That's one reason I was nervous before going to France, where fashion is about both self-expression and self-respect. To French minds, my solid-colored shirts with plain necklines and no accessories communicated, "I don't deserve to be noticed." My wardrobe didn't change dramatically when I was there, though I became a bit more adventurous. But I grew to appreciate a bit more their philosophy: that if you care about yourself, you don't wear sweatpants to run errands, and that dramatic earrings can be more about savoring life than about striving to win a beauty contest.
In terms of fashion, Cambodia and I are a good fit. Unlike wealthier Asian capitols (Hong Kong/Seoul/Tokyo), many people here can't afford to obsess about fashion. Conditions also aren't conducive to keeping clothes in top quality. My washing machine is a huge blessing (most Cambodians hand-wash their clothes) but it also wears clothes out much faster than in the US. Many of the clothes I brought are now stretched out, pockmarked, stained with sweat, and/or dyed pink from the red skirt I got at the market last year. On a similar note, my hair is almost never down due to the heat and humidity.
This bothers me much less than a few other teachers, who are used to looking put together, especially for work. At the same time, I am expected to dress professionally at school. Though the administrators aren't too strict - I wore Old Navy flip-flops all spring after my other shoes had all broken - I don't want to look much worse than my students, who wear uniforms that they generally keep in good condition. Fashion doesn't just communicate self-respect; it also can communicate respect for others. Dressing nicely for school is one way to show that I care about my students and that I take my job seriously.
As I live here longer without frequent trips home, more of my clothes are wearing out, and I'm still learning how to replace them. The mall's expensive and stores don't encourage trying things on. Tailors are gifted at copying clothing, and it's a great way to support local business - but it IS more expensive, and the fabric available is limited. Some markets have small stalls with used clothing, which I haven't explored yet. I love thrift shops in the US, but here they seem a bit more daunting. One market has cheap factory rejects, many of which are small and/or teenybopperish, but some of which are great. Jeans and shoes might be nearly impossible here: I'm half a foot taller than the average girl. I'm set on clothes for a while, but eventually I'll need to brave the world of shopping, Cambodia-style.
At the moment, I have two main categories of clothes: teaching clothes, and jogging clothes (along with ratty/stained former teacher clothes). If I want to look kind of nice (ex. church), I wear teacher clothes. If I don't care (ex. Saturdays at home), I wear jogging clothes. Because every time I wear my old gross clothing is one MORE time I'll be able to wear my nice clothing later on.
But in which contexts am I supposed to care how I look? Downtown, clothing is mostly a status symbol. Rich Cambodians dress up to run errands; poor Cambodians wear pajama-style outfits or work clothes or whatever they have. My roommate Megan and I agree that we see clothes largely as a social norm. I'm happy wearing nearly any type of clothing that is considered acceptable in the culture where I live. (Thus, the pajamas and crazy T-shirts ubiquitous here seem more and more appealing to me.) But I'm still working on figuring things out. If I want to live cheaply and simply, does it seem insulting to a restaurant owner when I walk in wearing stained capris and I can clearly afford something better? If most of my students are upper-class and have cute clothing, should I wear a more casual "teacher shirt" or can I get away with an old wrinkled T-shirt? For now, I guess I'll stick with what I have, and do my best to dress acceptably. But if you see a tall blonde girl in Phnom Penh wearing new floral pajamas, you can guess her name.
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