I knew I was queer when two very specific thoughts started playing on a loop in my head. The first was just a constant replay of everything Neve Campbell does in The Craft, and the second was I hate all my clothes. All of them. Eweweweweweeeeewwwww. This is unfortunate because I’ve almost always known I was queer and have almost always hated my clothes. There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re nice clothes; I just don’t like them. Most of my clothes are old because shopping in stores gives me the anxiety farts and I tend to wear the items I have until they’re falling apart and full of holes, and sometimes that takes awhile. Also, part of my post-Catholic school, post traumatic stress/Stockholm Syndrome subconsciously steers me toward a “uniform” of the same ill-fitting sweater/jeans/sneaker combination that I’ll wear for several days in a row. I can’t help it. It’s all I know.
Meanwhile, my vagina gathers dust because people don’t want to date people who wear the same three t-shirts all the time. I’ve never really known how to dress, but this wasn’t really something I thought about until I decided to come out as queer and also decided I needed clothes that would signify my status as a queer girl to other queer girls because I don’t want to die alone. I don’t have really what could be called a personal style, but I know what I want to wear, and what I don’t, and if I had to name I’d say it’s Hot Guy From the ’70s: tight jeans, faded t-shirt, a shag haircut, earth tones, some glasses I can really hide behind. But the queer girl version of that. The problem is that in order to achieve this, I usually have to end up visiting both the men’s and women’s sections of the store, which doesn’t work for several reasons, such as 1) I have a weird body, and it’s really hard to find jeans in the women’s section that can accommodate my ass but don’t give me a diaper butt, and 2) shopping in the men’s department for myself is really fucking awkward, and I just want to try on shirts and sniff men’s colognes and take the tops off of all the Old Spices to compare in CVS without being judged.
Luckily, Jesus is real because Greyscale Goods is here, and they want to solve my (and everyone’s) department store identity crises (but maybe not my beef with a certain CVS employee who seems to have a problem with me systematically taking a sniff of all the Old Spices on display. Fucking Janice.). Greyscale Goods is a wardrobe curation service that caters specifically to gender-neutral, androgynous-dressing types, but is really here for anyone whose outfit choices fall outside the rigid boundaries of “men’s” or “women’s” clothing. Sometimes you want to wear heels and a skirt. Sometimes you want to look like a handsome urban dandy, or a combination of both. Greyscale Goods wants to handle that shit so you can stay looking fresh and unconstrained by gendered clothing options. To get started, customers fill out a specially-crafted style profile and work with the shoppers and staff at Greyscale to help select their perfect vibe and fit, and receive exactly the styles they want, delivered to their doorstep. Customers pay for items they want to keep, return the ones they don’t, and proceed to look exactly how they want, minus an uncomfortable men’s section situation. It’s simple, revolutionary, and a total game-changer for those of us whose identity is so closely tied with what we wear, queer/androgynous/gender-neutral or anyone who just wants to feel more comfortable in their body. Undergoing a total queer/andro-forward wardrobe overhaul takes time and can be expensive, and there are certain items that typical stores or online shops just don’t carry, or they carry them but they don’t fit right, and Greyscale Goods fills that gaping hole, i.e. the “grey area” in the market.
Founder and CEO Sara Medd is currently in the midst of a Kickstarter campaign to raise money for the creation of Greyscale Goods and meet her $25,000 goal and make her gender-neutral clothing utopia a reality. Check out the campaign page for more information on how to make help make Greyscale Goods happen.
Reprinted with permission from The Style Con.