, and Blundstones. Every change is the result of a particular experience I’ve had in the last few months—whether it was seeing a particularly stylish woman at the next table over in a café, or a man who layered a striped scarf over a striped cardigan in the underground. These changes are a natural progression, arriving as I learn what works better for navigating my new environment—a tote bag allows me quick access to an umbrella in the unpredictable autumn rain or a book during delays on the train. I’ve realized an abundance of layers allows me to control my temperature when cold mornings become sunny afternoons, and sunglasses will help me to blend in with the locals. As I learn the tricks to living in Paris and gain experience as an individual, my personal style adjusts to reflect these changes to my

identity. As a former Fashion Editor, I’ve often asked myself what makes my personal style different than those of other people, and exchange has offered a reasonable answer: personal style is simply the product of individual preference. All of the different styles represented by individuals on my new campus come from their particular cultural background, life experiences, and opinions about themselves—the diversity in style comes from the diversity in human experiences. With the exception of practical boundaries like financial constraints or availability, everyone is free to wear exactly what they’d like to wear every day. Every item of clothing they purchase, launder, and wear is an intentional decision made at their own discretion —a collection of clothing reflecting the identity they’ve come to embody through their life experiences, from where they’ve been to who they hang around with. In considering the style choices of my peers, I’m able to learn about them before being properly introduced because there’s so much information embedded in personal style—everyone uses their clothing to say something about themselves, literally wearing their identity on their sleeve. Moving abroad changed my approach to getting dressed in some regards, demonstrating the connection between personal style and identity. As I experience changes on an internal level, I’m automatically projecting them outward to show other people who I am at every stage of my personal growth. My style is a visual representation of who I am and how I see myself in the world—a concept certain to keep

PHOTOGRAPHY SUPPLIED BY CLAUDIA RUPNIK