Backstory

by Avani Gregg

  Avani is calm, creative, and talented. She’s a great friend to different people for different reasons. We’re good friends because we look at life in very similar ways. We can both be a little shy, but we are outgoing when we are around the right people.

  Our trip to Hawaii for Madi’s birthday is one of my favorite memories with Avani. It was so much fun! We went scuba diving and just swam all day. It was one of the best trips I’ll ever take. I admire her talent so much as a makeup artist. I wish I could be nearly as good as her. I’m trying, but I don’t think I’ll ever be on her level.

  chapter ten Do U

  Everyone wants to know one thing about social media stardom: How can I get famous? My answer is always the same (and you can quote me on this), “Just do you.” That response usually gets a few eye rolls because it sounds ridiculously simple or like a cop-out. Do people expect me to wave a magic wand or something? I have no idea how I got this “famous” this fast, except to tell you I have always been myself, 110 percent. There’s nothing easy about that; authenticity takes guts and commitment. It requires unbreakable, unshakable confidence and dedication to your personal brand. It’s something you can’t fake; followers can spot a phony from a mile away and they will not take kindly to your content. You want to gain people’s trust? You want to keep them coming back for more? Show them who you are and be legit about it. So yeah, I’m Avani, all the time. You may like me, you may hate me, that’s your prerogative and I won’t take it personally. What bothers me is when creators copy other creators’ work without giving them creds. There are a lot of clown girls out there, just sayin’, doing my exact looks and sounds. I don’t believe it’s cool to copy or purposely change who you are for whatever’s trending. What’s that going to get you? Maybe more followers at first, but in the long run people will figure out you’re not the real deal and it will come back to bite you. If you are “inspired” by someone’s content, then duet it or give them creds where creds are due. Authentic means true, genuine, and—let’s not forget—original. Authenticity is not just a quality you want to possess; it’s something you need to embody. I have never cared what people think about what I post, how I dress, how long my nails are (yeah, they will even pick on that).

  Even in middle school, I did my own thing in my own way and expressed myself through my personal style. I was exploring, figuring things out, and learning to assert myself. Now, I see it as a mini identity crisis of sorts—I was playing with what felt authentic to me and trying things on for size, literally. You would not have found many kids my age rummaging through bins and racks at Goodwill, but I would thrift every single day with my older sister or Lydia, and we would just go crazy, sometimes spending up to $50–$100 on piles of old clothes. Once I had my treasures, I would take them home and do a little repurposing. I might work on scrubbing out a few stains, trimming a tee into a cropped top, or patching a pair of ripped jeans. I got a rush from it and I literally never wore the same outfit to school twice. I would get some stares and snide remarks when I strutted down the halls, but I felt so in my zone. This is 100 percent who I am and I love it, so take that.

  I seriously prided myself on paying for clothes by the pound. It was an entire process: gloves, mask, sweatshirt with the hood up. We had to wear the gloves and mask, not because we were in a pandemic (this was way before that started), but because everything was so dirty and dusty. All these items were coming straight from people’s closets, attics, and garages and were old and not washed. The items were not safe to handle. As I got older and more popular on TikTok, I didn’t want to be spotted on my thrifting missions, not because I was embarrassed, but because it would take me away from shopping to stop and say hi or take a photo with someone. I didn’t have much time to thrift, so I was methodical about it. I had a schedule and a system to stick to: I had to search each and every bin, go up and down each and every aisle, or I might miss something. Shanti would laugh. “Do you seriously need another dirty old tee shirt?” But need and want are two very different things. Each shirt became an extension of my personality and something I wanted to project on the day I wore it: edgy, funny, or fierce. The holes and stains just gave it more personality. Each item allowed me an opportunity to create something out of nothing. Before I got seriously into makeup, this was my art form. Even today, I will go with Anthony to the Melrose Trading Post on a Sunday, and we will go through every single booth, combing through them. We always find the best vintage jeans and jackets and all these cool tee shirts. I’ve gotten to know a lot of the vendors, too, and I love talking fashion and art with them. I earn a lot more now than I did when I was living in Indiana, so I can afford new and pricier clothes, but there is something about thrifting that reminds me to never lose touch with the old me. Thrifters are a breed unto ourselves. We appreciate the possibility that might be buried deep down in one of those bins. When I find something that speaks to me, it’s literally like I’ve just won the lottery. My palms get sweaty, my stomach flip-flops, and my mind races: OMG, is that what I think it is? Where have you been all my life?!

