home

Things I wear, 2023-present

Busted oxfords, painter’s pants, cable knit sweater, denim shirt, hunting cap, bandage around my head (Van Gogh for Halloween). People at work were worried I’d injured myself. No one else really dressed up.

Docs, black jeans with a leather belt, mesh top. Bangs pushed to the front. Leather jacket (Dion's).

Laundromat: Athletic shorts with the waist rolled down, white tank top, black bra. Big socks, Birkenstocks.

Denim shirt, Levis, cowboy belt, Docs.

Things lost in the winter: The long thick white scarf I made (pretty sure someone took it but whatever). The other bluish purplish scarf I made, which I left at that Valentine’s Day party and I was so embarrassingly drunk there that I couldn’t get up the courage to go back and look for it, and this was after I’d lost it once before and found it. Should’ve just let it stay lost the first time. I dropped one of my special oatmeal colored mittens in Boston Commons and made Owen and Ella trace our steps back in the snow but it was worth it because I found it. I would die if I ever lost one forever. Nana’s babushka, but it was just in a cubby at work. My big grey sweater. That one I squirrelled away in a corner at Hen’s so I could dance and I knew I was giving it up, but who wants to pay for coat check? Sometimes I see pictures of me in the stuff I’ve lost and it is genuinely painful.

Black silk top over long sleeved black and white shirt. Long black slip skirt. Tights. Docs.

Converse, green cargo pants, black thermal shirt, white t-shirt on top.

Oxfords, slouchy socks, tights, my Celine from Before Sunrise dress. Denim shirt (Grandpa's). Messenger bag. Sitting crosslegged in the atrium on my break.

Mom and I have been talking a lot about body hair over FaceTime. She says for a long time in her youth she never ever shaved and then suddenly it was the thing to do. We discuss Nair: The smell, the texture, the burning.

White thermal shirt under a tight t-shirt, low waisted jeans, converse. I just got my hair cut again, feeling like a poem.

I will never be a vest lesbian.

I imagined this outfit in a dream. Cropped white undershirt (black bra) and leopard print skirt with lots of space in between the two for belly button. Must always keep belly button immaculate for these occasions. I have fishnets on but the skirt is long and my boots are high so you only catch a glimpse of them. In my dream I’m unencumbered by neither coat nor bag but you can’t move through the real world in that way. It’s raining but rain can only ever add to the appeal of a truly sensual being. The clothes finally make sense as they're being removed.

Rave outfit idea: Electric blue bikini top under black mesh shirt with abstract beaded pattern, black slip skirt cut short, sambas.

It’s July. I’m wearing a black tube top and black and white pedal pushers low on my hips, with clogs and my red crossbody bag. A man on the street tells me I have a nice belly button which is really disturbing. Does he sense that it’s the center of my power?

The tube top is back. It smells a little but when you’re bohemian the smell is part of the whole thing. I’m wearing the leopard print skirt. Clogs. The weight of my bag is the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground when I feel this good. A teenage girl sitting on the curb tells me she likes my skirt. That’s the kind of feedback I want.

Blue gingham dress over blue sailor pants. Cowboy boots.

Can armpit hair be an accessory?

Coming undone on the train this morning. My clogs, all scuffed and fucked up. Maroon socks from Muji, the only immaculate thing. Jeans from Philly AIDS Thrift: dark wash, lightened in some spots from wear, seams running down the front of the leg, flared at the bottom with buttons all up the lower leg. They’re hot but I don’t know how to wear them. And I didn’t do laundry yesterday like I said I would. I’m thinking about my middle school health teacher, upon teaching us about menstrual products, saying you could put in a panty liner to rewear the same pair of underpants for days. Imagine hearing that in the metallic cold of a public school classroom, not even a classroom, one of those trailers out behind the building. And I’m wearing an old green sweater I’ve had since my first year at Smith, beloved and disgusting. The beat up leather jacket (Dion’s). The long skinny green scarf I made. My hair is short, pointy, messy.

Morgan and I did Brokeback Mountain for Halloween but when I went to use the bathroom people kept thinking I was Adrianne Lenker.

I always show up to parties in the wrong clothes.

I think a unibrow can definitely be an accessory.

I have this need to borrow someone else's clothes if we're getting ready in their room.

I have this shirt that was Mom's, probably ordered from the ll bean catalogue in 1998. The softest cotton, a kind of serenity when I put it on. Blue and darker blue stripes, 3 quarters length sleeves, boatneck, boxy and cropped. A small hole by the belly button. I remember her wearing it in my childhood.

I’m transitioning away from bras.

Clothing of historical importance:
On my 14th birthday I wore straight American Apparel: Hair bow, red white and blue striped crop top, white tennis skirt. And docs.
Homecoming, senior year: white mod dress from Etsy, a long braid that Sophie weaved daisies into. Red Converse high tops.
My first day of college: Blue and white floral dress (Mom’s), red flannel, doc martens.
One night in Spain I was very powerful in a black lingerie top, red wrap skirt, tall black boots. Men stopped in the street to look at me, and not in a weird way but with curiosity. I remember that year I got really into patterned tights.

On zoom I’m explaining my body to my therapist. I know she doesn’t believe I have one. I’m a face and shoulders to her. Arms and wrists too, when I’m exasperated.

I will always waste $8 at the thrift store on something dumb.

Merrells, white tube socks, black carhartts, black tank top, navy blue zip up, KN95.

I spend a lot of time reconfiguring clothing to hide stains. I’m realizing I care a lot about how I look for someone with a bunch of really shitty clothing.

Things I rediscover when it’s fall: the dark green suede jacket with paisley silk lining. Black leather trench coat, old masks and cough drop wrappers in the pockets. My long Ralph Lauren kilt. Maroon corduroy bell bottoms. Blue alpaca scarf. Fingerless gloves. Carhartt pants I bought at the Hadley Salvation Army in 2019. Cashmere boatneck pullover. Irish wool sweaters (Dion’s). Layering a thermal shirt, t-shirt, zip up, and flannel-lined denim jacket. Tights with holes.

Italian leather boots with the embroidery. Red flour sack dress over sailor pants. Tiny sunglasses.

Tiny green and white striped dress (kinda Jane Birkinish) I got for 3 euros, bike shorts under so I can do some high kicks. Mullet long enough to braid, and I tie green and white ribbons to the end. Cowboy boots. 7/10 outfit for dancing.

White tank top with a black sports bra. Jean shorts, with carabiner. Docs. It is very hot and I am eating a popsicle and by the time I get to the bar it is all over my shirt.