i dressed for the wrong outcome

the Dodgers lost. the outfit was still right.

i bought the jersey three days before the game.

not from the stadium. from an actual store, which meant i had to decide in advance, which meant i had to commit to going, which meant i had to want to go enough to spend money i probably shouldn’t have spent on something i would wear exactly once.

i tried it on twice. tied it the way i wanted. checked the mirror from three different angles. the Chanel bag looked insane against it. i brought the Chanel bag anyway.

this is a thing i do. i decide how something is going to feel before it happens and then i dress for that feeling. not for the weather, not for practicality, not for who’s going to be there. for the version of the afternoon i’ve already written in my head.

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the Angels beat the Dodgers 13-5.

i want to be clear about what that score means. it means it was not a game that slowly slipped away. it was not a brave fight, a close thing, a nail-biter that went the wrong direction in the final moments. it was a dismantling. a systematic, inning-by-inning, completely unbothered dismantling. by the seventh inning six Angels had scored in a single inning and i had stopped watching the field entirely.

i was eating a hot dog.

it was the best hot dog i’ve ever had. i don’t say that lightly. i’ve had a lot of hot dogs in my life and this one was operating on a different level entirely. the Chanel sat on my lap and said nothing and was correct to say nothing.

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here’s the thing i keep thinking about.

i was not upset. i should have been — i’d dressed for a win, i’d committed to an outcome, i’d spent money i didn’t entirely have on a jersey for a team that proceeded to be publicly humiliated in front of 49,000 people. by any reasonable accounting i should have felt foolish.

i didn’t feel foolish.

i felt like myself. which is maybe the same thing and maybe not, depending on the day.

there’s a version of me that wouldn’t have bought the jersey. that would have worn something neutral, something that didn’t announce anything, something that left room to say afterwards — oh i wasn’t really invested. i was just there. it doesn’t matter.

i’ve spent a lot of time being that version of me. not with baseball. with other things.

the version that doesn’t quite commit so she can’t quite lose. the version that keeps things grey and open and undefined so that when they don’t resolve the way she wanted she can say — well it was never really anything anyway. i wasn’t really trying.

i’m so tired of her.

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i’ve been thinking about what it means to dress for something that doesn’t deliver.

the outfit was right. the result was not the outfit’s problem. those are two separate things and i think i spend a lot of energy trying to make them the same thing — trying to calibrate how much i show up based on how likely it is to go the way i want. as if showing up is only worth it if it works.

it’s not about baseball. i know it’s not about baseball.

what i know is that i sat in Dodger Stadium in a tied jersey and a bag that cost more than my rent contribution and ate a perfect hot dog and watched something fall apart completely and felt more like myself than i have in weeks.

maybe that’s what full commitment feels like when you’ve been doing the other thing for too long.

maybe the jersey was always going to be right regardless of the score.

i’d buy it again. i think i’d buy it again for everything. 🤍

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the frames

full kit, Chanel on my shoulder, Dodger Dogs stand behind me — i looked like i had inside information about the outcome. i did not have inside information about the outcome.

the jersey tied just right, stadium filling up, the game not yet lost — there’s a version of this photo where everything works out. i like this one better.

hot dog in hand, completely at peace, the scoreboard somewhere behind me doing its worst — the most composed i looked all afternoon and possibly all week.

standing in the stands, same outfit, the score fully confirmed — still the right call. still.

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frames i kept

the rest of the afternoon is in frames i kept.

the ones i took when i forgot i was supposed to be watching the game. 🤍

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the edit

Dodgers jersey (Nike, tied at the front because that’s the only way) — the one financial decision of the month i genuinely don’t regret

LA Dodgers crop top — worn underneath the jersey because of course it was, because if you’re going to do it you might as well do it completely

high waist jeans — said nothing, asked for nothing, held everything together while chaos unfolded

Chanel mini flap — attended a major league baseball game, had zero opinions about the result, correct as always

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a note

thank you for reading this one. genuinely.

i started writing it as a thing about an outfit and somewhere in the middle it became a thing about something else. that happens sometimes. i’m not always sure it’s a good sign but i’m learning to let it.

if soft notes means something to you — paid subscribers get the rest of me every week. it’s where i’m most honest, where things go further than i’d put them here. you can find it at

and if this post found you at the right moment, in the way that sometimes things do — you can always buy me an oat latte. i will think about you warmly while i drink it and i will mean it. 🤍