The Style Biters

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?

Maybe — in the case of minor things like the car you drive or the neighborhood you live in. When it comes to fashion, however, some people can get rather defensive.

“I’d actually rather be called a[n expletive] than a copycat,” fashion designer Diane Kordas told Vogue last year.

Diane. Such language.

Kordas’ blunt expression on the matter speaks to the importance that clothing carries in expressing the wearer’s very identity, a curation into which a great amount of effort — and, often, money — is regularly put forth. To see the results of that effort — in a sense, that identity — cribbed by a friend (or colleague, or family member) can be insulting.

The psychologist Dr. Steven Gullan goes so far as to call it “theft,” telling Vogue that, because the act is “primal,” victims experience it as “a personal affront and an injustice.”

Not to mention that an objective observer of two people wearing the same outfit would be unable to determine who was the first to adopt the style and who was the copycat.

To be perceived as a copycat, as Kordas went on to say, “means you have no imagination or creativity. It makes you a follower not a leader.”

Copycatting as a general human behavior is certainly not exclusive to one gender, but dealing with style biting in the realm of fashion, on both sides of the equation (the “biters” and the “bitees,” as it were), tends to be more of an ongoing concern for women than it does for men. While the gender gap related to money spent on personal appearance is closing, men are less inclined to immerse themselves as deeply as women do in the experience of shopping. If the average male is going to distort the truth about where he got a shirt that he’s wearing, it might mean that he says “the closet” instead of “the floor,” rather than lying about what store he purchased it at out of a concern for protecting his style from being appropriated.

In addition to combating the innate desire to be accepted socially by taking on an outward appearance similar to one’s peers, women arguably have it harder than ever to resist engaging in fashion-copycatting. They are openly solicited — online, in magazines and through social media — to emulate the styles of celebrities; it’s a business model for fashion brands. Retailers like Nilou Ghodsi’s Heist embrace and encourage the very practice of “stealing” personal style, and apps such as LIKEtoKNOW.it and Net-a-Porter’s The NET SET directly connect consumers to the ability to purchase products they see on Instagram and other social platforms. Faced with that barrage online, can fashion-conscious women be reasonably expected to just completely “turn it off” in their personal interactions in the real world?

In instances where they may be cribbing their style from friends, specifically — perhaps not coworkers or acquaintances — the simple answer is yes … provided that the women truly are friends with the peers they’re emulating. The desire to mimic public figures that you don’t know personally (or even private individuals who live on the other side of the world and whom you’ll likely never meet) is one thing, but friendships inherently operate under a different rule set.

“Holding someone in esteem means you aren’t peers,” says Gullan. “A reluctance to admit that means copying is often done covertly, which looks backhanded and sneaky and damages friendships.”

If a friendship is able to be dismantled by an overlap in clothing choices, perhaps it wasn’t worth holding on to — or healthy, for either party — in the first place. But as long as we’re not dealing with a “Single White Female” situation, potential breaches of fashion etiquette don’t have to mean the end of an otherwise mutually beneficial relationship.

“The key word,” concludes Carol Woolton, Vogue’s jewelry editor, “is permission.”

You like your friend’s Roksanda printed A-line skirt? Just ask her if she would mind if you bought yourself a similar one. Did your coworker notice that you’ve started wearing the same pair of Prada sunglasses that she came in with last week? Admit that you admired them on her, but you’re happy to do without them to avoid any awkwardness. Are you hesitant to purchase the pastel Giambattista Valli tweed suit that Amal Clooney wore because you personally know Amal Clooney? That’s dope; you’ve likely hung out with George Clooney.

In any situation such as these, the likely best practice is to be forthcoming. That goes for the would-be copycat as well as the “original” wearer: It’s probably not a good idea to lie about where you bought something to your inquiring friends and coworkers. If they’re curious enough, they’ll find out the truth eventually, and then things will be weird.

For fashion seekers, it’s advisable to err on the side of caution because, when it comes to protecting personal style, not everyone has the opinion that Leandra Medine, founder of the fashion blog Man Repeller, recently shared with The Wall Street Journal: “It doesn’t bother me if someone else has what I bought. Fashion is for everyone, right?”

And that’s an important opinion to keep in mind for those average citizens fashion-savvy enough to often be the one their peers are seeking to emulate. In today’s hyperconnected world, it’s entirely likely that such a woman could, while out and about, find herself being photographed by a perfect stranger who’s going to upload that image to a fashion app in order to find out more about what she’s wearing and maybe buy it for herself.

If that kind of thing happens to you a suspicious amount of times and with the same woman always taking the picture (or if it just happens with a man, once), maybe contact law enforcement.

Other than that, though — take it as a compliment.