Confessions from a (reformed) Cool Girl
I am fairly convinced that in life, for women, there are two camps: cool girls and whatever title one offers to the girls with an absence of this difficult to define cool factor. I must confess that I have never fallen particularly naturally into the cool girl category.
So, why is this titled “Confessions from a (Reformed) Cool Girl”? Recently, I have been pondering this idea of the makings of a cool girl. I have caught myself, at various times of my life, striving to be a cool girl. Someone who radiates effortlessness. A girl who not only rocks a trend, but is at the fringes of new ones, ushering in styles just before they go viral on TikTok. A girl who is the antagonist of every high school movie, but you still kind of wish you were her.
Alas, I am not so sure I have the makings of a cool girl within me. It is funny, now, as a junior in college, to look back on the years I spent wishing I were cooler—wishing I were someone else, essentially. Today, I took a trip to the beach, and as I sat in comfortable silence with my friend Miranda, I noticed two girls set up a few feet away from us. They were total cool girls. They each sported a few well-placed, minimalist tattoos, earth tone bikinis, straw hats, and glowing tans. They appeared to be a few years older than us, which added to their coolness even more: there they were, post-grad, soaking up a beach day in Los Angeles, where they afford to live with their own big girl money. Is any of this story verified truth? Of course not, but my brain churned it up in the blink of an eye, as I passed them on my way to jump in the water. “In a few years, I hope I am more like them,” a voice inside of my chirped up. In a welcome shift, my very next thought was, “Wow. I wonder how many people have thought that about me. I am sure there are people who have looked at my life and thought, whoa, I hope I am a like that when I am older.”
I don’t say that to sound narcissistic, or to say that I am brought joy at the thought that others compare their lives to my Instagram and use its highlight reel as a Pinterest board for their own lives. The beauty in the thought was how it reminded me that others could look at my life and see all of the incredible, beautiful parts of it that I take for granted, and see them as indications of a life well-loved. “Lean into her,” a wise voice from within me beckoned. Somewhere in my soul, I found the reminder to halt this fruitless pursuit of coolness, in order to embody the life I am so blessed to inhabit.
As humans, we are wired to problem solve. Our brains do not function well with uncertainty—uncertainty throws our brains into a spiral of looking for problems to solve, before they even arise. At a daily level, this fear of uncertainty—our discomfort with not knowing everything—prompts us to nitpick our lives. For me, I have been creating little problems to solve, ranging from lamenting about how go-go-go the culture is at USC to complaining that I have nothing to wear. I packed three suitcases and a carry-on for school—it is absolutely ridiculous to pretend I have nothing to wear. Now, while I am all for self-discovery, sometimes all of the reflection and self-improvement feels like a distraction. I go to USC!!! I remember where the mere idea of attending this school was the most exciting, fantastic fantasy. Now I get to live in LA and study with renowned professors and I walk along a silly little street where lots of my friends live and I go to the beach on Fridays when I have no class. What?! It feels so eerily like summer camp, that is truly my best description for it.
So, as I struggle to embrace what must seem like the most incredible college experience, I engage with the pushes and pulls within me. My high school self’s jaw would probably still be on the floor, at 8:26pm on a Sunday evening, if she had attended yesterday’s tailgates and football game. If she got to see the red and gold sea of game day outfits and borgs and thoughtfully selected accessories. If she got to waltz on through the student section alongside some of the best human embodiments of the phrase “work hard, play hard.” If she was able to witness the present version of me, this seemingly more cool version.
I think that is where my biggest riff with the cool girl camp stems from: I have been the not cool girl. I understood the not cool girl camp. And now, at this school, where everyone seems like the coolest person you’ll ever meet, I have grown an appreciation for my own coolness. I can’t say I think I’m super chill, or that I am particularly funny right off the bat. I take classes seriously, though not seriously enough to be welcomed by the ultra-academic crowds. I don’t have the next three years of my career lined up, which somehow all the cool kids do, despite totally not caring about what tomorrow brings. I don’t have a Socal or Norcal accent. I didn’t grow up surfing before class and skiing at my house on Lake Tahoe on the weekends. I did’t grow up under the impression I’d ever have money to burn, yet I have never felt like I do not have enough. My closet isn’t everyone’s first stop on a Friday night before going out, but I find that I normally throw together something that I feel confident wearing. Whenever I try to be a cool girl, it feels wrong. I think my coolness is in my caringness, and the people who love me, well, they really love me. Not in a chill, cool way–not lukewarm in the slightest.
The people who love me, love me with warmth. They remember that I grew up in a small town and they don’t care that I don’t know every famous house music DJ and they appreciate that I write about my feelings on the internet. They know I am going to ask a question at the dinner table that edges the conversation just a smidge deeper, and they dive right in. They know that I am steady. They know that I will dance and sing to every song, and that I just might get a little sweaty at the party after losing myself on the dance floor. They know that I might get a little awkward and that I love nothing more than debriefing the night before bright and early in the morning, preferably over coffee. They know that I will walk out of my way because I want an extra few minutes of conversation. They know that I get extremely passionate over ideas but will struggle executing everything, especially because I will add so many activities to my plate due to my longstanding struggle to say no. They know that I hate to let the night end, and that I love squeezing out every moment with my friends. They know that I’m not as cool as them, but they don’t mind.
The coolest thing a girl (anyone) can do is to be themselves, fearlessly. If not fearlessly, consistently. We all could use some cool girl education reform. Not everyone is meant to be the same. We were actually created to be unique. Each opportunity we take to be more authentically ourselves, the cooler we become, once we have adjusted our definition of cool to be interpreted as enthusiastic and aligned with our purpose. Being cool is as simple as being one with who we actually deem ourselves to be.
Next time you catch yourself choosing between being cool, and being true to you: choose you. The you-est you is always the coolest you, to the people who are meant to love and know you.
Stay weird, team.