To be a slice of funfetti cake

A BuzzFeed quiz tells me “It’s Time To Find Out What Type Of Cake You Are Once And For All.”  It says I’m just like funfetti cake. “You’re the life of the party,” the result reads. “You bring color and flavor to everyone’s lives!” While the description is questionable, I think the result is accurate. If the University were a bakery, and we were all its pastries, I would be a slice of store-bought funfetti cake—nice and simple, but a little messy and chaotic, held together by a dollop of generic frosting.

It’s easy to feel a little underwhelming when you’re surrounded by an abundance of far more sophisticated desserts. My first (and only) impressions of most people I pass by are based on how they’re dressed—or decorated, to extend the bakery metaphor. Some are elegant and sophisticated, nailing the essence of dark academia like rich chocolate buttercream, with blazers and sweaters unbelievably smooth, ready to conquer their 9 am midterm. Others are effortlessly cool and trendy in perfectly-layered pastel sweatshirts and mini skirts, ready for a picnic brunch with their homemade lunchbox cake.

There’s nothing wrong with funfetti cake, really. It’s simple and sweet with a dash of colour for personality, a crowd-pleaser at children’s birthday parties. But here, with a million slices of cake competing for attention and so many that look like they’re crafted by the finest artists, funfetti is a little… invisible.

I’ve never really had a strong personal style. There are things I like but would never wear, and there are things in my wardrobe that I wear but don’t really like. At this point, I feel like I dress a certain way because it’s how I always have. It’s safe and consistent, making it most true to myself—but also not at all. It’s like I’ve grown up as a slice of funfetti cake, and now that I look around me and see so many other varieties, I’m starting to question if I really am one at all. Part of me thinks I’m just susceptible to pretty things, but mostly, I genuinely want to develop a coherent sense of style because I’m fascinated by the possibilities.

I’m intrigued by fashion because it turns us into a customizable blank slate. At the same time, I’ve spent so long in my standard sprinkle-skin that I’m wary of change.

One of my favorite pastimes is going to clothing stores with friends to put together and try on ridiculous outfits. I find it incredibly freeing because in the fitting room, there is no pressure to adhere to a certain look. You get to try things on and experiment without any commitment. I did a lot of theatre in high school, and that was my favorite part of it—being able to slip into character and detach it from my normal self. I’m someone who usually wears a lot of colour, and when I wore all-black for a performance, people close to me commented that they could hardly recognize me. By putting on a fresh layer of frosting, I could become someone different for a little while.

In reality, that separation is not as easy. Leaving the fitting room, you become fully perceived as yourself, and clothes are no longer just a costume. I’ve always struggled with that notion: knowing that people can judge me on a whim based on what I choose to wear one day. I’m scared that I’m somehow presenting myself inauthentically, masquerading as something I’m not.

At the same time, I also love experimenting with new trends. I never was one for beaded jewelry, but when Y2K fashion returned this year, I tried making my own and have grown to really like it. It’s definitely not a staple, but it’s something fun to accessorize with, adding some spice in a noncommittal way. In that sense, we’re all a bit like cake too. We only decorate around the outside, and there are a million possible ways to do so, but the cake itself never changes. You might cut into one slathered with dark chocolate to find a lemon pound cake inside, and that’s okay! A bit of mix-and-match can be a nice surprise.

There’s a freedom that comes with fashion that doesn’t require a deep reflection of identity. It can be something personal, but it can also just be fun. I’m less scared to dress up knowing that I can always revert back to something more familiar. It’s okay to be a funfetti cake who sometimes wants to be a wedding cake, or even a muffin who occasionally becomes a cupcake.