The Unspoken Rules We All Somehow Agree To Follow

2 weekends ago, I got invited to a birthday party. We went to a rooftop bar in Bangkok, a very cool spot.

I wore what I’d consider a nice pair of shorts, a linen shirt, and some fun espadrilles (from my friend’s company in France, Payote). Rosie wore a skort and a nice top with flat brown sandals.

📸 Night out in BKK! 🥂

After the rooftop, some friends wanted to go to a club across the street. Rosie got denied entrance. Because of her sandals.

It wasn’t really a bad thing, we were both pretty tired and had enough drinks for the night anyway. So we went home.

But it made me think about how dumb some of these rules are. How suddenly wearing a different pair of shoes makes you somehow... better? More acceptable?

The weekend after, we had a second birthday planned, and we knew that one would also end up in a club. So during the week, Rosie and I went clothes shopping.

That’s my idea of hell, lol.

I don’t care about clothes. I never really did, not for the last 5 years anyway

My clothes are a tool. Something I wear because I’m supposed to. If it was up to me, I’d be barefoot, wearing the same pair of shorts until they need replacing. But that’s not socially acceptable, apparently. 🤷‍♂️

It wasn’t always like this. When I was younger I cared a lot about my look. I’d spend hours putting gel in my hair, touching it came with risks. I had nice clothes, I’d change them regularly, the whole thing.

Then I lived on the beach in Miami, worked from home, then traveled full-time for years. Somewhere in there I realized clothes matter very little to me. It became all about comfort and practicality, not look.

I barely bought anything in the last 5 years. A few cheap fake football jerseys, and an acquaintance “addicted to shopping” regularly gave me stuff. 😆

But now that we’re back to “regular life” in Bangkok, I can feel the pressure society puts on us. I was fine for 8 months with my current wardrobe. Totally fine. But now that we’re building a social life here, with friends, birthdays, nights out... I can see the effect of that.

You gotta have the appropriate set of clothing for each situation, apparently. Rosie’s been accumulating bags, because a day bag is obviously not the same as a night bag. 🤷‍♂️

To be fair, some people genuinely enjoy this stuff. The different bags, the outfits, the whole aesthetic side of it. I’m not knocking that. But it does make me wonder: how much of that enjoyment is honest preference, and how much of it is conditioning so deep it just feels like taste?

At some point a rule gets so ingrained it stops feeling like a rule at all. It just feels natural. Doesn’t mean it is.

Why I gave in

The day after Rosie got denied, I said “fuck this, I’m not buying shoes to go to a club.”

Then the following week, it was the birthday of someone we really like here, and we both wanted to be there for her. So I gave in. Not because I suddenly cared about the rules, but because I didn’t want to be left behind. I didn’t want to risk not getting in and missing out on good times with friends. And I didn’t want Rosie missing out because of me either.

So… let’s buy some new clothes and shoes.

Irony is: the friend celebrating her birthday didn’t even make it to the club that night. And once we were there, plenty of guys were wearing trainers. Rosie? Back in sandals again, just sparkly ones with a little heel this time. Got in without a second look. Same sandals, basically. Just dressed up enough to pass. I’m pretty sure I would’ve been fine in my normal shoes too. 😂

When we were getting ready, wearing my new clothes, Rosie told me “you look so handsome.” I replied, “I feel like I’m dressed up, pretending to be who I’m not. Like it’s Halloween.” 😂

She was going through her own version of that, hesitating between two white tops. One was a sport-material top that looked like a regular one, the other a more classic material with a different texture. “Is it alright to wear this with that?”

I had no idea. Genuinely. I don’t understand those rules. I have zero clue what goes in the acceptable and not-acceptable buckets. They’re two white tops, pretty identical. The material shouldn’t matter that much. But apparently it does, to someone.

I don’t think I’m a rebel in the usual sense of the word. But I do struggle with all these made up rules about what we “should” do, what’s appropriate in this or that situation. Why do we overcomplicate things so much? What actually gets me is realizing how deep these unspoken rules run, even for someone who isn’t particularly “into fashion.”

I like to keep my life simple. I don’t want complexity.

It’s not just about the clothes

I was talking to a coworker today who’s switching careers. Years as a salesperson, and now she’s going back to school to become a jewelry maker.

She’s doing it. But she told me it took a lot of introspection to leave a career behind and move 700km away from her home and partner for a year, to start over in something completely different.

The unspoken rules would tell her to stick to her lane. Focus on what she knows. Stay comfortable. Don’t blow up a stable career for something uncertain.

Same story, different costume. Whether it’s a pair of sandals at a club door or a whole career, there’s always a version of “this isn’t what people like you do.”

I think a lot of it comes down to control. A society full of people happily conforming, not asking questions, is just easier to manage. Outliers are inconvenient. So we get these little invisible fences everywhere: this shirt is fine here but not there, these sandals are fine but not those, this is fine until 8pm but not after. WTF, dude.

It genuinely irritates me, for some reason I can’t fully explain.

So where does that leave me

Not in a clean, “screw the rules” kind of place, if I’m honest.

I have my beliefs. I don’t accept a lot of this made-up stuff. But I also gave in and bought new clothes and shoes. Because sometimes it feels necessary to conform, to make life a little easier, to not miss out on the people and moments that actually matter.

It’s not black and white. I’m not proud of caving, but I’m also not beating myself up over it. I’ll probably do it again next time there’s a club and a friend I love on the other side of that door.

I just wish we didn’t have to.

What about you? Where’s the line between “I’ll stick to who I am” and “fine, I’ll conform, life’s easier that way”? Hit reply, I’d love to hear it.

J