A little bit about the why of Yondering; Part One

Digging into some history, but trying to keep it short-ish

Howdy pardner! Pour yourself a slug of whiskey and come sit by the campfire…

*insert record scratch here*

Sorry, I can’t do it. 

Although I can claim to have come to western wear almost honestly (full story here), I can’t pretend I only listen to Dolly Parton and George Jones. I can’t coyly admit my charming habit of getting low-key in trouble with the law. Daisy Dukes give me camel toe and make me cranky.  I don’t often go out two-stepping these days and in general I avoid whiskey in lieu of, dare I say, a hard kombucha. One… two max if i’m going hard. 

I feel most myself in a pair of running shorts and sandals, and when i say sandals i don’t mean chonky Birkenstocks with a wink and nod to 70’s era Willie Nelson. I mean the sandals they sell to people who regularly use words like “mobility” and “optimize”. My instagram algorithm feeds me a steady stream of ice bath content. 

And also? I spend the vast majority of my days laboriously dedicated to midwifing clients' rhinestone cowboy dreams. I’m neck deep in embroidery thread, silk wool, ombré fringe and a myriad of other tools honed to transform a human person into a walking embodiment of the closest thing we have to a national archetype.

This has been my life for the last twenty years, and in the last decade I've managed to attract and surround myself with a like minded team of some of the most talented, thoughtful, hilarious artists I know. Together, we make beautiful, meaningful, heirloom quality garments. We, doing business as Fort Lonesome, make pearl snap shirts, fully embroidered three piece suits, floor-length Lorretta Lynn inspired gowns. Most garments take dozens if not hundreds of hours, and they are each a deep dive into the personal narrative of the client as seen through the lens of this shared textile language known as western wear. 

We’re by in large a bunch of lefty art kids, some of whom *were* actually raised on a cattle ranch (thank you to the DuBose family for the street cred), but most of whom grew up listening to top 40 and going to the mall. But for all of us, there was something about the paradigm of western wear that spoke up and caught our attention; not unlike how the western aesthetic seems to speak to a subset of folks from almost every demographic not only in this country, but all over the world.

Most of us I don’t think spend much time wondering what is so compelling about the western aesthetic. Some find it cheeky and ironic, some earnestly inherit pearl snaps and high waisted wranglers as a family uniform. Some approach western wear as an opportunity to inhabit a bygone era, and reimagine as much of their personal ecosystem as possible through the lens of cowpoke cosplay. 

What is inarguable is that there are legions of us who are captivated by some intangible quality made manifest in these tangible garments. What often remains elusive is why.

Why does western wear abide? Why do we continue to return to its enigmatic boundaries to explore ourselves via this visual container?  Especially now, as many of us are peeling off the blinders that might, to different extents for different people, have been shielding us from the shadow attributes of the archetypal Cowboy of the American West?

There is no doubt that elements of western expansionism and exceptionalism have been neatly captured and frozen in thread via this paradigm so many hold dear. As have; symbols of courage, of exploration, of the pursuit of sovereign independence.  How often though are the natal stages of individuation and freedom-seeking fraught with a distinct lack of accountability? With the selective taking of what one wants without a deep understanding of the wisdom hidden in legacy? Or of our undeniable interconnectedness?

An archetype is a complex system- But one that, in order for growth to occur, is meant to be turned upside-down, plumbed, mined, explored- Moved forward in time alongside the psyche that contains it. 

As stewards of this particular costume, I feel like for these last ten years I’ve been quietly sidestepping this problematic heritage by focusing on the lighter, shinier side of this textile paradigm. Acting as owner of the business, I’ve deflected hundreds of requests for detached, misunderstood cultural references on clients' garments. We gently steer folks toward imagery that both resonates with their personal narrative and feels spacious and unhindered with historic baggage. 

Simultaneously, however, I myself cherry-pick inspiration from the past, attempting to embellish and translate and push boundaries. I’ve been focused on the forward motion of an art form- charging at what’s new and exciting.  Apprenticeships? Formal training? No thank you. Speaking as one who hopped on the western wear wagon over twenty years ago, the antiquity and hierarchy of the largely male-dominated world of western tailoring felt stifling, unwelcoming, and like something to circumnavigate with aplomb. 

If this strikes a chord and smells a little familiar, might I suggest that perhaps there’s an element to my approach that not so subtly mimics the aforementioned (clears throat) ‘cowboy way’?

More on that humbling note coming in Part Two, which I’ll send out in the next couple days, i’m sure you’ll be biting your nails till then. In the meantime share, subscribe, do what moves you!