I remember as a kid, the JCPenney salesperson told my mom they didn't have jeans that fit me and that we would need to try the "husky" section of the store. I never thought anything was wrong with me until then. By today's standards, I was a little chubby, but not fat. But once that "husky" label had been applied, I wore that stigma like a scarlet "H" for my childhood. That little comment shaped my self-worth for the next 25 years.
When I was 10, the Army moved my family to Hawaii. My reality warped seemingly overnight. I lost my best friend (shout-out JC), my first crush, and a school I loved. With a one-month-old brother who got all of my mom's attention, I struggled to cope with the changes. I was miserable in paradise.
Amid this tumult, I found the mask I would don until adulthood. At my middle school, I befriended a group of skaters who listened to metal music of an intensity I couldn't even fathom at the time. They were everything I wanted to be: aloof, confident, and edgy. I developed a fascination with skate and street culture, as well as metal music, and tried to model my mannerisms after theirs - feigning an air of confidence and getting myself accepted to the friend group.
They also, inadvertently, taught me how to hide. Taking cues from them, I convinced my mom to buy JNCO jeans, band tees, huge hoodies, and I dyed my hair red. I wore an oversized Slipknot hoodie every day for nearly four years; no one would ever know what my body looked like, and I didn't have to feel shame for existing. I lived in Hawaii for two years, but my experience there left a lasting impression. To this day, I still listen to mostly metal music, and I even play guitar in a Tony Hawk's Pro Skater cover band (that's a whole other story).
In college and grad school, I worked hard to lose weight, dropping 50 pounds in two years, but developing an unhealthy relationship with food and my body. Meanwhile, like many edgelords, I spent hours on Reddit. Posts from /r/malefashionadvice led me to the "WAYWT" thread, where most users blurred or cropped their faces when sharing photos for critique. This anonymity struck me - these faceless people still managed to radiate confidence in their well-fitting clothes. I could sense charisma through the screen. Regardless of their success, attractiveness, or fitness, all I knew was that the guy was wearing the FUCK out of that OCBD. I embraced the uniform: my first raw denim from Unbranded, Clark's desert boots, and three OCBDs I'd rotate for years. I felt reborn.
After grad school, I moved across the country to start my career and fell into a deep depression. I gained back more weight than I lost. I was in denial and kept wearing the same clothes until the buttons started popping off. I was so ashamed of my failure in allowing myself to gain the weight back that I decided it would be pointless to buy nice new clothes until I lost the weight again. It's been ten years now since I left grad school, and I still tell myself that sometimes. I maintained an interest in clothes, especially Japanese raw denim, and even bought a pair from 3Sixteen to give myself motivation to lose weight and fit into them. I gave them away years later, without ever wearing them. I went to Japan in 2019 and bought a pair of xx-013 from Pure Blue Japan. Six months later, COVID hit, I gained even more weight, and they sat on my shelf for the next three years while I tried desperately to fit back into them. For at least 5 years, I didn't allow myself to buy anything more expensive than the Merona/Mossimo collections at Target.
I honestly don't know what the tipping point was for me, or why I finally decided to be kinder to myself. Maybe it was leaving DC and being out of sight of the fittest city in America, where everyone is a fitness influencer, VP of finance, and wearing a tailored suit. Or maybe it was the years of therapy finally paying off. Either way, I decided that just because I'm not satisfied with my body doesn't mean I don't deserve nice things. It doesn't mean I can't feel good about myself. In fact, now more than ever, I could really use that boost of confidence that I know taking care of my appearance brought me in the past.
This past October, I went back to Japan. I've been able to fit into my PBJ xx013s for a while now, but they're still uncomfortably snug. This time, I took a different approach: instead of buying my old size to motivate weight loss, I was realistic with myself and bought clothes that fit my body and made me feel good. I treated myself to a pair of Momotaro MMJB0100 and a thermal tee while in Kyoto, and a Flat Head FN-OJ-D003 from their Jingumae store in Tokyo.
Since I got home in November, I've been shopping with intention - watching and learning how different silhouettes frame me, emphasizing natural fibers and quality craftsmanship, and discovering what makes me feel good.
Going forward, you can expect posts covering my ongoing fashion journey; exploring the history and culture behind heritage Americana and skatewear brands; the craft of dyeing and how it shapes the garments we wear; honest product reviews; and flagging sales worth paying attention to. Above all, I want this to be a resource for those who have felt locked out of this world because of their size - because no one should have to wait until they're a different person to dress like themselves.
If any of this resonates with you, I'd love to have you along for the ride. Thanks for reading. -Chaz