Creatures of Comfort

Sometime ago an eager high school student sat in a cold air-conditioned banquet hall ready to be given away by the nurturing hand of high school to an unfamiliar and overwhelming guardian by the name of university. As most senior students sat in the 3 and a half hour graduation ceremony teary eyed and what felt like a big ball in their throat, the girl I’m speaking of had a reaction that was far merrier than the rest. She never considered high school as the worst years of her life, come to think of it she enjoyed it for the most part. Her only distressing memory was the monotonous uniforms she painfully endured throughout her four years. Though some may say she never really followed the school dress code to begin with as she substituted leather pants for regulated McCarthy navy blue panty hoes almost every single day. She stubbornly rejected the notion of “uniforms” altogether regardless of how many teachers called her out on it, even kicked her out of class for breaking school policy. Deniably so she abided by their rules and immediately changed into proper gear when they asked but in her mind she did no such thing. An anarchist, rebel of modern day is the role she holds to this day. So do not argue with her.

With this painted picture you can probably imagine her train of thought graduation day while she sat twiddling her thumbs and playing with the tassel on her graduation hat, burning all 5 of her white sweat stained polo school embroidered shirts has always been at the top of her list. Followed by a day of binge shopping to make up for her long withdrawal of normal everyday wear. It was not simply a case of withdrawal though, it was more severe in her head, more so an unrecoverable transition from prison wear to personal wear.  Gladly she got right back on her feet and overcame the dramatic lifestyle change.

It’s her first day of university. Settled into her apartment, feeling like a fully qualified adult, she stared at her biggest masterpiece yet, a closet filled with skirts, shirts, knits and pants of various textures, colors, prints and slits. Her mantra was “go big or go home” and that included no jeans, sweat pants and you get the rest.

Second year came along. Scars attained from hours of walking downtown in platform heels and shoes a size too small (purchased on a whim because of aesthetics) had taken a toll on her feet. The idea of coming out of this experience with apparent skin-recovered blisters and battle wounds enforced her to introduce the idea of comfort into her personal style. From that point on her life transitioned from heels and uncomfortable souliers to sneakers and high tops, unbearable tight and sweaty leather pants to fancy sweat pants and jeans. These components she never envisioned in her life before became gratifying and normal. With that being said, today her jean collection reaches an unhealthy count. It’s hard to stop a sucker when they find prominently odd and questionably looking denim, like these Rihanna x River Island two-toned jeans down below. Anyways I hope you enjoyed my little short story on the girl who graduated high school to do many great things with the most atrocious looking feet. 

Photos by: Anil

Jeans- Rihanna x River Island

Angora sweater

Backpack- Beaver Canoe

Go go boots- Mother's