Dedicated to little me.
and the future of this corner of the 'net.
I’m currently writing the first draft (by sending this it will be the one millionth and I will be heavily overanalyzing how it will be perceived) of this in bed, wide awake, at 11:30pm. The side effect (most likely) of the nap I took at 1pm, the side effect (most likely) of post covid fatigue, which has been plaguing me for weeks now. For considering myself a forever morning person (thank you, high school bible study), I almost always feel inclined to write out my late night thoughts as they always seem to supersede the early afternoon ones - I like to believe this is an evil trick from the powers that be, as you never remember these percolating thought bubbles unless you roll over and scribble them down, an olympic feat when you’ve found just the right face-to-cold-pillow ratio and your foot is perfectly untucked from the comforter. Oh, the amazing inventions and award winning novels I have cleverly thought up in those quick, fading moments right before sleep takes over….
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about being in my 30’s and embracing whatever it is that that’s supposed to mean. Almost every older adult in my life has told me that it is one of the best decades of life, the one where you finally stop giving a fuck about what other people think and just “be.” I’m generally inclined to agree, though most of my 30’s so far have occurred indoors and decently lonely, outside of the (much cherished) companionship of my significant other and cat. The only thing I’ve accomplished so far is having the time on my hands to think about all the things that make me cringe about my 20’s (why did I try so hard to pretend I liked partying!), topped off with a heavy twinge of resentment and frustration towards all the dysfunction in my family that seemingly stunted my personal and professional growth in the here and now.
I think a lot about this tweet:
My extreme self awareness is something that many people have commented on, including two different bosses right before they fired me, impressed I was already fully aware of the situation and agreed with my own shortcomings. I consider it a superpower, and as with all superpowers, it is both a blessing and a curse.
Most personal growth stories I hear from friends in therapy involve acknowledging and healing the “inner child.” So much of who we become is based on the little kid version of us who was fumbling around, trying to make sense of the great big world around us, far before the realization that adults aren’t superheroes, just everyday complex, fragile human beings. I’ve been thinking about little me, in all her awkward glory, all her fears and anxieties, all her hopes and dreams. For being so self aware, I’ve taken very little time to acknowledge that that person is still me - most of those years forgotten from open wounds I’ve blocked out, leaving her stuck somewhere, fumbling in the dark. While I certainly don’t intend to unpack all of this to you, it’s been a key realization in grasping that the years I’ve blamed myself for things I haven’t accomplished, the life checkboxes I haven’t ticked, maybe weren’t all my fault after all - and that now, in this decade of life, it is time to show “little me” that all those childhood hopes and dreams are still a possibility (except for maybe the one I had about being a Disney Channel star.)
I say all of this because I’ve been thinking a lot of my childhood passions, the things that were unequivocally “me,” the things I always thought would be my future dream career. Fashion has always fallen absolutely first on that spectrum (being Cher and Madonna’s backup dancer was always a close second.) Despite being seven years old and able to peek over my latest issue of Vogue to tell you all about John Galliano’s latest collection for Dior, fashion design was considered a frivolous career to pursue on top of the reminder that it was highly competitive, everyone was equally if not more talented, and that any college outside of BYU would not be considered in the slightest. This, on top of the fact by the time my dad remarried and fell further into a religious cult, the less the tune was about “not a great career choice” and more about “why do you need a career when you were born to be a supportive wife and dedicated mother.”
In my own little roundabout path, I would go on to spend years in the world of retail clothing and then to an absolutely horrifically run start up that catered luxury fashion to eat-the-rich billionaires. From the technicalities of actually running brick and mortar retail fashion, to organizing, shopping and packing for literally some the richest people that live on this planet, I will absolutely and very annoyingly scream from the rooftops that I have more of a resume than a decent amount of people I know sitting comfortably at their New York City office fashion job relishing in the comfort of their nepotism. Me? Lashing out in my angst and jealousy? Sure, but it’s my newsletter and I can whine if I want to!
I often talk myself out of the legitimacy of loving clothes, shoes, bags, textiles, construction, warp, weft, pleats, draping, styling, layering, editorial, etc etc etc because there is a stigma that comes with being someone who loves “fashion” - not to mention how technology, social media, and the age of influencers has completely changed how we consume it. I miss magazines! That had in-depth content and weren’t $7.99 and filled with ads!
