There’s a certain kind of silence that lives in a woman’s closet when she’s never been allowed to choose what’s in it.

For the women we serve, clothing hasn’t always been a tool for self-expression. It hasn’t been about beauty or creativity or personal taste. Instead, it’s often been a reminder of who was in charge—and who wasn’t. When a woman’s body is regulated and surveilled, her clothing becomes more than fabric. It becomes a message. And too often, that message says: You don’t get to decide who you are.

Clothing carries meaning far beyond what meets the eye. For many women, especially those navigating systems of control, what they’ve worn hasn’t been about preference or personality—it’s been about survival. Clothing becomes a symbol of who holds the power. And more often than not, that power hasn’t belonged to her.

How Control Shows Up in What We Wear

Control doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it zips up the back, presses at the waistband, or hangs heavy off the shoulders.

When we talk about clothing as a form of control, we mean the silent systems that tell women what they can and cannot wear—and what that says about them. We’re talking about how choice is stripped away, one layer at a time, until a woman begins to question whether she’s even allowed to have a preference.

For women navigating incarceration, exploitation, or unstable living conditions, clothing has often been chosen for them, not by them.

Let’s be clear: this kind of control isn’t only about the clothes themselves. It’s about what those clothes communicate—and what they take from the woman wearing them.

1. Incarcerated Women: Uniform as Erasure

In jail or prison, individuality is erased—literally. Every woman wears the same uniform. Same color. Same cut. Same message: You are not a person. You are an inmate.

For some women, that uniform becomes the most consistent outfit they wear for years. It flattens identity, reinforces shame, and serves as a constant reminder that choice has been removed. It’s not just the loss of comfort or variety—it’s the loss of self. And even after release, many women struggle to reconnect with their own image, unsure of how to dress when there are no longer rules printed on paper telling them what they can wear.

2. Survivors of Sex Trafficking: Clothing as Currency

For survivors of trafficking, clothing is often controlled by someone else with a purpose: profit.

Many women share that they were forced into clothes chosen to appeal to others, not to protect or reflect them. Clothing became part of the sale—a means to attract attention or signal availability. Not too covered. Not too casual. Just enough to look the part. Over time, these women internalize the idea that their worth is tied to presentation—not their voice, their values, or their vision for their future.

Even years later, the damage lingers. Standing in front of a mirror, trying on something “for herself,” a woman might still hear someone else’s voice telling her what’s acceptable.

3. Unhoused Women: Function Over Dignity

When housing is unstable or unavailable, clothing is often about survival. Not identity. Just whatever is available.

Many women tell us they wore clothes that didn’t fit, didn’t feel like them, or didn’t offer the basic protection they needed—but they had no other option. Donations came in garbage bags. No labels, no sizes, no thoughtfulness—just “be grateful.” And when you’re told to be thankful for scraps, you stop believing you deserve more.

This unspoken hierarchy—some women get options, others get what’s left—sends a message that lingers long after housing is secured. It tells her she doesn’t deserve to be particular. That asking for something better is selfish. That personal style is for women with stable lives—not hers.

4. Aging Out of Institutional Systems: Lost in the In-Between

For young women aging out of institutional care, clothing often reflects the same lack of autonomy they’ve experienced in other areas of life.

Rules dictated what was appropriate. Budgets dictated what was possible. Style—true, expressive, joyful style—wasn’t even in the conversation. When no one ever asks you what colors you like, what textures you feel best in, or what you want your look to say about you, you grow into adulthood unsure of how to answer even the most basic question: What do you want to wear?

And that uncertainty can bleed into job interviews, social events, and moments that matter—leaving her unsure, unseen, and shrinking instead of shining.

The Aftermath of Having No Say

Control doesn’t just disappear once the uniform is gone or the crisis is over. It lingers—in the way she second-guesses her reflection, in the way she avoids certain colors or styles, in the way she asks, “Is this okay?” even when no one’s giving orders anymore.

When clothing has been used to control a woman, the impact runs deep:

  • She doubts her preferences.
    No one ever asked her opinion, so now she’s unsure she’s allowed to have one.

  • She disconnects from her body.
    Clothing was once a source of shame or objectification. Now it feels unsafe or unfamiliar.

  • She fears judgment.
    What if this looks “wrong”? What if people assume something about her?

  • She carries quiet shame.
    Even when things are better, she might still feel like she doesn’t “deserve” beautiful things.

This is what it means to be stripped of choice. And this is why the work of returning that choice matters so much.

When Help Looks Like Control

One of the most overlooked forms of clothing control happens during “help.”

It can sound like:

  • “This looks nice on you—just wear it.”

  • “It’s free, so don’t complain.”

  • “This is what professional women wear, so just go with it.”

But when a woman has lived through systems that made decisions for her, being told—once again—what she should wear doesn’t feel like kindness. It feels like more of the same.

Clothing donations, job-readiness programs, and hand-me-downs can all carry good intentions—but without giving the woman agency in the process, they risk reinforcing the very powerlessness she’s trying to heal from.

Because even well-meaning help can send the message: You don’t know what’s best for you. We’ll decide.

Reclaiming the Power to Choose

At Well Dressed, we believe clothing should be a return to self—not another form of control.

Our program doesn’t just hand out clothing, we start with meaningful questions:

  • What kind of clothes make you feel grounded?

  • What colors make you feel seen?

  • What do you want to say—before you say a word?

And for many women, these are brand new questions. Not because they’re complex, but because no one ever asked them before. We don’t treat style as surface-level. We treat it as a form of healing. A woman deserves the right to choose what she wears, not just because it looks good—but because it helps her feel like herself.

Clothing as Liberation

Once she starts choosing, something shifts. She begins to use clothing not as a cover—but as a mirror.

She wears wide-leg pants because they feel powerful.
She puts on a bold lip or a cropped jacket because it reflects her confidence.
She reaches for softness when she needs comfort, and sharp silhouettes when she’s standing tall.

She’s not dressing for permission. She’s dressing for alignment.

Because once the power to choose is restored, everything else starts to open up too. Her voice gets stronger and her decisions get bolder.

That transformation only requires one thing: that she chooses.

You’re Allowed to Choose

If you’ve ever been told what to wear, or felt ashamed of what you had to wear—this is for you.

You’re allowed to love color.
You’re allowed to wear what makes you feel secure, or soft, or striking.
You’re allowed to not explain yourself.

You’re allowed to reclaim clothing as a reflection of who you are—not who someone else decided you should be.

Every outfit you choose for yourself is a quiet rebellion against all the times you didn’t get to.
And every time you look in the mirror and say, “This feels like me,”—you’re undoing the lie that someone else gets to decide.

Take this opportunity to learn more about the Well Dressed Program.

Los Angeles Fashion Stylist - Monica Cargile

Monica Cargile is a Los Angeles based Celebrity Fashion Stylist and Style Expert.

http://www.monicacargile.com
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More Than Fabric: Clothing, Memory, and Identity

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Redefining Possibility for Women in Los Angeles