#author sample

CHAPTER ONE:

June 23rd

Mason County, Washington

I go down hard, face first, the toe of my hiking boot catching on a gnarled outcropping of cedar root. I land with an oomph amid poplar and oak leaves, evergreen needles, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts. I heave for breathe and inhale the odor of decomposition. I cough to keep from gagging. I know this smell too well but I never get used to it. I know I'm right again. Sadness grips my gut and I grimace.

I ease myself up, taking care not to dislodge the detritus covering the shallow grave. There hasn't been rain in Western Washington for nearly two months. The little mound looks fresh. The decomp odor tells me a week old, maybe two.

Here's just one more thing I wish I didn't know anything about. Experience is a two-edged sword. Sometimes it’s edifying. Right now it sucks a root.

The search and rescue volunteers and deputies gather behind me as I right myself, situate my hoodie, and look around. Their eyes are all focused on me, then upon the grave. I feel their collective gaze and try to get a grip on my anxiety. My skin prickles and I begin to shiver. I clear my throat and pull myself together, arms crossed beneath my breasts.

“Get Deputy Shepherd,” I say, restraining my urge to run away.

We're in a dense forest, slightly north of Shelton, Washington. On any other day, for any other reason, the hike through this wooded terrain would be beautiful. The oak and poplar leaves, cedar, and pine needles crunch under our feet. A warm breeze rustles the tops of the evergreens, their needles whispering as they move together. However, the weather is far too dry for this part of the Olympic peninsula this time of year. Record low rainfall reminds me there’s a burn-ban in effect for most of Washington state. One positive about that. No rain to wash away evidence.

The rest of the forest is a lush pallet of greens despite the lack of rain. Nothing but fern-clotted shade from so many old evergreens and deciduous trees. We're in the thickest part of the forest with no sunny spots to be found.

It can't be more than seventy here. Still, I have soaked through both t-shirt and purple and gold University of Washington hoodie. Like a lathered horse, I feel the wetness in my pits and rivulets trickling down my back. I understand it's all part of my anxiety, but I fidget in embarrassment. I swipe my palm across my soaked upper lip and chin.

No one wants to find a child’s grave, especially not like this. In these cases, my sole responsibility is to do just that. My visions of what the victim went through are unspeakable. Left arm missing below the shoulder, genitals mutilated and the wound…violated. All perimortem. I shudder and close my eyes but the images are all-pervasive.

And somehow, when I get it right, it’s bad and my fault. Just like when I get it wrong. Funny that. Do I like having bad news all the time? Hell no. I wish little Timmy so-and-so would be found alive and skipping around a park somewhere before he takes the candy from that strange man. We all do. It’s never enough for a grieving family, though. I don’t really blame them. What I can do even embarrasses me.

Five-year-old Noah Nixon went missing from the front yard of his parents’ Olympia home just shy of a month ago. Disappearing into thin air, the press trumpet, and not the first child to do so in the region. Rumors of a child killer circulate—fanned by the press—and people are scared. These types of killings have been going on in Western Washington since the nineties. Still no suspects. Law enforcement calls the suspect the Knife and Hatchet Man, because of his M.O. Using the hatchet to sever the left arm of his victims just below the shoulder. He uses the knife to do the rest of it.

Is it just me, or do we have more than our share of serial killers here?

This psychopath knows what he’s doing and is getting better at this shit than we are. Welcome to the age of television true crime. And such perps don’t joke around. They are serious about their work and will not be caught unless they want to be.

When posters and tearful TV pleas from his parents for Noah’s safe return fail, and even cadaver dogs came up empty, Mason County’s Sheriff, Pete Cody, suggested another tactic.

Me.

I’m Ruth Anne O'Neill and I was called into the case to see if I could find the boy. I’m a forensic psychic medium—not a tarot-card-toting, crystal-ball-gazing charlatan—the real deal. It’s not really my job, but it is what I do. I always try to convince myself my gift was bestowed for the betterment of all mankind, or some such high-brow shit. Oh, and I cuss like a sailor. My Dad was Navy, as is my wasband. I come by it naturally. Fuck is my favorite verb, adverb, pronoun, and adjective. As you come to know me better, you might understand why. Police humor is extremely dark and so is mine. Sometimes, in this line of work, fuck is the only word that suits.

