by Sheila Heti
ASHLEY C. FORD My mother had me perpetually covered in tulle for the first two years of my life. When my father went to prison, she refused to adjust the way she dressed me and my brother. As a single mother, she had sacrificed a lot of resources so her children never “looked” poor—even if we were.
CLAUDIA EVE BEAUCHESNE It’s difficult to express personal style through clothing or the way you decorate a space, when you live out of a suitcase and occupy spaces for short periods of time, spaces that have been decorated by other people. I suppose a personal style can emerge from transience, but my transience hasn’t been consistent enough for me to build a style around it. I see expressing personal style in everyday life as a luxury. It implies you occupy a space consistently enough to “make it your own” and have a readily available selection of clothes or objects to choose from and add to and subtract from. It also implies you’re willing to spend time thinking about how to express yourself through the selection and arrangement of clothing, furniture, and so on.
SUSAN GLOUBERMAN I love that anyone can dress creatively for very little money.
JENNY TROMSKI I used to steal a lot of clothing when I was fat. I was convinced I was entitled to the few things that looked good on me.
MOLLY MURRAY I grew up in a family without much money; my mother’s disdain for vulgar people who shopped at the mall was a reflection of her vestigial hippie principles, but also an attempt to make good taste out of sour grapes, since we couldn’t afford to shop in malls.
MARY PEELEN I was in my twenties, when, shortly after arriving in Bangkok with a backpack and very little money, I bought a sarong. At first I thought it was just a pretty piece of cloth, but it turned out to be an item I would wear daily for nearly three years, buying a new one when the old one got too many holes. In India it was called a lungi or a dhoti, but it served all the same functions. Depending on how you fold and tie it, it is a long skirt or a miniskirt, a strapless dress (with variations), harem pants, a scarf, a turban, a belt, a shawl, a towel, a sheet, a pillow, a curtain, a tablecloth, a suitcase, or a shelter from the sun when arranged over some sticks on the beach. Kind of a hippie item, to be sure, but by far the most versatile thing I’ve ever owned.
AMANDA MILLER I come from a line of low-maintenance ladies. Solid United Church stock. Short hair, flat shoes, trousers or A-line skirts, minimal makeup, no fragrance. The women in the family still carry the baggage of a community that believed that fancy things were for lazy, spoiled women with the wrong values in their hearts.
SHEILAH RAY COLEMAN From a young age, I was aware of the luxuries in other households—girls whose mothers took them shopping for clothes, who vacationed at Disney or in the Bahamas. Our parents viewed these other families’ values as moral failings (they were labor activists and professors). On the positive side, our household was incredibly rich with people stopping by all the time—writers, artists, and musicians—and with talk of politics and books and ideas. I remember as a little girl telling my dad I thought a friend’s mom was beautiful. I told him how I loved that sometimes she wore an amazing pair of green leather trousers. He rolled his eyes and said green leather pants did not equal beauty; they only made her nouveau riche.
MALWINA GUDOWSKA I grew up in a Polish household. As a child, my mother wanted me to be a professional launderer. I now work in the UK in the fashion industry, which pays horribly—an irony that is not lost on anyone I work with, since none of us can afford the clothing we write about.
STEPHANIE P. I think I’d dress better if I had money. Someone gave my mom a gift certificate to Bloomingdale’s for $100, and she gave it to me, and I went to find something. I ended up in the Theory section, and I tried on about six or seven things. They were way out of my price range, but were so well constructed, and fit my body type exactly, and I felt like a new person in them. I felt confident and really excited; I nearly felt like I was under the influence of some kind of drug. I think the price had a lot to do with it—it was like stepping into a different life for a moment, a life where I’d be rich enough to afford these clothes, where I wouldn’t lie awake at night worrying about money, where I could choose a job I loved instead of feeling trapped in a job to pay the bills, and where I could focus on my real priorities—spending time with family and friends, creative fulfillment, meaningful, impactful work. I felt so devastated at having to put the clothes back. I did get to buy one item that didn’t turn out to be too expensive with the gift certificate and a sale, but it was just like . . . this little fantasy.
