Token Black Girl: A Memoir by Danielle Prescod

Author:Danielle Prescod [Prescod, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little A
Published: 2022-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In order to take total control of my image, I had to become a necessary authority on clothing. I read, watched, and consumed anything and everything that might sharpen my expertise. Fashion was the gladiator arena in which I chose to compete, and there were so many fine nuances that required such fanatic attention, I barely had time to think about anything else.

By the time I entered adolescence, celebrity culture in America was reaching a fever pitch. We were moving away from dial-up to full-on unbroken internet connection. Headlines like “It Girls” and “It Bags” dominated publications like Us Weekly and People, informing rapt audiences where famous women were shopping and what they were wearing. I cycled through aesthetics quickly. First I experimented with the trashy and overtly sexy style favored by Britney Spears circa 2003 because it was the standard look of “Hollywood” and what I thought it meant to be an adult. I spent a lot of money at stores like Guess and Abercrombie & Fitch. I was partial to “ultra-low-rise jeans,” which were absolutely miserable to wear as my hips started developing, and if there’s one thing to notice about starlets of the early millennium, let’s just say they were demonstrably lacking in curves. For a good six or so years, my ass crack was always exposed.

When that aesthetic was poorly received, I quickly pivoted. My prep school classmates were heavy into Ralph Lauren polo shirts, pearl necklaces and earrings, and J.Crew everything. The style staple of my school was a hideous shoe that still haunts me to this day: the Jack Rogers Jacks Flat Sandal.

For the uninitiated to the nuances of WASP taste, the Jack Rogers brand was founded in 1960 in Palm Beach, Florida, creatively sparked by the late great Jackie Kennedy Onassis, with whom I share a birthday. (Leos are always responsible for trends.) Palm Beach was the location of several of my Connecticut classmates’ second homes, and I spent a lot of winter and spring breaks in Palm Beach, feeling awkwardly on display. Token status is conspicuous in a place like Palm Beach. The vibe there is aggressively exuberant, favoring another ubiquitous designer of the vacation locale, Lily Pulitzer, whose vivid depictions of shellfish always disturbed me. Everything matches in Palm Beach, and most girls coordinate their Lily Pulitzer dresses, skirts, or skorts with a Jack Rogers sandal, predictably called “Jacks” for short. These sandals are flat, with a wide strap across the bridge of the foot, and a thong portion for the toe where a round disc replaces what would be a more common “flip-flop” shape, giving the shoe its signature element. They are made of leather, and the wide stitching, often in contrasting colors, complements whatever loud prompt the Lily Pulitzer is usually providing up top. I have never understood the appeal of these shoes, and after years in the fashion industry, I can only conclude that their sole charm is that they are a physical embodiment of a hive mentality.

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