On Bras, Bathing Suits, and Basic Human Rights

One of my fondest imaginings of my mother, Susanna, is of her marching down the high street in a pair of clunky Dr. Martin boots and a whimsy floral dress, with her yellow hair wild down her back. Another story I’ve been told is how she once dyed her hair one-half red, one-half green when she was around fifteen. As I discovered my independent sense of style during my teenage years, I was inspired on a foundation level by my mother’s don’t-give-a-damn attitude. I chose not to give a damn either, and despite the natural self-consciousness of being a young person, especially having crushes and relationships, I wore things that made me feel the happiest I could be in my own body and communicated exactly who I felt I was. I didn’t listen to pressure and actually looked like the odd one out a lot of the time.

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Letters to June // 01

Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year.

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Dear June,

It seems scarcely any time has passed since you were last here, yet here you are. Each year you seem to come around more quickly than the last — you are not unwelcome, mind, it just impresses in me the sense that time, that cantankerous knave who none can evade, is mercilessly rolling on at gathering pace.

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