RACHEL KUSHNER When I was nineteen, my roommate was a wealthy girl from Oak Park, Illinois, and she had this impeccable preppy style and her life seemed to revolve around fine-tuning the style, which was truly “timeless” and not marred by the temptations of trend and fashion. She said her style was nothing compared with that of her mother and grandmother, and that “it takes a lifetime.” It does not really take a lifetime, I realized. It takes being born into a family that has a lot of money and a lot of taste. You cannot just go and get that kind of look. It’s only available to the right class. And even then. . . .
SOFIA SAMATAR When I was in high school, my uncle gave me a hundred-dollar bill. I never had much spending money, so I was thrilled. I went to the mall, to all the cheapest stores, and got ten things—skirts, tops, leg warmers, all kinds of stuff! I was so proud of myself for making the most of that money. When I was telling the story in the dorm (I went to a boarding school), another girl said—not in a mean way, just sort of contemplative, “I would have bought one sweater and one bottle of perfume.” It blew my mind that you could think of clothes that way—as special, beloved articles, not this mass noun that you had to get as much of as possible.
BONNIE MORRISON My dad cared a lot about me being dressed “presentably.” This came from growing up black in a working-class family in the ’50s. The sentiment was that how you dressed was important to how black people in general were perceived—sort of like a team wearing suits when they travel for away games. It ended up translating to his favoring a preppy look for me when I was growing up. What could be more deracinating than polo shirts and seersucker?
SURVEY I feel most attractive when. . . .
I think there was a study done about how women look different on each day of their menstrual cycle, and I am definitely more beautiful when I am ovulating.—EMMA MADNICK • Straight out of the shower, ovulating, three sips into a dirty dry martini. —LISA GUNNING • I feel my most attractive when I’m not premenstrual, in the spring or summer, in a dress, when I have a fun manicure and some interesting footwear, riding my bike.—ZOE WHITTALL • I feel best about myself during those ten days—two weeks after my period every month.—LEINI IRELAND • Ovulation equals glowy. PMS equals dumpy. I am a creature of biology.—JILL MARGO
Covered in salt, after a day swimming in the ocean. —JOANA AVILLEZ • Summer, summer, summer. When it’s humid-hot out, and my hair is curly and I have a tan, and am wearing hardly any makeup or clothes.—THERESA PAGEOT • On holidays to sunny, warm places.—SARAH ILLENBERGER • Always in the summer. In a dress and sandals that are somehow effortless, my hair up in a bun, and only lip gloss.—REBECCA ACKERMANN • At the beginning of summer, when I have just gotten a bit of color on my skin and I can wear dresses and bright lipsticks.—ADINA GOLDMAN • In the summer, when I’ve been outside all day.—CATHERINE LACEY
COLLECTION
ANNIE McDONALD’s clogs
CONVERSATION
RASPBERRIES, BLUEBERRIES, STRAWBERRIES
ARTIST MAKIKO YAMAMOTO SPEAKS TO FILMMAKER STEPHANIE COMILANG
STEPHANIE: So you were talking about all the little things that Japanese people like so much.
MAKIKO: Yeah, they want to keep them around, and they want to show them off. For example, Japanese people want to name something, to say, “Oh, this is mine.”
STEPHANIE: They want to personalize their things?
MAKIKO: I think so. In Japan there are so many choices, mobile phones or an Xbox, shoes, e
verything, but still they want to show, “This is mine, not yours.”
STEPHANIE: To make it their own.
MAKIKO: Or because they can’t express their feelings with words but they can send some messages.
STEPHANIE: When I was living in Tokyo in 2004, the fashion was so incredible. It was wild. Like wow, I couldn’t believe it.
MAKIKO: Yeah. Crazy.
STEPHANIE: People were doing whatever they wanted with fashion. Was it more intense then than it is now?
MAKIKO: I don’t know. After I entered university, I just wanted to focus on my work, so there was no space to think about fashion. Before that, I was wearing a Lolita fashion.
STEPHANIE: Lolita?
MAKIKO: Mm-hmm.