Mostly though, my psychic gifts get me labeled as a witch by the elderly, small town Dutch folk where I live on Whidbey Island. That’s the largest island in the continental US, in the middle of Puget Sound. An otherwise neighborly, rural paradise, the folks point, stare, whisper, and generally shun me in the checkout lanes at Safeway. They say my pale green eyes are eerie and my short, sandy blonde hair makes me look like a dyke. I dress the part just to get a rise out of them. A gender non-conforming psychic is easier to swallow than a witchy hippie psychic, right?

Hell, if I’m really honest, this is no gift. It’s a curse I can’t escape even in sleep. I mostly have the respect of the law enforcement personnel I work with but get lampooned by the press and other non-believers.

I have this…thing…in my head, forced on me since I was six years old. All I really want to do is bake cakes and take care of the guests at the Hummingbird’s Nest bed and breakfast. I’m the chef and half-owner there in Oak Harbor, the largest small town on the island only by benefit of its two Navy bases.

The gift or curse argument aside, I’ve found twenty-eight children—three of them alive—with my visions and dreams. Out of two hundred and ten cases perhaps it’s not the greatest track record, but it is something.

No, that’s not right. Noah Nixon makes that twenty-nine totaling two hundred and eleven in the past ten years. At any roads, the press will lambaste the family and law enforcement for involving a flake like me in what is a serious matter; a missing, and now presumed dead, little boy.

More than just presumed, my intrusive inner voice tells me.

With so many days gone by and zero leads, Sheriff Cody knows we’re looking for a corpse. The smell rising from the debris-covered ground will prove he and I are both right.

“Please, please,” I whisper to myself, “just let it be a dead animal. Don’t let it be Noah.”

My gift-curse tells me better, of course, but it’s my mantra every time I find a grave. Don’t let it be little so-and-so. But it always is.

I try to picture a deer killed out of season and quickly buried after its antlers are removed as trophies. I want to think of the blue-eyed, brunette, cherub-faced Noah, running and playing, going to school, tucked in for a night’s sleep. Anything other than tortured and stuffed into the ground like so much garbage.

Of course, with the gift-curse thing, I’m not wrong once I see the final location of the missing person. I saw the grave in my mind before I fell onto it. It’s more than simply tripping on a root. I was in one of my absence seizures again. Goddamned things make me go all wonky and sometimes even blackout. As if seeing the horrors isn’t bad enough.

Deputy Hal Shepherd makes his way through the overgrown ferns and saplings to the grave at my feet. His olive green uniform jumpsuit has large rings of perspiration beneath his armpits. This makes me feel less self-conscious about my own horse sweat. He squats, ink pen in hand, and considers the scene for about five minutes. After that, he silently paces like a caged leopard around the small burial. He stops at the far side of the grave, glaring at me. He gazes icily at the grave, then pulls out his cellphone, hitting speed dial.

“Send in the forensics team.”

The crime scene investigation team is slow to reach our location, two miles in from the end of the fire trail. I chew my inner lip as they cordon off the scene with yellow and black police tape. I found the scene. Hooray for me, my inner voice ruthlessly teases me.

My visions led us here, otherwise, Noah might’ve never been found. The killer probably thinks he’s clever, picking such an isolated spot for his body dumps. Who would think to look in these woods other than some freak psychic like me?

The next hour crawls by with the click-flash-whir of cameras, and CSIs taking measurements. I watch from behind the crime scene tape as they use tweezers to pick up all the candy wrappers and cigarette butts for DNA and fingerprints. A handful of leaves and needles appear to have blood on them. They go into evidence bags, too.

Shepherd keeps himself busy walking the perimeter while speaking to Sheriff Cody on his cell. He lifts the crime scene tape and walks under it leaving the cordoned area. He spares me a hard look before walking father into the forest.

Those involved in evidence collection speak little beyond whispered instructions to the newbie on their team. The rest of us stand outside the perimeter, silent as the grave. No pun intended. Our busy presence has scared off the wildlife, even the birds. I shift from one foot to the other, my right boot feeling a little tight. I think the seam on my sock is rubbing a blister on my big toe. I think of all this to keep my mind off what's going to be dug up any moment.

Finally, one of the CSIs carefully brushes aside debris and dirt to reveal a greenish, naked, and bloated body. Those of us watching collectively gasp. I’d been right about the mutilation.

Then there’s a little girl's voice just behind me.

Ruthie.

More urgently:

Ruthie!

