Being ignored as a form of freedom.
On late recognition, small wins, bubblegum pink, dressing for lingering summer, selfies, and finally daring to post the damn thing—in no particular order.
Please open this in the app or your browser of choice because, once again, there are over 15 images you won’t want to miss.
_
One day, I started posting pictures of my outfits to an audience of 5 instagram followers. The decision to post was, of course, preceded by varied forms of self-flagellation: This is dumb. This is unserious. All those years of college for what? Superfluous. Who do you think you are?—etc.
After many years of atrophying the impulse to post photos of my dressed body, the judgmental voices began to fade—they got nicer, softer, they started to whisper things like: You’re not that important, why do you take yourself so seriously? Post the damn thing.
So I opened the instagram. I recovered the password of my long-dormant Substack. I succumbed to the raw, instinctive desire to document how I dressed on any given day. I started. And it has felt really good to see the follows roll in from women I deeply admire. The likes and the reposts. The DMs. It has all felt good, I won’t lie. I'm so thankful for the 350 subscribers (it might not seem like much to some, but it’s a lottt to me!!) who look forward to reading me every Friday, including my two generous paid ones <3 <3. I am thankful for this small community who likes clothes and engages with them from a place of respect, curiosity, and intentionality.
I’m also thankful that this recognition came only after years of working in the shadows, as an unknown, becoming an expert at creating purely for the need to create. For years, I’ve been a visual artist, working without many compliments, without selling much. No gallery representation. No Art Basel invites. No profiles in Artforum. Not even the faintest hope of breaking through the gatekeepers. Just me, in my garage studio, preparing for a few small but fulfilling exhibitions where I’ve been selected—motivated by the certainty that there is no other way for me to live my life than to wake up and make something. Whether the photo I posted of the resulting artwork got 2 likes, or 8 on a good day, I kept creating.
And yes, while hearing crickets after finishing an artwork isn’t as fun as receiving all your kind messages after posting a newsletter, I know the best gift I can give you, my newfound audience, and myself, is the promise to keep writing this newsletter like my kids make art—unselfconsciously, with spontaneous lines on paper, sometimes slipping over the edge and onto the table. Unafraid. Like speaking my mother tongue. Not forcing it. Just writing. Getting dressed. Finding joy regardless of the numbers. Oblivious to external judgment or the need for validation. Posting the damn picture. Finally surrendering to the self-imposed need to prove myself.
“Being ignored is a form of freedom: I felt liberated from having to constantly please anyone”
Artist Carmen Herrera, on getting late recognition in her 90s, after decades of dedicated work.
ok, let’s get dressed.
The fall outfits being posted in every corner of the internet can only serve as a reminder that here in the Florida Panhandle, we still have a few more months of relentless heat and certainly no fashion week. Lately, I’ve been in the mood to dig through my closet for weather-appropriate pieces to inject some color into this seemingly endless Florida summer, especially since I leaned heavily on whites and neutrals during the official season. The pink patent leather pointed-toe shoes below were the starting point, an interesting choice I mixed with animal print for Labor Day at my in-law’s:
The bubblegum pink made me happy so I decided to keep the pink/pastel theme going and created some outfit combinations after connecting a few dots:
DOT # 1: How much I loved this pink/green combo on Brie Welch:
DOT # 2: How obsessed I’ve been with Maryam Nassir Zadeh’s signature bubblegum lipstick:
DOT # 3: This pop of bubblegum pink on Denise Soued (I recommend her touching piece on maternity/style on The Cereal Isle):
DOT #4: MY DRIVEWAY ROSES
DOT # 5: Last but not least, this look from Miu Miu Fall 2024
With all these very specific influences swirling in my head, I went shopping in my closet. The first thing I pulled was these Bubblegum pink cropped trousers my daughters got me 3 years ago for Mother's Day because they couldn't find anything pink enough in my closet to play dress-up:
Can you believe I was so afraid of posting for years? The other day I stumbled upon something I wrote a long time ago about photography, probably after reading Berger, because these ideas don’t seem entirely mine. It gave new meaning to all the fit pics I’ve been daring to share here—the ones I’ve sometimes dismissed as vain, self-indulgent, narcissistic, self-absorbed blah blah. What I wrote showed me the opposite:
Photographing the dressed body is actually a way to live outside the body. A way to step out of yourself. It is not obsession with the body; it is liberation. When you see yourself, you stop being. The photograph is an outside, unlike the constant inwardness of being, which is a prison. The photograph, like a dream, is a little death.
I’ll leave you with this image of my grandaunt Leti celebrating her 97th birthday. And more bubblegum pink.
I'm happy I'm stumbled into Your account some weeks ago, and especially today bc I now immediately want ro try my own pink trousers with my own organza Zara skirt. I've been documenting all my outfits for many years now, first in a blog, later in IG. And while feeling at ease with talking about fashion with friends and collegues I've chosen to keep my IG anonymous. I'm working as an orthopaedic surgeon with special interest of sports traumatology, working with sports people all day. I'm also the president of the arthroscopy association (mostly men). Therefor I want to keep my interest in clothing and my work completely separated....
I love your style! I’ve been doing pictures of my outfits for over 16 years!! And it’s given me freedom to view myself objectively, not zeroing in on my “flaws”- I’m a lot kinder to myself because of it.
Dying for your lilac skirt and the sheer one. So cool!