I love hanging out with my friends because outfits
Thoughts on female friendship (and 30 outfits for you to wear while being in it)
My maternal grandmother was one of nine siblings. She had six sisters and then went on to have four daughters herself.
My mom was only five when she left Tehran for Israel but when I think of how deeply I cherish my friends and really, all of the women who orbit around me, I am sure that this quality is one of the most Persian things about me.
I don’t know it with words, but I feel it so deeply when R tells me she’s taking up sculpture. J’s not gonna drink anymore. K won’t back down from Jesus, A’s starting her own thing. C shut down a bad date, Y sold 30 pants in ten minutes! And T had great sex last night.
There’s a sisterhood implied in real friendship. It’s a durable bond that’s not easily broken even when it gets tangled in the active wires of hurt we twirl around each other when we are feeling: rejected, afraid, insecure, desperate.
Every time we talk shit to fill gaps of silence, to regain power when we think we are threatened. To posture in-ness when we feel like we’re outside.
This — talking shit — is the most prevalent way we turn on each other. But under it is this hard-to-face truth that actually, we’ve turned on ourselves. That a split has formed and we don’t want to know it so in an act of benevolence, we reach for the bond because gossip fortifies intimacy.
It’s taken me long to recognize that every time I feel alienated or I alienate, there is pain that wants to be seen underneath. A split that has caused separation. The shame of which is dispelled when I see that further down from the pain is a pure, almost mystical yearning for the bond of womanhood.
There’s an ecstasy about female camaraderie. A force and a power, an unnameable depth. This is the part that is Persian in me. The fight to feel into its reaches through: the ways we turn on ourselves, the ways we can find each other even in separation and the grace of learning we can have ourselves back.
The celebration that comes with that.


It’s represented by the seemingly hollow, powerfully gilded adornments I wear on my arms and my neck and on my fingers and sometimes across my head.

To make a life that is deep and rich is to follow the whims that feel warm. When a whim feels warm is in fact an intuitive blast you can heed.
It’s the Persian in me who wants to connect over hemlines and sequins and tassels on bags, cabochon stones vs those brilliantly cut. It’s to search for the light under the darkness,
to share it once you have found it,
and to rejoice in the most gorgeous kind of communion,
within the bond of the sisterhood.
The thing about being: a daughter, a mother, a sister, a friend, a girl, a woman — all of it, is that we each come with a unique set of matches, functional only to the experience of another woman. And in some ways, I think we have to light each other on fire to learn how to actually use our matches, to learn that we can also light each other up.
Once we know how to wield the light we make, all that was hidden becomes visible, and we can see in plain view that this — our bond — is our most precious connection. The Persian in me gets dressed to honor that.

It’s activism, a will to transmute pain, find pleasure and peace and beauty no matter the severity of the wire of hurt that twirls underground. It’s to swim softly into the wave of our camaraderie.
This post was called I love hanging out with my friends because outfits but in fact what I mean is that I love outfits because hanging out with my friends. Ideas for the next time you’re in the coven —































Beautifully written…& of course the outfits! 🥰
Love all the milky whites ..the sublime Bobkova dress! Also wearing a pearl halo with bare midriff in crop Moussy tweed ...the Garment white pants, Doen shorts and skirts...white All lll mini dress , Nikki Chasin skirt.. serene, exalted mood