Women in Clothes

by Sheila Heti

  COLLECTION

  LYDIA BURKHALTER’s gray sweatshirts

  SURVEY

  Leopoldine Core

  What do you admire about how other women present themselves?

  I admire well-groomed women whose clothes are clean and fit them perfectly. Conversely, I admire women who rock a more feral look. I can’t decide which of these women I’d like to be. Clean or dirty? I pinball between the two.

  When do you feel at your most attractive?

  I feel attractive when I don’t have any zits and when I’m having a good hair day. Hair and skin are the top priorities for me. But I feel spectacular when I’m wearing a dress because I like the air on my legs and I can wear my boots with the little heel. If I wear a dress and have exposed legs, I like a big sweater on top, kind of hanging off me, like a Kurt Cobain sweater. I can also feel very attractive in jeans and sneakers and an old stained hoodie with no makeup. That feels very youthful, and I’m turned on by the idea of someone being drawn to the face I actually have, the clothes I actually own. If someone likes me all raggedy, I feel powerful, like I don’t need much, and that’s hot. Okay, I’m now realizing when I feel the most attractive. It’s when I’m wearing someone else’s well-chosen and wonderfully lived-in clothes. Like when I borrow a friend’s shirt or pants or shoes. I look in the mirror while wearing these clothes and think, “I would never have known to buy this.” And then I walk out into the world wearing whatever it is with a certain feeling—a sexy feeling.

  Are there any clothing (or related) items that you have in multiple?

  What I have a lot of is pajamas. Nightgowns are important to me, too, because I spend more time inside than out. Being in bed feels the most natural to me, I even write in bed. I grew up in a very cluttered apartment; my mother was a hoarder. The only uncluttered place was my bed, so I learned to do everything there. I have many flannel pajama bottoms and many large sleep shirts, which are just oversized T-shirts that are soft from being washed so many times. I also call these shirts “eating shirts” because it doesn’t matter if you spill, they are already so stained. I think I keep collecting these things because I like being naked but not totally naked. I like for there to be a loose wall between me and the world. I can’t wear regular clothes while I’m home. It doesn’t matter what time it is, when I get home I immediately strip down and put on pajamas or just underwear and a robe. I find regular clothes really restricting. I can’t really relax until I’m wearing something loose and crawling into bed.

  How long does it take you to get dressed?

  It actually takes me a very long time to get ready, but I never feel a sense of urgency in the morning. I often leave late and with the sense that I look like shit. A good breakfast is very important to me. Making my egg and toast and tea comes first, then I make my way to my dresser and start rooting around. I think it takes me forty-five minutes including all the distractions along the way.

  What are some dressing rules you wouldn’t necessarily recommend to others but you follow?

  I follow my mood and that can get me into trouble. I’ll arrive somewhere and suddenly feel like a slob. The thing is that I can’t get all tarted up if I feel depressed or lazy or if I’m too immersed in a creative project or a TV show. I wouldn’t recommend this personality or soul or whatever it is that chooses my clothes. I’m hopelessly inconsistent and weirdly vain. I’ll curl up with myself at home and think, “God, you’re gorgeous,” then at the party I’ll realize it really would have been a good idea to take a shower.

  What are some dressing or shopping rules you think every woman should follow?

  Don’t buy anything to prove yourself to a sneering salesperson in a fancy store. In upscale stores I’ve so often felt judged to the point of purchasing clothes I didn’t truly want or need. I did this to prove I wasn’t poor or a thief (even though I am poor and used to be a thief). Sometimes that devil head is my own and it’s telling me I need a $300 sweater. But I don’t. That said, I think it’s important to get a few really nice, sometimes pricey items. I have these Swedish clog boots that were sort of expensive but I adore them and wear them everywhere. I think the biggest mistake you can make is to buy a lot of crap, like thirty things off a sale rack rather than a few beautiful items. I think it’s our demented way of getting to feel rich, buying tons of cheap little junky dresses. It feels so much saner to have a lean wardrobe you dig.

  Is there a dressing thing you wish women would stop doing?

