What do you wear when your world ends?

TW: In loss, I'm trying to get up, getting dressed

Guilt is a big theme of today’s letter, because dear TIDBTW, why do I want to talk to you? When I struggle to take a phone call from a friend. When is too soon? When is it too soon to write. Someone said the other day that it’s astonishing how I already have words for what’s not to describe. But I always have words. I’ve been writing in my head forever. Words now hold me and words now haunt me.

Photo by TIDBTW

I thought I could tell you a little about how my dad shaped the way I see fashion and dress, how I got into writing, sustainability, everything really. How he read this newsletter too. But I can’t. That’s what too soon feels like. The words are spiky, I have a stingy feeling in my mouth and under my skin as the memories play out on my mind. I still can’t believe my dad is gone. (When I’m still here.)

I can see some parallels between when people are born and when someone dies. Beautiful gestures. Flowers are being sent, maybe letters, long messages trying to prepare me for what’s to come, as if anything could come, when someone in fact just left. Food is being cooked. True gifts. I miss the nights where I wasn’t sleeping because I had a newborn.

And stubbornly, most things, most days require me to wear something. We always wear something, may it be anything. I’m literally in the same seven items every day. Similar to early postpartum. A wool turtleneck, t-shirt, baggy jeans, a nice Prada belt I stole from Arthur, some sturdy lace-up shoes, a woolen coat. A thick wool hat. All loose enough to shelter me, my body is a figure moving through space, its ethereal form not clear yet. Hiding for now.

Before the next new letter, my ootd is a heavy uniform that I can only wish to lighten. Not sure how. But maybe TIDBTW can remain my special place, a bridge that I’ve built for myself. No judgement.

These days I’ll be trying to wear little words, images, little friends:

• Tasting, liking coffee again.

• Going on a walk, feeling my legs working, my body magically still functioning. Maybe there’s some sun.

• A warm meal.

• A warm hug.

• Someone expressing their sympathy, not knowing how to best express it, making it incredibly human, making me feel closer.

• Realizing that the clothes, the shoes, even the hat and bag I packed in a rush actually do work well. Do I secretly like the outfit I’m wearing for the xth day in a row? I wear everything I need. What a blessing.

• Buying the first proper shoes for our son, him blissfully unaware. Finding that old in-store slide again, have I been here before? Did I use that as a kid? Irritatingly tasteful with the wood meeting the carpet. What about if we’d build that in our house?

• I read this substack article by

  Habitually Chic
  about Gwyneth Paltrow’s looks, matching my mood in a movie I haven’t watched. I zoom into the collages because the outfits are really good. Taking a screenshot. I’m still not that kind of neat dresser.

• I see an old lady running errands, her headband carefully holding her silver hair, a market purse, very Bottega but not Bottega at all. How do I still notice those details.

• My hometown could be cozy actually.

We talk soon, xoxo