Love in Transparency

ETHEREALITY

(the quality or state of being ethereal; characterized by unusual delicacy and refinement).

Khaite (American, founded 2016) Catherine Holstein (American, born 1983)

Dress, pre-fall 2019, White cotton poplin

"Catherine Holstein of Khaite describes her design philosophy as driven by "a fresh balance of opposing elements--past and future, masculine and feminine, strength and softness, structure and fluidity." This dress from her resort 2020 collection conveys both austerity and excess in the white cotton fabric and airy puff sleeves. Holstein is attentive to her wearers' moods and designs garments that embody their complex emotions." (Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

I am imperfectly whole. The shedding of my fears and doubts do not keep me away from my mind’s confusion. Instead, I am brought to this place where faith beckons and mercy bends. It overwhelms me to know how far I have walked into the unknown.

Even the hollow sheet I have clothed myself in leaves me naked in the presence of others, the sheer gauze exalting my limbs as if I’ve transcended into another place. Curves traced by translucent cotton are tied together by seams like harp strings. My body plays inside the white poplin, then vanishes.

In this silence, I listen to the beguilement of my own whispers. They shake the ground I stand on. I am carried to an underworld that leaves me breathless. The flesh of my skull has faded into an airy complexion.

I no longer recognize myself. Once, it all seemed simple, but the past echoes truths that no longer seem valid. Everything is unclear to me, and I wonder what is the source of this distress. The vivaciousness of youth has long left me, buildings decayed into ruins. The miniature physique of delicate features have been elongated; yet, bone withered into ashes. My existence is visible, but only in theory.

I am effortlessly carried into a crevice between time and space. Floating almost makes me forget the stability Earth offered. But, perhaps that is why my insides were torn by the rigid woods. Unlearning all that I have learned, I realize now how the pieces fell apart. Colors and noise were only fabrications of authenticity. There were no shapes that embraced humanity, no room for acceptance; no—only superficial threads that mimicked treasures. Wealth, I secretly discovered, could not be made by man. I have found an expression in the minimal.

Truth has given me the flexibility to choose the feathery designs of my life. The lightness of my attire gave me the freedom to move quickly, to open the hems and be real, a quiet romance to calm my own bitterness. Realness is a love affair that brushed on self-destruction, but its serenity brought me to surrender.

How bold was I to think I had control over routine patterns and structure? And yet, how much I have let go… Nostalgia sustains a fortress that keeps pleasant reminiscences, but abandons pain. It is no wonder how I have traveled on the path of predictable habits, ignorant of all disagreeable thoughts. Nothing I had faced was real, but a collaboration of constructions and expectations. I cut out honesty like papier-mâchés, molding and smoothing the model that became a shell of myself. But the mask eventually melted.

The darkest part of me exposed, my scars are raw to the bone. They ache to be numbed, to be validated…but the dearth of who I am carves deeper to the core. To evade this truth would be to patch a band-aid on a bleeding wound. I am not without suffering; yet, I still choose to rip open seams rather than stitch together synthetic textures. It is in the most excruciating tears where I have found the soul of my creative force.

I do not pretend to know all of the styles that could be fashioned from a blank sheet, so I continue to sketch the drawings that my mood inspires, listening and honoring the soul that speaks to me. Rather than slash the pieces to accommodate my own insecurities, I dress the fabric around my body. It flows effortlessly like a spirit draped in divinity, and I am no longer defined by the world’s vocabulary, but pure in my own inhibitions. Peace, I learned, began with myself. While society celebrates change based on contrast and contradictions, the love I sought was already rooted within me.

Gabriella Petrillo