The whimsical waves of wind chimes filled my ears as my mind wandered through darkness. Within seconds, the gentle sounds of the waves gradually traveled to a crescendo. And there, tranquility and intensity met at the shore. In hearing this harmonious collection of rhythms, soft light peered through the darkness, coaxing me out of this dream-like state. The soft wind chimes now transformed into the distinct sounds of doors opening and closing, skateboards zooming from the outside, and my roommate grunting from across the room.
I slowly shuffled out of my soft blanket with the letters “ND” on it as if slipping out of a loved one’s tight embrace. My eyes slowly blinked as it got a panoramic view of my decently sized dorm room. Across from me was my roommate’s side of the room, her printer paper white walls adjacent to the mountain of random items in a cart that almost seems to act as decoration. Then there was my side, a collage of purple wall art, perfectly organized to display my LED Scorpio light and my cotton candy colored stuffed animals. The room was just like my alarm, two rhythms in harmony. I carefully threw my legs over my lofted bed, and began the perilous journey down the steep wooden ladder. In doing so, I met eyes with my roommate, who was also tasked with the same miniscule yet dangerous mission.
With arms stretched, I peered over my phone. My first instinct was to check the weather. I smiled as my screen shined back at me with a cute illustration of the sun and the number 75 on it. What better way to celebrate the beautiful weather than to show some skin. I dashed over to my most favorite part of the dorm room, my closet. As the wooden doors swung open, I was met with an orchestra of colors and fabrics: My mom’s houndstooth jacket from the 90’s, my vintage Notre Dame Jacket designed in buttons, and so much more. Like any artist would, I began to paint a canvas of what a walk through a perfect day would look like. First, I put on my black felt skirt as a backdrop. For the accent, I put on my sheer floral top with fringes at the hem. To add glamor to this painting, I put on jumbo heart shaped earrings and an olive green head wrap as if it were the trees. I looked at my roommate and struck a pose. She nodded up and down like an art critic and gave my masterpiece a thumbs up. “You look so hot!” She exclaimed. While I did agree with her, something about this piece felt unfinished. I went to the mirror and admired the subtle hints of red that my floral top had. There was something about this art that had more to offer than what any average eye can see. I immediately ran back to my closet.
My eyes danced around like a wild animal tracking down the smell of food. To my delight, something illuminating caught my attention. I reached deep inside my closet and found the heart of this art I had been curating. I feasted my eyes upon a shimmery red, leather snakeskin jacket. She was fierce yet sleek. A mesmerizing fusion of bodaciousness and sophistication. As I unzipped the jacket, my thoughts wandered to my phone.
Eagerly, I picked up my phone and surfed through my contacts to find my mom. “Hi my love, oh I love your outfit,” my mom says in her passionate Haitian accent. I shined the brightest smile and responded, “it might look even better if I pair it with THIS JACKET!” I slipped on the jacket and suddenly the dazzling red snakeskin felt like my own. I looked back at my mom whose smile remained upright but now slightly slanted. Slowly, I removed the jacket. I started to rummage through the closet for another item. I found myself dodging hangers as if I was avoiding rocks during a swim.
As I began to drown into my options, my roommate burst.“Bruh, why won’t you just wear the jacket? Just wear what you want to wear”. These words echo in my mind as I stood in between two jackets and my mom’s opinion. My hands tremble. The weight of my leather jacket was much heavier than I imagined. I looked back at my phone where my mom’s verbal disapproval awaited me. “Don’t wear the jacket, you don’t want to bring um… too much attention to yourself. People already stare”. I forced a shy smile. “You’re right, people already stare”. I placed the jacket in the closet, narrowing my vision with two wooden doors. I instead picked up a beige H&M sweater. My body protested as it felt the sweater on my skin. I left the room and headed to class. Holding onto my chest as it was missing the heart that gave my artwork a soul.
Why didn’t I just wear the jacket? My friends have always said that I have an eye for fashion. In fact, it’s not just them who have said it. They always have silly banter about how long it takes for me to put together an outfit. Usually, my reason for it is that I’m just indecisive. The reasoning behind my indecisiveness tugs at me like an uncomfortable thread. Suddenly, I unravel and spin back to the whirlwind of my wardrobe.
My heart shaped bamboo earrings glistened in the light as I picked them up. Looking in the mirror, I put the earrings on. I’m standing in Ricci Fields, fixing my heart shaped bamboo earrings as I wait for the director’s instructions. The hairs of my neck stand up as I feel the stare of somebody behind me. “You always have the nicest earrings on, girl. Where do you get them?”. My hands begin to tremble as I hold onto my saxophone. “Oh, I just get it from local shops back home”, my lips say. “You meant you bought it from the beauty supply store,”my heart says. I look around and see the canvas of white staring back at me. People already stare. The director shouts out his instructions and I bring my left foot forward to march.
I step into November 2021. The Walsh Hall basement has snacks in the back. I look up and see “Shades of Ebony” typed out in purple on the television screen. I’m in my usual corner seat on the couch, waiting for the meeting to begin. Once again, the hairs on my neck lift. Somebody is staring at me. A black girl who I’m acquainted with looks at me and says, “okayyy girl, I see you with the fit. You’re brave for wearing bamboo earrings out here. I wish I had the courage to step into class with those on”. To my right are my friends, who shoot a quick glance at me with just as much confusion as I have. “Uhh thanks!”, I said shakingly. I remove my bamboo earrings and reach for some small studs instead. Another item for the back of my closet.
In reaching for some small studs, I found yet another jacket. This one is a real show stopper. A silver studded masterpiece designed with colorful yarn and graffiti art. I slipped her on and blinked in the mirror. I’m in Ricci Fields for marching band practice on a new day. While walking to my designated spot, I get asked “How do you stay so fashionable”? My spine extends and my head lifts up. I shine a smile at my bandmate. “That’s just the black girl magic in me,” my heart says. “That’s just the New Yorker in me,” my lips say. Amused by my response, my bandmate walks away. I stand there, trying not to trip on yet another hanger. I hang my studded jacket up in the back of the closet.
At some point, the back of my closet begins to look like an overstuffed mailbox. And so, I now look to what’s in front of me. It’s nighttime. Reggaeton music is blasting as my friends and I collide like bumper cars to get ready for my first Latino party at Notre Dame. I pull out a vintage MTV T-shirt with diamonds on it. “Finally a chance to wear this shirt!” I slip on patterned tights and my adidas. When I step out, the ohs and ahs from my friends put me at center stage. The crowd went wild. I look in the mirror once more and ask “is this outfit too much for a Latino student party?” My friends frown, which gives me everything I need to know. After an hour of preparation, I look in the mirror for final touches. People already stare. “Ya’ll, I’m not gonna go, I’ll wear this outfit some other time." Disappointed, my friends head off to the party.
I closed the door to my closet and found my roommate packing. It’s 2023, 9pm, and the chill of October has now penetrated our window. The tornado of memories swept away amidst the flood of boxes and vacuum bags as she gathered the last of her items to move out. Our once harmonious blends of personalities now looked like a blank canvas waiting to be painted anew. But for once, the creator in me had no clue of what image was to come. She smiled at me and said, “hey at least you’ll have two closets now!” In a twisted way she was right. I swallowed back tears and said “you have a point”. Right now, I’m standing in between two closets in my half empty dorm room. One closet with a back section full. And one open doored closet with space to place the outfits I might finally wear.
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