Fashion Has No Expiry Date: Why I've Stopped Chasing Trends

Fashion is a funny thing. Just when you think you've seen the last of a particular trend, it finds its way back into our wardrobes as though it never left. The flared jeans our parents wore in the '70s made a comeback. Low-rise jeans from the early 2000s returned despite many people swearing they never would. Chunky sneakers, oversized blazers, tiny handbags, cargo trousers, crochet pieces, everything seems to have its moment again. It reminds me that fashion doesn't really disappear; it simply waits for the right generation to rediscover it.

That realization has made me think differently about the way we consume fashion. Every season, we're introduced to a new list of "must-have" pieces, colours, or aesthetics that promise to define the year. Suddenly everyone is dressing the same, buying the same items, and curating wardrobes around whatever is currently dominating social media. Before long, those pieces are declared "out," making room for the next trend. The cycle repeats itself over and over again, leaving many of us chasing something that was never meant to last.

Growing up in Africa, my relationship with fashion was very different. Fashion wasn't confined to one particular style or trend. It was expressive, colourful and beautifully diverse. You could walk through the streets and see people confidently embracing completely different looks, yet somehow everyone looked authentic. Traditional prints existed comfortably alongside modern tailoring. One person would be dressed in bold African prints, another in denim and sneakers, while someone else effortlessly mixed both worlds together. Nobody seemed to be asking whether something was trending. Instead, people wore what suited them, what reflected their culture, their personalities and, sometimes, simply what made them feel good.

Looking back, I think that environment shaped me more than I realised.

If I'm honest, I've gone through almost every fashion phase imaginable. There was a time when I loved vintage fashion. I found beauty in timeless silhouettes, classic blazers and pieces that carried a sense of nostalgia. Then there was my sporty era, where comfort became everything. Shortly after that came my streetwear phase, filled with oversized jackets, sneakers and relaxed silhouettes. Somewhere in between, I experimented with minimalism, feminine dresses, bold colours and neutral palettes. Every chapter of my life seemed to introduce a different version of my wardrobe.

For a while, I thought I needed to figure out exactly what my style was. Everywhere I looked, people were assigning themselves labels. They were "Old Money," "Clean Girl," "Coquette," "Streetwear," "Bohemian," or "Quiet Luxury." It almost felt as though fashion required us to choose one identity and stay there forever. I tried convincing myself that I needed a signature style too, but the more I thought about it, the less it made sense.

Why should I limit myself?

Life doesn't stand still, so why should my wardrobe?

As we grow older, we experience different seasons of life. We change careers, move countries, discover new passions, heal from difficult moments and celebrate new beginnings. Every season teaches us something new about ourselves, and naturally, the way we present ourselves to the world changes too. It would be strange if our fashion remained exactly the same while everything else about us evolved.

Living in Japan has reinforced that belief even more. I've seen how people here can effortlessly blend tradition with modern fashion. A kimono can exist alongside contemporary streetwear. Minimalism can coexist with bold Harajuku fashion. There is room for individuality because fashion is viewed as another form of self-expression rather than a rigid set of rules. That perspective reminded me that style doesn't have to be permanent to be authentic.

These days, I no longer introduce myself through fashion labels. I simply wear what feels right for the version of me that exists today. Some mornings I feel elegant enough for a tailored blazer and loafers. Other days, you'll find me in wide-leg trousers and trainers. Sometimes I reach for flowing dresses, while other times I'm drawn to structured monochrome outfits. My wardrobe has become less about fitting into a category and more about reflecting how I feel.

Perhaps that's what personal style really is. It's not about wearing the same silhouette for the rest of your life or refusing to try something different because it doesn't fit your "aesthetic." Personal style is allowing yourself the freedom to evolve without feeling guilty about it. It's understanding that who you are at twenty-five may not be who you are at thirty-five, and that's perfectly okay.

I also think we place far too much pressure on ourselves to keep up with trends. Fashion should be enjoyable, not exhausting. It shouldn't leave us feeling as though our wardrobes are outdated every few months or that we're somehow falling behind because we didn't buy the latest viral item. When we constantly chase trends, we often lose sight of our own preferences. We begin dressing for acceptance instead of expression.

Ironically, the trends we're rushing to buy today will probably return in another twenty or thirty years, just as so many have before. Fashion has always been cyclical. It borrows from the past, reinvents itself for the present and inspires the future. Knowing that makes me appreciate timeless pieces even more. It reminds me that good style isn't measured by how closely you follow trends but by how confidently you wear what genuinely represents you.

I've come to realise that my fashion identity isn't one fixed aesthetic. It is a collection of every season I've lived through. It carries pieces of my childhood in Africa, where fashion was fearless and vibrant. It reflects my life in Japan, where simplicity and intentional dressing have influenced me in unexpected ways. It holds memories of different stages of adulthood, each leaving its mark on the way I choose to dress.

Maybe that's the beauty of fashion after all. It doesn't have to be one thing forever. Just like us, it evolves.

So if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's this: don't be afraid to outgrow trends, and don't be afraid to outgrow your own style either. Wear the vintage dress if it makes you smile. Wear the trainers with the tailored trousers. Mix colours, mix cultures, revisit old favourites and experiment with something completely different tomorrow.

Because at the end of the day, the most fashionable thing you can wear isn't what's trending.

It's the confidence to be yourself, in every season of your life.