Someone asked me recently whether fully owning your difference inevitably makes it visible on the outside.

In this video I share my answer, alongside my own journey of joining up how I felt on the inside with how I looked on the outside, until finally I recognised myself in the mirror.

Plus, some of my favourite outfits, and a pair of jeans that made me cry.

The Alok interview I mention can be found here: https://youtu.be/CfWeBmGVcwY

💙 BECOME A FRIEND OF THE HAUS 💙

If you want to support what I do then become a Friend of The Haus! All the details are here.

💌 SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER 💌

I’m not on social media anywhere else so if you want to keep up with me between videos this is the only place to be. Sign up to my excellent weekly newsletter here.

💛 BUY ART AND MORE 💛

To purchase art, zines, books, and more, visit The Gallery page to see what’s available.

There's a wonderful quote by Iris Apfel where she says that if you don't dress like everyone else, you don't have to think like everyone else — and as an artist who values innovation and originality, that's a sentiment that I hold really close to my heart.
I got a really interesting question from a subscriber that I want to dive into today. Let's play dress up.
The question she asked me is this: do you think that fully owning and living your difference tends to inevitably result in that difference being obvious in some way? I feel like from the outside, the depth of my difference doesn't show at all. I'm curious about this because it seems to me that the different people who are truly themselves — thinking of people like David Bowie, Vivienne Westwood, Salvador Dalí, Leonor Fini — very obviously look that way. Like they've taken what's on the inside and translated it into something that people can see and know: this is different.
What an incredible question. I've been mulling it over and mulling it over in my head. And what I think is — well, this video.
To start with, difference has a tendency to seep out through the cracks, no matter how hard you try and hide it. We as humans are incredibly good at sniffing out that which is other. We can spot it — some people are attracted to it, some people are repelled by it — but we can generally feel when something is, you know, one of these things is not the same as the others.
When it comes to clothes, which is a subject very near and dear to me — I love clothes, I love playing dress up, clothes are a form of self-expression — we can use them to construct ourselves into being. The more aligned we are with ourselves, the more our personal style feels organic and true and not like we're putting on a costume. It is just who we are on the inside, reflected on the outside.
It's supposed to be a dress, but when I wear it as a dress I feel frumpy and not right. When I wear it like this as a coat, I feel amazing. It's so good for twirling. This Blondie t-shirt — I'll probably end up being buried in it. It's my absolute favourite. I wear it several times a week. I'm always bereft when I have to put it in the laundry. These incredible clip-on earrings — yellow with my hair, I love it. These big chunky platform boots that just make me feel tough. They're really high, I feel very imposing. Still a bit goddess-y in this outfit. Like a tough, fucked up goddess.
And this adheres to my getting dressed principle: jeans or leggings and a t-shirt, and then an awesome jacket and an awesome pair of boots. It means you can be really simple and casual and comfortable and still look spectacular, which is my favourite thing.
There was a point at which I looked in the mirror and I just didn't recognise the person looking back at me. I didn't look anything like how I felt on the inside — to the point where it was almost painful. I felt so disassociated from the person I saw in the mirror. The discomfort was so great that I had to do something about it.
So over the last two or three years I've been on this journey to reclaim my physical presentation — the way I look — and to get it to join up with how I feel on the inside. I sort of hate to say this, but it started with losing a bunch of weight, and then I dyed my hair pink. I used to have my hair pink when I was about 15 and I absolutely loved it. And then I just stopped, and I had blonde hair for years and years and years. I never really liked it but that's what grew out of my head and I was busy doing other things.
Since dying it back I've realised that this is actually my natural hair colour, and there's no two ways about it.
Then I went through this process which is inextricably linked to my art and the work I do. I found that the more I look like me — the more I can look in the mirror and go, ah, hello, there you are — the more able I am to do my work, the bolder I am, the more courageous I am. It all joins up in this wonderful feeling of congruency.
But this whole journey — from the weight loss to the hair to deliberately choosing clothes that felt more like me — it inevitably led to signalling difference to the outside world in the way I present myself. Not as a deliberate thing. I'm not dressing like this because I want to say, hey everyone, look how wacky and different I am. It's more that this is just who I am, this is how I feel my most me, and that's different to the way that most people look — especially in Copenhagen, where everybody is much more conformist. So ultimately, by attempting to be the truest version of myself, I've ended up marking myself out as somebody who is different, unconventional. And I'm fine with that. But really, it's been about the journey of joining up my insides and my outsides.
This is the outfit I wore to do the live stage talk for Things Men Have Said to Me Instead of Hello. And this one is one of the most me-feeling outfits I think I've ever put together.
