TMI: Transformation Tank

How one simple linen top spurred a complete overhaul in my personal style and attitude. This story is part of our TMI series. A collection of essays that detail those pieces in our life that have a story to tell.

There was a time in my life when I only wore black clothing. I lived in Bellingham, Washington, a humble city north of Seattle where the sun sets forever over the Puget Sound and the winter rains seemingly never end. I was working as a barista while studying journalism and thought wearing all black was cool, tough, and most importantly, mysterious. I wanted to be taken seriously and perceived as cut-throat. I thought a black wardrobe was the key to being those things, and, really, it may have been. I surely felt like a chic and intimidating force not to be messed with.

It was a period between 2013 and 2016 where I excelled in things I was passionate about, spent a lot of time alone, and experienced my first real taste of significant loss. I had two or three pairs of black Levis I wore on heavy rotation and a collection of simple, solid black collared shirts and various sweaters that compiled something of a capsule wardrobe. I could be seen on any given day, at any given time, in black pants, a black shirt, a black blazer, and a pair of black leather boots. I was in my early twenties, acting as unbothered as I possibly could, and wearing black clothing was a central part of my identity.

My final quarter of college started at the end of March 2016. I began considering post-collegiate life, things I wanted to do and where I wanted to do them. I had also started to transition out of the various rolls I held over the years. One at a time, I removed the many hats I had worn, and, somehow, loosened up a little bit. I can recall my best friend calling me “fun Halee”, a name indicative of my slow crawl away from being a constantly too busy at work on something, not so present friend. Somewhere subconsciously I decided it was about damn time I stood back and enjoyed my final few months of college in a real relaxed kind of way.

This transformation of character came conjunct with a big change in my wardrobe, which was spurred by an introduction to linen and the power of shades of white.

I met a woman, now a friend, named Patricia through subletting my apartment to her. She had just moved up the coast from Los Angeles and presented herself in stark contrast to the pseudo-punk alternative hippie explorer social scene that ruled Bellingham. I remember meeting her for the first time - watching her from the window as she strolled up the street with her months-old baby. She was wearing head to toe shades of white linen and looking immaculate. And there I was, someone who had been so proudly heavy-hearted in my black clothing, thinking to myself that I wanted nothing more in that moment than her outfit.

I came to know Patricia well, learning that she made much of her own clothing and sold a limited line of it online. It is from her that my very favorite piece of clothing came.

This item is a beige, linen cropped tank that I paid 40 dollars for. I asked Patricia to make it and recall feeling a sweet excitement in her living room as she took my measurements. It was the first time I had ever had something so intentionally made for me. It’s a simple piece, really. A boxy cut, maybe 22 inches wide and 10 inches from the collar to bottom hem with 2 inch wide shoulder straps. There’s no print on it, no zippers or buttons. Not even a tag.

I became somewhat obsessed with this top despite it’s perceived plainness. For me, it meant something more than covering the upper part of my body. It was symbolic of a new version of myself. With this top in hand, or, rather, on my body, I was able to give myself permission to lean into a change both internal and external.

As the end of spring quarter drew near I decided I would move to Brooklyn, New York. This was about as far away as I could think of getting. I had never been there and didn’t know anyone, which was perfect. I shopped around for more linen clothing in shades of white prior to moving, and wore the cropped tank only when I was feeling special. It was one of those pieces that couldn’t be worn too much for fear of either getting a stain on it or it somehow losing its magic.

In June I flew into NYC with only a backpack of my best linen garments and a few pairs of blue jeans. I was prepared to present this new version of myself - a linen girl. No one there knew that I had been wearing black for the past however many years. It was an opportunity to reinvent myself and to do it wearing a whole new look.

That summer I wore the beige linen cropped tank to every important event. I met one of my closest friends during a Kevin Morby concert at Rough Trade while wearing the top. And I went to a fourth of July party in Bushwick where I coincidentally met many of my future co-workers while wearing the tank. I danced well into the early mornings in this piece of clothing, wore it to the beach, and all over New York City. I introduced myself to my future in a new place with all new people while wearing this shirt, and in it I felt loose and confident. Freed of something I left behind me in a heap of black clothing.

Now, five years later, I’ve managed to amass a considerable amount of linen shirts, skirts, and dresses in shades of white. I wear them all of the time and they’ve replaced my black clothing as a part of a more permanent, less angsty identity.

I sit on my deck in Upstate New York and write this story with the same fondness for the beige linen cropped tank as ever before. Spring has come and I have brought my summer wardrobe back out in anticipation of a tan, long warm nights, and, of course, wearing this favorite piece. It’s weathered a half-decade of my life with me and is showing signs of its age, which is perfectly okay. So am I.

xx