Welcome to These Shirts, my personal summer concert series, where I’ll catalogue some shirts in my home and share their stories with you. The title of this three-part series was inspired by what will surely be remembered as one of my most lasting and influential Autostraddle works, These Cashews. (Titling it “These Shirts” was Yvonne’s idea and that’s how you know she’s a genius, because as I was lying on Sarah’s yoga mat on the cabin floor in the mountains of southern California, battling scarlet bronchitis pneumonia and pitching this series to my fellow senior editors’ backs while they were talking to each other, it all seemed like another useless and possibly unreasonable dream until Yvonne named it, and then we could all see how true and real it was.) The series itself is inspired by the book Worn Stories by Emily Spivack, as well as the list I pitched but never wrote in 2015, Top 12 Shirts I’ve Stolen From You, which was meant as a tribute to my long-suffering wife, Megan, of course.
This first installment of the series is dedicated to the shirts I purchased brand new, of my own accord and volition, usually in an effort to invent or reinvent myself, all to great success and approval from my peers I’m sure.
We published an extremely popular post in October 2010 titled How to Make Gay Friends and Meet Queer Girls: The Ultimate Guide to Effective Queer Socializing, and though our advice was stellar and I’m sure not riddled with any sort of outdated language or bizarre formatting issues, the real party started in the comments, when people started shouting out where they lived and wondering if they were all alone or if there were any other Autostraddle readers in their vicinity. The little shouts just popped up, one after the other, city after city. And lo, many times there were indeed other readers in their vicinities. People started sharing their email addresses so they could try out these queer socializing skills on each other in person, in the safety of their shared weirdness and willingness. It snowballed to 1,205 comments, and we just sat back and watched in wonder. “Oh my god all they needed was an excuse to find each other.” And then we did what any level-headed, community oriented group of late-twenties queers would do: we turned this enthusiasm into a) another post, yes, several of them actually, but also b) a full-blown international meetup event, our first ever. We called it International Meet an Autostraddler Week and forced our staff to host meetups in their cities (a tradition we’ve lovingly upheld through the years) (‘forced’ is a strong word, maybe ‘convinced’ is better). This also included me, and I was terrified.
I scheduled the Phoenix area meetup to coincide with my mom coming into town so she could watch the kids, which is a very normal thing to do when you don’t know anyone in your city and are afraid of hiring babysitters. Then I had to find something to wear. I think this was at the tail-end of my Threadless phase, when I’d mostly transitioned out of graphic tees and into v-necks. The v-necks weren’t the American Apparel kind, but these heathered earth tone situations that the woman I was dating at that time would buy for me at Whole Foods. This isn’t to say that I wasn’t grateful, but to illustrate that I wasn’t making this choice myself. I wanted to feel confident and look like myself for this meetup, and I had to figure out what that meant, which, haha good luck.
I’d been wanting to try this new look, maybe you’ve heard of it, it’s when you wear leggings as pants and pair them with an oversized shirt and chunky boots. Have you ever imagined such a cutting edge look on a mom nearing 30?? Well I hadn’t and I shadn’t because I was a grown woman trying to move through this merciless world with grace and dignity and respect. But I really wanted to try leggings as pants before my time on this planet was all used up, so that’s what I did.
I found this RVCA shirt at a Tilly’s in one of the many, many strip malls in this gorgeous desert I call home and also hell. Or was it a PacSun? Truly, it does not matter. I found the largest shirt with the most chill graphic and there I was, on my way to an awkward dimly lit night that would actually change my life.
I met two people at the meetup who lived just down the road from me, and we made plans to meet again. One of them lived extremely just down the road, like literally around the corner, and sometimes at night we’d each walk to the midpoint between us and sit on the sidewalk and talk about… I don’t remember, but I think we were both sad. I was sad for sure. One time we all three met at the her house for brunch, and she’d made these amazing stuffed acorn squash. We had drinks on her patio and were just honest about ourselves. It wasn’t as easy as it had been to make friends 10 years earlier, but being with these people was easy in another way, and now I had leggings.
