020: LOST IN SUMMER, PART TWO - THE OUTFITS

To view this post in its entirety, consider reading it in the app. She’s long.

This summer has been defined by comfort. Comfort food. Comfort places. Comfort friends. The comfort of home. Even the things I’ve put on my body have followed suit. I haven’t had much reason to get dressed up, aside from one Michelin Star dinner, but I dressed fairly casual and only took photos of the food.

Here’s a hodgepodge of outfits I’ve documented over the past two months. Since roughly 90% of my dress code is vintage or secondhand, I’ve made it my job to track down similar pieces that are available online for those of you who want to recreate the look.

#1 A STUDIO DAY ENSEMBLE

The Ferrari tee was deadstock Screen Stars from the ‘60s that I found on eBay, still sealed in the original packaging. The overalls came from a treasure trove of hand-me-downs from a friend.

Look at the back. It’s precious.

#2 ERRANDS AND HOTDOGS

I had a short-list of errands that day which included a package drop-off at the post office, a quick stop into Sephora to restock on Brow Wiz, and a couple of markets to grab a few things for the week ahead.

If you know me, you know my feelings about a good hotdog.

The obsession began when I was five, courtesy of my mom’s boyfriend, Danny, who claimed to be a runner for the mob. Whether or not that was true remains a mystery and is beside the point. He introduced me to Cheese Dogs which he insisted be called “cheese-injected hotdogs,” a phrase that makes me laugh, and that I still use.

He bought them 10 packs at a time and had an entire shelf in his refrigerator that was dedicated solely to his stacks of Oscar Mayer. He’d plow through a pack a day, usually cold, straight out of the plastic with zero shame.

Danny was weird, but the memories I have of him are anything but boring. I have enough wild stories about that short chapter of life that I could fill an entire newsletter, maybe several.

I haven’t had a proper, all-beef hotdog in nearly 9 years. Not because I don’t want one, but because I have AGS (Alpha-Gal Sydrome), and am now allergic to beef, pork, and anything else with hooves and hair. I’ve made peace with turkey and chicken, but my heart knows the difference.

The reason for this completely unnecessary detour from clothes is a bag of hotdog-flavored kettle chips I found at the market. Mercifully meat-free and alarmingly convincing.

Anyway. Let’s move on.

#3 THRIFTING IS THERAPY

I don’t have a full fit photo here, but I was in a mood and needed to decompress. My preferred form of therapy is combing through racks at the thrift store. A couple of hours with other people’s old clothes has a remarkable way of rearranging my brain. Works every time.