the following is an excerpt from my fourth book, sanctuary: projects to make & share. you can purchase a copy and dive deeper here.

did you know that a very large part of why i have devoted my life to textiles and slow fashion is because i, a non-binary queer femme, figured out in my mid-20s that one of the easiest ways for me to engage with my politics and values was to just choose what clothes went on my body every day?

let me back it up a bit - when i was in my late teens and early 20s, i was heavily involved in grassroots activist scenes. from queer and gender rights to mental health to labour to food politics to environmentalism, i was at rallies, leading committees, directing plays, and marching in protests. i was also consistently burning out, because i am also an extremely sensitive and emotional creature, and dealing with the garbage fire that is the kyriarchy day in and day out was exhausting. after a particularly bad and prolonged period of burnout, i needed to find a way to engage with the things that i cared about, without being at the forefront of every single rally and protest. it was around the same time that i started devoting more time and energy to working with natural dyes, and also around the time that i started learning about slow fashion and making my own wardrobe. the literal clothes on my body were the intersection of everything that i gave a shit about, and i could step into my politics and wear them on my sleeves every single day just by becoming more conscious of the clothes i wore, how i styled them, and how i maintained them.

as a queer person, this intentional act of clothing myself goes a step further, because it also reflects my gender (or not) every day. the periods of my life where i have felt unsafe wearing the clothes that i want in the way that i want have sprouted severe bouts of dysphoria, anxiety, and depression, and i say that as a non-binary femme with major cis-presenting privilege and an entire adulthood of becoming comfortable in my particular queer skin. i know many queers for whom this daily dance is even more complicated, even more dangerous, even more precarious.

there is no right or wrong way of dressing as a queer person, or as a cishet person for that matter. and also, the clothes that we wear can absolutely impact our mental health, our emotional health, our physical safety, our spiritual wellbeing. they mean nothing and everything at the exact same time, always. these two truths can be held simultaneously.

when i was originally designing these patterns and the outfits they would go with, i had a certain vision in my head. and when it came to our photoshoots, i gave all of my models the choice to change what they were wearing, to style it how they wanted, to add or remove extra adornments as they wished. the result is, in my opinion, absolute fucking beauty. and joy, and security in themselves, and sweetness. imagine if we all had the ability to choose the clothes that make us feel most like ourselves in each moment of each day. imagine if we were all able to exude confidence and radiate self-worth because we were supported and loved in showing up as the truest versions of ourselves. imagine if we were always brave enough to show up as ourselves, and if that didn’t require bravery at all because it was the most normal thing for all of us.

if you don’t see yourself wearing the patterns in these pages, i encourage you to envision yourself styling the pieces over the clothes you like best, in the colours that make you feel the most powerful. and if you still don’t see yourself in them, that’s ok. i’m not here to make you knit or wear something you don’t love. but if you do see yourself in something, i hope you take the chance on yourself to cast it on, even if you only ever wear the finished piece in the comfort of your own bedroom.

but hey, i’ve always had a lace-for-all aesthetic, so maybe i’m a little bit biased anyway.

a queer aesthetic (excerpt from "sanctuary: projects to make & share")