Every morning when we wake up, we participate in an art project that society requires. Where am I going? What is the weather like today? What facet of my personality am I showcasing today? Whether we realize it or not, these are all questions we subconsciously answer when we get dressed for the day. Putting together a look involves creative decision-making skills similar to a painting and can be just as impactful as a masterpiece. My passion for fashion dates back to when I was twelve years old. Watching Project Runway with my mother, I became enamored by the creations and illustrations of the designers. I began sketching my garments, and suddenly my world began to unfold. Within the next year, I enrolled in art classes at my high school and dedicated myself to honing my skills as an artist. I explored several media styles, such as printmaking, digital art, collage, and even hairstyling. Towards the end of high school, I just wanted to mix up paint and apply it to a canvas. Realizing I could directly fulfill this desire through hair coloring, I decided to enroll in cosmetology school. One thing leads to another. I fell in love with doing hair and makeup, so I ventured into wig styling. Wig styling and makeup lead me to drag. My favorite aspect of doing drag is weaving different elements and ideas together to create a feast for the eyes. I started experimenting with creating my garments and headpieces. I realized I could create anything I could think of when I made my first headpiece, a hat adorned in silk flower petals and branches. The radicalizing and empowering idea that I could do anything brought me back to when I began learning to draw. Suddenly, I returned to dreaming up runway looks and fashion illustrations that would set the world on fire. In the present day, I am a student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago as a fashion student. I am unbelievably lucky to be a part of a world of creativity and whimsy unlocked by following my passion. Because I chase my dreams, even mundane tasks like getting dressed in the morning feel like creating a masterpiece. Knowing what fills up my heart has permitted me to realize what I’m capable of, the ability to explore different artistic outlets, and the freedom to dare to be authentic. My passions have allowed me to bring elements of my dreams to life in a world that often feels cold, and I hope to continue working until those two worlds begin to feel like one.

I never fit in growing up in Indianapolis. While attending my cosmetology program, I searched relentlessly for an escape plan from the city. One of the nation’s best salons came to my school to speak and recruit students. Shortly after a presentation from Van Council, two friends and I journeyed to Atlanta for an interview. When I returned to Indianapolis with no job offer, I said with determination, “I can’t stay here.” After graduating from my program, I would drive from Indianapolis to Chicago on three separate occasions just for the opportunity to interview at salons. After landing a job offer, I moved to the city at the ripe age of nineteen. Two months later, I came home to my apartment feeling devastated after being fired from my first apprenticeship. Bound and determined to succeed, I later found myself with Sine Qua Non Salons. The journey was harsh, and the beginning of the road riddled with critique. I didn’t want to hear it but realized I needed to be more objective in my work. I immediately adjusted my attitude and approach, and things improved for me tenfold. Leaving Indiana at a young age forced me to grow up quickly and be responsible. Chicago is now my home, and I still work with Sine Qua Non. During all of that time, The Art Institute has always been my happy place in the city. Last year I decided to enroll in their fashion program, reigniting the passion that I’ve had since I was twelve. Dreams come true, but not by fate. You must persist in the face of adversity and believe that everything happens for a reason.

My father and I always had an incredibly strained relationship. We shared almost nothing in common, hardly spoke, and rarely spent time together. When I was sixteen, my father was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to feel when I got the news. At that time, I felt resentful toward my father for being seemingly absent from my life while his connection with my brother was strong. I felt anger that my father was never there for me but was now trying to be due to guilt from the shortcomings he knew he had had as a caretaker. Within a few weeks, our family found ourselves with a sweet and shy new member in the mix. One day I was coming home from my friend’s house, noting an unrecognized car in the drive. I entered the kitchen and saw my uncle and his wife, whom I had never met. On the floor, sniffing cautiously, was a Yorkie. I sat down on the ground, wondering, “Who is this?” and extending a hand to pet her. “Her name is Autumn,” said my Aunt Connie. “She’s yours!” My aunt and uncle had heard that my dad wanted a dog and brought her just for us. That moment was the best surprise I’ve ever had. My father and I immediately fell in love with Autumn, and after a failed attempt at running back to Kentucky, she realized she loved us too. When we first met her, she never made a sound. My Uncle Frank hadn’t heard her bark once. Within a month, she started to bark at things in our backyard. Autumn became more protective over us. I remember building pillow forts to see if she could get out of them, and once she had finished playing my foolish games, she would cuddle up to my dad on the couch. The vet noted her weight gain due to my dad and I giving her too many treats. She was the most fascinating and bizarre dog I’ve ever met. She liked to be pet but never wanted to be held by anyone. When meeting other dogs, Autumn would hang her head like she didn’t see them and slowly walk away. She was overly cautious taking the three-inch step from my lap to the floor. She would run into things, never seriously hurting herself, and keep walking. Autumn was quirky and shy, but everyone that met her was enamored. As time went on, my dad’s cancer progressed. We hadn’t gotten much closer due to my teenage angst. We went on trips to visit my dad’s family and hometown. Wherever we went, Autumn did too. My dad loved that dog, and although I (selfishly) did not want to be on these trips, Autumn always made it better. For the first time, my father and I had something in common. After my parents got a new house, allowing me and my brother to live in our old one, my relationship with my father started to improve. I would visit them every one or two weeks. Every time I walked in their door, Autumn came running. She would vibrate from sheer excitement every time she saw me. If the promise of dinner wasn’t bringing me over, Autumn’s reaction to me did. I, of course, always enjoyed catching up with my mom and even started to have conversations with my dad. Even though it was small talk, it was more than I had ever interacted with my father in the past. I finally started getting to know my father, and within the next year, he passed away. It is not easy for me to talk about my relationship with my father. Writing about this is the most bittersweet experience I’ve had in a long time. It is both cathartic and overwhelming. I, like many other gay people, view our relationship as a bit of a sore spot. In ways that I never anticipated, Autumn made that sore spot softer. She created a connection between my dad and me that I never thought would exist. Several years later, Autumn has gotten old and developed numerous health problems. The time to say goodbye is close, and I’m having a hard time with it. I think about how the next time I walk in my mom’s door, she won’t run out to greet me. She won’t be behind me lying on the back of the couch while we watch movies. These realizations are heavy, but the one hitting like a bag of bricks is knowing that she was the only connection to my father I’ve ever had. She’ll never realize the effect she has had on me, but Autumn changed my life in ways I could have never imagined. I will remember her and my father forever.

