Style Capsule: Staples
It feels faintly absurd to talk about fashion when the country reads as if it has been scorched—our civic life corroded, our norms dissolved, the air thick with something like acid rain. The erosion of the rule of law was already alarming, treated with the casualness of leftovers pushed aside and forgotten. But earlier this week, I felt my stomach drop when Donald Trump remarked in an interview, “when you think of it, we shouldn’t even have an election.” The White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, later suggested it was a joke.
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| Photo by Valna Studio on Unsplash |
If it was meant to be funny, the humor is inaccessible to me. I don’t lack a sense of irony or satire, but jokes rely on shared boundaries. This crossed none I recognize. Perhaps my tolerance for absurdity has thinned as the stakes have risen, but dismissing such a statement as unserious feels willfully naïve. After everything that has already been tested, strained, and broken, pretending this is unthinkable requires a suspension of judgment I no longer possess.
Some have asked why I’ve been largely silent about human rights violations unfolding in Minnesota. Aside from sharing a few articles quietly, I’ve chosen restraint. Not out of indifference, but out of calculation. Public outrage, for all its moral clarity, rarely advances consequence. It creates spectacle, and spectacle is easily absorbed, redirected, and neutralized. What looks like resistance often becomes noise.
That is because narcissism feeds on attention, not opposition. Emotional reactions are not boundaries; they are material. What narcissists respond to are limits enforced by consequence—clear rules, clear violations, and outcomes that cannot be negotiated away. Courts, elections, impeachment: these are not symbolic gestures but structural restraints. They are the only language of accountability that cannot be spun, mocked, or outperformed, because they do not ask for recognition. They simply end behavior. The work, then, is procedural and unglamorous. Challenge policy relentlessly in the courts. Win decisively at the ballot box. Apply pressure where it cannot deflect. Power yields only to that.
And still, while we donate to campaigns and support organizations fighting in the courts to restore individual rights, collective rights, and the rule of law, life does not pause. Time remains indifferent; it moves whether we are ready or not. So here I am—not pretending the world is made of rainbows and unicorns, not mistaking aesthetics for escape—but choosing to move forward deliberately. To live, to dress, to observe with intention. Style, in this moment, is not denial. It is a way of herding life forward while keeping one’s bearings intact.
This curated capsule is not an exercise in trend forecasting, nor an argument for being fashion-forward for its own sake. It is deliberately quieter than that. A white T-shirt, a blazer, a pair of jeans, a white button-down, a sweater, a pair of black pants, a little black dress, a trench coat, a pair of sneakers, a pair of ballet flats, a pair of fierce heels, and a "it" bag. Each piece is chosen not for novelty but for endurance—for its relevance and composure over time. These are pieces that do not compete with the moment; they steady it. Timeless not as nostalgia, but as refusal—the insistence that style, like principle, need not reinvent itself to remain intact.
While all were carefully curated by me, I earn commission on qualified purchases.
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A quiet life, intentionally shaped. Read Chaos Among Serendipity.
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