Clothes are like a suit of armour when you're young. I was quite

Erin O’Connor once reflected with honesty upon her youth, saying: “Clothes are like a suit of armour when you’re young. I was quite a shy teen, so I wanted to make aggressive statements with the way I looked. I’d say my goth/indie stage was the worst: there was a lot of experimentation involving pink food dye in my fringe.” In these words lies a timeless truth: that clothing, far more than fabric, becomes a shield and a language, especially for the young who are still searching for their voice. To the shy and uncertain, appearance becomes a weapon, a banner, a fortress for the soul.

The meaning of this confession is found in the tension between vulnerability and expression. To be a shy teen is to feel small in a world that demands boldness. Thus, garments become the chosen battlefield where the timid may appear fierce, the uncertain may appear confident. O’Connor calls clothing a suit of armour, for it protects the fragile inner self from the harsh gaze of others. Even when the colors or styles seem awkward or excessive, they serve their purpose: they speak where the lips cannot, they shout when the voice trembles.

The origin of such behavior is as old as human society itself. In every age, people have used outward adornment to shield, proclaim, or disguise themselves. Warriors painted their faces before battle not only to frighten foes but to summon courage within. Priests donned robes to embody authority greater than their own. For the adolescent, still caught between childhood and adulthood, clothing becomes a ritual costume that declares: “This is who I am, or at least, who I wish to be.” Even if it is only temporary, even if it is dyed with pink food coloring, it is a sacred experiment of the spirit.

The ancients told of Achilles, who was hidden among maidens and clothed in women’s garments so his mother could protect him from war. Yet when the call of destiny came, he cast aside that disguise and donned his true armour. So too with the young: the costumes of youth may seem strange or misguided, but they are part of the process by which the self learns what armour to keep and what to discard. O’Connor’s goth/indie stage, though later judged with humor, was a necessary chapter in the forging of identity.

History gives us another mirror in the tale of Queen Elizabeth I, who famously wore elaborate gowns, jewels, and the pale mask of white makeup. For her, these were not mere garments but political armour. As a woman ruling in a man’s world, she understood that image was power. Her clothing became a fortress of authority, protecting her vulnerability and magnifying her presence. Just as the queen wrapped herself in fabric to shield her throne, so do teenagers wrap themselves in style to shield their tender souls.

The lesson here is clear: what seems superficial is often deeply significant. Do not mock the eccentricities of youth, for the bizarre hair dye and strange costumes may be their way of surviving insecurity. And for the young themselves—understand that your experiments in dress and image are not failures but steps toward self-knowledge. Each stage, no matter how awkward, is part of the journey to discovering the armour that fits not only the body but the spirit.

Practical wisdom flows from this: if you are young and shy, use what tools you have—whether clothing, art, or music—to give yourself courage. Let them be your armour, but do not mistake the armour for the self. And if you are older, guiding the young, show patience. Remember your own stages, your own disguises, and allow others the space to explore theirs. For out of pink fringes and black eyeliner may one day emerge a soul fully confident, standing unarmoured in its true strength.

So, children of tomorrow, remember Erin O’Connor’s teaching: clothes are armour, but armour is only a stage. Wear what you must to survive your battles, but never forget to seek the deeper courage within, the kind that needs no disguise. For one day, you shall no longer hide behind garments, but stand revealed as yourself—strong, unshaken, and radiant.