I think scrub-like attire is the next wave of fashion. Comfortable and customizable, scrubs provide a solid frame of reference for endless design possibilities—Winnie the Pooh, solid colors, stripes, crop tops, etc. That’s why I was so fucking thrilled to see the pieces of clothing at Deep Space Fine, the launch party for the capsule collaboration between writer and activist Kim Selling and Seattle-based clothing manufacturer Prairie Underground. The collaboration consists of a reversible utilitarian-like jumpsuit in two pieces: one flowy top and one bottom that has straps to hang over the shoulders. Made of sheer silk organza and coming in five different colors, the garments are one size fits all, with the emphasis on all. This ain’t no Brandy Melville shit—each piece is meant for sizes 0-32.
“The way that people treat bodies—whether or not it’s a conventionally attractive ‘properly-sized’ one—is that they are supposed to be completely hidden until some third party wants to see them,” Selling tells me inside of a dressing room at the event, as a Kanye West song blares outside the door. “And I always felt like this is my fuckin’ body I should be able to show off as much or as little of it as I want.”
That sentiment embodied the essence of the event. At the entrance, visitors were greeted with a wall-size projection of one of the sexiest performances I’ve ever seen by Seattle-area burlesque dancer Ms. Briq House. Just opposite, a time-lapsed video projection of Selling getting “fat bitch” tatted across her backside by Seattle tattoo artist MKNZ. “It just seemed like a good introductory piece to have in the show,” Selling explains. “It’s right here at the front: you’re walking into fat bitch territory and you need to know that and take a step back and realize this isn’t about you, this is about everybody.”
The showroom was filled with DJ Toya B’s cool beats and later served as the stage for Guayaba’s performance. Around the space, live models, which included Briq and MKNZ, were draped in the silk organza garments, seemingly floating around the guests. The material has a certain levity to it, a mind of its own. It was like watching a fabric move in slow motion. Guests were invited to try on a few sample pieces to get a feel for what wearing them was like. Some went gung-ho and stripped down to their skivvies, others seemed a bit shy at the prospect—I was in the latter group.
As someone who has used clothes as a shield against intruding eyes, I first thought that I could never see myself wearing something so delicate, so beautiful, so mesh. The abundance of the material coupled with its sheerness seemed like a sly wink at the wearer, a paradox. But looking around at all the bodies nestled in this lush uniform, I realized this was a team I wanted to be on. I slipped the mossy green top on and swanned around the gallery space taking selfies in the mirror. I felt this was a space where I’d been given permission to be myself—as delicate and powerful as I truly was. That garment is transformative, goddamnit.
“If you’re not yourself yet, wearing things you actually wanna wear is the step that will take you closer to being yourself,” Selling preaches to me, unknowingly telling me exactly what I needed to hear. “And if what it takes is putting a silk organza two-piece on—then you should do that.”
