I have never in my life liked leopard print. Any animal print, for that matter. It’s an inside joke among my loved ones, a slice of family mythology: “everyone get Skye leopard stuff for Christmas [hurr durr]!” But this coat, courtesy of Danica, is the thing that reorients my entire life. When a piece of clothing is so striking that it makes you question long-established disgust, then you wear that piece until it falls off your cold dead bones.
I broke it in last night over my last meal of the year. ‘Tis the season for “bitch I’m fabulous” Advanced Style aesthetic. ‘Tis every season for that.
This year I plan to…
- grow my hair long and dye it back to pink. I love my flapper bob, but I want to do things with my hair again. I want clips and pins and towering Victorian updos. And I want it all in pink, because anachronism.
- get that much closer to finishing this goddamn religion degree. I have a complete minor (Latin language & literature) and all my electives, so I can focus 100% on religion.
- transition to wearing 100% vintage. I wear exclusively thrifted now, but not all my pieces are vintage vintage: I do have some reproduction. This year, I won’t buy a garment without certainty of its age.
- visit Portland and take selfies in front of waterfalls
- stage kitten for the Vermont Burlesque Festival
- either finish my novel for real this time or commit seppuku, because what other option do I have really