by Sheila Heti
COLLECTION
LORNA SHAPTON’s tsinelas
SURVEY
GUT FEELING
“I cried many, many tears while buttoned up into a Laura Ashley dress.” —ALLISON D.
STEPHANIE P. My grandma’s favorite outfit was a light-blue-and-tan sleeveless dress and coat to match, that she wore when seeing Hair on Broadway (in the ’70s, I guess) with her then boyfriend, Morris, a great jazz musician. She had clear ideas of when she looked pretty. She said that in Germany, before the Nazis, when she was nine, her mother had a seamstress make her clothes, but that the clothes only reflected her mother’s tastes. One day, she was given a wine-colored skirt with a wine-colored scalloped bolero jacket, a very pale pink scalloped shirt, and a wine-colored velvet hat. My grandma didn’t hate the clothes, but she hated the hat, so she refused to wear it. Her mother gave her such a beating that she peed in her pants. But she didn’t wear the hat.
MARSHA COURNEYA If someone feels very strongly that she should wear one thing and not that other thing, she should certainly be allowed to without feeling judged on her “level of taste.”
MELISSA HENDERSON Black girls get hit the hardest with trying to be molded into Western images of beauty. It’s bullshit. No one cares what your hair looks like when you get outside the U.S. as long as you are comfortable. I was reminded of this when I traveled to Norway to see a dear friend get married to a Norwegian. I washed my hair and wore it wild for three days. I felt completely comfortable, beautiful, and attractive around a bunch of alluring Vikings and pirates. I love the laissez-faire attitude about my hair when it’s just “being.”
MALWINA GUDOWSKA My grandmother, who gets minimal pension payments from the Polish government, gave me some birthday money one year and told me to buy myself something nice. I tried to refuse the gift but she insisted, going as far as to say that she would be insulted if I didn’t take the money. I went to a jewelry shop so at least I could have something forever that would symbolize her selflessness and love, and bought myself a ring with the money. I’ve worn the ring only once, and for some reason it doesn’t represent my grandmother in my eyes at all. Perhaps it’s because I chose the ring over a gold necklace. I still think about that necklace today, wishing I had bought it instead.
MELISSA ABE I lost my shit in the car on the way to school because I couldn’t stand wearing my bright white sneakers with brown jodhpurs. They just didn’t go together.
KATE McMULLAN I know what I like. When I veer from my instincts, that’s when I make mistakes.
CATHERINE STOCKHAUSEN My early memories of clothes are mostly negative. At five years old, I found a spider in the roll of my rolled-up jeans. I did not wear jeans again until junior high. I also hated the feeling of tights, I think because I was tall and they were always slipping down. I also hated my Brownie uniform. I couldn’t formulate my feelings, but I knew the material was cheap and it gave me an emotional rash.
AMY TURNER My favorite piece of jewelry is a gold heart that I got in upstate New York. I never have distinct or clear feelings, but when I saw it and put it on, I knew unwaveringly that it was for me. At the time, I was with a friend I’d become close to over a year of writing e-mails, and in our first exchanges, I knew she was for me, too. Now when I put the necklace on, I think of her, and I think of what it feels like to know something clearly in my gut.
EILEEN MYLES I remember a gay man I knew going on about how he resented how straight men just let themselves go and got big bellies and wore dirty clothes and the same clothes day after day and were rewarded for their gross behavior by getting great and beautiful girls. This was transformative in that I thought, You’re right! It’s not that I want a big belly, but I want a piece of that freedom to be a pig.
SASHA GORA I bought a black leather jacket when I was sixteen, working a summer job as a janitor at a tennis tournament. It was $400 and I saved up. I was at a party in Montreal years later and someone tried to steal it. I sensed it immediately and chased them down the stairs.
