Clothing to communicate personal liberation
Interviewed and written by Dr. Alexandria Vasquez
Herderin is a research and design studio attempting to understand the social and emotional relationship people have to clothing; and if any, the relationship to identity that clothing facilitates and corresponds to. Through Herderin, Alexandria Vasquez, PhD, and her team is currently studying the emotional and somatic approaches to empathic clothing design. Herderin is branding this body of research: Clothing The Self. The following journal entry is from a Clothing the Self interview with Josh Soyombo, photographer for Herderin.
It is a rainy day in San Francisco. It hasn’t rained in weeks, and the smell of the fresh water falling is sweet and clear. The overcast sky makes the day feel enveloping: cool, cosy, and restful. Today I am interviewing Josh Soyombo, a creative in many forms and photographer for Herderin since 2022, always open to collaboration, ideas, and new situations.
As I drive to his apartment in the city, I remember all of the times we have spent together: from photoshoots at Rodeo Beach and the batteries in that area, to fields of brush where spiders half the size of one’s palm scurried in all directions as we walked through the tall grass. I smirk as I think about how good of a friend Josh has been to accompany me in materializing all of my half-thought ideas for Herderin into visual form. Of all people I have ever worked with, I would say that Josh has truly felt like a collaborator, friend, and brother: there is a bond between us that I find endearing, enduring, and moving. To me, this is the heart of collaboration: relationships between people who seek to create something together that is outside of themselves. In this way, I feel deeply that Josh and I share this creative bond – it is actually quite intimate. And yet, there is so much we still have yet to know about one another.
I arrive at Josh's apartment just North of Balboa. He comes to the front gate to let me in. One flight of stairs, and we are at Apartment 1, the site of Josh’s one-bedroom apartment. Josh tells me that this is the first time he has felt comfortable settling into his life: investing in pieces of furniture, decor, and clothing that he knows won’t be transient and will be along the journey of his life with him. The first thing that I notice as I walk into his home is that the furnishings are intentionally minimal. His apartment reads as thoughtful and meditative, rather than sparse and monastic. There is nothing about Josh’s mindful minimalism that reads as strict. Mindfully placed items throughout his apartment tell the story of the peace and intention that Josh brings into his life. By his front door, next to his 3 pairs of shoes, he has an altar of lavender, shells, and stones. “I want to make my entire home smell of lavender. When I come home and see and smell this lavender, it brings me so much joy.”
Josh always has a calm demeanor – a very soothing presence amongst others. He isn’t heightened with any kind of emotion; he takes pleasure in being at ease. “I want others to feel the peace that I have in my life,” he tells me. He offers me a glass of water in a bulbous ball jar. Our glasses clink together as we cheer, and with that we start our interview, Josh sitting at his desk area, and I taking a soft landing onto the cream boucle ottoman a few feet away.
I begin as I always do, asking him about his favorite garments. He tells me how much he appreciates his shirt jackets: a kind of collared, button down shirt that he has in varying weights to warm his body in the San Francisco climate. Since Josh lives on the Western side of the city, he is more in the fog. “Once I found my ideal climate, it was as if I also found my ideal wardrobe: I want to be in cool climates, but cosy and comfortable. Comfort is very important to me. I suppose I look for a garment that stays with me for a long period of time, and before I buy anything I think about how it will fit in my current wardrobe, and what it will look like years from now. I like to think about how a piece grows with me over time.” With a small, curated, and neat wardrobe, Josh focuses on neutral, compatible pieces that are comfortable.
“I remember the moment I moved from slim fitting pants, which were a fashion of skateboard culture at the time, to loose ones. I knew that I had to feel comfortable. It’s very important to me.” Josh sits back comfortably in his chair. To me, he looks so dignified in his comfort and ease. A skateboarder for much of his adolescence and adult life, this outlet has been not just an exercise or culture, but a way of life for Josh: skateboarding is about freedom, carelessness, and fun. “When I skateboard, I like to wear some of my clothes that I really love to get ripped up, stains, etc. I want to feel like I can just flow with the air and be careless. I feel free. Happy. Peaceful.”
We then move into my second curiosity: I ask if any garment or garments are sentimental to him. Josh tells me about this connection he has to shirt jackets, beyond their comfort in his ideal climate, and also sweaters. “My father always had the perfect jacket – sort of like these [gestures at the jacket he’s wearing].” As he says this, he looks out the window upwards towards the sky. The light of the sky perfectly draped onto the dimensions of his face, while his facial muscles seem relaxed and easeful.