STEPHANIE: Why?
MAKIKO: Because, okay, so it’s gonna be a big long story.
STEPHANIE: I’m ready.
MAKIKO: It’s very personal. Okay, so when I was in primary school, I hated everything. I hated people. I wanted to kill everyone. Because I couldn’t share anything with my friends, my teachers, no one agreed with me, my opinions.
STEPHANIE: No one agreed with you?
MAKIKO: No. If I say, “Oh teacher, I don’t think so—” No. I was not allowed to say anything personal. Then I asked my friend, “What do you think? Because I don’t think he’s right, my teacher.” My friend says, “Oh, no no—if the teacher says something you have to go for it.” So at one point, I decided to do something weird.
STEPHANIE: What was the weird thing?
MAKIKO: I dig. The graves.
STEPHANIE: You were digging graves? You were a grave-digger. (laughs) Really?
MAKIKO: Of the animals. Or fishes. Like, all the classes had some pets in primary school. Then of course the friends got scared. “What is she doing? I don’t know, she must be crazy or something.”
STEPHANIE: How old were you?
MAKIKO: Ten.
STEPHANIE: Oh, you were young.
MAKIKO: Very young. I really wanted to protect myself from others. “Don’t come to my world.” So I started wearing Lolita fashion. Because now I’m living on another planet, so you can’t speak to me.
STEPHANIE: Ah, you were separating yourself from everyone else. That was your way.
MAKIKO: Yes.
STEPHANIE: So what is Lolita fashion?
MAKIKO: You have to wear so many layers. Oh, it’s heavy.
STEPHANIE: But what is Lolita fashion based on?
MAKIKO: I don’t know. They are based on raspberries, blueberries, strawberries. Also, very European.
STEPHANIE: Like old European? Victorian?
MAKIKO: Yeah, kind of.
STEPHANIE: So what would you wear?
MAKIKO: Dresses. Hats. Tall hats with ribbon. It’s not cute.
STEPHANIE: It’s kind of cute, though. Kawaii, for me, is equal to what’s cool. People in North America, they want to look cool. I think it means the same thing.
MAKIKO: It means: I’m different to the others, or unique, or . . . ?
STEPHANIE: Yeah. In some ways. But cool sort of means, I’m not really trying, I just look like this, it’s my style. I’m not trying.
MAKIKO: Oh yeah?
STEPHANIE: I think that’s maybe where the origins of cool came from. The idea of cool.
MAKIKO: That’s a recent concept, no?
STEPHANIE: I think it came out of the fifties in North America. Like James Dean. I don’t know. Where does kawaii come from?
MAKIKO: It was the big movement in 2004, that whole kawaii culture.
STEPHANIE: Girls in Tokyo always try to be kawaii, they always want to be cute. And for me it’s like, I don’t want to be cute. It’s very different.
MAKIKO: Yeah it is different, I’m sure. Kawaii, it doesn’t mean unique. Kawaii means standard.
STEPHANIE: But what makes someone kawaii?
MAKIKO: A bit naive, number one. And number two, not too crazy. If you’re too crazy, it’s not kawaii, it’s not kawaii at all. But number three, if you are a perfect person, it’s not kawaii.
STEPHANIE: If you’re a what?
MAKIKO: A perfect person. Because you demand . . . and men cannot get you, because you are a perfect person.
STEPHANIE: Oh, you sort of need to be helped.
MAKIKO: Yes. That’s kawaii.
STEPHANIE: Okay, I see. Like, “Oh, I can’t open this thing, can you help me, please?”
MAKIKO: Oh yes. That’s kawaii. Do you think it’s cute?
STEPHANIE: Sort of. It’s cute in a way that a child is cute.
MAKIKO: (laughs) Yeah.
STEPHANIE: What do people think if a girl is sexy? Or what do men think of women who are very independent and strong and who can do things on their own?
MAKIKO: Cool. I think so, yeah.
STEPHANIE: What do women want to be?
MAKIKO: (sighs) This century they can choose which life they want to take. If you want to be a cool lady, you can take that way. If you don’t have any ideas how to live your life, then you can be kawaii person. (laughs) No? There are two options.
