Dear Shirts,

You have always been my most reliable companion, you are always there for me even when Pants are being difficult. You always seem to fit me well, although it does get on my nerves when it feels like you should either be tighter or looser, not the in-between stage that you are. We’ve never had any problems…although you, no offense, are probably the least exciting of all your counterparts, except of course Socks. You do have the ability to give Jeans a range of occasions on which to be worn. I’ll give you that. And I have to thank you for rarely, if ever, giving me body image issues. Thank you for showing me off, covering me up, keeping me warm and cooling me down. You sure have range.

Sincerely,
Your loyal friend

Dear Pants,

God, you can be so frustrating sometimes. It’s alway up to you how I feel about myself when I put you on. You have complete control over me and I hate it. I know it’s unfair for me to only like you when you make my legs look long, but you never fit me well anyway so I try to not have too much guilt about my distaste for you. But how come you never fit me properly? If you fit well in the legs, then you no doubt form a gaping hole at the waist where you should be fitting snugly. If you theoretically fit around my waist I would have no way of knowing because you never make it up past my thighs. Most of the time, I never feel like wearing you, because you cut into my stomach when I sit down, making me question the amount I had to eat for lunch. There is a reason why you are the first thing I take off when I get home. Recently, I haven’t been able to bring myself to put you on unless you have some sort of elastic waistband and feel like Pajama Pants (I’m not talking to you, Pajama Pants, I love you) when I wear you. Well, there you are, you either make me feel like a sausage squeezing into its casing as I pull you on, or make me constantly have to pull you up with your stupidly large gaps at the waist in strange places, and I resent you for it.

Best luck on your future endeavors,
Your reluctant wearer

Dearest Boots,

Oh how I love you! You have no idea what you have done for my confidence. Whenever we’re together, you are loud, in the best way. You’re my wingwoman. You give me height, confidence and look good with everything. You’ve always got my back when we party—you even change the way I walk with the confidence that you give me. I love the music of your clip-clop as you walk me anywhere I’d need to go. And even though you give me height, you also give me comfort. You know how much I love you, and I’m sorry I don’t wear you more often, it’s just that sometimes I don’t have the effort in me to wear you, but I never forget you. Thank you for the confidence you have given me, you make me feel more like a woman than a girl, in the best way.

Love,
Your bestie

Dear Dresses,

You know we have a complicated relationship. You make me feel so good about myself, but also so terribly. You give me false confidence in the mirror, but as soon as I step foot out of the apartment you make me question you. I love how pretty you are with your luscious fabric of satin or linen, skirts that flow around my thighs or ankles and bodices that hug the curves of my body. But there are so many connotations attached to you. Will you make me overdressed? Underdressed? Are you too provocative? Will the way that men’s eyes follow me while wearing you make me feel powerful? Or unsafe? You are so effortless, all I have to do is just put you on with any kind of shoes and I am ready for the day. Yet the rest of the day when I wear you isn’t quite as easy as when I first put you on. You make me guard a flighty hem, avoiding any grates, lest there be a Marylin Monroe moment. You make me look at my blotchy thighs in disgust as they sit exposed from your skirt under the fluorescent light of the metro. But you also make me dance around my apartment, you give me the feeling that I am the protagonist in a movie. You glam me up and inspire my boyfriend to tell me that I’m pretty. I think I love you a little more than I hate you.

Best wishes,
Me

Dear Coat,

I’m sorry I don’t fully appreciate you until it gets cold. I know that you save me. As much as I resent you for becoming my only outfit for the next five months. But I love you, I have to; you were expensive and you are practical. I bought you in black because black goes with everything. You do go with everything, but sometimes you make me feel boring. I have to remind myself often of your function so that I don’t offend you. It’s not you, I swear. I’m sorry for all the times I have not given you enough credit for your efforts, they have never gone unappreciated. You always do your same wonderful job of keeping me warm and protecting me. Forgive me if you have ever felt any resentment, it’s just me wishing for summer.

Love,
Your grateful owner

*Drawings by Ryder LeVieux