When I bought these jeans, I wasn't sure. I thought they might be a bit much. I know, hilarious. I bought them from Vinted, they arrived a few days later, and I got them out of the packet and I put them on and I burst into tears. Just sobbing. It was sort of like experiencing identity euphoria. I saw myself in the mirror and I actually saw myself in the mirror in the most representative way I think I ever have. I looked in the mirror and I was like, hello, there you are. That's what I've been trying to get to.
Apparently I'm a leopard print skinny jeans girl. That's who I am on the inside.
These little yellow boots — what's not to love about yellow suede ankle boots? I heard in an interview with Nick Cave — who I adore, I think he's fabulous — that he hates ankle boots on women. And I was devastated, because now I know if I ever bump into Nick Cave, he's not going to like my outfit. Because I wear ankle boots almost exclusively and I love them. And it's not because I want Nick Cave to fancy me or anything like that. But if you meet Nick Cave, you want him to think you're cool, right? I don't want him going away going, that girl, well, she was great, but ankle boots, bleh. So annoying. These are the things I think about apparently. Anyway, moving on.
This is another queer coded t-shirt — it's a song by a RuPaul's Drag Race queen called Alaska Thunderfuck and I think it's hilarious.
My makeup is often terrible. It looks fine in the mirror and then I'll see photographs or see myself on video and I'm like, what the fuck? Did you get ready in the dark? Makeup baffles me. I basically draw circles around the holes and that's about it.
On top of the leopard, we also have this cunty little lady jacket. We've been on a journey, me and this jacket. It's quite oversized, and in my mind I was imagining it much more fitted. So it arrived and I put it on and I was disappointed. They can't all be wins. I mean, I still loved it, but I was just really disappointed that it didn't fit the way I'd imagined. I tried to sell it — sent it to one of those resale places where they do all the photographs for you — and they wouldn't sell it. It's a vintage jacket, it's got the most beautiful label. They said it's discoloured, we can't sell this, no one will buy it, it's a piece of shit. And I was so mortally offended on behalf of this jacket that I got them to send it back to me. Now it's one of my favourites. In solidarity. I've come to terms with the fact that it's just kind of oversized and I like that now. Got lovely pearl buttons, the lining is an amazing colour, it's a really unusual tweed, and it looks incredible with leopard.
This outfit really feels like me. This is who I am.
There are some caveats to this freedom of expression — this joining up of insides and outsides — because it does take a bit of gumption to walk out of the house dressed like this. Especially in a place like Copenhagen.
The first thing I want to say is that I have something of a theatrical streak. I'm a bit dramatic. I love to perform, I love to be on a stage, I love to be the centre of attention. But it's not just that I want people to look at me. Really, what brings me joy in a performance sense is when people are engaging with my ideas and we get to have conversations. We get to explore new ground and connect. I love that.
The other thing to bear in mind is that Denmark is a very culturally homogenous place. Even Copenhagen, the capital, is still quite monocultural. And one of the most interesting things about that — the one most significant to what we're talking about here — is that nobody looks at each other. It's a really anonymous city. Even if I go out looking like this, nobody will notice, nobody will look at me, nobody will comment, nobody will say anything — they will just completely ignore me.
I've actually found that really useful on this journey, because it's enabled me to really push myself all the way to my edges. It started almost like a scream — look at me, can you see me, am I invisible? It stopped being oh my god, what will people think and became more like, I challenge you, I dare you to look at me — which comes from a completely different, much more powerful place. And at no point throughout this whole journey have I felt threatened or embarrassed or shamed by being who I am out in the world.
Feeling invisible actually helped me to become more visible to myself.
The third caveat: I don't look like this ninety percent of the time. I am something of a hermit. I could quite happily stay in my studio and not leave for weeks at a time. During that time I'm not dressed like this. I rarely have makeup on, often my hair needs dyeing, often I need to shower. I live my life mostly in leggings and t-shirts in full goblin mode. And often when I do go out, if I'm just running errands, sometimes I feel like being perceived — and often I don't. So I'll go incognito. Wear something very plain, something very boring. I'll be in disguise.
Having the ability to choose is something I don't think gets talked about enough. People think either you're a full out extravagant dresser all the time, or you're somebody who prefers something plain and simple and never the twain shall meet. I don't think that's the case at all. I do this on the days I'm comfortable with people looking at me. On the days I'm not comfortable, I wear something plain. Both are true, both are real, both are authentic, both are expressions of who I am and what's going on inside. Sometimes this is armour. Sometimes this is not. Sometimes this is vulnerability. It depends very much on where my head's at.
