OTF 14: outfits of the week

I’d like to dedicate this piece to my legs.

And also to my torso, as well as my chest 

and my arms. 

Day One 

Today I wore silver metallic basketball shorts that fell well below my knee. They splayed out in a cartoon-like manner and made me want to run really fast while wearing nike slides. They made me look a total of 4ft tall—reminding me of fourth grade recess where various circular objects were thrown in performative displays of athleticism by boys in athletic shorts. 

On top I wore a loose fitting navy blue and white baseball long sleeve that made me look like Adam Sandler if he was Troy Bolton after practice. Around my neck was a silver necklace that made loud clink-ing sounds every time it collided with my 8-pack. To keep in line with my fastest-boy-in-the-grade aesthetic, I wore white crew socks and navy blue basketball shoes with metallic silver stripes. To strengthen the marriage between the shoes and my silver shorts, I replaced the left shoe’s lace with metallic silver ribbon. I felt like I could jump very high, or go on a sustained high speed chase. 

Later that day I had to tend to my very important and incredibly fruitful food service  job so I got chic. I threw on dark wash bell bottoms that were gifted to me by my mom. They flare with DRAMA right at the knee—loudly giving that vavavoomph the customers have come to expect from me. On top I wore a Hannah Montana-esque polo with black buttons and pockets on each of my pecs that were too small to be practical but just big enough to fit a zyn in. I felt like the girl next door in a rural western town; perhaps I blow pink bubbles of gum while sitting at my window to pass the long hours of my youth. The shirt itself was dark gingham with accents of red, purple and turquoise: a goth girl’s picnic blanket. The shirt was incredibly tight and I was slightly unnerved by the level of chest exposition I was giving the customers… but not too unnerved to fasten a third button. In complete transparency, my shirt was so tiny that I was unable to fasten the top two buttons, so I was prepared to tell customers, my eyes are up here. For shoes, I clacked around in brown pointed toe midi boots that have studs lining their perimeter. They ombre from brown to black right as they come to their aggressive, elfish, point at the toe. They have a fantastical clack, which allowed me to become an omnipresent force as all customers were perpetually sonically aware that I was bustling around the cafe. Before I even arrived at the table, the customers knew that their chic waiter with the ombre midi boots was coming with their cauliflower bites. I felt western and 70s. I had visions of me and my outfit on a farm, sitting on a large bale of hay. I wouldn’t do any labor on the farm, I would just sit on the bale, swing my feet and let the wind blow through my curls. Despite my look of innocence, I would drop my chicken feed when the slightly inbred gap-toothed boy neighbor brought Bucktooth, his horse, around the bend… because I am also provocative. 

Day Two 

Today was an awesome day; I wore two outfits. The first one involved a steamy marriage between light gray capris and a blouse. The light gray capris—the bottom of the partnership—fell very straight legged and gave rise to an insatiable desire within to yell things like, “All aboardddd!! Get ya ass on the train!!!!” They are ornamented with two silver buttons and end right below my knee, allowing my legs their moment. As for my shirt, I am not embarrassed to admit that I had a bit of a frenzy in the closet this fine morning. Clothes were skewed all over before I landed on the blouse I am currently using to cover up. I began with a baseball tee, but quickly had reservations that my choice would cause too much upheaval and perhaps a fashion trend of its own, so I hung it up for a hotter day. I proceeded to try on a tiny gray shirt, but wasn’t feeling too fierce about it. Finally, as though the colloquial phrase is true and the third time really is the charm, I bestowed upon my upper half a polka-blobbed (as they are not quite dots, but certainly are not mature enough to be circles) white blouse that is split in the middle by an aristocrat-like ruffle. Naturally, I undid the top three buttons. For shoes, I landed on my Merrell hiking boots. I believe the dynamic between the blouse and the hiking boots creates a whimsical vision of what I may have on my agenda for the day. I could be sipping tea with the chicest of the chic, or preparing to summit a gargantuan mountain. Or maybe I am doing both, at the same time. 

A gaggle of hours have passed and now I am at my very important, and highly sought after by millions of eager undergraduates, service job/hospitality internship. I feel like a hidden gem stuck in the quicksand of the millennial cafe aesthetic. I DETEST YOU, MUTED MODERN MINIMALISM!