  Of course, I’ve gotten way better at thrifting, and my style has shifted. I would say 2018 was all about a mom jean layered outfit with a cool belt. I could always find belts, flannel-lined jean jackets, and huge oversize tee shirts at the outlets. In 2019, I started searching for higher-end stuff. People would throw away their old Burberry jackets and their old vintage Polo shirts and I would be in heaven when I saw a little pony logo or a piece of plaid poking through a crowded rack. Send them my way! The same goes for old vintage bags, shoes, and jewelry. Now I know that the items they keep behind the counter on the big glass shelves are more valuable. That’s where I usually start, scoping out those rare finds. I know what things cost and if I don’t, I’ll research them so I know whether it’s a deal. I’m also an expert at haggling and I find it fun to bargain with a vendor. It can be like tug-of-war, but I always win.

  Lately I’ve been scoping out vintage Gucci alongside plainer items that I can layer, like basic crop tops and stuff like that. My style is a real mix of high and low. If I ever passed a Plato’s Closet or Goodwill Outlet, I’d be down for diving into the bins of donated goods. I’ll also comb through Etsy, Depop, Poshmark, and any other online retailers that sell used or repurposed items. I think these items have character. They each have their own backstory, and now I’m adopting them and weaving them into mine. I will always grab a funny shirt because it makes me laugh and is just so… unexpected. My favorite one says “World’s Greatest Grandpa” on it, and I wear it proudly. It’s so ridiculous to see an eighteen-year-old girl walking around with it on, so it makes other people smile, too. I also feel very strongly about shoes. They transform an outfit, so the wilder and crazier the better. You see a pattern here? I don’t care if on Wednesdays we wear pink; I’ll probably be decked out in purple. When I talk about authenticity, it literally covers me head-to-toe. My wardrobe may not be for you, but that’s okay, it suits me to a (grandpa) tee LOL.

  My car is another way I express my uniqueness. It’s custom, one-of-a-kind, and there’s nothing else like it out there. It’s a Fiftieth Anniversary Limited Edition (#18 out of 70 built) 2020 Dodge Challenger, and the color is Hellraisin, a gorgeous metallic purple. Backstory: Anthony, my dad, and I went to a dealership to test-drive a basic white Challenger. My previous car was an itty-bitty Mini Coop, so I needed to know if I could handle something bigger. After all, I wasn’t prepared to sell my old car and shell out money for a new one if I didn’t feel comfy behind the wheel.

  “What do you think?” my dad asked. He was completely convinced it was the right choice for me. I caressed the steering wheel. “I love this car. It’s perfect. So much room. And heat settings!”

  “Well, is this the one you want?”

  I shook my head. “No, it has to be purple, and I want a starlight ceiling with orange embroidery, and I want the rims a different color. I want a crazy car, but not too crazy, just a little crazy. Does that make sense?” He’s
my dad, so of course it made sense to him. He knew I wouldn’t settle for anything average, and I wound up driving him crazy with my long list of demands. We wound up going to West Coast Customs, where they’re used to crazier people than me asking for the impossible.

  “What did you have in mind?” the salesman asked me. After I spelled it all out, he sighed. “That’s quite a job, and we have a very, very long list of cars that we need to get done before we can get to yours. I’m sorry, it could be a while.” But my birthday was coming up, and I really wanted to buy my own car as a gift from me to me!

  My dad put his arm around me. “They’ll try, but no promises, Voni. You’ll get it when you get it. The best things are worth waiting for.” West Coast told me to come back in a few days to go over more details because, apparently, my crazy was crazier than most. When I returned, the salesman got out my file and began to go over it, item by item, asking me if I was 100 percent sure. Maybe there was something else I would consider? Another color? Less detailing?