  I wish women would stop fetishizing notions of perfection. Look at American Vogue—it’s so safe. We are ashamed of our excess and that is the saddest thing in the world. It’s why women keep getting nose jobs. They take the most beautiful thing about themselves and lop it off so they look like everyone else. In fashion it’s the same. Anyone who gets an outfit perfectly right turns me off. Or I don’t even notice them. It’s “offness” that is key in fashion, I think. On a more specific note, I find the “It Bag” repulsive. Often I’ll see one swinging on the arm of a wealthy woman in a tracksuit—it’s a charmless staple of female wealth. And think about what a purse really is: an externalized pussy or womb. So to have the “right” one and the most expensive one—that sends a chill up my body. Taste is a wink, not a thud.

  Are there any dressing tricks you’ve invented or learned that make you feel like you’re getting away with something?

  “Skater” dresses are hugely flattering on me. They hug the ribs, with a free-flowing skirt over the lower belly, so I can eat a huge dinner and my bloated stomach will be obscured.

  What is the most transformative conversation you have ever had on the subject of fashion or style?

  I remember talking to my ex-girlfriend about our experience of each other when we first met. I was wearing a striped button-down shirt, jeans, and navy Keds. My hair was tamely side-parted and I had daubed the purplish caves under my eyes with concealer. She said I looked like an intense private-school girl. “So I looked smart?” I asked. “Oh, definitely.” I’ve had so many conversations like that, where someone describes me to me and I think, “How could that be me?” I looked intense to her because I was nervous. Although I am intense, I mean, she was right. Instantly she struck me as a genius because of all the things that she said. It didn’t matter that she was wearing a holey old T-shirt, she was an intellectual. She was the intellectual in the old shirt and it made the shirt special. I still remember that shirt. It was gray and battered and sheer. It’s burned in my mind.

  Would you rather be perceived as having great taste or great style?

  When I think of taste, I think of the home. People with great taste have the right furniture, that kind of thing. It seems like a whole religion. “Style” feels looser to me, and sexier. I think of partial strangers saying this: “You have such great style!” It’s the thing we say about the traveling circus that is our bodies. I love for people to look at how I move through the world and think, “Wow.”

  Do you consider yourself photogenic?

  No. I think I look moon-faced and shadowy in photographs. Ghoulish and sad, like someone who works in a factory. The truth is that I panic when someone whips out a camera. And of course I try to suppress that horrible ringing feeling but I can’t. It’s the face of fear that represents me in most photographs. I think I’m beautiful in action, so that loss of my animation has always been deeply unflattering.

  What is your favorite piece of clothing or jewelry that you own?

  This might sound absurd, but right now it’s my bra. I’ve had horrible luck with bras but this one fits like a glove. It’s a Lithuanian bra my ex bought for me last year when she was teaching there. I still can’t believe she just looked at it and knew. I think it’s a teen bra, and it’s hideous, purple with yellow, orange, and blue stripes, but it feels perfect.

  What’s the first “investment” item you bought?

  A pair of $200 shoes for my high school graduation. They were black with ribbons that tied up my legs, and my toes spilled out the fr
ont. They were a mistake, but at the time I was proud of how expensive they were.

  Was there a point when your style changed dramatically?

  When I was fifteen, my mother and I parted ways. Before, I had lived in an apartment in Manhattan with her, where she slowly went crazy. Eventually she was so dysfunctional that she had to move to L.A. and live in her brother’s guest room. I moved with a friend of the family upstate to finish high school. I went from going to LaGuardia High, where you could wear a bathing suit without getting in trouble, to a really repressed high school with a dress code and no queers in sight. I went from dressing in an exciting way to dressing in a bland, brand-hungry way. It was sad. Before I moved there, I was making shirts out of stockings. I had oxblood Doc Martens, cool vintage old-lady coats, and weird little dresses that were my mom’s from the ’70s. I was awesome. But upstate I became this nobody in, like, Steve Madden platform boots.

  What is the difference between dressing and dressing up?