STEPHANIE: Only two.
MAKIKO: There are some exceptions, I’m sure.
STEPHANIE: So say I’m walking down the street. Are people trying to read what I am?
MAKIKO: Compared to London, I’m sure. I’m a hundred percent sure Japanese people care more than English people, because they’re not good at expressing themselves. So they need to read people’s clothing to see what they are thinking. I think they are very good at watching people.
STEPHANIE: Right. I definitely get looked at here. I was in a store today, and I just got such looks.
MAKIKO: What kind of store did you go to?
STEPHANIE: It wasn’t really my kind of store. I was just looking for black jeans.
MAKIKO: Did you find it?
STEPHANIE: I can’t find them.
MAKIKO: Why? I’m sure it’s easy to find.
STEPHANIE: It’s not. I have no idea why. But I went into this store that was more feminine, and all the girls that were working there were looking me up and down, and I was like, Ugh.
MAKIKO: Really.
STEPHANIE: Because my style is not feminine. It’s kind of tomboy in some ways, it’s harder. Also, I don’t look Japanese.
MAKIKO: You don’t like it, no?
STEPHANIE: It’s not a problem. I know I look different. Also, we’re in Kyoto, which is smaller.
MAKIKO: Black jeans. That’s weird. No, I’m sure it’s very easy to find here.
STEPHANIE: But Lolita style. Why did you stop?
MAKIKO: Mm, because it’s too heavy for me. And it’s not easy to move.
STEPHANIE: And how old were you when you started and how old were you when you stopped?
MAKIKO: Thirteen until fifteen. I wanted people to give attention to me, but—as you can imagine—if you are wearing Lolita fashion, everyone pays attention to that person, no? So I said, No, this didn’t work.
STEPHANIE: Were there other Lolita people you hung out with?
MAKIKO: One person, yes.
STEPHANIE: Did that connect you in a way?
MAKIKO: I think so, because they are outsiders. So in a way I could share my ideas, yes.
STEPHANIE: That’s a normal teenage way of rebelling—to dress different? It’s like getting a piercing or dyeing your hair. Then what?
MAKIKO: Then? I was different from the other girls, and somehow they started asking me my advice, like, “Oh, I lost my way,” or “I love this guy very much but he doesn’t like me, so what can I do,” or “I’m in big trouble with my family, what should I do?” I was the person. . . .
STEPHANIE: . . . who people would talk to?
MAKIKO: Yeah, because I was different compared to my other classmates. So then, of course, I really wanted to help them, but at the same time I thought, Okay, yeah yeah yeah, I know what you need, but I can’t do anything because you need to decide what you want to do for your future. So I listened to their worries, and th
en I just made charms.
STEPHANIE: What do you mean? What did you make them with?
MAKIKO: I don’t remember, but they still have it. Like, something very small. Small. Sometimes drawings, or sometimes objects. And every time I gave a charm to my classmate, they got so happy and one week later they came to me saying, “Oh thank you very much, okay, now I’m okay, thank you so much.”
STEPHANIE: Really?
MAKIKO: Mm-hmm. And I thought (intakes breath), Okay, I have something I can do to people. And I realized, Okay, I really, really realized, I want to do something to help people by giving something I can make for them. That’s the big start of changing my life. Then I don’t need to wear thick layers. Yeah.
COLLECTION
ANDREA WALKER’s floral-print shirts
SURVEY
Lena Dunham
What item of clothing, makeup, or accessory do you carry with you or wear every day?
I wear my mother’s vintage rose-gold Art Deco bow ring and a lot of ChapStick.
What are some shopping habits or rules that you follow?
I try to only buy things I really need and can see myself in again and again. Otherwise I will end up with what my dad calls “rainbow chaps and unicorn hats.” That rule goes down the toilet when I have an emergency and need tights or underpants, and then anything goes.
What are you wearing on your body and face, and how is your hair done, right at this moment?
I am sitting naked on my striped ottoman. Haven’t washed my hair in two days. Nails are black and white and chipping mightily.