I went to school to learn how museums make you care about an object behind glass — how a small card of text can turn a chipped cup into something you’d cross a state line to see. I thought that was a career. It turned out to be a diagnosis.

Because somewhere between the degree and right now, my closet quietly became a collection. Not clothes — evidence. The blazer from the job I talked myself into and then out of. The boots that went to every show. The dress that saw two cities and one genuinely terrible decision. Every piece was an artifact. Every one was missing its wall text.

So I started writing it. If found, please recast.

The Method

I think in pictures — always have. When I don’t know what something means yet, I make a collage of it: tear the fragments out of context, lay them beside each other, and wait for a story to surface. Clothes work exactly the same way. A garment is a fragment of a life. Set it next to its plot, its reviews, and the year it peaked, and it stops being inventory. It gets cast.

I’m not a reseller. I’m a casting director for the things you loved.

What This Is — and Isn’t

Who Walks In Here

This is for the former cool girls and the current ones. For women who kept the concert tee, the moto jacket, the slip dress — not because they’ll wear them again, but because throwing them out feels like firing a character mid-season. You don’t keep vintage for the fabric. You keep it for the second act.

Selected Filmography — a life, in genres

1. The Art School PhaseConvinced she’d be a painter. Kept the paint-flecked carpenter pants as an alibi.
2. The Angst-Driven Café YearsFlannel, silver rings, and firm opinions about bands that no longer exist.
3. The ‘Real Job Now’ ComedyStructured blazers. Sensible heels that were never once sensible.
4. The Pacific Northwest EraA move, two breakups, and one pair of 501s that kept the receipts.
5. Present Day — The ArchiveStopped keeping everything. Started releasing it, with the story attached.

Every piece here had a life before this.
So did I.