I stand like a monument at the door, greeting guests with fluttering lashes as they sing words of praise about the fringed number I’m rocking. For pants I have on my signature flared dark denim jeans, you all know the ones. They fit me to a tee, and lend my essence that perfect subtle drama. If I jut out my hip and turn my pointed shoe to the side I immediately embody that 70s bellboy fantasy. Yet, if I stand straight and proper they elongate my legs and provide a high class silhouette that is absent of unnecessary theatrics. They are fitting (pun intended) for all occasions. 

On top I am wearing a very frilly, semi sheer, witchy number. Dancing down the middle are tassels on tassels of black fringe. They follow me in flirting spurts as I wait and serve and Think hard at my table at the door. I have on my Italian charm bracelet and my bengals allowing me to achieve—once again—omnipresence as the flick of my wrist sends an orchestra of chimes throughout the cafe. I feel wispy and strong.

Day Three

I will not lie, today I had a tough time in the closet. My agenda carried three big events I needed to attend and thus I was faced with the challenge of picking out a singular outfit that would be uniquely wonderful yet fitting and on the nose for all three of the separate occasions I was invited to/desired at/expected to attend. After fifteen minutes of unsuccess and the accumulation of a large clothing pile on my bedroom floor, I decided to throw on a Trey classic. For pants I wore these BAGGY af nautica jeans that are littered with belt loops and places to hang shit. To hold them up I threw on my signature bedazzled belt that if looked at at the right angle and the right time of day, could be detrimental to your long term eye health. The belt lets people know that although I’m in baggy jeans, like every metrosexual ever, I'm GAY. You can wear baggy jeans and still be gay, by the way. Just like how I can be one person who is invited to three separate events all on the same day. 

I cannot continue my blurb unless I shout out one of my best friends, Rhyen Werner, who found these pants for me one blistering day at the thrift store. Rhyen, I dedicate this marvelous day to you! 

Paired with the jeans, and in light of that night’s dinner plans,  I threw on my snazzy navy blue and white polka dotted long sleeve. Floral print marks the inside of the fabric that runs up the middle of the chest (where you button the shirt) and on the collar, which serves to add a subtle pizazz and sunday sunshine to my look. I think it goes without saying.. I had only two buttons done up—it was Sunday and my body was begging me to let it do what it do. I stomped around the entire day in the navy blue Adidas that have the flashy metallic stripes and the ribbon as the left shoe’s lace. I was looking long, lanky and lavish. In SF fashion, I knew it was going to be cold, so I came prepared with my argyle (blue, black and red) pullover, which, if not being worn, was thrown over my shoulders in an effortlessly chic manner that let everyone know where I was all of Spring: Florence, Italy. 

Day Four 

Today is a chill day. All I am going to do is chill. Therefore, I’ve got on a super chill outfit. On my Bella Hadid legs, I have on teensy tiny blue gingham shorts that are sitting on my waist with the help of an obnoxiously large shoe lace bow tie. Their micro length allows my legs to feel empowered and loved by the cheeky breezes of a Berkeley summer. They make me feel like a wonderful picnic, but also a present—perfect for what will be a very chill day.. On my shirt I am keeping it light and airy but also powerful and assured. I have on a shoulder padded, silk, light blue blouse that I got in Italy. It makes me feel like a Prince. As you can probably tell, I love mixing aesthetics, with my sharp and strident wide shouldered blouse paired with my lackadaisical light blue shorts. Perhaps I am a royal taking a much needed day off, or maybe I am on a sailboat taking head on the unknown. In these pieces, I could be anything. But today, I am chill. No no go on you guys take the spotlight for the day, I’ll be on the couch with a drink in my hand, the TV volume on 62 and the fan on high. I have the top three buttons undone, naturally, to ensure maximum breeze enjoyment. Cascading down the middle of my shirt is a piece of lace that adds a luxuriously fragile touch. As I lay around, moving peacefully from my bed to the couch to even the floor with my arms splayed in various positions of ultimate chill, my blouse raises slightly to expose my belly button in a respectful, yet seductive way. Although this is a solo chill day, I enjoy believing that the imaginary voyeur gets excited from these fleeting moments of promiscuity. For shoes I am wearing pointed toe loafers that are a divine mix of blue and green gingham and leather. I feel like I should be sipping a drink with an obnoxiously long straw. I feel    chill. 

