Thursday

I ended Sunday’s newsletter with these two paragraphs:

It’s hard to think about life beyond Tuesday—with so much uncertainty hanging thick in the air, enough to make you feel queasy. Yet the sobering truth is that there will, in fact, be a day after Tuesday, and another after that, and so on. This isn’t to downplay the weight of the moment; I’ve been in a state of constant tension since mid-October, and I suspect my nerves about the election are largely to blame. But no matter the outcome, Americans will have to wake up, look in the mirror, and face the same question we ask ourselves every day: “What am I going to wear today?” Which, in essence, is really asking: Who am I going to be today?

Some might see my suggestion that we choose elegance as a balm—not only for the present moment or as a way out of this fashion rut—as whimsical, perhaps even foolish. And maybe they’re right. After all, is a touch of whimsy truly the best response to a harsh reality? Still, I hold to my belief that what the world needs now isn’t just beauty for beauty’s sake; we need things that inspire us to reach for something greater than we were yesterday. And so, I choose elegance.

Though it was difficult, I kept my word. I got up, got dressed, looked at myself in the mirror, and went for a walk. As for my outfit, I unintentionally wore all black, except for an intarsia sweater that, funny enough, was speckled with red, white, and blue. The soundtrack for my little walk was Simply Red’s “Holding Back the Years” on repeat until I got back home. Up on the mountain, it was well over 60 degrees, the sky was clear and serene, and all the trees were bare, except for a few that seemed to be holding onto their golden and auburn leaves for dear life. I walked and walked, and though I could see and feel my legs moving one in front of the other, everything felt numb.

I continued to feel numb well into the afternoon until I received a text from a friend for whom I house-sat this summer: “Hey! On this historically terrible day, I have your belt.” I received this text while Nick and I were on a hike, and I cracked a smile for the first time all day. And even if the feeling was brief, it felt good to not feel so bad.

I come to you all today because I couldn’t fathom the next time I spoke to you being with a newsletter about fashion and shopping. Yes, I do believe that in times like this, there is solace in certain gaieties of life, but I simply had to acknowledge what took place on Tuesday. I’m deeply pained, scared, and though I remain hopeful, I will say that my capacity for hope has been cut down to size. That is how I feel. I won’t sit here and tell you how you should feel, what you should do, or who to blame. I write this newsletter because I have always found joy in the act of getting dressed, and my biggest hope is that I can inspire you, the reader, to believe that you too can get a thrill from getting dressed or find some enjoyment in the frivolities of life, like a shearling lined shoe and more.

I stand by what I said in Sunday’s letter. I still believe that elegance—and let me add, grace and humility—feel right when everything else feels so wrong. Who knows what the future holds? Perhaps it will be what we imagined, perhaps worse, or maybe it won’t be as bad as we foresaw. I don’t know. What I do know is that my responsibility to you, dear reader, is to come to you every week with something—be it me parading around in a slew of outfits, interviewing someone I find interesting, or sharing the little bits and bobs I find fascinating. I hope that in this bleak time, you can look to me as a small light.

The election did not go the way I wanted, but I refuse to be discouraged.

See you all Sunday.

XX

JJ