I have been obsessed with fashion for as long as I can remember. I used to watch House of Style, even though nobody was making designer clothing for fat girls back in the nineties. But I enjoyed the patterns, the pageantry, and the symmetry of runway shows. I loved how unattainable it all was. Sure, heroin chic made my life a living hell, but I still wanted to smell like CK1. 

Over the years, I have used fashion as a life raft. Even when I felt my worst, my pattern game and ability to choose clothing that fit my body perfectly was on point. I wore a lot of loud print dresses when I was at my absolute limit, my absolute end. Despair somehow becomes more palatable when you throw a quirky glasses print dress on top of your perpetually intoxicated, hopelessly overweight body. My hair colors grew louder as I further slipped away into the darkness, where I needed to face some demons and slay some dragons while the big boss was away. So to speak.

During therapy, my clothing became more monochromatic. Utilitarian. I wore the same jeans, cardigan, and tee shirt for months on end. I shaved my head. I felt incredibly lost, and had no idea why I kept going, but I did.

A year or so ago, I started seeing Nooworks in my Instagram feed, and immediately became obsessed with their prints. I tried on a magic suit in Pittsburgh, and wore it to a show in Charleston that evening. I was the best dressed lady at the dive bar in West Virginia that evening. 

It felt like a celebration.

The magic suit is the one piece of clothing that has helped me see and appreciate my body now, and dress it how I've always wanted to dress it. They also make me smile when I put them on. I feel like fucking garbage today, but I'm wearing a knife print jumpsuit, and it makes me smile. They're pricey and limited and I can't imagine wearing anything else right now.

The life raft feels a bit different now, though. Wearing color right now feels like a rebellious act. 


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