  Dressing is just finding something comfortable and leaving the house. Dressing up is a more strenuous journey. It means rubbing scented oils into my frizzy hair and putting on some makeup. It means wearing a dress and my little clog boots and some sheer black stockings (Wolford are the best).

  Do you care about lingerie?

  I do, though not in an ambitious way. If someone were to buy lingerie for me I would wear it. But I’m more interested in finding well-fitting underwear and bras. I think cotton underwear can be sexier. Sometimes lingerie feels old-ladyish. I also don’t like how certain “sexy” underwear is so tiny. I like more coverage on my ass.

  What are you trying to achieve when you dress for the world?

  Some days I want to be invisible. Other days I want to look interesting and pretty and like an animal. Looking unraveled but not too unraveled feels sexy and smart. It’s part of being a writer. I like looking like someone who was probably lying around with her thoughts for a while and then took a shower and groomed herself a little.

  How has your background influenced how you dress?

  I grew up in the East Village in the ’90s. It was a dirty, stylish time. The goal was always to stand out and look different, not to aspire to be one kind of woman. Punk felt right. When I was young and pretty, there was a part of me that wanted to destroy that image. I was realizing that the corridor of women is all YES and I wanted to say NOOO. But I also wanted certain boys to want to fuck me, so it got confusing. I wore a lot of eyeliner and hoped to be ravaged.

  Have you ever dressed a certain way to gain a sense of control?

  When I feel too exposed, I put on a loose button-up sweater and instantly relax. My skin is pinkish, and color floods to the surface if I’m having a feeling. It’s like looking right into my thoughts, and that can make me nervous. Frequently at an event I’ll cover my naked arms.

  What are you wearing on your body and face, and how is your hair done, right at this moment?

  Shu Uemura oil on my hair and coconut Skin Trip lotion on my body. Then I put aloe gel on my face to calm the pinkness. I’m wearing an illuminating concealer under my eyes, some mascara and blush. I also use a Chanel eyebrow pencil to shape and define. Some days, I won’t wear any makeup at all.

  What are some things you do to feel presentable?

  Shaving my armpits is important. It feels so good to get clean and smooth there. I need to wash my face and clean my teeth. I always floss. My shirt should be clean because a dirty shirt is a stinky shirt.

  Is there a part of your body that feels most distinctly you?

  I like my back. It’s slender and muscly and pretty. I think it’s the most sexual part of me.

  Would you ever do anything like cosmetic surgery?

  No, that scares me too much. Cosmetic surgery is actually really dangerous. You open yourself up to all sorts of infections. And then usually you look crazy.

  How do you care for your body?

  I don’t exercise much. I try to eat lots of vegetables and lean meats and I take various green pills. But I have off months of swigging coffee and eating lots of candy. It takes its toll on me when I do that. I try to steer clear of inflammatory foods. Cucumber juice is excellent for my mood and skin.

  Do you have a unified way of approaching your life, work, relationships, finances, and chores?

  I think I’m a bird in a wind tunnel, and I’m working on it. I’m not as organized as I’d like, but my passions are deep and true and they move me to work really hard. I’m an intense little candle. If I love you it’s really like a light coming from the bottom of my soul and you have my full attention. Same with a poem or story. Then other parts of my life suffer. I’ll forget to pay Con Ed and suddenly it’s dark.

  How important is all this?

  I hate when people say they don’t care about clothes, because it’s a lie. It’s like when writers say they don’t care about plot. Lie. We are always asking for something when we get dressed. Asking to be loved, to be fucked, to be admired, to be left alone, to make people laugh, to scare people, to look wealthy, to say I’m poor, I love myself. It’s the quiet poem in the waiting room, on the subway, in the movie of our lives. It’s a big fucking deal.

  Please say anything you like about yourself.

  I’m a feminist. I’m bisexual. And at twenty-eight, I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. What I mean is that the inside is pouring out more than ever before. Maybe twenty-eight is the magic year. The year of my lion heart.

  CONVERSATION

  YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I DEAL WITH

  THE WOMEN FROM THE PODCAST BLACK GIRLS TALKING

  ALESIA: What are your favorite fabrics?