Clothing production makes up as much as ten percent of carbon emissions yearly, and eighty-five percent of all textiles eventually end up in the garbage. As an incoming fashion student, it is crucial to understand how the fashion industry impacts climate change. As designers, our responsibility is to ensure that our craft does not contribute to waste. We can partly reduce our carbon footprint by abstaining from fast fashion and opting to thrift for new clothes. Addressing the issue in conversation can help, but there's much more to do to ensure the protection of our planet. In the words of British designer Vivienne Westwood, it is paramount that we "buy less, choose well, make it last." At the beginning of this year, I promised myself I would not buy new clothes. I aim to mend the clothes I already have and cherish while finding innovative ways to rebirth clothes rather than purchasing new products. Refashioning is also a great example of this concept. This promise has also encouraged me to make my own clothes, which I intend to treasure for life. When choosing new materials for clothes, I ensure that everything I use is ethically sourced and biodegradable. Ensuring that fabric is biodegradable minimizes how our fashion choices affect the environment. I also commit to learning and practicing zero-waste cutting practices to reduce fabric scraps. Environmental sustainability is not a trend in fashion. It is a movement that must progress in its mission to keep our planet alive. It is the responsibility of modern designers to adopt sustainable practices and to encourage consumers to consume consciously.

As a gay and nonbinary student embarking on a journey into the world of fashion design, my work seeks to inspire a child-like sense of joy and intrigue through clothing intended to be worn by drag queens. By creating a whimsical, colorful, and nostalgic envelope to showcase members of my community, I hope to change how the average person sees drag. I hope that LGBTQ people find the relatable aspects of grit and camp in my work, and those who are not queer can witness the freedom of self-expression and how it is capable of unlocking a technicolor utopia for everyone. I aim to make the world more empathetic by celebrating the LGBTQ community in my work and encouraging individual authenticity. Compassion and tolerance are not the same. We need more than tolerance. For genuine and lasting change, we must become more compassionate not only to others; but also to ourselves. Compassion is the most powerful tool for change and grants the gift of accepting ourselves for our differences and shortcomings. It creates a haven for those in harm’s way. Compassion serves as a means of healing, and what the world needs most right now is healing. While my work predominately focuses on the queer community, it is paramount that other communities are prominent as well. To properly represent the LGBT community, that must mean every queer person. We must include black and brown people, people of different religions, women, and immigrants. Compassion and allyship must be intersectional. Without intersectionality, benevolent intentions are only thinly veiled self-service. When all communities stand and work together, we present a united front that allows people to express themselves more deeply than ever before. My work seeks to inspire humanity en masse through radical self-acceptance, tenderness, and beauty. Everyone deserves love; and also to love themselves. How we interact with others will always reflect our environments and the experiences that have shaped our worldview. I believe we can change the world by encouraging people to see the beauty and softness in others who are different.

Because of its pure camp and whimsy, The Venus de Milo with Drawers by Salvador Dali is one of my favorite art pieces of all time. This work exemplifies conversation through art in being a reinvention of the famous classical art piece. Dali claims that the only difference between ancient Greek and modern times is distinguished by the work of Sigmund Freud. The body, viewed platonically by ancient Greeks, contains a series of secret compartments only linked through psychoanalysis. This “anthropomorphic cabinet” serves to be an example of the surrealist explorations of psychology in sexual desire. My appreciation for The Venus de Milo with Drawers stems from the clear exhibition of style over substance idealism. The work serves no purpose other than being materialistic and fetishistic, while also looking at the idea of a cabinet through quotation marks. It is anti-serious, poking fun at what is one of the most famous and well-preserved artworks in the world. It is even slightly vulgar, shown by Dali replacing Venus’s nipples with pom poms. The Venus de Milo with drawers is “absolutely useless” and completely whimsical, and that is the exact reason that it is so captivating. The Venus de Milo with Drawers is my favorite art piece because it is a clear example of everything that I feel is important as an artist. In this work, Dali conveys an appreciation for beauty that is light-hearted and fun, yet relevant to the human condition. Dali has created a commentary on the human psyche while also reinventing a well-known classical art piece that is a manifestation of mythology and folklore. Currently displayed at the Art Institute of Chicago, it is the first piece from an artist that I’ve always admired that I have been able to see in person.