I wear these stupid things called “midi-rings.” They sit on your finger after your first knuckle and don’t go past the second. They have a tendency to fall off when you wash your hands and disappear during drunken nights. I constantly have to refresh my supply. Thank goodness I buy them cheap, otherwise I’d be throwing away too much dough. Once I had a man ask me: “WHAT IS THAT? Isn’t it annoying?” Yeah, dude. It’s honestly a bitch to keep track of these. Sometimes I have to take them off at work because when I start typing on a keyboard they automatically want to slide off.
Every time I wear a hat I have to ensure it doesn’t fly off my head at some point. I must’ve had that happen about a half a dozen times on the way to Outside Lands. My boys just witnessed it occur, over and over: “Kate, that’s gonna happen hella times.” “Yeah, I know.” Shrugs. I looked fly though.
I get my nails done every three weeks. No exceptions. If my nails are fucked up you need to ask me if I’m ok. That’s not a good sign. This is also a pricey routine, $55. I just calculated this… I spend almost a solid G on nayos alone during the course of a year. Is it worth the effort/cost? HYFR it is.
There is an odd sense of gratification and validation when I hear that my appearance matches my profession. Designers are some of the most judgmental and pretentious people I know. We’re out here trying to make the world a more aesthetically pleasing place. Don’t trust a designer that doesn’t try to package themselves in a visually appealing way. They’re not doing part of their job.
As a woman who gives a fuck about style I am constantly battling form vs. function. Any woman who spends an entire day in heels can attest to this battle. You think we would wear uncomfortable footwear if it didn’t make our legs look longer? If it didn’t make us look like a million bucks? Nah, son. Form won. Fuck function. I apologize if we gotta Uber 6 blocks at the end of the night, that’s the price of these Dolce Vita’s though.
BUT WHY?
Somewhere between here and there this all became necessity, because it became me.
I believe everyone has the opportunity to curate themselves as they see fit, as they envision themselves. DO YOU, FOLKS! Whatever the fuck that is… I guess it takes a certain level of self-confidence and it doesn’t arrive overnight. I grew up shy, awkward as fuck and extremely self-conscious. Fast forward many years later my mom and my sister are asking me why I purposely dyed my hair an ombre grey. Cause I wanted to. DUH. You must own your decisions. OWN THEM. It's definitely a process.
I’m the best person to take shopping. I’ll give you an honest opinion. I’ll also probably let you try anything you consider risky when it comes to your personal style. You wanna get your septum pierced? Let’s go! You can take it out and shit will heal if you don’t like it. You wanna rock leather joggers? Hold up. We can discuss this further, check what’s up with the return policy first. I’m just looking out. Maybe you shouldn’t go with leather. Baby steps.
Personally I don’t think I’m anything special when it comes to style, there’s a subset of Filipino girls out there with short hair, tattoos, bold lipstick and rock cat-eyed liner. But I’m thankful for the fresh comments, for the style compliments and for making me feel increasingly unique.
My old ultra-frizzy, brace-faced, lanky-bodied, zero-swag-adolescent-self thanks you.
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Inspired by Earnest Baker, because I wish I could write like this. 100.