I’ll admit that I was self-conscious while I walked through the streets of London. But it wasn’t because I was nervous about being pick-pocketed or being singled out as a tourist or getting myself lost—I was concerned with something that I fear may be far more superficial: my wardrobe.

Now, when it comes to my choice in clothing, I try to be a conscientious shopper. I try to be mindful of the social and environmental impact of my consumption. I’ll even admit to a certain taste in fashion. I like things that are comfortable and practical: straight-leg jeans, cotton shirts, camping gear. These clothes have a certain college aesthetic. I figure they look all right. I feel comfortable and confident wearing them, and, in the States, nobody calls me out for looking too sloppy.

However, as I am constantly discovering, fashion is at the forefront of many 20-something, socially active Brits’ consciousness. They like to look good. And lots of them do look good. And plenty of them know they look good. Instead of layering on the waffle-knits and sweatshirts on a cold day, they’ll pull out cashmere and peacoats. Shorts are never worn, even if its 90 degrees outside (unless you’re playing football). I’m not naïve; I tried to pack sensibly. I left my flannel at home, figuring there was no reason for a sensible person who isn’t employed by the logging industry to ever wear flannel. But if fashion is supposed to give people confidence, my current wardrobe seems to be failing me.

I could be easy on myself and say that the fashions between collegiate America and urban Britain are vastly different, but this isn’t entirely true. Even back home, I knew that my flannel collection has never really been in style. But am I just lazy? Do I just not care?

Maybe I don’t. But some days I think I still might. What might hold me back from dressing at the height of fashion is a fear of being too adventuresome with my wardrobe. I could credit this phobia to my socio-green consciousness, but it would be more honest to admit to a fear of being thought of as somebody who went off the deep end instead of treading cool, fashion-forward waters.

What I’m now beginning to discover is that fashion comes down to questions about one’s personality: are you someone who likes to look good? Are you willing to take some risks in the name of fashion? What degree of risks are you willing to take? Are you at peace with the vanity of your answer? These are good questions.

I’m not sure if I have my answers yet, but I figure I might as well try to be confident in my cotton-blend waffle-knits. Maybe I can even bring some Iowa style to these posh little islands.