  FATIMA: Leather.

  AURELIA: Leather is always great.

  ALESIA: Yeah. Leather, chiffon, lace, sequins. . . .

  AURELIA: Tulle, I love tulle. I have no place in my life for tulle. But I love it.

  RAMOU: Oh, I totally want to have a tulle wedding dress. My wedding dress is gonna have to have tulle.

  AURELIA: I love the Pinterest boards with girls wearing tulle skirts and jean jackets, but that wouldn’t function in my life.

  ALESIA: I own a custom-made tutu! It has like three different pinks: hot pink, regular pink, and like a petal pink. And it has a black bow belt. Really, it’s awesome. It was my birthday tutu. I think for a while I was going through some shit and I just really needed something that made me feel all right, and I was like, “I’ll get a tutu!”

  RAMOU: Now I wanna wear tulle for my birthday this year!

  AURELIA: You should. But I will just say, with the tutu—you can either wear a tiara on your birthday or a tutu. You can’t do both.

  (Everyone laughs.)

  FATIMA: Aurelia, how would you describe your personal style?

  AURELIA: Oh my god, I don’t know. Maybe a post-apocalyptic Audrey Hepburn My Little Pony sort of thing.

  FATIMA: That sounds amazing!

  AURELIA: Yeah, I kinda landed somewhere between Audrey Hepburn and Stevie Nicks.

  ALESIA: I wear dark clothes because I think they look great on me. Also, it’s an homage to Janet Jackson. Her Control era, the Rhythm Nation era. . . .

  FATIMA: She looked great.

  ALESIA: She’d always been the chubby kid with the chubby face, and that’s how I’ve looked most of my life. But she didn’t wear baggy stuff, she wasn’t trying to hide her body. She embraced her curves, and everything she wore, it looked like it was tailor-made for her. She may have had insecurities, but you couldn’t tell it in the way she dressed. I think that’s been my style inspiration for who knows how long, with little adjustments here and there.

  FATIMA: For me it’s sort of a three-pronged thing between nineties Morticia Addams—like in the Addams Family movie—and Grace Jones, because I’m very drawn to androgynous kinds of looks, and Diana Ross, because I love that really glam stuff.

  ALESIA: I spend a lot of time on my eyelashes, and it’s definitely because of Diana.

  AURELIA: I love lashes.
Solange is a little bit further left-field than I am in my day-to-day life, but I wish I could dress like her on the regular. But my life doesn’t really allow for that.

  RAMOU: I love Solange, but you’re right. I could not wear what she wears every day and make it work for me. I used to be really into accessories, like I would overaccessorize. And since I’ve cut my hair, I’m pretty much all about my earrings. But when I first cut it, I was very self-conscious about still appearing feminine, so I’d wear these big, very girly earrings. . . .

  ALESIA: Me, too. When my hair started transitioning to natural, I wasn’t comfortable with not having straight hair anymore, and I would try to girly it up a bit by wearing huge, chunky, feathery, neon, sparkly earrings. Like, “Hey, I’m still a girl!”

  RAMOU: I was definitely like that.

  AURELIA: I didn’t do the big chop. I got a weave, and I had a big curly weave until my hair grew out enough that I wanted to wear it out.

  ALESIA: That takes a lot of patience. I was, like, ready to rock my stuff immediately.

  AURELIA: I did cut all of my hair off a while after that, but that was a fashion statement for me. I knew what I was going to look like. I think it’s because my mother and my aunt had really short hair, like these boy cuts, and I always thought they were so gorgeous, so I was like, “I want to be like my mom and cut all my hair off.” But then I grew it all out because I thought my boobs were too big, and it made my head look really small. (Everyone laughs.)

  ALESIA: I went natural because I thought my head was too big, and wearing my hair straight was making me look odd. Everyone was always, “You have the best hair, it’s so thick, you should just wear it.” And I was like, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what I deal with.” But then I’d notice that when I had a curly weave, I looked really great, like my head looked proportional, so I finally decided to do it. But then I had a little problem where I just didn’t feel like I looked . . . presentable.