BY CASEY CLARK
“Wait, are those rainbow cookies on your ears?”
I was sitting in the intern office on my first day when I heard a question that could only be aimed at me.
“Yes, they are,” I answered, turning to face the other wide-eyed intern.
“Those are wicked. I’ve never seen anyone wear rainbow cookies on their ears before.” She sat down next to me. “I’m Tori, by the way.”
I sighed in relief – I was connecting with someone easier than I’d expected to on my first day. “My name is Casey. Nice to meet you.”
It was just another 30-second conversation sparked by my social crutch-slash-superpower: statement earrings.
If there’s one thing you won’t catch me without it’s a pair of statement earrings. Think rainbow cookies, rubber ducks, Care Bears, frying pans. Yes, frying pans.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve always had a hard time making friends and socializing with my peers. I didn’t feel confident initiating conversations or engaging in small talk and the thought of being approached by people was scary and overwhelming. It wasn’t that I didn’t want friendship. I yearned for relationships but was afraid of rejection. So I mostly stayed in the corner and isolated myself.
My choice of clothing reflected this isolation. Typically when I got dressed, my goal was to hide. And it worked – in my grey quarter-zip hoodie and leggings, and with no accessories, people assumed I didn’t want to be bothered.
It was only with the help of my therapist that I began to realize that I wasn’t happy isolating.
I longed for connection but didn’t know where to start. I needed to do something different.
For me, that something was statement earrings.
One day, I saw someone on Instagram wearing watercolor painting palette earrings (that you could actually use!) and thought, Maybe I could pull that off. The idea of wearing something that would attract attention was scary, but knowing I could easily take the earrings off took away some of the anxiety.
I started small, with eye-catching pom-pom studs — TV show characters, pom-poms, and goldfish.
The first day I dared to wear dangly bubble wand earrings to my college class, I was afraid everyone’s heads would turn when I walked into the room. I was anxious that someone would come up and talk to me – while at the same time wanting exactly that.
Instead, a girl sitting next to me did a subtle double take and said, “Cool earrings.”
Another girl in a varsity hoodie told me, “I like your earrings.”
Their comments weren’t drastic, but for someone who wasn’t used to being perceived, the attention felt overwhelming. I was being noticed. I said a quick, “Thank you,” then sat through the rest of class.
After about a week, I became more accustomed to strangers’ comments. My newfound sense of style helped dissolve the barrier I’d hidden behind and served as the starting point for new conversations and friendships.
Instead of having to make up pleasantries to break the awkward silence, people would ask me, “Where did you get your earrings?” or, “Do you like rainbow cookies?” or even, “Do those hurt?” These were more concrete and personal questions that actually broke the ice, as opposed to the same old, “What’s your major?”
Slowly, my confidence evolved.
I started to really fall in love with both my earrings and the attention that came from them.
I started to choose earrings relevant to my hobbies and special interests. For example, my frying pan earrings are symbolic of my favorite Disney movie Tangled. Similarly, my Miss Piggy earrings again showcase my love for The Muppets, and my rainbow cookies represent my love for a sweet treat.
“Oh my God, you’re a Miss Piggy fan too?!” a girl in my positive psychology class asked.
“Yes! I’ve actually never met someone else who appreciates her like I do.”
“I definitely do! I did the Disney College Program and worked Muppet Vision 3D.”
“No way,” I said, impressed. “Doing the College Program is one of my goals.”
So many conversations and connections were sparked this way, with people who I’d likely never have talked to if it weren’t for my earrings. When we connect over my earrings, I don’t have to worry about talking too long or boring them because I know we share an interest.
My statement earrings have also made it easier for me to approach other people with similarly bold style. If someone has vibrantly colored hair or is dressed in Kawaii clothing, it tells me they also aren’t afraid to stray from the norm. In my mind, that means they are probably more open-minded and less judgmental, thus making them more “safe” to approach.
Eventually, I built up the confidence to initiate conversations with other people. When someone next to me in class was wearing a rainbow flag pin, I shyly told them, “I like your pin.”
“Thank you,” they responded. “Love your earrings by the way.”
Through interactions like this, I found that many wearers of bold styles are also neurodivergent or queer – or both! Since I fall into both of these groups, I feel more at ease around them. My statement earrings are a type of subliminal messaging for members of these often-shunned communities, a secret whisper of, “You’re safe with me,” and, “We’re different and that’s okay.”
In the seven years since I started wearing statement earrings, these small but mighty accessories have changed not only the way I perceive myself, but how I am received by others. I am more confident and as a result, less isolated. Though they may have started as a crutch, my statement earrings have become my social superpower, helping me to express myself more freely and allowing me to connect with like-minded people.
Will there be people who don’t understand my choice of style? Of course. Do some people think my earrings are “too much” or give me side-eye in the doctor’s office waiting room? Sure.
I’ve learned to let that go. I am no longer hiding and isolating.
I am embracing my kitsch and special interests, and finding other people who are doing the same.
So if you see me, come say hi.
I’ll be the person in the rainbow cookie earrings.
BIO: Casey Clark is a writer from New York City who specializes in mental health, travel, and commerce. She has written for various publications including The Wall Street Journal, National Geographic, TIME, and more.
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