Me, My Clothes, and I

Ever since I can remember, my clothing has been deeply intertwined with my identity. In my younger years, I genuinely believed "being into fashion" was my most notable outward quality. I know for a fact that this is not true anymore, and it hasn't been for quite some time. However, that's not to say that it's not something I still spend a lot of time thinking about. Because it is. Actually, I earn my living thinking about it as an editor for Atelier Doré. If you would've told 13-year-old me this would be true, she would've flipped.  

If you do, indeed, go back to the beginning, you'll find a palimpsest of: early childhood memories, dressing up Barbie, and taking trips with mom to Saks Fifth Avenue. You'll find an obsession with The Devil Wears Prada (2006) and designer hand-me-downs from Grandma. You'll find a yearning for comfort, a yearning that led to Converse sneakers and flannel plaid. These sentimental items trekked with me through high school, college, and ultimately, to New York.  

So, yes, I *love* clothes, don't get me wrong. But it’s more than that. This is a story about growing up, womanhood, and the things we carry with us—material or otherwise...