Striped Button-Up Shirt
This is my attempt at being breezy, effortless, and hopefully timeless. Do you even comprehend time while looking at this shirt? Could I acknowledge the minutes that slipped by while I decided if I could afford this shirt on sale? Can you even define “clock”? I highly doubt it.
Because I have a habit of buying new clothes one at a time and several months apart, for a while this was one of maybe two ‘good’ shirts I owned and could wear out of the house, should that elusive moment ever present itself. I washed it on the gentle cycle in cold water, and arranged it on a curved and glossy wooden hanger to dry. It was my breezy fucking shirt that radiated a certain timelessness, and an effortlessness that must mean that I, the person wearing it, am a laid-back, chill individual who only ever line-dries because what is time if not the perfect excuse to prolong the gentle dampness of one’s attire until the very air itself has decided its job here is done?
But have you ever had a cat?
If you have then I’m afraid you know where this is going, and I’m sorry for the both of us.
This shirt now represents the very worst belief in the world, which is the belief that your cat — that my cat — will not be like the others, with their claws and their need to hook those claws into any nearby fabric, time and time again, on the way to their whole body being placed safely back down onto the floor or table, where you should’ve just left them to begin with, if we’re being quite honest with ourselves. You can’t ever really unsnag a snagged thread, can you? Can’t unring a bell. What’s done is done. It’s done all over this shirt.
This robe is not a shirt but bear with me, because this is something I purchased while being of sound mind and body and if you’ve read this far you know how rare that is, and I’ll never do a series titled These Outerwears and Other Accessories so the time is now.
I was with Megan at Bonnaroo in 2013 when I realized, and ultimately shouted, that I didn’t want to wait until the next music festival to dress like I was at a music festival! I was my truest self at this music festival and I wanted to live my truth every day between now and next June, and that meant wearing these things all year round. I was tired of jeans! I hated jeans! I wanted skirts and pants whose wide, wide legs could maybe double as lightweight sleeping bags should we have the need. I wanted to accessorize — scarves and dangly earrings and bracelets and so many necklaces and frankly, if I’d been able to find them, probably even anklets.
In my journal I wrote, “I’m also only wearing the things I want to wear. Fuck a bunch of fucking jeans and fucking v-necks. I’d rather just not leave that house than wear that shit again.” And I meant it.
This robe came from Nordstrom Rack, where Megan would like to spend the better part of any afternoon when she is not at work thank you very much. I usually can’t find anything for myself there (except for all the Eileen Fisher shit, which I would gladly wear day in and day out, but still can’t afford because Eileen Fisher must be purchased with widow’s money), so seeing this from across the room was like a sexy music video about me, the robe, and the fact that we would do anything for each other.
I packed it for A-Camp and hung it up in our closet next to other people’s dresses and jackets. We were sharing a cabin with Heather, Rachel and Yvonne (this keeps being true about me and I’m eternally grateful for it), so getting ready for nighttime programming was a group activity that involved drinks and help with eyeliner and so much praise. It was time to get dressed for something and it had been an exhausting day and I was trying to rally but it was hard. I’d already picked out the night’s outfit, and when I reached past Yvonne to grab the dress and this robe out of the closet, she yelled YESSS and said she’d been wondering when the robe was going to come into play. All at once I felt held and seen, like everything would be ok, you know? Bless the skies, Yvonne rallied me that night.
White Crewneck T-Shirt
It only took five years but I finally ate those words from my journal about fuck a bunch of fucking jeans and fucking v-necks. Here’s what happened: Jeanna Kadlec tweeted about her four perfect outfits (inspired by Nicole Cliffe, who’d been talking about perfect outfits that day) and one of them was the exact outfit that I’d been carrying a torch for for YEARS — perfect jeans, white t-shirt, black moto jacket — but had never actually owned, or really even attempted to own. Naturally I replied to her tweet with gusto, for I was moved. I told her I’d been pining for this look for over a decade but had never bothered to purchase any of the components in an effort to make it happen, and I wondered aloud why I hadn’t, and Jeanna replied WHY NOT INDEED, and it changed me.
