Taking the Boy Out of Des Moines

The day I saw a camouflage truck was the day I realized that I did not identify as an Iowan.

I’m from the metropolitan paradise called Des Moines, Iowa. With a population of about 200,000, this city has a lot going for it. It has some great restaurants, a popping theater scene, and a lot of growing businesses. It’s also been called the perfect place to raise a family by Forbes, and I can vouch that it was a great place to grow up.

That being said, ever since I left the farm and came to Chicago, I have realized how much my personal style has changed. Suddenly, I’m gravitating towards black clothing, scarves, and peacoats instead of flannels, light-wash jeans, and fleeces. My style has completely evolved out of Iowa.

This past weekend, I went back to Des Moines, wearing my pea coat, my Burberry patterned scarf, and Oxford shoes. I walked into the old coffee shop I once worked at and one of my coworkers looked at me, questioning my fashion choices.

“Well someone is truly a Chicagoan,” he scoffed. While it was all in good fun, it still struck a beat with me. When I left, I realized that my fashion identity, and my fashion game, has outgrown Des Moines. It has evolved into something completely different, and I no longer fit into Iowa’s classic style.

This realization also came on the way back from Iowa. I went into a Kum & Go (yes, that is actually the name of a popular gas station in Iowa), and the clerk asked me about my painted nails. Ever since I came to Northwestern, I have been regularly painting my nails, and I have stopped thinking about it as a problem for some people. The lady stared me directly into my eyes and said, “Oh. I see you painted your nails.” I replied with a “Yes ma’am” and she immediately said, “You know, you notice some pretty weird things about people.” I was stunned, and the lady quickly walked away.

I have outgrown Iowa and I have outgrown Des Moines, and that’s okay.

Different regions of the country have different fashion expectations, or dialects, as I like to call them. It’s what flies in that area. In Chicago and New York, it’s all about black. In California, it’s all about bohemian chic, and in the Midwest, it’s all about the comfort and camo.

While I do like my black clothing, I think I’ll wear a flannel tomorrow and embrace some of my Iowan roots. Yes, I have outgrown Iowa, but it’s still fun to look back and wear some old classics. Wherever you are, it’s your style and your choices. Dialects don’t matter, embrace whatever you want to wear.