I was recently listening to a podcast interview that gave me extreme Emperor’s New Clothes vibes - a fashion someone who everyones loves but I just can’t seem to figure out why, impressed that they continue to fool everyone into believing they are the shit. Their rise to the “blue checkmark upper social class” completely serendipitous, a right place at the right time and making the “right” friends kind of situation - the one with the vague, cringe inducing “Creative Director” in their Instagram bio. I was instantly irked at everything they had to say - as if they had any clue what being creative and stylish is all about! They’re just a copy of a copy of a copy AND they’re like, really pretty! My eyes instantly swelling with emerald green envy, my hands tense with this palpable (but self aware!) anger that they have what I want! But I also don’t want to be them - I follow at least a handful of people I regularly mistake for this person because of their familial cool person aesthetic and *mysterious* allure - zoomed in mirror selfies, perfectly curated mismatched outfits that only work on their 5’11” frame, vague travel photos throughout Europe, captions fully thought out in emojis, and small snippets of behind the scenes photos that reassure us viewers that they are, in fact, very well connected to the world of fame, followers, and sophisticated social fortune. The whole interview gave me the impression that they are a leader in this “if you know, you know” club and if you don’t know, well, you can’t sit with us.
(And yes, I can completely step back, regain consciousness, and see the hard work this person has actually accomplished to maintain their status in the industry - just let me be petty!)
In the world of cheesy choreographed reels, shopping haul consumption, clickbait articles, and regurgitated mysterious cool girl content that spreads like wildfire, can you be an authentic, square peg/round hole personality, lending passionate commentary on the craft while also occasionally being transparent about your anxieties, shortcomings, and years of religious trauma? Can you be respected as the leading opinion on what five sweaters are trending for fall while also using your platform as an outlet to vent about your abandonment issues and the realities of sometimes crippling body dysmorphia? Or is that why people follow the trendsetting “it” person who is full of *mystery*? because we know exactly what to expect? We think they’re the mouthpiece for cool because it’s something we believe we could never do and “get away with” even if in actuality they’re just doing what everyone else is doing or worse, faking it all together.
I’ve decided to shape this little newsletter into a place that is predominately focused on style, and the art and conversations that surround and delicately move in between those subjects. I’ve debated back and forth on if there’s anything truly new or inventively thought provoking I can add to a multi-billion dollar industry swimming with gatekeeping experts, influencers, and think-piecers and I’ve somehow come to the conclusion that the answer is either “yes” or “who fucking cares, just do it.” There is so much discourse to be had on trends, fashion vs. style, discrimination, fatphobia and racism, how advertising in the modern world has made us obsessed with consuming, and the fact the textile industry is singlehandedly progressing climate change at alarming rates. Not to mention the antiquated notion that people who love clothes are stupid and vain and that being fashionable requires wearing expensive labels and thinking the $9,000+ price tag on a Chanel boy bag is absolutely worth it (it’s not.) I might be one in a sea of a million, but I hope this space can be more inclusive to how getting dressed can be an expression of identity, self love, and creativity.
Each week I plan on having a Wednesday newsletter that discusses some thought or topic that I’ve contemplated in regards to getting dressed (i.e. “can you accurately represent your personal style in suburbia?”) and a Friday newsletter that focuses on my own style journey/shopping recs/themes of fun finds (i.e. next week’s which will be inspired by the fashions of the Mayor of Flavortown himself, Guy Fieri.) I also still plan on sprinkling in a monthly “fabulous friday finds” because I have gotten overwhelmingly glowing responses from all of you about it.
I welcome all your thoughts, feels, and feedback and hope this community and conversation can grow and be a welcoming space that’s less about exclusive mystery and more about inclusive exploration. I hope you will participate in the conversation as I gain the confidence to show “little me” that even in her 30’s, she can pursue the things she always loved.
If you like what you’ve been reading, I would be honored if you share this newsletter with someone you think will enjoy it!
As always, I look forward to hearing from ya and please ignore any typos I have read this too many times and thank you for letting me be just a little bit whiny.
Until next week,
G