I look around like I’m crazy. I know the voice calling my name isn’t among the gathering. It’s a voice I haven’t heard since I was six years old. I put my hands over my ears to muffle the plaintive calling. Nope, it doesn’t help.

Ruthie!

It’s strident now.

“Stop it!”

I think I only say it in my mind. Then, my voice ricochets off tree trunks and echoes eerily around us. I hear the crackling sound of the white paper suits worn by the CSIs and nothing else as all eyes turn on me.

“Stop what, Ms. O'Neill?”

A tall, painfully lanky volunteer searcher in a red and black checkered flannel shirt looks expectantly at me.

“Huh,” I grunt, looking from his man-bun to his long beard as I stall for time to think up a good lie.

“Are you okay, ma'am?”

Ma'am? I’m not that old you damned hipster! Keep Portland weird I guess.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Was just thinking out loud. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure,” Man-bun asks.

I wonder hysterically for a moment if he’s coming onto me. I’m not on enough anxiety meds for that.

“I said it was nothing, okay,” I snap and turn awkwardly away.

My right boot squeaks like a fart and I close my eyes on my renewed embarrassment. To say I don’t want to be here now is a vast understatement. I quick march through the overgrown ferns the two miles back to the fire trail and police and CSI vehicles.

The plaintive voice of my late sister keeps resonating in my head.

Ruthie! Ruthie don’t go. You’re not finished yet.

My brain feels like the Vegas Strip. The number twenty-five is flashing there. That’s when I U-turn and drag myself back to find Shepherd.

Twenty-six if you count Noah, my sister’s voice chides.

I look around for her, knowing I’m not going to find her. A wave of torrential sweat hits me again when I get back to the scene. I can smell my stink and want to be anywhere but here. I need a shower, more coffee, well maybe not coffee. I want to be in my kitchen making my famous everything bagels, not helping find dead kids.

I aim myself unsteadily toward Shepherd. He’s all business and seems done with me now that I located Noah. I’m brassy enough, though, I’m rarely ignored.

Originally posted February 22, 2017 and appearing on www.regardingstyle.com.

© 2017 TRSB (Sam Bone)

A Conversation with Brody Dalle, Regarding Style (And More)

By Sam Bone

The indie/punk rock/alternative music scene has been a desolate, lonely lull since 2014. It’s been nearly three whole years since fans of Brody Dalle’s haunting-yet-dangerous growl and lyrical prowess have heard anything new. If you’re a genuine fan of Brody’s (which I have no shame in admitting that I adore her immensely and forever!), then you’re probably one of the 300,000+ people who follow or “Like” her social media posts. It is from within this social media sphere, where fans grasp onto every tweet, photo and post in general, in hopes of a tour announcement or a Beyoncé-inspired surprise album drop.

This question has been an ongoing one for Brody Dalle since she and her (former) band of misfits, The Distillers, hit the punk scene in the late 90’s/beginning of 2000. The Distillers self-titled album was single-handedly the anthem record equivalent of ammunition of that time, and every record Brody has since released has only added as kindling to that raging fire. Back then during the “debut era,” fans of Dalle were in high school (or just out) and most of those fans have grown up right alongside with her. It didn’t matter what was happening, either.

Fans of Brody Dalle don’t “mess” around, and have stayed with her through it all, the good times and the bad. #Punx4Ever, right?

Since the debut in 2000, Brody released two more records under The Distillers moniker, Sing Sing Death House (2002), and Coral Fang (2003), followed by her Spinnerette project which saw the release of an album with the same name in 2009. Most recently, die-hard fans rejoiced when Brody flew solo with the powerful and equally as memorable Diploid Love (2014).

In January of this year the stage was set for me to interview Brody and in an attempt to tackle something she has never spoken about publically; her personal style and fashion sense. I know I’ve always been pretty curious about this subject, so I’m willing to bet that other fans share my feels.

Being a badass punk poster girl, plastered on the walls of both guys and gals the world over (her fans expand across both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans), Brody Dalle’s sense of style has a direct correlation to ethical fashion in that punk style requires a love of thrift store shopping. Tattered and torn hand-me-downs are always in high demand no matter what rock subgenre you identify.

Without further ado, here is our 2017 conversation with Brody Dalle, Regarding Style.

 Hey there, Brody! I’d like to start off slightly unconventional by asking what’s got you angry lately?

