Obviously the goal of my existence is to be mistaken for a school teacher, so imagine my elation when my mother — a teacher in real life! — no longer had use for this over-sized, covered placket, white(ish) oxford blouse. Jackpot, and rife with authenticity to boot.

What you must know to fully understand the phenomena that is this shirt is that my mother is a recovering starch addict. If you were anywhere near New Orleans during 1993 you totally get it and you’re thinking about bringing it back. Jeans, your everyday t-shirt, bath towels; all of these wearable items were sent to the cleaners and ordered to be starched, stiff. I once mistook a pair of her Marithe Francois Girbaud’s for a sheet of loose leaf. And thus, graffiti print was born. Just kidding, Marc Jacobs!

Anyway, the shirt “hung” neglected in her closet long enough for DJ Jubilee to make a few hits and here we are about two decades later looking like his original p-poppers. How very meta. The blouse’s drapery defies all that is real, especially gravity. Clearly, cutting it into a crop top would be the best way to emphasize this. And since we’re defying things, I figured it was a good time to show off my tummy, despite the fact that I’d just consumed a gravitationally endowed Juan’s Flying burrito. Jerk chicken, if you’re wondering.

The full ikat print skirt is a little diddy I copped from the clearance rack at Forever 21 for a price they and I both know it should have been from the start. I’m looking at you, Do-Won Chang. The suede and wood wedges are my summer staples — look closely and you’ll see where some burrito debris destined for my mouth took a detour and stained one of them. ¡Olé!

Written and Illustrated by Charlé Washington