I remember the day I realised the embodiment of my persona was a long-sleeve ironed shirt with only the collar close-lipped. Initially, I gravitated toward the crisp button-down for function, as my former workplace tended to emit heaps of chilly air, but a spontaneous feeling compelled me to button the top, leaving the rest of the shirt open.

It may have been, in part, my obsession with wanting to define my look outside of popular construction or how this new silhouette framed my figure. Regardless, the androgynous piece of clothing left me feeling more confident than ever before. A clothing rack full of these formal tops sits perpendicular to my bed now, and I wear them strategically closed with almost every outfit. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is about them that makes me feel alluring and powerful, but my style hasn’t been the same since.

Now more than