you (probably) need a schmatta

hello! i have not substacked in a while bc i can never exactly figure out whether something i’m thinking about is “just a tweet” or “more of a post” (i’ve been working in digital media for a long time), but flying home from nyc to la today has got me thinking about the virtue of clothes that are………only technically meeting the definition of that word.

i got home in a cloud of exhaustion after a busy week (i went to the met gala!!!!!!!!!! well, worked the met gala!!!!!!!!! but in the met basement for the first time rather than my own couch!!!!!!!!! in a vintage suit chosen for me by my angel emma zack of berriez fame and tailored/styled for me by the homie sophie strauss!!!!!!!!!!!) and immediately came in hot with dinner plans for rax and me, imagining us linking arms to feed each other bites of crudo on a sunlit patio while throwing our heads back and laughing at our good fortune in living in southern california. unfortunately, this was another classic case of ‘emma makes evening arrangements she can’t follow through with’, as the sleep debt hit hard around 5pm.

rax finally convinced me to at least get in the car with the dog and accompany him to in & out, and i was on board, but i knew i’d feel depressed eating animal fries in the car in the greasy thermal and leggings i wore on the plane. i needed the equivalent of a potato sack, something i could throw on and stain as needed and not worry about wrangling my tits into but that still made me feel kind of like a b-tier celebrity ‘stepping out’ for drive-thru burgers after an award show. enter: the schmatta.

i’ve long been a fan of the schmatta (see: this definition, see also my former colleague liana satenstein’s brilliant schmatta shrink business) ever since i first came across nora ephron’s description of heartburn’s rachel samstat in a ‘schmatta dress’ she’d been ‘stuck wearing’ since early pregnancy, and i’ve had many schmatta dress/tunic/fabric/potato sack items over the years: i owned a particularly good one in college that was made of black linen and felt like wearing a nightgown yet had the magical power to make me look pulled together in a way that felt—dare i say it?—french. i wore that dress everywhere from class to parties to funerals and almost cried when it started to fall apart past the point of mending.

my next schmatta was something far closer to a literal pillowcase; it was a dark-green cotton slip from a vintage store down the street from my dad’s old apartment whose name i now cannot recall, and although it was technically sleepwear, i was not at all above putting it on over a bra and tights and wearing it out into the world. mostly, though, i wore it to go get deli smoothies or cash from the fancy bodega on court street, usually at the height of summer. my mom once told me to “get it made for me in every color”, which is the highest sartorial compliment she ever doles out, but it was old (like, maybe made in the '40s?) and i could never figure out where to get a duplicate and now i miss it desperately.

my current schmatta has a little more heft to it than previous ones, partly because my boobs are bigger now than they ever have been (brag) and i need a lot of fabric to swim around in if i want to truly disappear, which is sort of the point of a schmatta, no? to disappear semi-glamorously? i think a lot about frump these days (and, more specifically, whose bodies are considered ‘frumpy’ when they dress billowy and loose), and maybe it’s reluctance on my part to look like i’m trying to be invisible that has led me toward the midcalf-length, strapless schmatta i bought from wray (rip) a few summers ago and had dyed bright pink at suay (rhyme!) sometime last year. witness:

as you can see, this is basically a shower curtain bolted around my cans. but it’s the same pink as the little beaded purse i found in dallas! pretend it’s a ‘fit. wearing this to go get fast food (with a bowl of weed and a bright-pink lighter tucked away to smoke from in the drive-thru line) made me feel kind of wonderful and expansive and cass elliot-ish. sidenote: one of the most meaningful things that has ever happened to me is writing about cass elliot for vogue and then having her daughter owen reach out to say she liked the story. what a fucking legend!

i don’t think a schmatta has to be brightly colored or drab, specifically; to me, the true essence of a schmatta is all about fit (or lack thereof), and while rachel stamstat may have despaired of hers, i’m determined to exult in the shapeless clothing that brings me maximum comfort and, thus, maximum joy. once i wear the wheels off this schmatta, i’ll begin the slow and agonizing hunt for a new one, but for now, both i and the dog curled up in my lap are happy with what we’ve got.

currently watching: nothing bc my fascist boyfriend doesn’t like tv!!!!!!!!!! but maybe once he goes to sleep i’ll watch top chef.

currently reading: sweetener by marissa higgins, let’s go lesbians! i may not number among you any longer but i will always need to know what you’re up to in fiction! i’m also excited to start loved one by aisha muharrar, and there’s an 831 stories romance novel i’ve got on deck too. i brought all of these books to new york in a fit of optimism and then ran around the entire city and upstate and back and upstate and back in a circle like a cartoon for a week and had no time to read, but maybe this weekend?

currently listening to: lorde. i can’t stop!

xoxo,

emma girl