The insanity right now-- the attitude and the words that come out of the Orange-Faced thing. Pence. Speaker Ryan and Bannon. He's terrifying and completely delusional and represents the Christian alt-right. Fuck all of them; their gross incompetence and their being unqualified, arrogant fucks. The lying, the misogyny, the racism, the homophobia and the unfairness of it all. The (Russian) hacking. The lack of people being held accountable. It's disgusting, embarrassing and horrifying. The hypocrisy of banning Muslims from entering the United States when this country was founded on freedom of religious beliefs.

It's baffling really. By the way, it’s only been a week.

I don’t want to get too into that here, because it’d be unending, but I will just say three words: I feel you. How are you, otherwise? How is your family? Congratulations on the birth of your newest son, Wolf!

Thank you so much! My family is wonderful! My son Wolf is a sunbeam rainbow baby, sweetest little munchkin ever. As far as myself, I'm doing better-- Going from 2 to 3 kids was a massive adjustment. Wolf is about to be one, and it's taken me about a year to get back on my feet. It's been a bit wobbly trying to balance the kids with no sleep, having to breastfeed, and issues with my health (rheumatic fever with chronic pain). Also balancing my husband’s schedule, kids school schedule, and then our family… friends… just our lives, in general… all while trying to balance my own personal life and get back to creating. Just started in the studio a couple of days a week.

How do we do it all though?! I asked my mum if life has gotten crazier and she said yes… life used to be much simpler, slower, and we didn't always have to be “on” and available.

I feel as though technology has much to do with society’s rapid pace, also that “rat race” you once spoke of is real. The struggle is real. Since the Distillers all the way through now, your style has influenced a lot of people, both girls and guys. Where did your sense of style develop? What are your earliest memories?

I guess it all started with the punks in Melbourne. I made a book for my mum when I was about 6 years old; it was of punks walking down the street whistling and girls doing handstands. I asked her why she thought I drew punks in the book with the mohawks and she had no idea, but suggested maybe I'd seen them on the street. Perhaps it was a prophecy ha!

I was in a movie about teenage delinquents called "Hard Knocks" when I was a baby, but I doubt I would have remembered it as I was 8 months old at the time. Right after that I went to see Cyndi Lauper at the Tennis Center, and Madonna was all over the TV and in the magazines-- I remember spending every waking hour putting those records on and dancing for hours in the living room with a black beauty mark drawn above my lip with my mum’s eyeliner.

My mum collected Vogue magazine, and I remember perusing though the 80’s ones and noticing all of the different angles, the neon colors and all of the multicolored make up. I sewed a pair of pants at my grandmother’s house once, but when I put them on they fell apart and I was discouraged with fashion after that.

I remember wanting certain things, the first thing I ever wanted, as far as fashion, was a purple feather in my hair for school photos when I was 5 years old. After that, it was a pale pink pair of sneakers at the tennis shop my dad would go to on the weekends… I begged him for months to buy them for me, and finally he acquiesced.

My first pair of Chuck Taylors were red and I got them when I was 8. My parents didn't have much money, so we shopped at Target for clothing which was the equivalent of Cole’s today, which I'm sure is way cooler than Target was back then. But it was mortifying, and I was teased mercilessly. Doc Martins were all the rage but they cost about $100 which, of course, my parents laughed at. So I ended up getting fake Docs… a mean girl at school made me lift up the bottom of my Docs and then ridiculed and teased me in front of the other mean girls, and well, that was that.

My Uncle Frazer gave me my first guitar and also my first surfboard; a Strapper Thruster with a giant red sun on it. I went through a surfer girl phase and got an undercut and wore giant rusty t-shirts and surfer boots and brands. I longed to be a pro surfer but there are no waves in Melbourne, the best waves were at least an hour away. Plus, I was pale as a ghost and I looked nothing like the tanned bleached blonde beach girls. I gave up surfing after being tossed around like a rag doll in 20 foot waves in Coffs Harbour, I thought “This really isn’t for me anymore" as I did full cartwheels underwater for a minute at a time.

One of the first records I ever bought was Mothers Milk by RHCP. When I was 12 and on my way to Vaucluse Catholic Girls college in Richmond, the RHCP got on our tram. They walked right up to me and talked with me for 5 minutes before getting off a few stops later… so weird to think about that, cut to The Distillers opening for them in German stadiums 12 years later. They actually remembered our encounter. Fucking weird mate.

