A Woman in Clothes
I’m in Philadelphia.
I’m researching my thesis at the Mutter Museum this week, meaning that the bulk of my sentient hours are spent poring over historical texts, outlining, writing, revising, and generally staring at my computer. Ironically, one of the biggest themes I’ve come across in my research is the idea of reading as a gateway drug to sexual sin. It seems as though from the pre-Enlightenment to as late as the 1970s, those in charge feared that imaginative prose could ignite the mind and stir the passions.
And I can’t say they’re wrong. Today, I left the museum a little early to check out a bookstore on N. 20th Street, right in Logan Square. I’ve checked out a couple others this week, but The Book Corner was by far the best.
I got two books: one, a cheesy meet-cute romance novel to pass the time on my morning commute. The other was “Women in Clothes,” an anthology conceptualized and edited by Sheila Heti, Heidi Julavits, and Leanne Shapton. It sat innocuously on a folding table among various would-be pundits hot takes on the coming election, but once I picked it up, I was in love.
I haven’t finished the book itself yet — I mean, it’s only been a couple hours — but I’m sure I will. It focuses on the survey answers of 600-some-odd women to a variety of questions encompassing their bodies, style, fashion choices and more. Not only is it an engaging peek inside another woman’s closet (and mind), it captures the social, emotional, and political influences that affect a woman’s outer appearance and inner self.
Maybe it’s because of my recent reads — Lindy West’s “Shrill,” and Jessica Valenti’s “Sex Object,” both birthday gifts — but this stuff has been on my mind a lot lately.
In the heyday of MySpace surveys (ca. 2008), I was an avid participant. So, naturally, I wanted to fill out their survey, too.
These questions came from the back of the paperback edition of the book — the actual survey itself was considerably longer. Maybe in the prime of my Facebook Notes-publishing days I could have handled it, but today… nah.
Was there a time in your life when your style changed dramatically?
After I came out. I was so eager to meet other queer folks — namely, other girls who liked girls — that I tried really hard to dress in a way that signaled my queerness to others. I’ve definitely always had an androgynous, tomboyish attribute to my style, but for a couple years I had anything “girly” relegated to the back of my closet indefinitely.
Do you address anything political in the way that you dress?
Lately I’ve been really identifying with fat acceptance and body positive ideas of wearing whatever the f*ck I want, unapologetically. It makes people really uncomfortable to see a fat, queer woman with tattoos and piercings and crazy hair (I haven’t cut mine in months, half out of laziness and half indecision). It takes a lot of gumption to decide that today I’m going to wear this skirt that I like that shows off the outline of my belly and my hairy knees and my forever-healing tattoo. And I don’t always have that gumption. But even on bad days, I’m hiding inside my giant sweater and imagining the patriarchy crumbling, taking misogynist body-shamers and internet trolls with it.
With whom do you talk about clothes?
Mostly my best friend and my girlfriend. We joke about it sometimes, how straight folks must have it so rough, because they can’t just share clothes whenever, and their gripes about shopping or fit or quality don’t always resonate. (I know this is a super generalized statement — based on my own experiences in straight relationships. It is a joke at my own expense.)
Do you think you look like your mother?
Undoubtedly. I just hope I age as well as her.
Do you think you have taste or style? What do these words mean to you?
Honestly, I don’t think I have *good* taste. The majority of my clothes and the stuff decorating my apartment is a combination of hand-me-downs, thrifted items, stuff I bought at Target/Old Navy, and stuff I “liberated” from the tag sale bin at work. I prefer things mismatched and like my shoes comfy. The words “style” and “taste” sound like something you’d hear detailed in Martha Stewart Living, to be honest… Most of the women I know, at least the ones in my age group, have clothes with a story, and they put them together into outfits to tell a different story. The cutoffs I made out of old man Wranglers from the Salvation Army in Hadley. The borrowed Coach cross-body bag from my mom that barely clears my chest. My endless collection of superhero socks and underwear.
What are some things you admire about how other women present themselves?
How the f*ck do other women know what jewelry goes with an outfit? You’re all so well accessorized and I feel like a child. Please advise.
What would be an uncomfortable look for you to achieve?
Probably something involving makeup. My mom, my best friend, so many other wonderful humans in my life are very into makeup and playing with color and all that good stuff, but I cannot wrap my head around it, nor can I wrap it around my head. No matter what I do, my face feels itchy and tight and looks garish the entire time. I only recently learned that products expire and should be replaced typically within a year or so. Thank god I stopped years ago or I would probably still be using the same purple Urban Decay eyeliner from 8th grade.
How does money fit into all this?
I think very hard before spending any real money on an item. Last month I bought a new dress to wear to a wedding (and, ideally, to the several others slated for the coming months). It is from Modcloth, and cost me $69.99. If I added $5 to my order, shipping was free. And yet, I agonized over this purchase for easily three weeks. It looked amazing, is great quality, and it was a pretty good deal for a dress that fits like it was tailored to my form. If I had to describe my look in two words, it would be “Millennial Grandma,” because I really like picking old lady-ish cardigans, high waisted things, the flattest flats, and pairing them with stuff like my Drake sweatshirt or my endless sleeveless t-shirt collection. This is great because my price range is, like, $20 and under, and that usually gets me a bunch of crap to cut and paste when I get home.
When do you feel most attractive?
At home, in my pajamas, with my cat. Usually after putting on lotion, but after rubbing it in enough that Olive doesn’t just lick it off or get her fur all stuck to me. I’m not kidding at all when I say this.
In what way is this stuff important, if at all?
Your outer appearance isn’t analogous with how valuable you are, or your self-concept, or your inner person, but that doesn’t make it unimportant. There’s a lot of expectation to always look presentable and effortless, but is anything ever effortless? You expend a certain amount of effort in every area of your life, even if it is infinitesimally small. I think that the way a woman sees herself and shares pieces of that identity with others is radical and subversive in a culture that tries to silence them even through the ways they are seen.
