I am not one to complain about the heat. It’s the equivalent of not appreciating a full ice cream cone that refuses to melt and will not go away, no matter how many times I lick it. (Can you imagine?) But with oppressive heat often comes the undeniable stench of something oppressive, in this instance: the inability to say what you want. An absence of freedom of speech? In America?! Well, I use clothes to talk.
…To say the stuff I haven’t figured out how to articulate quite yet and whether or not we are to have a conversation, my hope is that, if you’re an onlooker, the clothes leave an impression on you. They stop you and make you think — maybe those thoughts are negative, hopefully they’re not. The point is that they served their purpose. They said something.
But what are you saying, really, when it’s almost 100 degrees, and your elbows are perspiring and it’s Saturday morning and for the fifth consecutive weekend, you have resolved that there is exactly no way you can wear anything but a plain tank top and denim shorts. They don’t wrinkle, they’re reliable, they do what you need them to do, which is keep you from setting your own ass on fire. I get it, I’m there (and granted, grateful, too that I can impose my own code of dress on Mondays through Fridays between 9 and 5 p.m.) and have been wearing the same $20 black Topshop tank with vintage Levi’s shorts I bought from Urban Outfitters in 2008 every day for the past six days. At first it was kind of boring, but then it got kind of fun, namely because it let me go HAM with my accessories, which are unsized, non-judgmental and the implicit exclamation points at the end of all my sentences.
So here you have it: three ways to wear the same exact fucking thing for the rest of the summer if you so please.
Way 1: As Though You Are Going to a Convention for Kooky Aunts and Heels are a Requirement
What’s that metallic and patriotic pin wheel, you ask? Simple. My flair.
Way 2: Like You’re Stopping at A Karaoke Bar in Utah on Your Way Home from the Convention
If you have a wrap- or shirt-dress, maybe you want to leave it unbuttoned and put it on/take it off according to your temperature. It’s a neat detail that serves as a spruce up, but is also largely unnecessary because you’re wearing so many cool chunky gold chains. And where’d you get those glasses? Do they really protect you from the sun? Be honest.
Way 3: Home from The Convention and Living On an Artist Colony Again
You’re not wearing much color, which is a bummer but does not have to be because turquoise offsets that deficiency and then practically officiates the ceremony that marries you to your endless summer.
Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis.