home is a pair of black leather boots

and some vintage Levi’s and hand painted penny loafers

Hey, stranger.

How are you? I hope you’re doing well, truly. I hope you didn’t notice that I haven’t written in weeks. I hope you’re excited for fall and the holidays and all of the lovely bits that come at the end of the year. I hope you savored or are savoring the last few days of summer. It’s always sad to see it go.

On Monday morning, after a particularly chaotic few weeks, I flew into Portland, Oregon. I spent the week walking around my neighborhood after the Autumn rain had come through, eating at my favorite Thai restaurant, analyzing the cat with my parents, catching up with old friends. And most importantly, playing with my dog at the park. I would sit in the spot I always return to, shade-less these days thanks to the old tree being cut down a few years back, and throw the tennis ball over and over and over again. The ritual of taking Millie to our park is familiar to me as anything— when I sit and watch her run I am all of a sudden 20 years old, post break up, recovering. I am 17 and debating where I’d like to go for college. I am 15 and awkward. 22 and scared. 23 and relieved I’m not a teenager anymore. All of my old selves, stacked on top of each other. I can’t help but feel like this when I’m in Portland, caged into a reflective, nostalgic, and obviously sentimental state.

It’s also the start of fall, which is the most introspective time of year for me. I adore September. I adore the fall season in general and the way I start getting dressed in the morning with the thought what is going to keep me warm? instead of what can I safely sweat all over? My time in Portland made me think about the clothes that feel like home to me.

I’ve always been very charmed by the notion that clothes can be an extension of you. The idea that the shirt you wore during your first job interview will always hold the memory of sweaty palms, the dress you wore on your first date will always hold a some of those butterflies. In my attempt to romanticize the days getting shorter, I’m keeping one eye open for the moments I encounter throughout each day that bring me immense comfort. One of those moments is pulling on an old favorite sweater I haven’t worn for a while or taking my beloved leather coat down from its shelf. Here are some of the favorite and most cherished items in my closet and how I’m wearing them for the new season.

This top was a Palm Springs Nordstrom rack purchase for a wedding I was attending with Michael. Trying it on at the time, I was so insecure about the puff sleeves that, even though I bought it, I never got the courage to wear it. Now, it’s a favorite of mine to wear and each time I pull the white, princess-like piece from its hanger, I am reminded of how much I’ve blossomed in the past year and a half. It’s my own secret little nod to a shyer, younger Evie.

In Friday, my friend Annala called me. We hadn’t spoken in over a year and yet the moment I picked up the phone, we fell into our old rhythm. Annala is a force of nature and one of my favorite people and at some point she said, “I have no idea how to describe your style but I love it.” She knows me well enough that hearing that made me giddy. Partly because I love the idea that my style is not describable with one or two words. I want to keep people on their toes, I want to have fun with what I wear, and I want people to know my closet just as well as I do. I love when a friend says “oh you should wear that one striped dress, the one you wore on your birthday.” What a cute thing to hear, that someone knows your closet as well as you do. This top will be one of those items that my friends think of when they think of me, I’ve decided. The way it hits at the hemline of my jeans is near heavenly to me, the square neckline is darling, and the sleeves keep it fun. It’s perfect.

When we get to the loafers, we can really start discussing my Leather Shoe Awakening but until then, the boots. When I was in my teenage years, combat boots were all the rage. I hated the way they looked on me, still do, and wrote off boots until I saw these Alohas. I wore them for the first time in Toronto’s summer humidity, the sweat running down my calves as I broke them in on a brutal 3 mile walk. They’ve seen me through many concerts, new offices, club floors and bar bathrooms, city busses and trains. I’ve worn them to death and will continue to do so, in the fall I’ll be wearing them beneath wide leg jeans and tights underneath my favorite skirts.

The sound they make is perfect, a sharp click clack that makes me feel important when I walk down a hallway. Which, in my opinion, is all I want from any boot, ever. This is a niche point that I hope some of you can relate to, but my favorite part of my leg starts from below the knee and ends at the upper thigh, right where the scar my cat gave me when I was 13 sits. These boots put that patch of leg on full display. And I think that is the goal of anything you purchase: that it makes you feel pretty. Or shows off what you like about yourself. Or that when you wear something, it fits you in just the way you’d like.

For some reason I can’t for the life of me figure out, I wore shorts every day through my junior year of high school. Patagonia baggies, to be exact. I shudder thinking about it. But those rainy winter days, my exposed legs shaking from the cold, were conditioning for the sport of wearing shorts in the fall months. I love a boot with jeans shorts, a big sweater with jean cutoffs poking from underneath, my knobby knees on full display. These shorts are a recent purchase from a thrift store in Salt Lake City, my sister and I crammed into a tiny dressing room, fighting over which one of us would get to buy them. I won, pulling rank as big sister and also because I was the one who pulled them from the rack (law of dibs). Embarrassingly, most of the pictures of my outfits this summer have featured these Levi shorts and will probably continue to do so.

It’s so fun to add something to your closet that you can’t imagine what you wore before them. I’m excited to have these for years to come, collecting little stories and new memories. My requirements for jean shorts are strict: low waisted, not tight around the hits or thighs, medium wash, closed hem, no huge gap in the back when sitting down. These, I’m happy to announce, check every box.

Also, I know I said I hate the way I look in combat boots so don’t you dare say anything about the ones I’m wearing here. I was trying to force myself to wear them more. I did not, however, put them on again.

Here we are! The loafers. Oh god, these loafers. They’ve got hand painted cherries on the toe box, with ma cherie printed on the lip in blue cursive. I adore them. My mom gave them to me as a birthday gift for my 23rd and as the sentimental fool that I am, I like to think of them as a physical reminder of my transition to real adulthood. When I was younger, I only wore sneakers and flip flops, until one day I woke up and realized the secret to great style is great leather shoes. You need them. Leather is the type of material that, when taken care of, molds to your feet and only grows better with age. In my mind it is the greatest manifestation of buying for longevity, for pieces that will carry you throughout your life. In an obsessive manner, I covet leather heels, leather purses, leather jackets with the hopes that they will form to my body. I cannot wait to be 50 years old wearing these loafers to coffee with a friend on a crisp Saturday morning.

My favorite clothing items bring me the type of comfort you can’t purchase easily, and instead is cultivated by living in them. Fall fashion to me is not a brown suede bag or a pop of red, it’s the feeling of being with old friends. Fall is comfort and romance and sitting curled up in a wool sweater. The other day, I went to the bars for a friend’s birthday. Sitting on a sticky stool, watching the pool balls crack and fly across the green velvet, a boy sitting next to me asked where I got my rings. I spent the next 10 minutes detailing where each piece of jewelry came from, my eyes lit up. 10 minutes is certainly too long and I’m sure at some point he didn’t care anymore but by then I was lost in my own little love affair with the years of stories and memories sitting on my fingers, on my neck. I am over enthusiastic and in love with my clothes and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

xoxo,

Evie