RUTH MILLS The piece of clothing that makes me feel most comfortable in my gender identity is the headband I currently wear—out of necessity, to hide a receding hairline. I transitioned in 2013, at age thirty-nine, though I wish I had done so years before then. I work in IT, and it was always a worry that transitioning would seriously harm my career. Since transitioning, I have felt so much more confident. I am finally happy in the present, rather than feeling my life whizzing past me. Now I can just be, in a career I love, while experiencing life as the woman I know myself to be.
LINDY WILSON When my mom would take us to Walmart for groceries, I’d always go to the girls’ section. I coveted almost every piece in the Mary-Kate and Ashley clothing line, and was always picking out things I wanted and putting outfits together, though I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to get them.
ROXANE GAY Rompers are not ever going to be on my body.
PETRA KRUIJT When I was twenty, I did an internship at a women’s magazine. Since I was still a student, I didn’t have much money. One day, when the weather got colder, I wore a cashmere scarf that I had bought for ten euros. It was awesome: deep green, so large I could use it as a blanket, and softer than anything I had ever felt before. When I walked into the office wearing it, the colleague I despised most said, “What a nice scarf. That really is a statement piece.” I thanked her, and that is when I realized: If I love what I’m wearing, other people will notice it, too.
CLEO PERRY If I find a piece I like, I buy it, even though I may not wear it for months. My friend’s mother did that with what became her wedding dress. She was single at the time and found something she thought would do the job should the day ever come. She put it in a plan chest and dug it out years later. That tale struck me as crazy at the time, but perhaps not. She had found something that would be perfect for an occasion that might happen, and it did.
ON DRESSING
TOO MUCH OF ME
VEDRANA RUDAN
A woman is never thin enough. I have a double chin, I shove my tits into minimizers that minimize nothing, I get into Levi’s designed to flatten the tummy and lift the ass, but my ass and stomach are immune to the intention of the jeans. I am a cow! A dull creature with tits who lives in Croatia. You don’t know where Croatia is? It’s a small country in the sticks in which all the women nevertheless want what the women in New York or Paris want. We want bodies without a single hair. We want to be skeletons covered with thin, white skin.
One of us succeeded. A famous TV talk-show host who’s been on the covers of all the Croatian magazines for months now. After a number of battles lost, the woman has won the war. Spreading her arms wide, jumping high in the air, screaming: “I can fit into a skirt I wore when I was eleven! I can get into pants I wore when I was ten!” If you don’t look like a minor in your fifties, your life has no meaning. The Croatian talk-show host I’m referring to became a human being when she squeezed into that tiny dress. She’s been giving interviews, showing tits that are irresistible because they’re nonexistent. Her legs are the sticks that every woman dreams of. She created herself out of two hundred pounds of fat. She melted away in order to exist.
Who likes women? Who likes women as fat as me? Why do all men who live with famous skeletons as a rule fuck their children’s heavy-breasted nannies? Who do we, bones and future bones, want to seduce? Women are our targets. Our only and eternal real enemy. We feed off their jealousy, their angry looks. Men interest us only as objects with which we prove our normalcy. They’re so irrelevant they’ll do in whatever shapes they come in. That’s why no fifty-year-old man even thinks of trying to force his body into pants he wore playing in the sandbox, even though his mother has kept them.
It should, however, be noted that we women, no matter how desperate, never lose hope. We look at our childhood dresses, stamping on the floor, hissing: “Become something, become something, bitch!” Most men don’t give a fuck what they look like. They carry their beer bellies with pride.
W
ill I ever become a doll? Will I ever be a happy human being who will dangle her bones happily in the faces of the sad human beings of my gender? At the moment I’m trying to fit into my maternity dress from 1975. Can’t do it. There’s too much of me. That’s why I don’t exist.