After all this chilling I find myself ravenous for momentum, speed, and experience. I am going to go for a run. Think I’m going to do an easy ten miles; should only take me around thirty minutes or so. For running, I will go simple. I have on tiny adidas shorts and a blue wife beater. This minimal clothing allows me to enter a streamlined, zoned in headspace while also looking very sporty. I’ve put on argyle socks to add a pop of character. The socks are blue and red and I have them pulled up as high as they can go. They serve as an exclamation mark at the bottom of a more subdued outfit. I have on black aviators and my hair is particularly curly. I am debating throwing on a camo hat, but that is a decision I will make on a whim once I am done writing this. How painful that you will never know if I did or did not… wear, the camo    hat. 

Day Five 

Today I am sick. The sun is out though so I shall prevail and look fabulous. I made a commitment to excellence, and I refuse to waver even if my physical strength is seeking to knock me off the runway. Take these cowboy boots FEVER!!! 

I took a nap. I wore underwear. 

Day Six

Today I am looking edgy AF. Like a storm cloud amidst the bright, airy and optimistic cubuluses in their prep and summertime patterns bustling through Sproul. I feel like that one goth girl from Total Drama Island, Gwen. Last night I had a very troublesome time picking out my outfit. My dilemma was that I had a meeting at 8AM (Space X does all their meetings intensely early) and then a one-on-one senior thesis writing session at 9. Thus, I needed to be out of the house at 7:30AM to be on campus at 8 to take my meeting so I could make it to my one-on-one at 9. What to wear if it will be cold at 7:30 but an inferno at 10?....

 I landed on all black.

My edge today is so intense that my glances have the effects of thrown daggers. Thankfully, my light and airy essence keeps me approachable so that my students in my discussion who require my knowledge and guidance are not hesitant to reach out… and learn. 

For pants I have on dark gray, slightly acid washed, wide legs. They have lines running down their sides and tassels that begin at the rounded edge of each of the pockets and tie down the leg ending at my knee. The tassels hang off my pants and swoosh dramatically as I prance around this fabulous learning playground. The pants have six symmetrical buckles with hardware buttons, meaning, if you can believe it, that three buttons are on each leg. They are very gladiator. On top I have a skin tight waffle knit black long sleeve. It ends an inch above the start of my pants—they’re not too cheeky to talk to a professor in but just cheeky enough to where I could certainly raise some BPM’s when my hand shoots up in class to make one of the many nuanced comments I contribute to my learning space each day. It’s subtle sexiness—coin that. Thrown across the entire shirt is the muted face of a dragon. On the back right shoulder of the little long sleeve is TAPOUT in big block letters. Wrapped around my waist, serving no practical function is a black elastic belt that has a big black rose taped to it. The rose is positioned on the second belt loop from the left and serves to add some levity to my Dark Academia Look. I have on black doc martens and a brown leather book bag slung across my shoulder. I feel like a medieval knight who got the night off and is going to a knight ( pun ) club. 

Day Seven

Today is the third day of school. I am sitting under a great big tree looking extremely fly. I have on huge, sprawling cargo shorts that go well below my knee. They are khaki with big symmetrical pockets where I keep my calculator and my iclicker so I can prove at a moment’s notice that I am an engaged learner. The sheer volume of the cargo shorts make them slightly comical. They are unsure as to whether they want to be shorts, capris, pants or their entirely own genre. Their essence reflects that of mine I would say. They do not fit perfectly, I cannot walk more than ten steps without the fly coming down, but certainly they are momentously awesome. I am stomping around today in my busted, seen the best and the worst of me, cowboy boots. They are fraying on both sides which lets every student know that they are second hand, maybe even third hand if someone asks me while I'm eating lunch at Ong and Ong. Their peak is two inches under the hem of the shorts, leaving just enough room for my lower knee to talk its talk. The proportions of the shorts and boots make me look as though I am about to ride a SANDWORM and revenge the Lisan Al Gaib. On the top I have an adorable and very tight white baseball tee. I have three buttons done up, leaving the last button undone to allow the end of the shirt to splay at my waist to reveal my BEDAZZLED GOLD BELT. The gold belt is draped around my waist and serves no practical function, which is what I like about it. She’s just chillin and and being blissfully blingy. To tie in the gold belt I have on a gold bedazzled cuff and a gold watch. I am wearing my prescription glasses today to nonverbally communicate to my professors that I mean business. I am listening to LCD Soundsystem so my steps are deliberate and full of gusto.