My First Closet: How My Sister’s Clothes Built My Style

My first foray into fashion wasn’t in a store. It was in my sister’s closet, right next to my bedroom, when I was twelve years old and she’d just left for college.

I was bored. I was curious. And her closet was full of clothes that represented a world I didn’t quite know yet: adulthood, femininity, a curated sense of self. She’d worked at Kate Spade, so her clothes were a lesson in looking put-together. Chic dresses, smart shoes. To me, they were costumes from the life of a more mature female figure, and I wanted to try them all on.

I didn’t just look. I’d quietly take things, wear them when no one was home, and put them back. There was a big yellow princess gown, like something from Beauty and the Beast. There was a black dress with long, sheer patterned sleeves that looked gorgeously goth-vampire. Trying them on wasn’t about stealing; it was about experimenting. It was a private game of dress-up to see who I might become.

Looking back, that black dress and that yellow gown pretty much encapsulate my entire style to this day. The playful femininity, the touch of drama, the balance of light and dark. It all started right in her closet.

The Style Gap (And Why It Doesn’t Matter)

On the surface, our styles grew apart. My sister wears clothes as clothes. She has a penchant for fun, girly pieces, but she wears them when she feels like it. She doesn’t need to wrap herself in overtly feminine clothing to feel like herself.

I realized I sometimes do. My style can feel like a uniform I’m proud to wear. Hey, look at what I’m wearing! Can you tell it’s a skirt? Can you see I’m wearing pink? Like a girl, damnit! It’s not about discomfort; it’s about a different kind of confidence. Where she is assured in her skin, I found assurance in the fabric.

But this gap is what makes our swaps interesting. It’s not a two-way street of borrowing. It’s more of a tributary: her style flowed into mine, and I sailed off in my own direction.

What Stuck: The Green Top & The Denim Skirt

The borrowing evolved from secret raids to open generosity. Once I admitted to wearing her old clothes, she’d happily let me dig through what she was planning to give away.

The pieces that stuck aren’t the glittery Kate Spade heels (though I have those, too). They’re the quiet, versatile workhorses.

The dark green long-sleeve crop top with the wide neck was hers. It’s become my most-worn top. The knee-length denim skirt was hers. It’s a staple. She gave them to me because they were just clothes to her. To me, they were foundations. I built outfits around them, styling them with my Keds, my boots, my own eccentricities. They were a neutral canvas passed from her closet to mine, and I got to paint on it.

What Sparked: When She Saw My World

The swap isn’t total. She hasn’t taken my clothes. But she’s seen my world and found things she likes in it.

When I showed her my renaissance festival outfits, the cottagecore, fairy-core looks, she loved them. She went online and got her own. When I’ve shown her a more provocative or kink-adjacent piece, she’s immediately commented, admiring the boldness even if it’s not for her. Her appreciation is its own kind of gift. It’s a nod that says, I see your lane, and it’s cool.

The Real Common Thread: Keeping What You Love

Beyond any specific item, the trait we share is keeping precious things. She doesn’t wear Keds as much as I do, but she keeps her favorite pairs for years. I hold onto my special pieces, too. We both understand that some clothes are more than fabric; they’re containers for memories.

I didn’t always believe she had such a big influence on my style. Her day-to-day look is so different from mine. But the roots are there. She provided the first wardrobe I ever explored. She gave me permission, intentionally or not, to see clothing as a playground.

The Takeaway: Look Next Door

The big picture of this is, that the people you grow up around, and what you do as a kid really have a major impact on who you become, and what you like. I'm not seeing this as a negative really, but more as a cool introspection on to how deep of a connection there is from my modern style, to those early moments of secretly dressing up in my older sister's clothes.

I think knowing this is just nice from the sense of understanding yourself, and maybe showing a little appreciation to the people who helped you grow.

Who was your first style inspiration?