can we just have one nice thing?
It really feels like I need to write something about politics today, but my brain is fried. It could be the middle-of-the-night emergency room trip last week, or the fact that my kids have had six days with no school (illness, school holidays, and the weekend), or just that I’m having a hard time focusing on anything right now. It’s dark and pouring rain this morning in St. Louis and the tree with the beautiful blazing fall leaves has shed them all overnight and is just a bare gray stick. I’m writing this in a coffee shop wondering which of the people around me plan to vote for a racist rapist who is charged with multiple other crimes. Yeah, I’m not in a great place.
But really, I see pretty much everything I write as political. With every client I work with, I’m attempting to help them connect the ways they’ve been made to feel bad about their bodies and clothes to larger systems of oppression so that they can then reject those ideals. Clothing is political.
When you’ve tried to minimize your body all your life because you were taught it was offensive but you reject that when you learn that society seeks to dehumanize marginalized groups it doesn’t want to hold power, that’s political.
When you question whether you need something instead of impulse buying it because you’ve been manipulated by advertising or conditioned to overconsume, that’s political.
When you find yourself wondering if what you’re wearing is age appropriate and then remember that the patriarchy values youth and beauty and seeks to silence older wiser women, that’s political.
When you question why you’re supposed to define your waist even though it’s physically uncomfortable and then learn about the white supremacist intention to elevate white bodies over Black bodies, that’s political.
When you choose to support a business that pays its workers well, or uses recycled fabrics, or makes clothing to dress a wide size range of bodies, that’s political.
Clothing will be political long after this election is over and its victor leaves the White House. But god, can we just please elect the person who doesn’t want to dominate women’s bodies “whether they like it or not?” Can we just have one nice thing? Is that too much to ask?
Tomorrow I’ll be putting up an outfit post for some mindless distraction, but I won’t be posting again this week. Make sure to come back next week for the always inspiring
’ style story. And please come over and join us in the unflattering chat, we’ve been having so much fun with our “favorite outfit friday” threads.Sending peace and positivity,
Dacy
Dacy, I love this essay. I want to give you credit for the fact that I'm taking risks in my wardrobe this fall that feel dangerous and transgressive as I divest from dressing for the patriarchal gaze. So much of this has been inspired by your work. I've been letting my gray hair grow out and now have silvery streaks throughout. (My stylist is calling them "wisdom highlights," a phrase I'm not totally sold on?) I bought a pile of maxi dresses in really sumptuous fabrics (April Cornell, Natural Life) and have not defined my waist in weeks. I'm leaning into a style that I have wanted to dress in for years but wasn't brave enough before because I worried it would make me look old, or unprofessional, or frankly crazy. I've been topping these dresses with chunky cardigans and a poncho, for the rainy PNW weather, and I've been getting so many compliments from other women. A couple of people have told me that I look like a witch, but like, in a good way. The song "Season of the Witch" has been stuck in my head for weeks. I feel like it's my sartorial middle finger to the patriarchy, and I have you to thank for inspiring this shift. So yes, your work absolutely is political, inspiring, and empowering. Keep it up!
❤️