The uncomfortable art of speaking up

on bejeweled crocs and other offenses

Please open this in your browser/app because as you know, I got 22 images and no chill.

Aren’t you loving the parkas and ✨sparkly ✨ dresses at Burberry, Prada, and No 21? The contrast is perfect and, as José Criales-Unzueta stated, it may not be a groundbreaking styling trick but it does feel pretty fresh:

Burberry via Vogue.

Prada via @stellenevolandes’s IG stories.

Very 2000s side part and all. No. 21 via Vogue.

Speaking of sparkly. My daughters’ school sent an email announcing an event where the kids had to dress as "Tacky Tourists." I asked the teacher what exactly they meant by that, and she sent over some reference images: all things sparkly, mixed patterns, bright colors. bermudas with socks, Hawaiian leis, and all kinds of tropical print motifs. Precisely the things my then 4-year-old daughter loved to wear, probably inspired by my father, a Caribbean man in his 60s who dresses with this irreverent flair, this piquete that is so uniquely his.

I admit the last thing I wanted was to ruffle some feathers at my daughters’ school. I didn’t want to be that mom reading into Roland Barthes and calling out what seemed like a fun and inconsequential dress code. I wanted to project chill and cool. I despised the potential confrontation. I knew they didn’t have bad intentions. I wanted to just let the whole thing go and mind my own business. But when I noticed I couldn’t shake the feeling of nonconformity, I understood that maybe I’m neither chill nor cool, and embracing the discomfort is what it took for me to speak up. Embracing the discomfort aaaand doubling my prozac dose for a couple of days, taking a few deep breaths, and finally sending the awkward email in which I told the teacher it concerned me that labeling this very particular style of dressing as “tacky” was tacitly signaling to the kids that people could be labeled based on how they presented themselves to the world, especially considering that in different cultures such as mine, many people dress exactly like a “Tacky Tourist.” The school was kind, but they didn't make any changes. The following year though, they replaced “Tacky Tourist” with “Wacky Wednesday” so I guess all my anxiety about speaking up paid off?

Did it, though? Did I really change anything? Or was it just virtue signaling?

And I get it. Some people don’t care about being labeled. I am one of them. I sure didn’t care when my second-grade classmates called my braids “tacky” when I returned from Holy Week camping at the beach. I actually got the braids again the next time I went to the beach, with even more fosforecent beads, fully expecting the same tired jokes, and not minding one bit.

But I know some people mind. The thing is, I’ve been teased a lot. But I’ve also been on the other side— I’ve been the mean girl too. Because I’m human—fallible, imperfect, and a product of an environment where “othering” people was, and still is, inexorable.

Like the time I told my husband, with a giggle, that the Doc Martens he’s had since 7th grade were awful, only to end up breaking in not one but two pairs after I saw all the cool girls wearing them on the L train. I know. Joke’s on me.

Or like the time I told my 14-year-old cousin, with the same subtle, snarky tone, that she should straighten her hair to look more “classy.” I thought about it 12 years later when my then 4-year-old told me she didn’t like her curls. I was heartbroken.

But live and Learn.

And it’s perfectly OK to prefer straight hair. What wasn’t OK was me telling a vulnerable 14-year-old, in a snarky tone, that straight hair is better than curly just because I liked it more. Especially since it isn’t better, which is why it’s important to ask ourselves what lies beneath the things we dislike. In my case, the preference for straight over curly hair was obviously rooted in the classism I grew up surrounded with.

And that is not the world I want my bejeweled-croc-loving kids to grow up in. I don’t ever want anyone to tell them in a snarky tone that what they like/are/do isn’t good. And I hope I’m doing the job of raising girls with the character needed to brush it off when someone does. Because there is always someone. And I can’t protect them. And for the love of God, I hope they don’t victimize themselves if that ever happens. But if they do, I hope to be there to remind them what they are made of. I also hope they have enough sense of humor to laugh as I did when the “comedian” at the club asked my husband in front of 200 people, which Latin girl catalog he found me in. Or when my 3D design professor asked me in front of the entire class if I had Colombian cocaine in my Longchamp bag. I wasn’t, but I laughed while lamenting that at a $30,000 art school like SCAD, a professor couldn’t come up with a more original joke.

Boy, do I love this country for allowing us all to speak our minds, even when that means hearing things that offend us?

