Although Avalle prefers to head to physical thrift shops in New York City for her clothing needs, the privilege of existing in a progressive state isn’t lost on her. For those living in states that are denying trans and gender nonconforming people rights and access, shopping in person sometimes isn’t an option.
“It can be horrifying. You have this sense of everyone looking at you. You’ll come up with excuses in case you’re questioned. Sometimes, that’s you being in your head, but increasingly more and more across the country, it can feel dangerous,” Avalle explained to Who What Wear. On the other hand, adding something to your cart from the comfort of your home doesn’t come with the threat of violence over your head. There’s no one there to question why you’re trying on certain items of clothing or shopping in a certain part of a store. Even though gender is something that’s so public, it can feel so intimate and private at times, Avalle explained: “[By shopping online], you have time to sit with yourself and think, What do I want to look like? How do I want to dress? You can’t do that when you’re having an anxiety attack at the store.”
The first time Matilda Phan experienced an in-store panic attack shopping for clothes, they were in an Abercrombie & Fitch in Jacksonville, Florida—in the heart of the nation’s current battleground against gender-affirming care led by presidential hopeful Ron DeSantis. Phan, who uses they/them pronouns, was allowed one shopping trip a year from elementary school to high school. While the semi-radioactive fumes of 2000s fizzy body spray are enough to make anyone’s skin start to itch, Phan’s style was confined to ultra-preppy, femme polo shirts and cotton twill pants. It wasn’t until they went to college, and eventually Los Angeles, that they started to grapple with the things they wanted to wear. Sensory-wise, Phan explained, feminine clothes just don’t work for them. They’re too itchy, too revealing, too snug, too strappy. “It feels like I’m wearing a costume,” they said.
Enter workwear. Long before Wranglers and leather chaps were the go-to uniforms for indie skater boys who reek of sweat and Santal 33, workwear was reserved for people who appreciated lived-in, durable clothing for long days on the ranch or on the streets of Los Angeles’s downtown neighborhood markets. “The more I researched into it, the more I realized I wanted to pay respects to the original Vaqueros, who are Mexican cowboys. In L.A., you’re surrounded by the older gentlemen, and that’s their formalwear, and it’s so fucking cool,” Phan said. “They look so comfortable. They look like they can actually do stuff. That’s my favorite thing about Westernwear.”
But naturally, when you’re a petite 5’1” nonbinary shopper, walking into a hyper-masc cowboy store to buy a new pair of jeans can be just a tad intimidating. For the majority of their workwear, Phan now shops online. “It just felt like I didn’t belong in the store. And for a good reason, I think. They just see this little Asian guy and think, ‘That’s a little interesting,” Phan explained. Even though Phan assured me the loud-and-proud cowboys are incredibly welcoming and nice, they would rather just avoid the experience altogether and shop online. “Going to a store with lots of masculine energy and going through the little boys’ section—because that’s all that fits me—just feels really weird. I can comfortably go through the youth section without worrying if anyone is looking at me weird,” they said.
Ana Escalante
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