from the pen of icarus blake

A few years ago, I made the resolution that I would never wear anything I could not crash on someone’s floor in.  Since then, my wardrobe has morphed into a collection of knits, worn denim, and layerable second hand pieces that I can and have taken naps in.  However, I have two favorite pieces.  Two pieces of clothing I refuse to let die.

The first is a pair of patched up overalls (that need some serious TLC).  They came pre-ripped from Old Navy, and I worried the holes all the way open until I had to find some fun screen-printed canvas patches for the knees.  California poppies adorn the right leg, patterned denim patch up the inner thighs, flannel insulates the left knee.  I have plans to resecure the california poppies on the right knee with botanical appliques, but that’s a project for another day.

The second is a damaged leather jacket.  I got it second hand for $4, down from $8 because it had a hole in the sleeve that was sewn so poorly that the cashier at Goodwill felt bad for charging me full price.  In truth, the damage didn’t matter.  I planned on patching it, embroidering it, adding accoutrement in traditional punk style.  I’m still working on it.  Like the overalls, my jacket is a living piece that changes with me.  

My favorite part of it by far is the back patch — a wood-cut style diagram of the body as governed by the zodiac.  My only beef with the art is that they covered the genitals with underwear.  Would I feel weird about wearing a jacket with nudity around?  No!  Of course not.  Not medieval anatomical nudity, for certain.  Maybe I’d even upset a fundamentalist or two (bonus).  Not to mention, I feel offended on Scorpio’s behalf — everyone else gets a lovely depiction of the body parts they govern, but Scorpio’s get censored.  Such a shame.  I wish we’d get over ourselves.

I have other pieces I’m fond of, but the jacket and the overalls are the two I spend the most time with.  Everything I have is patched, reused, signature to me.  There’s some satisfaction in someone asking you where you got your cool clothes, only to respond that you’re the one who made them that way.  No one else can wear what I do, and I like it that way.