PROJECT
DE MOEDERS | RUTH VAN BEEK
PROJECT
COLOR TAXONOMY | TAVI GEVINSON
Illustrations by Sarah Illenberger
1. BLACK
Black is often seen as negative space, a blueprint you wear when you want people to focus on a more interesting article of clothing, or on your character. On the contrary, black should be considered a complete look all on its own. It is the uniform of New Yorkers and goths alike, confusing sophisticated intellectuals with disaffected teenagers. It can be seen on the red carpet as either sultry (Angelina Jolie at the 2012 Oscars) or not-giving-a-fuck (Lorde at everything). Though I’d imagine Stevie Nicks’s actual favorite color is something like purple, she sports all-black in all performances, presumably for its witchlike mystery and ability to command an audience. Black is, in the words of a very poetic Wikipedia editor, “the color most commonly associated with mourning, the end, secrets, magic, power, violence, evil, and elegance.”
2. WHITE
Although white is thought to be immovably holy for its role in weddings, it has been ostracized as an everyday color for its reputation as unflattering. In doing this, however, we forget what white does better than any other color: lace. The sleekest kinds of leather. Pristine Seinfeld sneakers. If one must avoid wearing white on one’s body—despite the potential to feel like an ice queen—I strongly advise exploring it when it comes to accessories and embellishments. If you’re a clumsy eater, remember Vivienne Westwood: “Stains are decorations.” If you just detest the association with purity, dig up a few kinderwhore references.
3. GRAY
Gray was made for nice sweaters and gross sweatpants, thus covering both ends of the Sunday-spent-at-home spectrum: productive lazy (tea, reading) and plain lazy (junk food, TV).
4. RED
Red is infallible when it comes to power-dressing, as proven by the high school hierarchy in the 1989 film Heathers. It is categorized as a warm color, but it is not soft, the same way Heather Chandler is an alpha female, but not feminine. In fact, red translates femininity to power, according to a thing I once watched about how red lipstick makes people think of vaginas and that’s why it’s thought of as sexy and as inappropriate to wear to the office. One master of turning the feminine into a source of power is Taylor Swift, whose music utilizes girly emotions to assert ownership over the unfortunate history of a romantic relationship. This talent is best showcased on Swift’s 2012 album, Red.
5. BLUE
The conceptual opposite of red, blue is categorized as a cool color, but it is not hard. It is the sky, the water, and Joni Mitchell. It is a little hippy-dippy. It is hard to read as a word without hearing Beyoncé crooning the name of her baby in that video where they’re on the beach. Baby blue is great for a poodle skirt or a Margot Tenenbaumesque Lacoste jumper. Regular blue is the shade favored by sports teams and Mrs. Peacock. Navy blue was outed in Mindy Kaling’s 2011 memoir as a crutch for stylists trying to slim down their clients without going for the obvious color choice of black. (In navy blue’s defense, it is the best color for a peacoat.) All in all, blue is okay, but never lasts as anyone’s favorite color past the age of nine.
6. GREEN
Type “yellow-green” into Google, and the first three suggestions are “mucus,” “urine,” and “vaginal discharge.” With “dark green,” you get “stool,” “diarrhea,” and “vegetables.” Emerald, however, is a universally perfect shade, and Tippi-Hedren-in-The-Birds mint is possibly the best color visible to human eyes. If green were a film character, the actor would be Oscar-nominated for tackling such a multifaceted role.
7. PINK
Pink is not a real color. It is not on the spectrum of light, and was not visible in the world until UV rays, radio waves, gamma rays, and other signifiers of the planet’s eventual demise came into existence. But despite this troubling history, pink is thought to be the most nonthreatening color, which may explain its assignment to the female gender. It’s frilly and inconsequential, and best known for its appearances on princesses, dolls, and blushing faces. Sometimes I wear lots of pink, to show that girliness and intelligence are not mutually exclusive. Sometimes I never wear pink, to show that some girls don’t identify with the idea of girliness. Pink is fraught with politics, and I still haven’t even gotten to Pretty in Pink, the 1986 John Hughes film; Pink, the Victoria’s Secret juniors line; or P!nk, the pop vocalist.
8. YELLOW
While green may be cursed with an association to bodily functions, yellow gets away pretty easily. It’s bold yet sweet, and the color of one of the most well-known plaid looks from the 1995 film Clueless.
