An Overdue (Re)Intro
It’s been quite some time since I last published something on my journal so, let’s have a little (re)intro shall we?
My name is Zach and I use they/xe pronouns. I’m drawn to the tender imperfections of well-loved things, a uniqueness that inevitably gives way to an inherent special-ness. It’s why I so fiercely love surrounding and adorning myself with vintage or secondhand pieces. I opt to source clothes and furniture this way because it’s more sustainable, vintage was made-to-last, and, frankly, I thrive off of the thrill of the find. I keep running lists of pieces to always look for whenever I’m out and there are few feelings sweeter than when the consistent search finally pays off.
A few months ago, I moved to a new apartment. Unexpectedly, this new space has ushered immense joy and ease into my life. I didn’t think that things could feel this easy because, frankly, they haven’t since the pandemic began over two years ago (I know we’re all sick and tired of talking about it but it’s true. It’s probably going to affect us mentally/emotionally for years to come. Anywhooo!) This ease has opened up so much brain space for me to reimagine my creative relationship with myself, my wardrobe, and my space. The space is smaller, which has obligated me to situate my furniture in closer proximity; now, my pieces are interacting with each other in new ways. I’m seeing patterns in my selections that I didn’t see before like my love for brutalist touches or affinity for the color red.
The sconce and the bowl moment — living for it.
This antique cabinet is so special to me.
I’ve also had a lot of space to reflect (if you can’t already tell, I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands lately) on my personal style. The approach I’ve taken with my physical space has been deeply influenced by a conversation I’d already been having with myself concerning my wardrobe. Going back a few years, I notice how an unfamiliarity with my self translated to a safe, easily-reproduced wardrobe. Since then, I’ve made significant personal discoveries about my own gender and I’ve worked to expose myself to styles and designers I’d never considered. This expansion has led to a blossoming of creativity in my wardrobe as well. I draw upon a multitude of references and feel unafraid to choose pieces that others might not (read, 100% no chance in hell) enjoy for themselves personally. Some have an understated elegance while others feel special in their outrageousness yet they’re all me. It’s pure, unadulterated queer joy. Part of this shift has come from a level of contentment I now have in my self and another, I feel, comes from its reflection of my personality and enjoyment in my clothes rather than a desire to be part of a movement or rigid ‘aesthetic’.
A very blurry photo w/ a blurry 70s chenille bag I can’t stop using
It’s liberating to be guided by my own curiosity and enjoyment rather than a hyper-specific ‘aesthetic’ outcome. For a long time, I felt trapped in what I call the ‘beige’ aesthetic and I’m sure many of us intuitively know what that refers to - hyper-curated, pared back, typically minimalist. Before I continue, let me make myself clear: I have nothing against minimalism - in fact, I relish in the beauty of less is more - but rather the perfectionism and aloofness that’s inseparable from ‘beige’. It is a state of stale safety that can be easily reproduced. I felt so restricted by what I felt was an unattainable, untouchable level of perfectionism and, the most I thought about it, the more I decided that I had to stop pursuing it. It didn’t feel like me. I treasure the imperfections of old things and the physical record of an object’s history. If you’ve felt this way about trying to adhere to an ‘aesthetic’ on social media, all I can say is that if it doesn’t feel right, think about why.
There are so many wonderful content creators and activists out there producing phenomenal work around sustainability — Aja Barber, Isais Hernandez, Leah Thomas + The Intersectional Environmentalists, The Slow Factory, Aditi Mayer, and Timo Rissanen are utter faves of mine. There’s very little I can contribute to the space by way of facts or research that these folks have not already shared themselves. Instead, I want to contribute something else to this ongoing dialogue: a deeper, kinder, more joyful relationship with ourselves and our communities can lead to a more sustainable lifestyle without having to constantly focus on doing the ‘right’ thing. The reality that I’ve learned from these folks is that there is no one way to advocate for a more sustainable future. Similarly, when I actively resist the suffocating guidelines of perfectionism, I find that I consume less. I’m instead focusing on what feels special, beautiful, and tender; I’m focusing on what gives me a gut reaction of ‘wow’ when I stumble upon it.