On Man-Repelling
On queer dating, desire and dressing
Last Friday night, I wanted to wear my black ruffled Miu Miu micro skirt, so I tried to plan my night around it. I started thinking about which place would fit the look and landed on a queer club I like: techno, house, dark, permissive. Berghain, if you may. The skirt would make sense there.
Quite a boring look to trap a man’s heart.
As I was getting dressed, someone tapped me on a dating app and we made a plan to meet for a drink later. Suddenly, the micro skirt felt too much. So I changed into a gray t-shirt and black Sean Sheila high-waisted wide-cut trousers. Simple. Put together. Masc. Ready to trap someone’s heart, or at least his desire.
Of course, on my way there, the guy ghosted me, proving that even a masc t-shirt could not shield me from a flake.
Maybe this one won’t scare off men.
Guess it was back to Berghain; I wanted to dance anyway. When I got to the club, everyone there looked incredible. Fully expressed. Almost aggressively so. A girl in cutout underwear and sharp knee-high stilettos. A guy in a shiny halter top and super low-rise jeans, his V-line flashing unapologetically. Someone else in bloomers and a Victorian blouse, ribbons dripping everywhere. It felt like a music video set.
Standing there, surrounded by all that confidence and excess, I could not help but feel basic.
Not a first date kind of outfit.
These days, wearing Le Look feels like a luxury for me. There are many things to consider: the schedule, the occasion, the environment. And lately, the man I am auditioning for. Which is not exactly romantic.
At this point in my life, I care more about being desired than I would like to admit. I want boys to look at me not because I am making a statement, but because they think I look cute. Experience has taught me that wearing Simone Rocha frocks rarely helps with that. So I developed a uniform for meeting men. Ironically, I call it cosplay.
This is definitely an intimidating attire.
Fashion itself can already be man-repelling, let alone a man in a deliberately feminine, fashion-forward outfit. That is part of why I started wearing simpler and more traditionally masculine clothes, even though fear is not the chicest place to dress from. I realised I had begun editing my own femininity. What used to feel instinctive now feels calculated.
Fashion itself can already be man-repelling, let alone a man in a deliberately feminine, fashion-forward outfit.
Is this coat man-repelling?
On my dating app, I take it further: one photo in cosplay and seven topless photos, Kidding, just two max. I am also careful about sharing my social media because I do not want them to see my feminine side just yet. At this point, dating feels less like flirting and more like presenting a marketing brief to a not-so-creative client. Is it working? Kind of. It got me into the second or third date, but the connection usually expires the moment I finally open up a.k.a. the second I approve their Instagram request.
So why do I keep putting myself through this? Why would I edit myself for expirational dates,or worse, one who does not even show up? I sacrificed a look for a ghost. I should know better by now. But let us be real: showing up as my unfiltered, effeminate self and hoping for the best feels naive. A wise man once said the right guy would like you for who you are, not how you dress. But that man has clearly never been on Grindr.
I feel so much joy in this look but I may end up alone.
We are told that “being ourselves” is the ultimate goal, but which version of “self” are we talking about? The one in the Miu Miu skirt or the one in sleek trousers? They are both me.
Believing the right person will just show up is delusional because dating is a game. And I have realised that being strategic with my clothes is not a betrayal, it is curation. Maybe dating is not about finding someone who likes the ‘real’ you immediately, but finding someone who is worth showing the rest of the wardrobe to. Until then, wanting to be wanted is just human.
I have realised that being strategic with my clothes is not a betrayal, it is curation. Maybe dating is not about finding someone who likes the ‘real’ you immediately, but finding someone who is worth showing the rest of the wardrobe to.
The truth is, I have come to like the attention the cosplay brings. I am not giving that up. But I have realised I can be restrained without disappearing. There should be a middle ground where a sharp silhouette still whispers exactly who I am and not gay-man-repelling.
I feel so myself in this look.
I still want to wear my Sean Sheila trousers and eat my Simone Rocha cake purse too. If I dream of having nine different lives—of wanting everything everywhere all at once—then my personal style should be allowed to express that.
I have tried to be a one-designer disciple—a Yohji crow or a Haider devotee. But I contain multitudes. And honestly? That is the only marketing brief I am interested in from now on.
Follow Try Sutrisno on Instagram at @shinosjournal and PEARS magazine at @pearsmag to see more of his work.
About the writer
Try Sutrisno is a freelance fashion stylist and editor-in-chief at PEARS magazine, known for curating timeless yet modern looks with a strong narrative edge.