Baring It All: What does self-censoring have to do with my obsession with sheer clothes?

Ever since I saw the Prada and Carven spring 2024 shows, I’ve developed a mild to strong obsession with sheer fabrics. I initially thought the shows gave me such a visceral reaction because they perfectly fit the adjectives I attribute to my style: polished/chill/sculptural. A year later, I realized my fascination goes far beyond that.

1. Prada Spring 2024 2. Carven Spring 2024.

Just like clockwork, fast fashion versions of those delicate see-through skirts hit the stores quickly after the spring shows. Knowing I wasn't going to splurge on either Prada or Carven (I have a kitchen to remodel) and thinking my obsession was probably temporary, I opted for a Zara sheer navy midi skirt that exuded a distinct Prada vibe.

Zara Prada-esque sheer skirt worn under a Dissh skirt (I folded the top layer to show more of the sheer lining), Matteau linen tunic top, Tibi Julius sandals from a couple of years ago.

Same Zara sheer skirt worn under a scuba COS skirt (here in black), COS top from 2021 (COS-tshirt with similar shape here), Beaded necklace my dad brought me on his latest visit to Cartagena, and Balenciaga heels from 2014.

A summery version: Zara sheer skirt worn under COS scuba skirt (here in black), a great blue nylon shirt I found at the mens department at Ross (!!!), a swimming suit top, and Tibi Julius sandals.

And while the Zara sheer skirt didn’t fit my lifestyle of school drop-offs and kids’ cheer practices the way a good pair of sweatpants would, it was suitable for being dressed down for casual occasions such as Friday night football games, HOA meetings, or impromptu date nights.

Mixing and matching the Zara sheer skirt with a COS cropped jacket, white capris under a DIY Loewe boxer short, and Studio Amelia crochet flats.

Zara sheer skirt worn under white capris, COS cropped jacket, Balenciaga heels from 2014.

So yes, I have been wearing a lot of sheer, and right around the time I thought we were reaching peak sheer, the Tibi fall collection preview images came out, and I had the exact same visceral reaction all over again, specifically to this look:

Tibi Power Mesh Skirt

My reaction to this skirt showed me that, evidently, I wasn’t tired of sheer. A quick search on TRR spared me from splurging $450 on the Tibi skirt as I found a flawless Jil Sander alternative, its sheer lining achieving the exact allure I sought, all for $50.

A similar look from the Tibi lookbook with the Jil Sander skirt, Zara top, and Old Celine pumps.

Jil Sander skirt worn over white capri leggings, Zara top (this is a gem I would repurchase as soon as they launch it again,) old Balenciaga heels.

So now I have two sheer skirts, actually three after I ordered a 100% organza one for a grand total of $140 dollars for three sheer skirts. Less than one Carven and/or Prada? Absolutely. Overkill? Perhaps. Should I have returned the orange one? Probably. But I did not:

Organza skirt from Zara (on Poshmark) and if you are inclined, here is the link to the Prada and Carven versions.

Organza skirt worn over a Tibi t-shirt and a great striped shirt. Avarcas from Menorca I got on on a recent family trip to Mallorca.

What I have decided to do instead of continuing to indulge in more sheer or succumbing to useless guilt is to explore the root of my compulsion which is similar to this long-lived hyper-fixation I’ve had with all things cocooned since 2015.

A collection of cocoon shapes: 1. Madame Grès by Frank Hobart, 1984 2. Cocooned ruana captured in Mexico by Robert Van Der Hilst, 1987 3. Robert Van Der Hilst, 1985. If someone knows the name of the models, please let me know 4 .Trisha Brown in Issey Miyake, 1983 5. Cocoons by Balenciga and Issey Miyake 6. Balenciaga cocoon coat 1957 7. Designer Kika Vargas on her Instagram, 2020. 8. Cocooned shirt from Wardrobe NYC

The first time I saw a cocooned dress that I desperately wanted to wear was in 2015 after giving birth to my first daughter. It was a cotton canvas dress I came across on Pinterest, initially unable to identify its brand until I finally discovered its creator: Elizabeth Suzann, a designer based in Nashville, Tennessee. Ever since then, I’ve been obsessed with cocooned shapes. I hunt them down, buy what feels worthy, and, most importantly, wear them all the time, whether they are trending or not.

Georgia dress by Elizabeth Suzann

1. The cocooned Georgia dress on a beach day around 2017 2. The Cocooned Georgia dress on a NY solo trip around 2018 3. The cocooned Georgia dress at the hospital after giving birth to my second child in 2016 4. Worn a couple of weeks ago for a playdate with my kids

It is now clear to me that my obsession with cocooned silhouettes was explained by the experience of becoming a mom and navigating all the changes motherhood entailed, especially the seismically shocking body changes. The cocoons literally and figuratively protected my outer and inner selves while making me feel soft and sculpted, beautiful in a way I can’t explain and my Latina friends would not understand considering my attire was akin to a sack dress back in 2015.

Another sack dress from The Row, spring 2024 2. The Elizabeth Suzann Georgia dress I wore for a doctor's appointment last week.

While tracing the origin of my fascination with sheer fabrics, I was tempted to believe it evolved from the cocoon, a natural response to finding a path back to normalcy after both pregnancies and feeling more at home in my body. However, the other day while experiencing a rush of discomfort that prompted me to delete an Instagram story with an opinion I deemed "too much," I immediately linked my obsession with transparent clothing to a strong inclination to obscure and self-censor my controversial views on the internet.

Jil Sander skirt worn as a dress over a pleated skirt from Uniqlo (a good pleated skirt from Tibi.) Tibi Julius sandals.

As for many of us who are opinionated yet despise confrontation in the social media sphere, it takes an incredible amount of effort to keep our mouths shut. Not because we have nothing to say but because we do not consider social media a nuanced/safe enough space to ventilate our strong opinions. Some of us prefer long-form conversations instead of tweets. Being at peace over being right. Wine-heated arguments with our siblings at the dinner table. Or simply find it infinitely more aspirational to master the art of saying things without saying them—through art, through music, through clothes, through actions instead of captions.

But self-censoring is exhausting. It takes work when you have no chill and a tendency to be unmysterious. The day I deleted that story, I saw it clearly: I’ve been hiding behind a see-through, fragile layer of organza, living in constant fear that it could rupture at its seams to literally bear myself, in my flesh. So I stay behind the sheer veil, peeking through the phone screen's glass, filter after filter. Revealing just a peek-a-boo version of myself to the world, saving the complex, often contradictory, curious, and inquisitive part for more private interlocutors.

Jil Sander sheer skirt worn as a dress over a pleated skirt from Uniqlo (a good pleated skirt from Tibi.) Tibi Julius Sandals.

The metaphor of hiding behind sheer (a delusional silly stretch) may not have liberated me from my self-censoring tendencies, but it has definitely liberated me from buying yet another sheer skirt from the Ssense sale. Now armed with a new understanding of the chokehold sheer has on me, I’ve been carefully screenshotting every see-through look that catches my attention, inconsequentially indulging in curated images of flowy chiffons and diaphanous organzas, and saving the harmless photos in an album named “Bare it All” located exactly next to another album titled “Stay Cocooned.”