woman's apparel

I was asked why I dress so well earlier this week. Being a young queer trans woman, everything I do is under scrutiny. Every article I write, every sentence I form, and every step I take is under inspection because of who I am. Trans women are assumed to be scary monsters and youth are assumed to not know what we’re doing. Both of these assumptions are wrong. I dress how I do to reclaim my body and identities from these narratives. I wear these clothes in order to uplift my communities through defeating the ageist and anti-trans assumptions we are told every day. I have this aesthetic to imagine a future where all trans youth are able to express our gender how we want, without assumptions and without limitations.

A Man Out of Time

Sherlock Holmes of 1880’s England accidentally steps into 2017 London, into Molly Hooper’s flat. He’s bound to make some very important realizations about himself. Sherlolly. 


Sherlock Holmes, the world’s first (and only) Consulting Detective felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something was wrong, and not merely because he was falling behind on his case.

He looked around the flat with some alarm, at the furniture, at the floor, the shoes by the door, and at the woman standing in the doorway to what appeared to be a kitchen (or laboratory) or sorts.

“What is this, Sherlock, dress up?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The getup,” the woman gestured to his apparel. “It’s nice, very effective, looks authentic too.” She smoothed down the shoulders of his coat, a familiar gesture he found himself savoring. “I can’t imagine what kind of case requires all this,” she gave him a once over, he detected approval. “But it’s nice.” She smiled brightly at him. “If you’re going by proper Victorian standards though, you’d better take your topper off, rude to keep it on the house.”

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