BG IMG: Phillippe Cognée. "Foule I". 1999.

Since turning 30 there is not much I desire more than peace and simplicity. Society continues to sell us an outdated level of security and stability qualifications that I’ve internalized, but also, adds up. My 20s were a brothel of staying out until 5 AM, being manipulated by my emotions, situationships that boiled my abandonment issues, and strides of success met with lunges of failure, all in the name of running to experience and running from permanence. Aimless due to the range of possibilities, what ifs, maybe ifs, and let me find out’s, I finally found a nameless current to guide my strokes.

This new decade feels like a tailor-made, custom, one-of-one shopping experience in the most diverse department store. The options are overwhelming, and at the start you’ll need assistance: What’s your color? What silhouette compliments your body type? Have you thought about accessories? Are you sure about that shoe choice? I decided to take my time in the fragrance section, smelling the roses. All of my favorite things are on sale so I might just stick to what I know, but I’ve been meaning to try new silhouettes. I’ve just made it to the dressing room, drinking the complimentary glass of champs, allowing my stylist to help narrow options down as I try them on. I’m thinking about getting rid of the stylist. I can trust my decisions at this point, plus, this glass of confidence is all I need at the moment. I’ve sabotaged my options by not making a solid choice all throughout my early adulthood; and now I’m not running from that truth.

The battery died on my headphones so I worked out to machine clanks, last-rep grunts and whistles, gossip, and a ringing pop playlist on the gym speakers; and for some reason, I found myself more focused. Notification bells were replaced by the orchestra of gym equipment and I was able to focus on my muscles contracting without worrying about the next song on the playlist throwing my flow off, I had my tempo.

When was the last time you exercised without headphones? When was the last time you felt present in a highly sensory environment? When was the last time you pushed past discomfort and didn’t regret it? When was the last time you chose to stay when you could have just tried again tomorrow? The will to push through a task regardless of emotion, resources, and comfort can fuel the effort itself sometimes. It tricks the ego with an unstoppable posture and brews the self-esteem necessary to carry the effort out (working out without headphones, approaching that person at Whole Foods, writing that blog, asking for that raise, etc.). It’s wise to check in on your comfort and focus mechanisms because they may not be as necessary as before, or not at all.

This theme of evolving comfort mechanisms echoes notes in a scale of light blues. The obvious serenity on the surface blankets the currents of maturation underneath each hue below. Use these hues in environments geared toward professional delicacies and soft thought:

On Sunday, I realized I hadn’t had a sweet peach since 2 Summers ago; peach season once marked the beginning of my favorite time of year, now the most bland fruit. I would wander farmer’s markets in search of the most slippery, glazy white peach to carry me through the season. Now, I expect the samples to be just as flat as last year, and while I still enjoy the texture, my tastebuds have had enough. As another metaphor for aging, I’m reflecting on what was ‘sweet’ about life before 30, and what’s ‘sweet’ now. (Un)Fortunately, I’ve developed this level of stoicism where nothing is ‘sweet’ or ‘sour’, but just is, and it’s the greatest peace I’ve known. I’ve been intensely emotional my entire life, and to not be controlled by the tide of my feelings is the most liberating and calming arrival, almost like a rebirth. I used to love peaches, but the genetic modification stripped them of their sugary nostalgia and preserved the firm flesh that melts and brine of the bitter pit.

Sweet to bitter. Sweet to sour. Sweet to bland. This palette focuses on the gradual internal settlement of socially manufactured deterioration from sweet youth to — adult. These hues don’t reflect “old” or “aging”, but more of the ease and carelessness you meet with experience. This palette is useful for community and art centers to influence creativity, confidence, optimistic thought , sound decision, and self esteem.

This color story I wore on Saturday night imitates my current state of neutrality. To harmonize my emotions, actions, and thoughts, I’ve objectified damn near everything and focused on grounding acts which include a quasi-uniform made up of a white tee, jeans (or chinos), and a sneaker. The importance is the fit over design. I view design prioritization as either immature to graphics, or too mature to craftsmanship, the middle ground is where I’d like to place my size 11’s. “Popping out” is when I wear more dynamic looks, but the effortless confidence a uniform of staples breeds is a richer sense of self than when I present a more curated version (outfit).

Tobacco Brown is a hue that I picked up in my wardrobe with this bag I bought in the middle of Spring. I thought the bag was much larger when I ordered it and felt self-conscious about carrying a “purse” when I realized its true size. When I took a day trip to New York, I thought “if I felt comfortable testing out the look in any city, it would be there”, and I loved everything about carrying it. I remember feeling so fucking chic when I fit a bottle of water, lip balm, a Tom Ford sunglasses case, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a glossy Vivienne Westwood black reptile wallet and two mandarin oranges inside. And I carried it vertically between my wrist and my elbow, on trend, but unidentifiable. Now, it’s part of my visual moniker. I like how it folds and bruises easily, like an illusive masculine interpretation on the surface, but tender at the edges, and malleable at the seams, reminds me of myself.

I still wrestle with the part of myself that reflects society in that way. There are echoes from middle school hallway whispers and chuckles bouncing off the leather in metro cars that smack my hand when I pick it up. It’s interesting how our bodies collect and store data from the moments we want to delete most from our adult emotional experiences. To combat this, I bought it in black, too. Not sure if I should buy the green or yellow next, maybe I ought to call that department store stylist back over.

I went down a Neil Sedaka rabbit hole on Youtube and ended up rediscovering this moment below. Knowledge of meditative repetition is spreading thanks (in part) to Solange as she’s consistently celebrated her relationship with repetition as a practice, and it’s soothing here. I had the performance looping in the background while I did some research and I would recommend. It’s rare that artists of (virtually) opposing genres link up for something like this, but I generally see that contemporary artists are taking less risks. Survival is the (contemporary) hunger necessary for success in any creative field and the trend of data-driven creativity reveals that integrity and care are often sacrificed for profit-led viral moments through audience interaction and predictability. Social media, streaming services, and other shifting industry standards have a lot to do with the lack of random stage pop ups, but as ticket sales rise, it would be nice to get a lil surprise every now and then. Is that greedy? Are music artists having fun on stage anymore?

I’m on the hunt for the perfect Fall/Winter boot with a few early options, and I’m carrying my obsession with the over knee silhouette from last year, but (defeatedly) giving into trendy styles. I’m going for a uniform this year so I want something more dynamic by structure. Stuck on this brand untitlab because their footwear intersects casual, professional, and sport with a retro-futuristic undertone—absolutely. The options below reflect this stream of thought, but this is only the first edit:

I opened my car door to find this palette on the bank separating my parking spot from the street and gasped. It’s been a while since I’ve been inspired by nature, and the permeating clay dust against curdling wood chips recalls themes of revision. Revising my work is my least favorite part of writing. To chip away, add to, and reimagine supple thoughts into rigid renditions that yield interpretation disregards the time-sensitivity of the work. Right now says pre-revision, right away says the process of revising, right on time says post-revision.

If you made it this far I want to thank you for reading the first official edition of Reflections&Refractions. I don’t take your time for granted, and this final section will be reserved for closing remarks in editions to come, but for now, simply, thank you.

-CHURZ

Reflections&Refractions: Age Ain't Nothing But A Misnomer, Tobacco Brown & Boots