The picture at the top of the page isn’t ideal, but it’s a start. It comes from this:
It’s a picture of me looking surly at my memere’s house at age 18, wearing a ridiculous outfit and reading a magazine (oh man, I bet it’s my memere’s Ladies’ Home Journal. I was so tough.)
My friend Rusty bought me that spiderweb shirt in Provincetown on a super rainy day that summer. I don’t have it any more, but I do have the tights. I remember the drive home, in his 1988 Plymouth Horizon in the pouring rain, was terrifying.
I’m probably wearing a skirt of some sort, but it appears to be smaller than Ladies’ Home Journal.