Whenever people question the importance of clothing or label fashion as frivolous, I always try to challenge their perceptions. While the role of clothing is to literally shield our bodies, its psychological impact can be radical, too. Fashion has been studied for millennia – from its use to denote socio-economic status to its cultural significance in communities – but, due to my own experiences, I’ve become particularly interested in examining the link between dressing up and mental well-being.
In 2018, I was diagnosed with agoraphobia. What started as generalised anxiety disorder led to agoraphobia that, at its worst, left me house-bound for a year. When I started exposure therapy (this included gradual attempts to leave the house), I found myself turning to clothes to re-establish my personal identity.
Avalon Afriyie
I’ve always loved getting dressed up. I spent my early years dreaming of being old enough to wear heels, before embarking on a career in fashion styling, image consultancy and fashion show production from the age of 18. Although I was an anxious teenager, from the age of 13, I felt confident enough to dress differently from my peers, experimenting with tailoring and vintage dresses. Fashion was a huge passion of mine but, along the way – largely thanks to my anxiety – I lost my sense of identity.
This might sound peculiar, or even a bit far-fetched, but it’s not entirely surprising that my outward appearance – how I presented myself to the world – had such an impact on my state of mind; after all, the NHS lists “neglecting personal appearance” as a behavioural symptom of anxiety and depression. Conversations around personal style and mental health prove that some people are more motivated to leave the house when they feel confident with their clothes, despite or due to symptoms of anxiety. London-based writer and visual researcher Isabella Brunner, for example, is no stranger to the devastating effects of agoraphobia, having experienced symptoms from the age of 26. “When my agoraphobia was bad, I had a pattern of trying to push through it. I got dressed to try to get myself to the point of leaving the house. Trying on colourful vintage pieces sparked necessary joy,” she says.
I inherited dressing up as a mental health tool. As a first-generation Brit, my father arrived in the UK from Ghana with limited funds and fragile mental health due to the unprocessed trauma of his mother’s death. He was dubbed “Frenchman” by his peers, owing to his affinity for prim dressing. Every day he wore a suit and tie; his outfits exemplified the “look good, feel-good” philosophy, making him feel emboldened and successful as he navigated the difficulties of adjusting to life in a brand new country, with an entirely different culture.
Shakaila Forbes-Bell, fashion psychologist and author of Big Dress Energy: How Fashion Psychology Can Transform Your Wardrobe and Your Confidence, coined the term “wearapt” as the link between what we wear and our mental health. She explains the scientific grounding of this term: “This acknowledges that what we wear doesn’t just change how others perceive us — it changes how we think and feel. Clothing can influence confidence, attention, emotional regulation and performance. It works through symbolism, self-perception and identity reinforcement. Clothes act as psychological cues, and our brains respond accordingly.”
Forbes-Bell, who also founded and hosts The Werapy Show, suggests that clothing really can be used as a supportive psychological tool. “For someone with agoraphobia or anxiety, I’d suggest using clothes as a form of “exposure scaffolding”, starting with garments that feel emotionally protective, grounding or identity-affirming. Clothing can serve as a psychological anchor, helping individuals feel safer and visible as they navigate challenging environments.”
Following my father’s blueprint and fine-tuning my personal style offered me a lifeline – an opportunity to overcome vicious feelings I had about myself, discover purpose and refine my personal identity. I examined my wardrobe extensively, using author Jennifer L. Scott’s minimalist 20-item wardrobe system as a reference. Inspired by her move to Paris, Scott wrote a memoir about how she found her sense of style by having fewer clothes, simplifying her wardrobe by focusing on French basics like trench coats and perfectly-tailored trousers. It inspired me; building outfits suddenly became an antidote to my feelings of anxiety, and it allowed me to focus and envisage circumstances for which my future self would dress.
Karina Marriot, a personal stylist based in Bristol, creates outfit formulas for her 131,000 Instagram followers and private clients, citing style as therapy. She says that her approach is to use “what we wear as small, practical ways to support how we feel and reconnect with ourselves when life feels heavy. Clothes stop being about how we look and start being about how we need to feel.” Marriot’s ‘Style Therapy’ series on Instagram explores the psychological rewards from techniques such as “dopamine dressing” – using bright colours to boost mood –as well as using impactful silhouettes, like sharp tailoring, particularly when people lack confidence. “Dressing up often gives me the nudge I need to leave the house, especially working from home, which can feel quite isolating. Putting on an outfit makes the idea of going out feel more appealing.”
Similarly, Nicole Ocran, journalist and author of Half Of It, says that she employs colour techniques to help her overcome anxiety, from wearing it head-to-toe to choosing bold motifs and “fun” accessories. “If I don’t give myself a reason to get dressed, it becomes a slippery slope for my mental wellness,” she says. “If I feel sad or overwhelmed, I’ll go for a co-ord or an easy dress to return to myself. Likewise, when I feel anxious or nervous, I get dressed in something that makes me feel powerful – tailoring, for example – to add structure back into my life when things feel chaotic or out of reach.”
Once, during my time of ill health, a consultant at my hospital appointment told me that I didn’t look unwell at all , which was possibly a result of my extremely considered outfit that I had purposefully picked to disguise the way I felt. Even my friends and family often comment on how I’m perpetually overdressed no matter where I go or what I do but, in truth, it’s a framework I’ve adopted as a coping mechanism.
In 2023, I moved to Paris to fulfil a lifelong dream of working as a fashion editor, in what I consider to still be the world’s fashion capital. I no longer suffer from agoraphobia, and I’m certain that fashion and style played a huge part in my recovery. It gave me an incentive and made me feel confident in my own skin and, therefore, emboldened enough to make such a life-altering decision as moving countries. Now, I’m fortunate enough to get dressed in Paris every day, the place I would fantasise about when I could barely walk through my front door a decade prior.
We shouldn’t underestimate how powerful clothing can make us feel. Next time you’re feeling anxious, or maybe even struggling with the prospect of leaving the house, I encourage you to consider what you’d wear if no one else was watching. How do you want to feel? Dress to achieve that feeling. You never know how healing it can be.