There has always been a pair in my cases. Cut-offs. Kept on hand to paint in, or clean, occasionally do yoga in.
The transmigration of the jean genome in the #globalbohostyle Angel Brynner arc of life always kept a pair somewhere on that path until a good six weeks ago when cleaning house mode hit. Let go of a LOT to make room for pon farr.
My big, shyly held secret was I had made a life changing call, the decision that there’d be no more transmigration. This was it! I was going to purchase…a pair of denim shorts.
Y’all frugalheads rolling with me know that this decision rang of blasphemy, of bourgeois decadence. “You?! You’re going to buy a pair of cut offs Someone other than you have deconstructed?! But you reAdjust Everything! That’s your thing! What’s next, cake?! This is that Shaker Square damn near suburban shit isn’t it?! Your slip is showing! Off with her head!”
Lol. You’d have thought I said I was going to staple a kid to a bulletin board by the collar. Like muzak lol …to everything else. Afoot.
Nevermind I’d lived part of the year on Venice Beach &had not worn them Once. Nevermind I was back home in Nyc in May & JUNE…&Not one time. Wore them while on assignment here in frigid Sausalito summer more than the past two years.
Because they’d always “meant so much,” were such a part of my mythos…there was paint on a pair from volunteer housepainting in nola in 2008, murals in Montreal & Miami- I could chart my #arthead #Globalboholife scattered like constellations across cutoffs that’d once been jeans.
& yet here I was, upending the entire motif on a mere thought…of buying a readymade pair.
My ego screamed about the treason, the absence of ethics to it all…and when it saw none of that was working… simmered the fuck down & went “ok, fine.”
So I began the actual search in earnest, never satisfied. Nothing was it, nothing done by other hands did it. My ego couldn’t even bask in my not finding it, was all the more on edge by That lol.
…and then I saw them. And the entire construct burst.
The reason I couldn’t make Or find that perfect pair of cutoffs…had to do with that arc being completed. And I’d seen this as a blip on the horizon in early 2016 while wrapping up doing Windows at club Monaco…but I had waved it off incredulously.
That cut-off life has been lived and fully.
That mutable Virgoan vibration is afoot, and as usual, being devic, in motion suits me.
I am no longer an author plying her arthead skills to cover her netherlands, world-building while working on writing her first ten dark fantasy novels.
When I used to cheerfully chide myself for seeing the beauty in a tailored short while dangling on ladders installing things with staple guns under that Ralph Lauren umbrella, it went the route of the assignment-laden traveling life I’d have to be living to justify shifting unis. A mode of thought all the more ironic considering having apprenticed a tailor, then designing menswear and living in the pants I cut like others lived in sweats for the first part of my adult life. The disconnect- the having to brush it away to Be there then…makes being here now all the more comical and sweeter.
Because the earlier one… was achieved…
The vision for my life is different.
I’ve written, released and designed campaigns for ten fucking bad-assed dark fantasy sci-fi books. It’s time to look like it.