I hated everyone and everything after that-- I got into Nirvana, Hole, Mudhoney, and Sonic Youth, and then I started going to All-Ages shows in

Melbourne. The bands I loved the most were The Meanies, Tumbleweed and the Hard-Ons.

Then, flares and ripped band t-shirts were the fash. Eventually I started working at Friends of the Earth when I was a 12-year-old hippy/anarchist. That was a Co-op that my parents shopped at. I bought my first item of clothing with the money I had earned; vintage orange and brown flares, which I wore to death to every Tumbleweed and Meanies All-Ages shows I ever attended in Melbourne.

Then it evolved to Dead Kennedys and Kyuss t-shirts. That's right, Kyuss... they were my favorite band. I also wore Levi's jeans, one pair at a time until there was NOTHING left!

After that, thanks to Courtney Love, it was 1940's tea dresses, nighties, and ripped fishnets worn with shitty, op-shop high heels and Chuck Taylors.

After that, I got into Discharge, The Exploited, Cock Sparrer, Oi Polloi and Last Resort. I got beat up by two street girls in the city wearing Bon Jovi t-shirts, and they fractured my arm... I was so pissed I shaved my head the next day into a Chelsea haircut and I dyed it blue. Also by now I could afford to buy real vintage stuff with the money I made from my jobs, and I also bought my own Docs and any op-shop find, especially plaid mini-skirts.

So my look was Courtney Love meets Skinhead. A lot of tops had to have the “Courtney Love white collar.” Then when I was 17 years old I saw “Betty Blue” (the film), and that changed everything-- I wanted black hair in a choppy bob. Black hair became my favorite thing! I got into do wop music and started cleaning up my look; black hair, up in a high ponytail with long side burns and big hoop earrings, Revlon Color Stay in Berry Red, black liquid eyeliner and Creepers-- plaid Creepers. Mini-skirts. Bomber jackets.

By this point I was in L.A., so I was being influenced by so much in Los Angeles and also New York, mainly trash and vaudeville. I was hanging around a lot of older, cooler punk chicks. My friend Tomomi made mohair sweaters.

I started cutting up my t-shirts after I'd seen a girl on the street with her t-shirt cut into tassels-- I didn't know that was an option and it changed the game. I became obsessed with, wore and collected Polly of California heels. I also discovered trashy lingerie and agent provocateur. I admired Vivienne Westwood. My friend Evelyn had a shoe store called Diavolina and I became obsessed with shoes.

I met Agatha Blois, who made most of my pants that I wore on stage… another game changer. Rosalyn Mazzola (“Casper Rose,” for you diehards out there) had these naturally occurring dark circles under her eyes and I loved the way it looked so I recreated it by using MAC's color 'texture', which is still my favorite for smoky eyes.

Right before we made Sing Sing Death House I met Rosalyn, and I fell in love. She was so beautiful and androgynous-looking, like jaw-dropping beautiful… I felt so ugly next to her. God I loved her so much. We kind of morphed into each other for a while although her thing was more gutter than mine. We dressed like dirty squatter boys and put our eyebrows on with black sharpie, it lasted for a week sometimes longer. I look back at old photos of us and think we looked pretty scummy but we weren’t, I swear!  I’m a very hygienic person, my favorite smell back then was this raspberry body spray that smelt more like cotton candy. They stopped making it of course, they stop making everything that’s awesome. I had my managers hunt down the last box in America. I wear mostly vanilla these days. The way you smell, your scent, is as important and memorable as your clothes. 

I will add this- my style icons in the past have been Kurt Cobain, Courtney Love, Lydia Lunch, the Misfits, Beatrice Dalle in “Betty Blue,” Discharge, The Exploited, Sex Pistols, DEBBIE HARRY ❤️, Vivienne Westwood, Oi, Agatha Blois, other punk girls.

Thank you for sharing all of those memories. I remember first hearing The Distillers on a sampler… I think it was one of those oi, garage punk compilations. Anyway, it had the rough cut of LA Girl on it, from the Oldscratch EP. It was of course this audio that lead me to visual curiosity so I checked out the band, and I remember the days of Rose and recall that she was very street punk, which obviously appealed to me. Moving on, do you have a vault of super-secret punk rock DIY designers that custom-make your garments? Who/what are some brands and designers that you respect?

