In-between every change, there is this blurry unidentifable space. There is what we know to be true; what we miss; what we look forward to; and what absolutely scares every part of us. Through everything wonderful and magical, I have found this to be true. Nothing great or longstanding comes without worry. It doesn’t come without a season of wading in the in-between. This is the same for work right now. It’s the same for New York, too. And this is the same for personal style (in autumn especially) and the clothes I wear.
The things I’ve put on and held unto, exist in the shadows of this place where I was raised and now I raise my children. While I am deeply grateful for the community, the undercurrents and large-scale shifts are difficult and causing tension. But here we are. Does change cause pessimism? Yes. But it also brings an intense nostalgia.
It is the kind that cracked me open as the J train rumbled, dropping that odd speckled-like fairy dust below. I remembered that, a few blocks away, I went to a tiny school to complete my high-school diploma. And four years later, I walked to the local post office, rode the bus, and stopped right there–walks and erands with a tiny River, a few blocks from our apartment. I remember, foundly and often, the struggle out of that time, because, in a sense, no money, in a community of Brooklynites, bootstrapped and living within it, comforted me. The train; the un-fancy strollers and plastic covers; the $1 everything stores; the lack of high-rises and the wealth of people living just in-between the lines. This particular Brooklyn, may have been one of my first teachers.
I don’t head over there much anymore. The pangs, are too deep and it’s an odd space of being thankful to sort of have “made it”–shifting my own class, kids, and yes, community. It’s like a current I’m running against, sometimes.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing a few outfits that are a combination of vintage and new. They are outfits that are meant for transition. They are outfits for the cornerstones of change and culture in the ever-changing parts of Brooklyn—and life. They have no true rhyme or reason, other than an inner- and outer- exploration of myself and this home of mine.
My entire outfit is vintage, gathered along the way.
(Photography by Stella Blackmom for LaTonya Yvette)