I needed an outside force or someone else to give me permission to wear what I wanted, again. This time it was from a woman online that I really didn’t know, aside from the fact that our pasts shared something very big and very formative, which happened to be another time when we’d needed permission to do what we wanted, only to realize that actually we were the only ones who could grant ourselves that permit. And the most important part of all of this is that we both did.
So I found this shirt and, in a fugue state, bought it along with a pair of extremely tight drop-hem high-waisted jeans — a full 10-inch rise, if I may be so bold — and, full disclosure, a bandana. I still don’t have the moto jacket, but that’s gonna be a hard sell as long as I’m still living in Phoenix, so I’ve forgiven myself for now.
I also have this shirt’s v-neck cousin in three colors because I WEAR WHAT I WANT and the next time I want to swerve into a new look, I hope I remember that the permission is mine and it’s been there all along.
1. I need all of these
2. REALLY SAD THAT I DIDN’T SEE THAT ROBE OUT AND ABOUT AT CAMP LANEIA (we need a Fancy Robe Meet-Up next time)
OKAY I DIDN’T REALLY READ THE PART WITH THE WHITE T-SHIRT LANEIA I GOT TOO EXCITED AND CAME DOWN AND COMMENTED BUT I JUST READ THIS AND OH MY GOD I’M CRYING
“I needed an outside force or someone else to give me permission to wear what I wanted, again. This time it was from a woman online that I really didn’t know, aside from the fact that our pasts shared something very big and very formative, which happened to be another time when we’d needed permission to do what we wanted, only to realize that actually we were the only ones who could grant ourselves that permit. And the most important part of all of this is that we both did.”
Well I savored every moment of this piece and would be pleased to read something just like it every other week for the next period of time, truly. I also own the v-neck cousin of that Madewell t-shirt in three colors, so FINALLY we have something in common.
here is a robe memory i have.
these sentences were two of my favorites, and i have many: “Have you ever imagined such a cutting edge look on a mom nearing 30?? Well I hadn’t and I shadn’t because I was a grown woman trying to move through this merciless world with grace and dignity and respect. “
I had big feelings about this whole thing, so big that I am leaving a comment which is something I almost never do because I am the worst. The feelings are myriad. The least of which is a commiseration regarding the shitassedness of dressing oneself in Phoenix (hello fellow desert denizen!) And the largest is that I have been stewing in this whole thing about identity and invisibility and style and this didn’t fully solve my stewing but it certainly helped it along. Well done.
My god this is perfect. I made Stacy take off her headphones throughout to read her the best passages and finally she agreed to just take off the headphones and have the whole thing read aloud to her.
This was thoroughly enjoyable! I look forward to seeing more. Clothes are always more interesting to me when you know the story behind them
Tag yourself I’m floral robe
i’m finding that floral robe in my bedsheets
I’m a cat with its claws hooked into any nearby fabric
I was fully unprepared for how amazing this was <3
Laneia, my kith and kin ? I love this post and I look forward to more!!
The feeling of being so excited for a post that I can’t remember my AS password.
These shirts, indeed <3
This was amazing, loved every bit of it! Also it seemed like you always had that floral robe! I didn’t realize that was the story behind it.
These are all so great and I love the stories so much! I’m actually heading out to do some clothes shopping later, and I feel inspired to shop for things my best, gayest self needs to wear, thank you!
This morning, which was really this afternoon, after I wondered aloud if I could just Febreze my current favourite shirt to continue wearing it for a fifth day, my wife reminded me that it was possible to buy new shirts.
While waiting for a discount code for a popular retailer, I saw this post, and thanks to your words Laneia, I have now reached a level of intentional shirtfulness where I am able to cope with the mystifying language of fashion consumerism and not feel personally aggrieved any time the word “boyfriend” is used as an adjective.