Ha! I used to when I was touring more! I'm not much of a “fashionista.” I'm lucky to know and have some very talented friends who happen to be incredible clothing makers and designers. I'm not really too into brand names per se, it's more that I know what I like when I see it, or I’ll get inspired by something old and remake it. I did have a love for Vivienne Westwood, in fact my look in The Distillers was really a mash-up of Vivienne Westwood, Agatha Blois, t-shirts scoured from Goodwill, "wife beaters" from Target, Polly of California, trashy lingerie, vintage coats, various jeans, Submission, Very Bad Horse, spray-painted hooker boots from Hollywood Blvd, Agent Provocateur, very sick and cool shit from Japan and my old friend Tomomi (Fukuda) has a store called Camden Lock. I love Agatha Blois as a friend, and her designs had a big impact on me, she and I worked really well together. Ligia Morris made a badass jumpsuit and some stage clothes for Reading and Leeds festivals in 2004. Corey Parks makes the meanest leather jackets and pants ever. I love Hedy Slimanes, and obviously his influence made that company (Yves Saint Laurent, YSL) what it is today. Punk is Hedy's staple diet I think, not sure where YSL is headed now.

When it comes down to it, it's not the label, it's what I like in the moment.

That’s great, and it’s also very cool that a lot of those more indie-back-then designers have really sort of exploded in the sense that they are doing their thing with their boutiques and brands. I know you’re busy, thanks so much for your time. Lastly, what can fans expect from you next?

I’m slowly coming out of the 1-year baby fog of losing myself completely. It’s a scary process to unravel but I usually get songs out of it. My plan is to write two records which I’ve just started.

I know fans will love this news! Again thank you so much, nothing but the purest wishes for both you and your family!

You can stay up to date with Brody oh her Twitter and Instagram profiles.

Originally posted March 27, 2017 and appearing on www.regardingstyle.com.

© 2017 TRSB (Sam Bone)

Still “Overdressed” in 2017: Catching Up with Elizabeth Cline

By Sam Bone

Most standard format written articles (whether in print or digital) begin with the author of the article talking about the interviewed subjects’ past accomplishments and also plugging upcoming projects. A lot of times, there are behind-the-scene motives as to why a person is being interviewed, like say, because there is a product to be pushed or an agenda.

Well, this is not your mother’s format here.

Not when it comes to Elizabeth Cline.

For all of us who are thinking of, or already have begun an ethical fashion journey and also for those who are currently heavy influencers, Elizabeth really needs no introduction. So I won’t give you one. I will rebel against journalistic standards slightly and begin with what Elizabeth has done for me, the previously-found-guilty, and what she can do for you.

Before I go any further, I just need to say that I am thrilled to have Elizabeth Cline for this interview! Thrilled isn’t even a big enough word to describe my feelings about it.

I’ve been hugely impacted by Elizabeth’s speeches and also by her hard-hitting, slap you in the face then pull you in for a hug book, Overdressed. I am impacted and thankful for Elizabeth Cline because, aside from the sickening realities that she speaks of very bluntly in her book, she also has a way of reassuring you that you’re not a terrible person or consumer. Before I dove into the pages of the book, I was somewhat scared because I, like Elizabeth and so many others, fit the profile of that person who shopped at Forever 21 Men’s and H&M. When I think of all of the times in my life I’ve said to someone inquiring about what I’m wearing, “..and it only cost me ten dollars!”… it makes me cringe.

In the Church of Elizabeth Cline, she preaches that it is okay to have been a consumer of fast fashion—What truly matters is understanding the repercussions and changing our buying habits for the better. Amen.

Now, aside from all of that, Elizabeth Cline was the poor person who first received my panic. I had spent a few weeks watching YouTube videos; anything and everything that came up as a result of my search of “fast fashion.” I obsessively read and tried to grasp all of the statistics I was hearing and reading about. I, at one point, realized that some of the stuff I had read was maybe a little too outdated (2014 is like 10 years ago!), so I quickly filtered my results. I was in a total tail spin and whirlwind of information. My whole life, I’ve also dove straight into the depths of the unknown, in an attempt to take in as much information as quickly as I can.

I was freaking out. I had a Winona Ryder in “Stranger Things” panic attack. Then suddenly… I hit a wall. I needed to know more, needed someone who would maybe understand me, and the first person I thought of was Elizabeth Cline. To my shock and awe, she replied and we began a dialog.

I know that was a tad long-winded, but in your reading that, Elizabeth, I want you to know that no matter how far I go in my journey, even if nowhere at all, I will forever remember your kindness, accessibility and generosity. Indebted indefinitely.

