December 7 – December 13
Winter wear is your most unpredictable style. As simple and practical as it may sound, you find that the body is quite useless; nothing more than a canvas for which we drench ourselves in knitted baubles and fur-lined coats that might not be the warmest, but ones in which Kendall Jenner led the runway last spring. This is when the Fall/Winter ’15 comes to life– December and its following months, adorned in holiday lights and sweet smells spicing the cold air, have turned into a masquerade. And the whole world invites itself.
Sartorial style has always influenced my work. I never really write about it, but when I’m not together, nor is my mind– my confidence. The fashion sense of a writer is all that the writer stands for in their most realest and physical form. What goes on in our heads unwillingly reflects in our appearance; with each individual writer comes passions, inspiration, and taste. We develop our unique appearance just as we develop our writing techniques and styles. Zelda Fitzgerald, a great lady and everlasting fashion icon for the Roaring Twenties– a fierce fashionista conflicted with a wild lifestyle and deep desire to outshine her famous husband. There’s Steinbeck, my own hero whose very rugged, careless loose sweaters and lots of khaki reflect his selfless passion in writing for the common man and his ongoing plights. Then there’s the man whom I personally wish I had all the life #goals to when it comes to writing: Truman Capote. The dapper little dandy Southerner should could write– and dress– and pick friends– and give birth to one of the most cleverly twisted and genius genres in writing: nonfiction. I’d seriously doubt his genius if not for his eccentric yet stylish choices in his personal life.
Stepping back into the present, it is a Tuesday in December. Not chilly out; I can still hold the pen sitting by the open door to this coffeeshop without a shaking hand. They serve $3 draft beers here and Frankie Valli’s “1963” just came on. I might want to dance. My look of the day makes me feel rather okay to do this. Wool tights, heeled leather booties, and a classic trench set the mood for someone who outwardly has her shit together. In fact, her hair is due for a washing and her handwriting is not legible on any level. And she got a beer on a fucking Tuesday night. Young professional? To be disputed. At least a trench eases the awkwardness. This is my usual look nowadays, and for me in the city, it’s fun to see how others present themselves, for the winter speaks for itself. It keeps the bleak season interesting with ugly sweaters and Bohemian-printed wool jackets and plaid– plaid is EVERYWHERE. If you look closely to the seemingly drab attires they’re quite brilliant. Even dogs seem dressed for the occasion as they strut the crosswalks of Nob Hill off leash and with neon lights latched on to their swinging collars.
The rest of this week would have it that I step into this cold world and its unpredictability by the arrival of one of the most anticipated days on a young San Franciscan’s holiday itinerary– SANTACON. My fourth year in attendance, I am aware that this is that unpredictability at its finest, and there would only be one outfit to say it all about the joy and cheer of Christmas binge drinking. Even if winter for me is not the most lavish, for one day I revel in the strange sameness that was in fact, the most diverse crowd of Santas and reindeers and elves. For the same motifs, a familiar sight becomes the best way to highlight not just dressing in the form of Old St. Nick, but how you manage to reflect yourself into the look. For being rather dressed down, I had no way to know that my red lace crop top and leather skirt would be the defining look for my own Winter. No way to know at what attention such an outfit would grab, what drinks would be bought, what photos were to be taken or which new friends would be made– if they even had intentions to be more than friends.
So maybe the adventures to be had in this week were the ones meant to shine for my own modest attire. In the life I try to lead, creating the right look for me is the easiest way to create the confidence I sometimes lack. These layers and adventures and even spiked punches are the style choices I’ve made for the look that is my Life. Life is that bare canvas, just like the human body in winter. Winter wear is your most unpredictable style, and style is just the beginning to the many winters to be had. They are markers along this runway for the show you’re living.