  “Hmmm, we have this Challenger that we’ve been working on that I can show you,” he told me. “Just so you get an idea of what yours could look like.” I crossed my arms over my chest, prepared to stubbornly stand my ground. Ain’t no one talking me out of my car. They opened up the doors to the showroom and it had the exact purple with the matte-black Challenger brands ready to go. I gasped. “Oh my gosh, that’s it! That’s exactly it. I want this exact car!” In my excitement, I missed the fact that the windshield had a sign on it: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

  “Um, this is your car.” He laughed. “Your mom and dad planned this for a long time. They wanted to surprise you.” I started crying and freaking out. It was everything I wanted, and then some. My dream car was right there in front of me, ready to drive right that second. It had custom Lexani wheels, WCC graphics with the logos in the headrest, my signature embroidered on the center console, and, last but not least, a starlight headliner. It was just sick. My parents know me so well!

  Of course, like everything, when you do your own brand of “different,” you have to be prepared for people to react. I guess I knew my Challenger would get looks, but not people attacking me. Literally, my first drive out, I got car hate. Is that even a thing? Apparently it is, because there are tons of car geeks out there who feel the need to share their opinions. I got a V6, and all these old dudes are very particular about their V8s. That’s nice, but I’m not planning on racing you, even if you dare me. Maybe it’s not your dream car, but it’s mine, so could you just let me have that? People will literally stop me on the road and pull up next to me and try to get me to race them.

  That first day, I went to the gas station to fill the tank up and buy a charging cord because my phone was about to die. I came out, and there were these guys in a white van taking pictures. Great, wait till they see the little girl driving it, I thought. I hid inside the station for a while, but eventually got back in, locked the doors, and was so distracted that I didn’t notice a car backing out in front of me. He rammed his car into my rim, dented it, and just took off. The guys in that van got a good laugh out of it. I was so upset that I started to cry. I had another guy pull up next to me at a light, roll down his window, and start cursing me out and flipping me off. I didn’t know him, I didn’t even look at him, but he saw a seventeen-year-old girl with bedazzled sunglasses in this custom car and it set him off. It always seems to be some forty-year-old with a chip on his shoulder, but I am not going to apologize for my car. Nor am I going to apologize for who I am. If Anthony is with me, he won’t hear of it and will stand up for me. If the color or the glitter on the rims rubs you the wrong way, that’s on you, not me.

  My big plan is to collect custom cars—the more unique, the better. I don’t want to be driving around in the same fancy cars as everyone else in LA. For my next car, I want the ugliest car you could probably think of, like an old Mercedes that I can paint dark brown with a light pink interior. I also want one of those small pickup trucks, the really awkward-looking ones, in white with custom pink flames on it. I just want weird, funny cars that no one else has. Because guess what? I’m like no one else, and I own it. That’s just how I am.

  Thrifting 101

  If you’re curious and want to try thrifting, here are my tips for finding treasure:

  Clear your closet first. Not only will you make room for your new scores, but you can also sell your gently worn stuff to a consignment shop or resale site and make some cash to fund your first thrift. Check out thredUP, The RealReal, Poshmark, Depop, eBay, and Tradesy for selling and buying.

  Goodwill has good finds, especially the outlet, where you can get stuff by the pound and whatever people donate is just dumped into the bins. Nothing is labeled or priced, so it’s a real search for buried treasure. My heart just races when I walk through the door: What will I find hiding here today? So much fun, and many of my fav items came from my daily visits in Indiana. To find a location near you, check out https://www.gwoutletstorelocator.com.

  Stay focused. Thrifting can be overwhelming and intimidating—so many racks, bins, boxes, and rows to rummage through. Walk around once or twice to get a feel for where things are, then devise a plan, like “I’ll start left and work my way right.” Lydia and I would sometimes divide and conquer, knowing exactly what each of us was looking for and shouting when we found it. Also, it’s a good idea to keep a list or spreadsheet of what you want. You can even organize a Pinterest board to help you keep your eyes on the prize.