That’s some power you have there.
Sally have you considered that washing machines have a wash as well as a spin cycle?
What is this wash cycle witchcraft
This disrupts my mental image of you as having an endless supply of clever screen-printed t-shirts at your disposal
I febreezed my hair on the last day of camp instead of washing it, which means all things are possible. yesterday i febreezed sweatpants that i did not wear out of my own home.
I loved every second of this.
I could have read another 10+ pages of this.
Also, am 100% here for perfect jeans with a perfect v-neck tee. Not sure what defines “perfect”, but I know it when I see it and I buy no fewer than 3 at a time.
This was a delight from start to finish. I can’t wait for the rest of the series!
Loved this whole dang thing.
Also, I’m not sure whether it was intentional or a typo, but either way, I love that the date listed for the “timeless” striped button-up is “Fall 2018.”
Ooh. If it’s a time-travelling striped button-up maybe she can go back and retrieve it before it gets shredded by her cat
hahahaaaaaaaa it IS a typo but i love that you were also ready to believe that it could’ve been intentional. bless you.
This is amazing and I am obsessed with you and also I feel like your perfect jeans had a 10-inch rise, not a 10-inch inseam, unless your legs are even shorter than mine…!
Hana THANK YOU. even editors need an editor. ?
this made me feel things and think things
Laneia! This is the best thing I’ve ever read. I love reading about clothes, especially the secret stories of them. More please. I would, in fact, read that piece entitled These Outerwears and Other Accessories.
I absolutely love the striped shirt, I would definitely wear that. Also have this fixation on white crew neck T-shirts. Buy at least X LG, I wear a Sm- to Med, so comfy and free feeling
I love this!
Laneia, you’re forever the best.
First of all, Laneia, I love you.
Second of all, as someone who is currently trying to re-vamp their entire wardrobe, I NEEDED THIS SO BADLY.
It is so hard and exhausting and expensive to try to go throughout my wardrobe and throw out all my clothes (some not even that old! some that I even bought myself!) that are too femme or too *not ME* and try to replace them with things that make me feel more comfortable and more like myself. Especially when you happen to be a masculine of centre queer who’s only 5’3″ and 120lbs. Why are men’s clothes SO BIG!
“Especially when you happen to be a masculine of centre queer who’s only 5’3″ and 120lbs. Why are men’s clothes SO BIG!”
I love these shirts and robe and Laneia, more please
This was amazing. So much more than I thought it was going to be. Yet another reason I love Autostraddle.
Uhhh, can we bring back this commenting your area and trying to meet other Autostraddlers thing?? I know we’ve moved on to doing official meet-ups, but I’m never close enough to one :/
(New Hampshire over here!)
I went into this fully expecting something snarky about some terrible old shirts you’d bought and then regretted, and instead! Instead it was this! This little jewel box of a list. So lovely.
I almost didn’t click on this because I thought UGH clothes.
But then I did anyway and I laughed, I cried, I questioned a significant number of my life decisions.
Write more things please.
This was exactly what I needed as I begin intentionally shaping my wardrobe! You have an amazing ability to take something so simple and make it beautiful and thought provoking!
This was the perfect thing to read in the garden with a cup of morning coffee before I prepare myself for 7 hours of soul crushing marking <3.
This is perfection and I love you so much for bringing this into the world.
“Well I hadn’t and I shadn’t because I was a grown woman trying to move through this merciless world with grace and dignity and respect. But I really wanted to try leggings as pants before my time on this planet was all used up, so that’s what I did.” i literally snorted while reading this i cant believe im not even finished and this is already one of my favorite articles ever
laneia your brain is so good
it’s just so fucking good
Your shirts are beauuutiful!
Also side note: I dated Eileen Fisher’s niece for ~4 months and got a pair of petite leggings out of it.
I JUST SAW THIS COMMENT AND HAVE PERISHED.