I never used to wear graphic tees — I used to hate them, I used to hate any kind of writing. Now I'm obsessed and I really enjoy hunting for the weirdest, coolest, most bizarre ones I can find.
I've found Vinted such a valuable resource in this whole process because I've been able to try stuff out, bring new items of clothing into my life, wear them for a bit, see how they feel, see if they fit how I want to present myself. Because I'm not always correct. Sometimes I'll get something I think is perfect and I'll buy it and wear it and I'm like, no, this ain't it. But then I can just resell it.
When I ordered this, I was like, this is either going to be really naff or really cool. And I think that distinction often comes down to who you are, how you feel when you wear it, how you style it. I kind of feel like I'm cool, so if I'm wearing it the way I put it together, it's going to be cool. I love this trompe l'oeil effect, I love the writing, I love the stars — stars are sort of a personal motif for me.
This bracelet, black and white, I wear constantly. It's like a signature. I used to wear a lot of jewellery but as I've honed and refined my style, I've found I'd often rather just wear a pair of earrings or a simple chain, or even no necklace at all. Much more sensorially non-confrontational, which is a big win — especially in the summer when everything is a lot.
I am obsessed with black and white stripes. For me they give a sort of cabaret, old school circus, Victoriana vibe. But without fail, whenever I wear black and white stripes, some cunt always says, oh, Tim Burton, Tim Burton. Come on. Is that the only frame of reference you have for black and white stripes?
Obviously we have the black and white stripy suit. These cunty little boots — a moment for the boots. And then the legend, the icon, Freddie Mercury in all his glory, right across my boobs. What could be better? What could be more queer coded? What could be more celebratory? What could be more magnificent? And then the hat — pure Bianca Jagger jet set. Oh, who me? I've just got off my private jet.
It's funny, because a lot of the YouTube style people I see are always like, elevate your outfit. Always looking for ways to elevate. I feel the complete opposite way. If anything's too slick and too polished, I get really uncomfortable. It doesn't feel like me. My attitude is always: how can I fuck this up a little bit? How can I make this a bit more gritty, a bit more punk, a bit more unexpectedly grotty?
I found these earrings — they're burnt cigarette ends. I just think they're so cool. There's something a bit gross about them, and it de-elevates the outfit just enough. Just fucks it up a little. I'm feeling myself. I love this. On with the show.
So, going back to the question that started this whole thing — does feeling different end up translating to looking different? Does that always happen?
In a nutshell: yes. It does become obvious. But it's probably already more obvious than you think. And it doesn't have to look like this. It doesn't have to look like pink hair and leopard print jeans and dressing like an 80s hair metal rock star. It doesn't even have to mean being the centre of attention or dressing to be seen.
There was a video I watched recently — Alok being interviewed, who is a non-binary comedian and poet and fashion icon, I'll put a link in the description — where they were saying that finding your personal style is really an exercise in healing your trauma, and finding a way to accept who you are. Because the more accepting you are of yourself, the more aligned you are with who you actually are rather than who you think you should be or who you're pretending to be — the more drawn you are to the things you genuinely like. That includes clothing. And the less you give a shit about what people think, which helps. It does come with age. But I think it also comes because age gives you a sense of alignment, a sense of acceptance of who you are.
That's really what personal style is, what people are looking for. It's joining up your insides and your outsides. Having the courage to wear the things you truly love and not what's flattering or age-appropriate or on trend. Those are all just distractions from who you really are, from expressing who you really are.
I think of it like watching little kids get dressed. I love going to the park and watching the kids go by because there are some really amazing outfits, and you can tell which kids have dressed themselves. They look amazing. They're so free and playful. They don't give a shit if their waist is cinched or if what they're wearing is a weird colour combination or a clash of patterns — they just wear what brings them joy. And that's what I wish for all of us.
The point of all this is that your version of this is going to look like your version of this. This is how I dress because this is me expressing myself. I hope I can inspire you not to dress like me, but to dress like your version of what me dressing like me is — which is you dressing like you.
I want to leave you with a few questions to think about. What would it look like for you if your insides matched your outsides? How much of a gap is there? Is there a gap at all right now? If you felt like a fully accepted, expressed, actualised version of yourself — what clothes would you wear? What art would you make? How would you express yourself? What things would you do? How would you move through the world? How would you indulge yourself in joy and pleasure if you were being truly authentic?
What would it look like to fully accept and embrace yourself?
Thanks so much for coming on this journey with me and allowing me to play dress up in my closet. I've had so much fun making this video and I hope you've had fun watching it too. I'll see you in the next one. Byeeeeee.