(rodarte x opening ceremony cardigan, aa blouse and skirt, spanx socks, alexander wang boots, thrift store bag, spike necklace from a fetish shop)
It is a rather curious feeling to dress angsty, but not feel angsty. There was a time in my life, sure, when the world as it exists just filled me with an inordinate amount of hate that I couldn't wait to direct at the nearest pillow or angry teen poem. But getting older has mellowed out my rage into something akin to cosmic background radiation. Forever minutely pervasive, just barely detactable beyond my everyday consciousness. Nowadays I'm interested in solutions vs. problems and allies vs. enemies. After all, the world is an impossible place in which to be a woman. Is it really necessary to make it harder for yourself? And by extension, the other women with whom we share a society that does not regard us as equals? Looking back on my younger days, I'm ashamed of my shit-talking and self-loathing and painful vulnerabilities and undeniable hypocrisy. But growing up wouldn't be as special if I didn't learn something along the way. The world is a horrifically unjust place, and there will always be something to be angry about. Anger in of itself doesn't solve problems. Real-world solutions and motivation an interpersonal connections and yes, idealism!, are the the only things that will help.