“When my father passed, I wanted to be sure to keep his sweaters and jackets.” For Josh, this connection to his father was held through keeping his clothing – something that many people who lose loved ones do, and aids in our understanding of how clothing is in many ways the most intimate connection we often have to someone after they pass. Josh tells me that he keeps the garments of his fathers at his mothers home, as he feels that her home is a safe place for keeping what he holds most dear to him. “I have been moving every two years or so, and so I wouldn’t want to keep those with me. They are safe at my mother’s.”
“I don’t wear them, but in my own wardrobe, I think I am also seeking out that ‘one’ jacket, like my father had. I remember my father had this brown suede shirt jacket – that was his signature style, people knew him by it. I want that. Finding a signature jacket that I appreciate and wear so much, people closest to me associate my look with that item. It reminds me of my father.”
The connection that we have to clothing, as we see here with Josh, can be influenced by deep rooted relationships that we want to maintain in our lives, even when the time has passed. Today, I see Josh and I realize how much he carries the legacy of his father in the way he dresses himself. I never had thought of this when spending the last three or so years with him. I now see him so much more clearly, and it all just makes so much sense. It is like knowing someone for so long, and then finally seeing them: it is a different experience.
Josh hopes that when people see him, that they see a free man: a man who flows with life, is at ease, and grateful for what he has. That is what he wants to communicate. I am moved by this, and think about how when we find our own liberation – whether it be spiritual, social, emotional – there is empowerment that is embodied when we align that with our wardrobe.
“When I see someone wearing something I think doesn’t perhaps fit well, or is bringing them discomfort, like a plastic shoe that doesn’t allow feet to breathe, I don’t really know why they want to do it, but I imagine they are going through a time of learning about themselves and more power to them.”
I think of the John Frusciante lyric, “That is the way things should be: free. Step after step is our only choice in a walk.” We are not bound by loved ones passing, nor by the structure of working in this economic system. Nor are we confined by the smaller living quarters of expensive cities. We are free by the appreciation of the life we have here for us now.
Brian Eno is playing in the background as we continue to talk. I learn that Josh is one of two people (Johnny Fan was the other) in our study to agree to switch wardrobes with someone else. He shows no hesitation. For Josh, he thinks, “Why not?”
This finding is important, as it suggests how detachment from identity communication to others (socially) may aid in people experiencing a deeper form of comfort in their clothing. Perhaps when clothing is too associated with social identity, and fitting that identity always, people are unable to be open to other forms of understanding what it feels and means to be in their body and lives. That openness to trade in a wardrobe means that identity is a deeper sense of self awareness from clothing that isn’t for other people, but for one’s self.
And this makes me think about how mostly everyone isn’t willing to trade wardrobes, and perhaps it means an inflexibility in identity is an attachment to identity in and of itself. It is a way in how we structure identity to fit our live’s narratives, and rely upon the material form to remind us of who we are. Clothing can often be an inner compass for reminding us of who we are and are not. It can be argued that clothing ourselves every day is a ritual of reminding, remembering, and reconnecting to identity.
And here, I am operationalizing ritual in the same context of how Weber talks about ritual in religion. I think this is a major finding of this study: the ritual of clothing ourselves daily is an identity ritual to reinstate, remind, and reaffirm everyday (like religion), who we are, what we believe in, and what our perspective is of the world. It makes me think about how Rebecca looks in the mirror to check in with herself. Just contrasting this with Josh, he says he looks in the mirror and may wear the same thing everyday, but maybe one day it just doesn't ‘hit’ right. Johnny doesn’t look in the mirror at all.
For Josh, he can’t put his finger on what that ‘hit right’ was in relation to – it wasn’t about mood, necessarily. It just doesn’t feel right to wear, and so he will simply change out of those clothes until he knows what is feeling right for him that day. And for someone with a rather uniform, neutral, contained (similar items) wardrobe, he isn’t switching things out to have novelty or anything else: it's just to see what fits well with him. I still don’t know exactly what this ‘hit’ is, but I want to explore it further.
In the case of people like Josh and Johnny, perhaps they aren’t using clothing as a reminder of who they are, but instead a reminder of what they feel, how they hold their intimate relationships close and honor the material form of clothing as a relationship in and of itself. It is as though clothing has an emotional bond outside of the strict container of identity and what clothing ought to serve when it comes to identity. In this way, identity is something many in this study are unwilling to play with. Why is that?
As we wrap up our conversation for the day, I feel a deep sense of knowing Josh in a way I never have before, in a way that makes me feel close to tears. I am grateful for this conversation, for time well spent with someone so deeply connected to himself and willing to share his life with me.