If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?
If this question ever became reality, I’d actually be relieved—no more daily decision fatigue. What’s left is an honest reflection: How do I want to be seen?
I want to be seen as someone calm, grounded, and quietly strong. Not flashy, not loud—just a steady presence that speaks for itself.
For the top, I’d choose a collarless shirt. It avoids the stiffness of a formal button-up and the casual slouch of a T-shirt—striking a balance between structure and ease. Simple lines, muted tones, nothing loud. It carries the quiet confidence of a modern monk or a street-level philosopher.
For the bottom, a pair of slim-fit trousers—not skin-tight, but cut well enough to move easily while still holding shape. Something breathable, with a bit of stretch. Easy to wash, easy to dry, and looks good without fuss. The kind of pants that respect your day without demanding your attention.
On my feet: New Balance or Mizuno sneakers. Designed for Asian feet, supportive over long walks, functional without being boring. And if I ever wanted to be even more grounded, I’d switch to minimalist kung fu shoes—close to the earth, light, tactile, like walking was a meditative act.
I don’t wear luxury brands. What I can afford comes from Uniqlo, Muji, or even Lativ—everyday clothing brands that understand balance, not status. But in those choices, there’s a kind of quiet taste, an understanding of daily life and how clothes should move with it.
I care less about price, more about fabric feel, proportion, and whether the piece can grow old with me. Clothes aren’t decoration; they’re part of how I speak to the world—without saying a word.
If I had to wear one outfit forever, I’d want it to be this: subtle but firm, comfortable but intentional. Just like the person I’m trying to become.