 What’s up and how are you doing today? Where in the world are you (Los Angeles, Brooklyn, etc.)?

I live in Brooklyn! We had a snowstorm today and everything was mostly shut down. So I did what any normal person would do and bought a bottle of whiskey and turned on Netflix. 

I was listening to a September 2016 radio interview you did with Heritage Radio Network yesterday and learned about your new journey in film making. I am so excited for the documentary! How did this happen for you?

When Overdressed came out, I knew that the story of fast fashion would be best told visually. Even as a print journalist, I could see that it would have so much more impact if it was presented as a movie. After several years, I eventually came back around to the idea of making a documentary and started looking into how I, as someone who's never really worked in documentary film, could pull this off. Right now I'm filming two separate projects, one on fast fashion and one on textile waste. I've got my own gear, shoot with a couple of different camera people and producers, and have an editor I work with. It's a lot of fun. 

The interview I heard is now a few months old… have you come up with a title yet and how is that process going?

Since the podcast, I have been mostly working on a follow-up to Overdressed, which is an ethical style and shopping guide. I do have some ideas for a title but nothing is set in stone. 

As a slight curvature, I discovered that you were in a heavy metal band called Mortals out of Brooklyn! I could tell you were a bit punk rock when I first saw you speak at the April 2016 Chicago Humanities Festival and it was certainly an allure for me, as my background is also musical (music promotions and I’ve been the vocalist of a few bands myself). My question is how did you manage to pull of separating the two “jobs?” I was shocked when I found this out and thought “how did I NOT know this?” I am sure it would surprise quite a few people as well.

That's awesome! I've been in the punk and metal scene since I was 14, and it's a huge part of who I am. I got into activism and social justice through the punk scene. For a while, I kept those two parts of my life very separate -- playing music and working in the sphere of Overdressed and journalism.  You'd think that it would be impossible to hide anything about yourself given the Internet, but somehow most people don't find out if you don't want them to. Ha.

Sadly, I quit my band last year so I could focus on my documentary and writing more books. Sigh. It certainly wasn't an easy decision but it was the right one for my life.

Since 2012’s release of Overdressed, what have you been up to in regards to your delivering a message about sustainable and ethical fashion?

The book was a little ahead of it's time, so I haven't been doing ethical fashion related stuff full-throttle since 2012. I mostly promote the book through public speaking -- it's the best way to bring what's on the pages to life and get people thinking. I have given dozens upon dozens of lectures and talks at universities, high schools and community groups over the years, and I am slated to do at least six talks this spring. There's real momentum behind the ethical fashion movement now, so I feel like this year and last were probably my most active since the book's release. I try to stay engaged on social media with the ethical fashion community as well. In addition to the documentary and the follow-up book, I am also running a secondhand designer clothing business via eBay and a textile and fashion reuse lab in Brooklyn. I have a lot of irons in the fire. Too many, on most days.

In your eyes, how has the fashion industry changed since 2012?

I think perceptions of the fashion industry have changed a lot. There's now a broad popular understanding of fast fashion, and why it's problematic. There's a general sense that the global fashion industry is bad for the environment and often for human rights as well. I was filming recently with some activists in front of a Forever 21 in Los Angeles, and a college student immediately walked up to us and said, "Yeah, fast fashion is bad. I work at Forever 21 because I need a job, but I know it's not a good company." That would have never happened in 2012! Of course, there are also thousands of ethical fashion companies around the world now, many of them small but growing. Everlane and Reformation have made the concepts of transparency and sustainability cool or accessible for Millennials.

Within the fashion industry, I'm most excited about how digital technology is changing and will continue to change the way we consume. You follow me on Twitter, so you know how much of an advocate I am of resale and rental sites / apps. I think the future of fashion is shared, in the sense of circulating items from user to user until their useful life is over. We will have to continue to shift consumer behavior to fully realize the sharing economy's potential within fashion -- Americans tend to think of wearing someone else's clothes as dirty or something poor people do. That's really got to change, and I think it's finally beginning to do so.  

Speaking of change, with the new Trump administration here in the United States; what are your thoughts on his trade executive orders and the overall reception (or lack thereof) of his ideas and rhetoric from the fashion industry?

