When Dressing Up Becomes Self-Expression

For years, dressing up meant costumes. Capes, crowns, animal ears, knight helmets—whatever helped bring the story to life. Watching children throw themselves into make-believe with such abandon was one of the most joyful parts of early childhood, and for someone like me, who makes costumes for a living, it felt like magic on repeat.

But something shifts as they enter the tween years. The dressing up doesn't stop entirely—it just transforms. Now, the clothes they choose are less about stepping into fantasy and more about stepping into themselves. There’s still a kind of performance happening, but it's subtler, more layered. One day it’s a hoodie over the head and silence; the next, it’s glitter, mismatched socks, and a fierce opinion about which scrunchie feels “right.” It’s not costume—it’s code. And it speaks volumes.

This is when dressing up becomes self-expression. This is what we’ve been building on. Celebrating differences.

They’re not trying on characters anymore—they’re trying on personalities. Each outfit, hairstyle, or accessory is a tiny act of experimentation, an external reflection of the big inner questions: Who do I feel like today? How do I want to be perceived as? What’s my vibe?

But—every now and then—the magic of full-blown dress-up makes a glorious return. A younger sibling’s birthday party might suddenly become the perfect excuse to be a pirate again, no questions asked. A quiet afternoon at the park might morph into a superhero/ninja mission with sticks-as-weapons and cloaks flapping in the breeze. A family hike? Well, that might require full explorer’s gear, complete with binoculars, a compass, and a notebook “just in case.”

These moments feel like little time portals—sudden bursts of early childhood breaking through the surface of growing up. These beautiful reminders that play doesn’t vanish—it just becomes more intentional, more of a personality in spring, more on their own terms.

As someone who’s spent years making costumes with and for children, I now find myself most curious about this middle ground: where make-believe and identity meet. What happens when a child starts designing who they are, not just what they want to play?

What do those designs look like in terms of clothing - meets costume?

It’s a phase worth paying attention to—and definitely worth quietly celebrating.