9. PURPLE
The 2000s failed purple. After American Apparel V-necks tainted it with faux differentness, Justin Bieber took a stand in restoring it to innocence and even gender neutrality, but dropped the ball once he felt the need to defend his manliness with steroids and subsequent shiftlessness. What purple needs to do is take a page from Walden and go live in the woods, where it can be judged free of any cultural associations.
10. ORANGE
While many avoid orange in a solid-colored garment for fear of looking like an actual orange, it can do a lot for a print. See: ’60s–’70s Pucci, the music video for Solange’s “Losing You,” and any space dye worthy of a Freaks and Geeks appearance.
11. GOLD
Gold has been rightfully monopolized by disco, Dynasty, and the Illuminati. Gold can be legitimately glamorous, but is most fun in windbreaker form.
12. SILVER
Silver has been rightfully monopolized by New Year’s Eve, Zenon: The Zequel, and Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” robot hand. Silver can be legitimately classy, but is most fun in sequin form.
SURVEY
GLAMOUR
“The sound of my mother’s heels used to scare the living shit out of me. I rebelled against her glamour by looking like a tramp.” —LISA GUNNING
MEGAN HUSTAD My aunt wore silk Gloria Vanderbilt blouses and worked as an attorney downtown. Her purse was always Coach and her pens Cross. Evenings, while relaxing, she played with her shiny brown hair, forming a lock into a tiny curl and staring off into the middle distance, smiling about things she didn’t wish to speak of. If it was possible to exude more glamour, I had no direct experience of it.
ROSALBA MARTINNI When I was twelve, I bought two sets of jewelry: pearl earrings and brooch, and crystal earrings and necklace. They made me feel grown-up and glamorous. Decades later, I still sometimes wear them.
GILLIAN SCHWARTZ My late friend Annabel Tollman taught me about impetuous glamour and being impractical. Through her, I realized that while being “done” may not be the fashion of our time, it is such a stylish and transformative choice. I admire women who look glamorous always. I wish I followed this rule through my life, but I can’t seem to change. The jean jacket always comes out, the lipstick wiped off, heels switched for flats.
CARRIE MURPHY My Italian grandmother was incredibly stylish, even into her eighties. Imagine a thinner, smaller, less overtly sexy Raquel Welch. She was glamorous but approachable, with a look wholly her own. If there was something I wanted to keep, I’d ask her, and she always let me have it.
HIKARI YOKOYAMA Once I was chatting with Charlotte Tilbury and she said, “There are no ugly women, just lazy women.” She was referring to makeup, but the mantra extends to dress as well. It takes a bit of time and effort, but I love the time it takes, especially in the magic hour between work and going out at night. I put on music, zone out, and make a big mess. It’s like being in the studio—meditative and creative.
GILDA HABER I was seven and about to be a bridesmaid at my wicked aunt Mitzi’s first wedding. I was thrilled to be wearing a dress held up
by thin satin straps over my titless body. I wondered how the older bridesmaid with breasts held up their strapless bodices. I was aware that my mother and her sister, Aunt Mitzi, were bitter enemies, but I didn’t care, I wanted to be as glamorous as my glamorous aunt, and still do. Another time, aged sixteen, and just back from wartime evacuation, my mother bought me my first postwar, unrationed beautiful white dress, which showed off my new, gorgeous figure. She refused to let me wear it to go to tea with an editor. She made me wear my horrid school uniform. The young, handsome editor expected a glamorous teenager. Tea was a disaster. I was so angry with my mother that I risked a slap in the face. Right then, I decided to leave home and come to America, which I did.
ALI COTTONG When I was in middle school, I went with my mom to a talk at SFMOMA with the designer Zac Posen. The talk was about glamour and living glamorously. I remember he said that you should always find some way to make your life glamorous, even if it’s on the cheap side, like buying nice stationery.