My reality consists of asphalt roads, huge highway signs, cars of every shape and color, traffic lights, CVS, Walmart, Publix, grass, trees, political signs planted in the grass, Petco, HomeGoods, Dollar Tree, Shoe Station, Fresh Market, Flying Biscuit Cafe, Chase Bank, Panera Bread, 1-800-GOT-JUNK.
After a summer of mostly wearing neutrals, I have been challenging myself to wear color and print simply as an arbitrary creative exercise which has made me arrive at three points—i. that while color and print do not equal ✨happy✨ (nothing makes me happier that an Agnes Martin painting), the effort to achieve a satisfactory result within self-imposed boundaries does make me feel something that…
I was labeled “privileged” by someone who had just briefly met me during Medellín Fashion Week, presumably because I was dressed in designer clothes and had just eaten fresh bay tuna with matcha sauce at an exclusive brand lunch where she was also a guest.
I find women who wear a nonconventional body covered in short shorts and a cropped halter not only conventionally beautiful but possessed by a level of unreachable coolness directly proportional to the exposed body part society has arbitrarily deemed undesirable, naturally unbothered by some random on the internet, making me wish I were like them.
What have I been wearing for all those summer days spent in our backyard pool, mostly watching my kids showing off their daily invented underwater tricks contorting themselves into all kinds of circular forms, sometimes swimming, and occasionally removing the unidentified bug that would terrify them, a task my scrappy upbringing trained me for all my life?