To my Letterman Jacket:
Jacket, you’re the only thing I liked about my high school uniform. Four years of atrocious blue and orange and then you came along my senior year. I refused to take you off, despite the Nevada heat—you were my security blanket during the awful days of high school that I don’t miss. But I loved wearing you. You made me feel like a vintage gal despite having to wear the things I did. I pinned my broaches to you and wore you with my loafers. You made me happy and I still can’t bear to get rid of you. You made me feel pretty in an ugly high school world. I inspired someone else to buy you from the campus store, because I wore you with such love. People told me I looked so classic because I wore you. And where are you now, Jacket? In a hall closet in Vegas, far away from me. But you’ll come home with me now to college. So I can wear you and make happy memories with you—though I’ll still need you as a security blanket because life is hard, Jacket. Life is hard and for some reason, you hold so much value in my life, just like most of the clothes I own. But you still fit, so I can’t donate you to someone who needs you—in a way, I still need you. All I have left to say, Jacket, is thank you. Thank you for being my security blanket, a place to hide my phone, something that made me feel pretty on the outside though I struggled on the inside. It’s amazing the connection I feel to an inanimate object but I couldn’t have gotten through a struggle of a year without you.
Awkwardly posing in the art room because I couldn’t find a reference photo. Jacket always on, even when painting.
To my Michael Jackson Jacket:
MJ, you are an intense jacket. I have never worn you out. I will never get rid of you, though. You are from one of the bestest, most special people in my life: my second mother, Hilly. I met your original owner on my first day of high school. She was substituting for my English teacher. Hilly became my teacher my sophomore year and I blossomed into an English person because of her. She was my friend when no one else was. She still is one of my best friends, pen pal, inspiration, advisor. I wouldn’t be where I am without Hilly; so I keep you, my MJ jacket, because Hilly picked you out of her closet just for me: red, my favorite color and modeled after one of my favorite singers. I see you, my precious vintage, badass jacket and I think of Hilly and I think of how special you both are to my life. It was with you, MJ, that I realized that I had maybe made a difference in Hilly’s life like she had made in mine. MJ, you are more than a jacket: you are a physical reminder of Hilly’s love for me. You will always be with me, the way Hilly will be. You are a special something in my closet that I always smile at.
Hilly and I, decked out so I can graduate. I love you, Hilly.