High Femme recently hosted a reading. A few of our readers wrote pieces specifically for the event, which we couldn’t resist posting here. Thank you so much to Belinda Cai for this piece!
To feel “with it” in a sea of hyperfashionable androgynous Tokyoites, X sports their new oversized pair of “X-Girl”-brand cargo pants that can unzip below the knees to transform into jorts. X-Girl is a hero of 90s American alt fashion and streetwear, now based in Japan. Donning the cargos, X feels as cool and effortless as Kim Gordon, X-Girl’s founder, and as hip as the Japanese Gen Zers who resemble nonbinary hyperpop sensation Dorian Electra. Without the pants, X is another boring American who doesn’t know how to dress.
X is mommy’s little asphyxiated princess. Pretty and deranged in pink. Rosy tulle and glossy Mary Janes. Quietly compliant, rebellion suppressed more and more by the hour. “What beautiful, long hair,” the church ladies and passersby alike coo, sometimes stroking X’s dark locks. Their mother’s eyes shine brightly at these reactions. “Look at how thick it is too!” their mother chirps. “She has so much hair, I have to brush it all the time.” X remembers the way the strange women beam at them, making them feel like a daughter who’s worth it.
In their mid-20s, X decides to chop their hair off into a bob right at the chin. They reject the flowy, black locks. They eventually dye the bob every pastel color in the pastel rainbow, and some neon too, channeling Natalie Portman with the pink wig in Closer. Or Milla Jovovich from The Fifth Element. It was a COVID coping mechanism and an addictive hobby.
Back in the states, X feels like they’re cosplaying “Teenager at the Americana” when they put on the X-Girl pants. It doesn’t feel right given their age demographic in this more gender-conforming and less fashion-forward country. But that may just be in their head. In Los Angeles, where everyone’s trying to make it, they need to show a little leg. Wear a short skirt that hugs their ass. Show skin. Maybe even wear ultra, ultra low-rise Y2K jeans.
At recess, X cherishes their most prized possession: their one and only Nike shirt that they wear far too often. It’s frayed and comfortable. But, more importantly, they want to be noticed and liked by the pretty tomboy with the freckles. They want to be the pretty tomboy with the freckles. Being nine is hard. Being nine with one Nike shirt, when you want to be an edgy tomboy, sucks. Freckles only wears Nike and rejects dresses, skirts, and other “girl clothes” — she’s definitely the coolest kid on the playground.
Now, at the function, X subconsciously ensures they’re femme enough. Sometimes they’ll almost reach high femme, but on the gothier side. Other times, they’ll add an androgynous element. They paint their lips cherry red and accentuate their figure and long, wavy hair. They feel confident and that confidence comes alive. They’re not afraid to say hi to a stranger. To ask someone what kind of poetry or music they write. To talk about their own creative endeavors. To bother someone about hitting their vape pen. They wonder if they’re performing, but they realize they’re actually completely themself. For the moment.
