Oh hai, I’m Liz, and I want to talk to you about fashion. For instance: I look good in high heels but they hurt my feet and skinny jeans sit too low on my hips. I know. Big fat first world problems. But what can I say? I like to think about what I wear. A lot. Also what you wear. And everyone else. That’s right, I care just a little too much about fashion. Believe me, though, you’ll care soon too. I know, it’s scary. Fashion? What? Are you saying I can’t wear my Chucks and American Apparel hoodie every day forever ever? I understand your trepidation. Fashion is hard, and sometimes people who talk about it are annoying and intimidating. Also, you might be sitting there squinting at my user icon wondering “Is this chick even remotely qualified to be writing about this?” What great questions! Luckily I have answers for them.
First of all, let’s get real: flannel is a fashion statement. Birkenstocks are a fashion statement. Alternative hairstyles are fashion statements. And that’s AWESOME. Life would be so damn boring if we didn’t get to wake up every morning and costume ourselves in new and interesting ways, and those things all fit that description. However, even something as simple as dressing can start to get complicated if you’re a lesbogay. There’s all this weird pressure to “dress like a lesbian,” because otherwise you’re “dressing like a straight person,” which is weird because you kinda just wanna dress like you. Moreover, the undeniable truth is that many of us also want to telegraph our queerness to other gay women. But what if you want to wear 50s style dresses and make sure other women know you’re gay? Is there a kind of queer fashion that isn’t based in combat boots or flattops? And what if you also work a 9-5 job where you’d rather not start a lengthy conversation about sexual orientation with your 65-year-old male boss? Well, I guess you’d be in the same position as me.
So for me, fashion matters. Sometimes it’s goofy, sometimes it’s a complicated reflection of our inner selves and sometimes we just want someone to tell us how we’re supposed to wear those goddamn infinity scarves. But regardless of how you slice it, we are all affected by the fabric we choose to wrap ourselves in. Well… except nudists. Nudists can ignore my writing.
In conclusion: fashion matters and I’m going to write about it here at “Liz’s Latest Thing.” Am I qualified? Hell no. I’m a research tech in a genetics lab. Luckily, I’m completely self involved. I spend nearly all of my time thinking about making sure other people see me the way I want to be seen, which means I spend a lot of time online shopping and reading magazines. Okay, and full disclosure: I’ve done a lot of costume design so I am a tiny bit qualified when it comes to the structure/color/fabric part. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m writing about style for young queer women without a stake in looking “butch” or “femme” but who are interested in looking “hot” and “awesome.” Because no one else is and I always wish they would.
Of course Autostraddle already has awesome fashion coverage on a variety of fascinating topics, and therefore I’m excited to join a team that includes such wonderful writers and guest-writers and am going to do my very best — which is pretty damn good — to bring something new/consistent to this very stylish table.
But seriously, the infinity scarf… do I just loop it twice around my neck? Really? That’s it?
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