Speaking of bejeweled crocs and offensive things: I’ve been wanting the black crocs for years. Even before Marni, Balenciaga, Christopher Kane, Simone Rocha etc etc came up with their own. I never got them as I thought they were difficult to style, and I tend to gravitate towards small shoes. Then I saw one of my style muses, Juliana Salazar, posted the crocs on her instagram. And then another style muse, Denise Soued, wearing them a lot. And I was inspired. And guys, it’s okeeeey to be inspired. We all get ideas from somewhere. Including Juliana and Denise. The difference is that they add their touch, their character, their own vision of beauty or whatever it is they aim to express. And I am inspired by that too. As I am inspired by my kids, of course, because I’m not sure when we lose that childlike wonder that fuels our true sense of personal style. So I got the crocs. And the gems. And this is how I attempted to steal from Juliana, Denise, my sister-in-law, and everybody else wearing them—i.e. steal like an artist.

crocs + skirts/dresses

Starting with the basics: Bejeweled platform crocs with an old sweater dress, a slip skirt underneath, and trouser socks. I would wear this for school drop-off (although my hair would definitely be messier in the AM). The pearls peeking out do something special for the whole look.

Aren’t we collectively obsessed with look 20 from Céline spring 2017? To re-create it (with crocs) I wore my old burgundy shirt back to front and the green skirt you’ve seen on me many times before (there is an almost identical one on The Outnet and another one from La Ligne). Added a men’s leather belt with a golden buckle, which I loved paired with the silver crystals from the Crocs.

Wool skirt (handmade by Colombian designer Sylvia Andrade) and a black knit top from The Frankie Shop (here in white). I think showing a little bit of ankle, or some separation between the shoe and the skirt helps keep the proportions in check.

Satin dress from Future Collective by Target. I sized up to get the slouch and deep V. Mine is a 2X but here is a size L on eBay

For school drop-off: Willy Chavarria sweatshirt, Zara sheer skirt (but I found a cute one in that buttery yellow we’ve seen all over the runways) worn over a slip skirt for coverage but also an unexpected pattern.

Crocs are definitely the wrong shoe for this outfit and that’s what does it for me. Old Tibi wool scarf top but here is a similar one from Staud. Zara wool skirt, similar one from Aritzia.

Very old Zara dress but here is the original Cecilie Bahnsen. Cropped flared pants, also very old but there’s always High Sport or Ann Mashburn.

crocs + shorts

For the in-between season: an LL bean sweater I got years ago at their original Maine store, similar here but Kule also makes a good one.

Same shorts, handmade bobbin lace top I got in Brugge around 2019 but here is a sumptuous Ulla Johnson one that would also be pretty unexpected with crocs and running shorts.

Drop-off, gym, to writing at a café—pipeline outfit: oversized t-shirt from one of my favorite brands Uuuntld, designed by LA-based self-taught artist, Randy Perez. Here it is as a sweater, in red! The crystals and the pearls add all the needed friction to an otherwise sporty look.

I know this screams summer but remember #Florida. Matteau tunic from the collection that made me fall in love with Matteau back in 2019 and satin shorts I got on Amazon and super recommend unless you prefer these Bode ones (here in black). Rubber + linen + satin + crystals + lace = fun.

I don’t get any commision for these links but I love the Amazon shorts

Now we are speaking Fall. Old lilac running shorts and my grandaunt’s sweater with a particular Prada vibe, from when she lived in NY in the 70’s.

Bode shirt (on eBay for much more than I paid directly from the brand!?) worn as a scarf. Old COS shorts. One of my favorite hats from one of my favorite restaurants Estela NY.

Another Prada vibe via barn jacket. This one’s from H&M since I’m not ready to commit to the trend just yet but loved the fit, and it does create an interesting contrast with bejeweled Crocs.

Kika Vargas x Target top and dickies—I actually love everything by Dickies after I got their painters’ pants for, well, painting.

I can’t explain it but the black button from the Dickies shorts brings this outfit together. I am also a low-rise girl and now that low-rise is back, I won’t stop wearing it.

I wore this exact outfit to pick my daughters up from a playdate yesterday. The mom said, ¡fun shoes!

And while we are at it:

Ok. That’s good for today. See you next Friday unless another impromptu urge to communicate something imminent comes up. But I don’t think so.