As someone who's written extensively on global economics and studied and researched trade in the U.S., China and Mexico, I can say with confidence that Trump's view on global economics and trade is dangerously inaccurate. He sees globalization as a zero sum game where the U.S. lost and China and Mexico won. The U.S. is of course still the world's largest economy. Growing inequality and a lagging middle class is a phenomenon that's playing out around the world, not just here, and it has as much to do with technology and automation as it does with the way trade deals are structured. I don't think it's a bad idea to renovate NAFTA, but only if the goal is to build environmental and worker protections into the agreement (the original does not include anything like that) but that's not Trumps's intention. So my guess is he'll change it in a way that's devastating to the U.S. economy and makes us less competitive and less innovative. Trump just wants us to go back to the 1950s or 1980s when manufacturing employment was a significant portion of the population, but the world he's trying to recreate no longer exists.

…and to push boundaries a bit (because I am unafraid), what are your thoughts on his conflicting opinions about resourcing USA companies back to the homeland, while he keeps both his product lines and his daughter Ivanka’s overseas? I, personally, find this baffling and astoundingly hypocritical.

I feel like we've all taken the Made in USA worship thing a bit too far, myself included. Now we have an autocrat running the country because he promised to bring factories back to America. We need to take a long, hard look at what we hope to gain from on-shoring certain industries and evaluate how and if it's even possible and how and if it's going to meet our wider goals of higher employment and a stronger middle class. I think in a lot of instances, on-shoring is not the answer we're looking for, especially if it means making the U.S. uncompetitive by adding trade protectionism to our industries. 

Instead, I think the U.S. should continue to focus on building advanced manufacturing here, which is something Obama put a lot of money into. That's partially why the portion of U.S. GDP going to manufacturing is as high as it was in the 1960s and 1970s. Advanced manufacturing relies on technology, automation and advanced skills. And then we should continue to grow our boutique, artisan, small-batch manufacturers who represent quality and craftsmanship. I really don't want to see stores like Kohl's and Target make all their clothes here again. And if we start clamoring to see something like that here, we need to really ask ourselves what the motivation is.  

People like you and I work tirelessly to spread a message about the repercussions of fast fashion and the waste it causes and also by encouraging consumers to shop more ethically; how will this work when there are companies and world leaders who simply refuse to withdraw because the payoff is so huge? To these people, what would you say?

I don't want to see an end to outsourcing. Trade and globalization are a good thing. But with this global world we live in, we simply have to figure out how to regulate environmental standards and enforce living wages in garment factories that are currently generating huge, unprecedented profits. I also think it's fine to partially subsidize high-end, high-skilled garment factories in the U.S. that still have specialized tailoring skills for example -- we want those skills to survive. It's also important for the Garment Industry in NYC to survive as it's an important tool for design and innovation in the U.S.

When people take the problems with fast fashion into consideration and decide that they want to change their buying habits, a lot of people’s minds go straight into “I can’t afford that” mode. I’ve even heard arguments that go as far as saying that it’ll never work (ethical fashion as a first thought for consumers) because consumers are so engraved with prices offered by retailers like Target and Forever 21. What are your thoughts on this consumer mindset?

I think it's a challenge. American consumers in particular are trained to buy a lot of clothing over the course of a year, which makes them very sensitive to price. How could you spend $200 on a single ethical item if you're then going to turn around buy 68 items per year (the American average)? Who can afford that!

I think there are probably two different potential markets for ethical fashion. Women who are a little further into adulthood; they're making their own money and they're looking to build a wardrobe and buy higher-quality pieces. For them, ethical fashion is not as hard of a sell. For that person, it's about spreading awareness that buying higher-quality pieces that you truly love is really satisfying and such an incredible source of joy and happiness. That's part of the reason I'm writing the ethical style guide, as people aren't really given the skills anymore to shop well. It's a process and a journey going from thinking like a fast fashion consumer to thinking like someone who wants to build the wardrobe of their dreams. Those are two different mindsets and demand two different approaches to spending. 

For teenagers and college students, someone is going to have to come along and basically create a Whole Foods of ethical fashion, something that has enough buying power and economies of scale to keep prices down. Young people are either spending their parents' money or they don't have a lot of disposable income. And they are under a lot of social pressure to keep up with trends and shop a lot. So, yeah, whoever can figure that out will be hugely successful I think!

Thank you so much for your time! What can we all expect next from you?

Ethical style and shopping guide coming soon!

 To stay up-to-date with Elizabeth, you can follow here on Twitter here, bookmark her official website here and while you’re at it, purchase Overdressed: The Shockingly High Cost Of Cheap Fashion here!