a thousand layers

nylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blog nylon shop - worn out blognylon shop - worn out blog nylon shop - worn out blog

It hit me in this sudden, dizzying motion – while attempting to stay tightly wrapped in a thousand layers of indestructible distance – that I have been sitting in this room with you for longer than I remember. It’s striking how the eyes you followed for years, when in front of you after a long break, can be so utterly blinding.

“I’m learning how to be alone” I said, I think, maybe not in that order of words, maybe not as polished and as to the point, but something along those lines.


SWEATER by Nylon Shop

Photos by Sam Doyle

more >


batoko clothingfashion bloggerbatoko clothingfashion blog - worn out blogworn out blogbatoko clothingbatoko clothingbatokobatoko clothingthe worn outbatoko clothingthe worn outworn out blog

“our hearts are wild creatures. that’s why our ribs are cages” she mutters as she pours the end of her lagavulin bottle on the pile of furs and jewels on her living room floor, with that look on her face like mistakes are just nature’s thrill seekers.

she’s an old soul in an old body. she’s had more than most people ever will. she’s lived beyond the point of giving a fuck, because giving a fuck requires explaining your past to your present.

and that theme has resurrected her old habits.

it’s been 8 days since she left the house, 4 days since she had solid food, and 22 hours until she would fall into a lasting coma beside her fur on the living room floor.

she finally takes a seat next to me, letting her fragile body sink into a love seat that costs more than my chevy parked in her ten-car driveway.

“when i was 8 i broke three ribs” she takes a slow drag of her hand-rolled cigarette, “when they woke me up on the hospital bed asking how it happened, i broke out laughing”


smoke comes out of her mouth and dances away from her lips in the shape of poorly-drawn circles, and for the first time during my 3 hour visit to her home, she looks up at me,

“i found it funny that the doctors didn’t realize how wild a heart can be.”



Photos by Cachet

more >

beggar's prayer.

sequin jewelrysequin jewelrysequin jewelrysequin jewelrysequin jewelrysequin jewelry

it was a day like today. i paid my dues, i sang along with the world’s tunes. i collected all hope in sight and kept it safe in a box. i glued a jewel on top and instructed it to shine on a day like today, when i forget about this bank and the world tunes underway.

i rearranged my map. i deflected my sight from distracting peripherals to the direct path ahead. side roads, off roads, i got lost following my own map.

jeweled box in hand, your solacing words circulate in my head. so with a beggar’s prayer on my tongue, i flip the map and write on the back: “when i was lost you thought me a beautiful find.”



Photos by Cachet

Listening to: Beggar’s Prayer
by Emiliana Torrini

more >


worn out - fashion blog

worn out blogstyle blog - worn outstyle blog - fashion blogstyle blog - worn outyou left for a long time today. lifted yourself out of your miserable constant, i suppose. i called to say goodbye. not because i care about you. but because i want you to care about me. a ‘courtesy call’, right? like when those telemarketers call in the middle of your dragging work day to pretend like they give a shit about your needs.

our phone conversation drifts in and out like waves. much like the presence of your emotional state. barely reaching shore. coming and going at your leisure. but i’m forgiving, i suppose. i’ll lift the heaviness in your chest because as i’ve told you many times before, the heaviness in your chest is transferable energy. because behind all your “yes” “great” “i’ll call” “i’ll email” talk i can feel the buzzing of an underlying statement: “someone come and lift me out of here”. but no one can hear your buzzing over the filler words. they can just feel it. they can identify with it. they can, regardless of your strong efforts in blocking off your leaking emotions, forgive. but i’m only forgiving because i’ve needed to be forgiven.


PANTS by Motel Rocks
DENIM MOTO VEST by 15 FIFTEEN (via Urban Outfitters)

Photos by Sam Doyle

Listening to: Sierra Lift
by Blue Hawaii

more >

build fires.

winter fashion - bitching and junk food

worn out blogworn out blogworn out blogworn out blog worn out blogworn out blog michigan

soon it will be cold enough to build fires. and that’s a challenge we’re willing to take. the tree branches surrounding our cabin have the strength to hold the heavy, cold snow without giving in, and on this cold day i’d like to remind you that we’re no less capable. so open your front door and face the earth as it lies ahead of you. it’s an easy game to stay trapped inside our cozy bubble of wishful thinking, but i assure you the pain is worth the play- that our strength coupled with our willingness to feel the cold before the heat is exactly the kind of mindset that brought our coexistence together.

so drink sun water and let it alleviate you. build fires with the help of other warm hands. soon it will be cold enough to build fires and we’re more prepared than we’ve ever been.


FUR COAT by Bitching and Junk Food

Photos by I Hate Blonde

Listening to: Soon it will be cold enough to build fires
By Emancipator

more >

creature of playing.

fashion bloggerfashion blogger fashion blogger - worn out blogfashion blogger - worn out blogmotel rocks - worn out blogfashion blogger

you’re a creature of playing, a creature of dreams.


TARTAN PANTS by Motel Rocks

Photos by Cachet

more >



worn out blogandrogynous fashionthe worn outmotel rocksthe worn outand as one last piece of advice, she said, don’t hold down the sun. and i understood it as something like this:

your brittle skin deserves to absorb the sun’s light. your veins, uninspired, crave its radiating heat. your lungs expand to the rhythm of its cycle. rising, collapsing, but breathing- a new perspective is born.

your thoughts, elevated, reach for the sun above.


TOP by Motel Rocks
MAXI SKIRT by Motel Rocks

Photos by Sam Doyle

more >

segments of my vision.

androgynous fashion bloggerthewornout.comshookaworn out blogthe worn out blogthewornout.comshooka


we are bigger than this body, bigger than our world. we dream in dimensions we’ve never experienced. we trust the chaos, believe in the rush. we hold our hearts accountable, and feeling has never felt so good.

because you are a dream- pigmented from segments of my vision and assembled, sorted, filtered and set in motion into my reality. an out of this world, bigger than our soul, endless maze- i’m happy to be lost here with you.



Guest Model: Kayleigh Waterman
Photos by Sam Doyle


more >


unif - androgynous fashionunif clothing

androgynous fashion tightsmotel rocks fashion blogger unif - motel rocks

“you don’t let people like that go” she said.

and i listened. with permission from my stubborn taurean ears. it’s hard not to. when i get distracted by the arch of your brows. matching the arch of your lower back. my fingertips tracing along your spine. proceeding, cautious. i am paralyzed. clench, release. a beautiful sacrifice. your presence meets mine. collided, magnetized. mesmerized by your taurean eyes. latching on to you, as advised.


TIGHTS by Motel Rocks

Photos by Mario Pantoja

more >