Black leather jacket
I bought my favorite piece of clothing on accident. I intended to shop at Urban Jungle on 120 Knickerbocker Ave. in Williamsburg, Brooklyn one fall afternoon, but ended up lost and two miles away at the thrift store Junk.
I found the Free People black leather jacket buried in the squeaking racks amidst sweaters and jeans that smelled like pot or had giant holes in inconvenient places. I paid $20. You should never pay more than $30 for a leather jacket. You should also never buy a leather jacket that can’t take a few bumps and bruises. God knows mine has withstood a spilled matcha tea or two.
My Sex Pistols and Ramones playlist rocks more while wearing my jacket. Screw the sellout Forever 21 sales. You can’t pretend to take down The Man in cheap floral dresses created by slave labor. This is partially why I refuse to lend my sister the jacket. Call me a snob, but her frilly blouses underneath the jacket don’t match the gritty, anarchist undertones of leather.
To women everywhere, I say leather up. Walk out into the world in your all-black ensemble. Break stereotypes. Stand up to patriarchy and a government that hates you. And buy more than one jacket in case you temporarily lose yours at a taco bar.
It’s never easy paying for $98 leggings. However, when you wear them almost every single day, it’s worth it. I know what you’re thinking, “Seriously, leggings for $98?” But let me tell you: Once you put on Lululemon’s breathable, flexible leggings, you won’t go back.
My go-to outfit is black Lululemon leggings paired with a white T-shirt or comfy sweatshirt. I was once the girl who rolled my eyes at girls who wore Lululemon, but when I bought my first pair, no other legging brand mattered. Especially when competing brands only sell fake, see-through fabric (I’m calling on you, Victoria’s Secret).
The best part of my go-to outfit is I can dress my leggings up or down. The leggings are warm enough for winter and cool enough for hot summer days. Lululemon offers a wide variety of styles and fabric thickness, my favorite part. Comfortability is my middle name, so these leggings, as ridiculously expensive as they are, are worth every dollar.
Last year I went to Goodwill with my mom and my sister and, as usual, hovered near the book section until we were about to leave. Taking one last stroll through the store, I spotted a long grey cardigan hanging on the end of a rack. Smiling in delight, I grabbed it and threw it around my shoulders to see if it fit. It was a little baggy and the tag read L (I wore a small) but I bought it anyway. This sweater was magic.
On hot days, the sweater served as a light jacket. On cold days, by some unseen witchcraft, I stayed warm and cozy with that sweater wrapped around my torso like a woolen hug. In the summer when I worked as a camp counselor at a wilderness camp in the middle of the Black Hills National Forest, I packed the sweater in my coral Cabela’s bag and yanked it out as soon as the sun went down. If I got cold, I pulled it off my shoulders and draped it over myself like a blanket. That sweater and I read books together in my camping chair. We spoke each other’s language. A very classic love story: one 19-year-old girl and one inanimate sweater.
I lost my sweater once under a pile of books beneath my bed. I begged my roommate to tell me if she’d seen it anywhere. I discovered it days later with a rush of relief.
I keep close track of it now. No matter the hole in the right sleeve, I boldly wear it with yoga pants, jeans and slacks. It’s my fashion go-to. Even if it’s a fashion mistake.