  Weekdays are less crowded than weekends because more people are at work or school. I also recommend going early before things have been scooped up or picked over. And, in general, I find small towns have more reasonably priced items than bigger cities like LA. So research a few good thrift stores to pop into when you travel or visit other towns.

  Learn your labels. A vintage Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress is worth more than one from Abercrombie. The vintage fashion guild has a website you can quickly hit up on your phone if you find something you think might be valuable: https://vintagefashionguild.org/label-resource.

  Make friends with the store staff. That way, they’ll tell you when they restock or mark things down, and maybe even give you a heads-up when something you’ve been looking for comes in.

  Dress for instant try-ons. Most thrifting venues don’t have dressing rooms, and sizing, especially on older pieces, can be so random. I recommend a tank top and leggings so you can easily pull things on over them.

  Shop off-season. If it’s a hot summer day, you might find a rack of cashmere sweaters or wool coats for close to nothing.

  Look for details that say “quality.” Lining in a jacket, shoes that are 100 percent leather, not “leather upper,” natural materials versus synthetic. You can also easily spot things like delicate stitching, covered buttons, piping, and metal (not plastic) zippers. If you inspect items closely, you may find a real diamond in the rough.

  Scope out the flea markets. They’re more accessible in LA than they were in Indiana. I love them because there are so many vendors and it’s nice to support small businesses. Most of the stuff I find is handmade or vintage designer that’s well-preserved. It can be pricier than hitting up a Goodwill, but the quality is worth it. Plus, it’s really nice to wander around on a Sunday, talk to artisans, and see other people’s originality on display.

  On Avani

  My friend Nessa Barrett says:

  Avani is so beautiful and talented. She’s one of the most genuine and down-to-earth people I’ve ever met. We met for the first time at a social media event last year. Since that moment, I’ve thought she was the sweetest. She has such a great heart, and there is so much passion behind what she does. She also works so hard. She is one of the only people I’m able to open up to. I can tell her anything and everything. She cares so much about others and will be the first to do whatever she can to make you smile the second she sees you’re sad.

  Once, we went on a trip to Joshua Tree for a weekend with a few frien
ds. One day, while everyone was playing games outside, we wandered off together and walked around the desert on a path we found. As simple and boring as walking might sound, we joked and created stories from literally nothing. Most people would probably think we were crazy if they saw us dancing around and laughing, but that’s why I love having a friend like Avani. I can truly be myself around her, and even when there’s nothing to do, we have so much fun!

  chapter eleven Headspace

  No matter how many followers I have, or how many friends are texting and DMing me on the daily, there are days when I feel incredibly alone. In those moments, it’s as if I’m not part of the world around me. It’s a total disconnect, and it creeps up on me, usually when I’m stressed and overwhelmed. Once it’s there, that loneliness makes itself at home and becomes my obnoxious roommate. I wish she would leave, but she’s way too comfy and not very keen on packing up.

  Like so many people, the pandemic has not been good for my head, thank you very much. It’s pulled me out of the scene, so to speak, and I’ve lost friends because of it. This new normal—let’s just call it what it is, isolation—put me into full-on loner mode. Yes, I dealt with sadness when I retired from competitive gymnastics. And yes, bullying made me feel excluded. But this is a different kind of despair. This one made me feel guilty, like I was masquerading as someone else entirely. I felt like I was wearing a mask all the time, which is ironic, I know, since I’m known for painting my face beyond recognition.

  From all appearances, there was nothing bothering me, despite the fact that 2020 was the worst and nobody (unless they were completely oblivious) was in a good mood. In my posts, on magazine covers, and in interviews, I was the happy girl just vibing and having the time of her life. I thought that’s what I had to be because that’s what people expected of me. I thought my followers wouldn’t like me anymore if I stopped being all fun and games and clown makeup. But deep down, I was hiding a dark secret, and it was bubbling up to the surface. You want the real story? Behind the scenes and screens, I felt like I was lying to everyone, including myself. But let’s take it back a bit. After all, this is my mental health backstory.