I've been thinking a lot about fashion design and how what I'm doing fits into this mess of a political landscape in which we find ourselves. And I keep coming back to this:

Fashion is political. Fashion can be a form of resistance.

Here's an example: Women's pockets — or, more accurately, a lack thereof — have long been used as a means of political oppression.

Back before the 18th Century, women had pockets. Like deep, practical pockets — big enough for money, keys, even books.

Then came the Cult of Domesticity — an ideology still alive today that says women must be pious, pure, domestic. What doesn't fit in? Money. Keys. Political literature. Things that go in pockets.

And, like that, pockets disappeared from women's garments.

Not to sound conspiratorial, but it's happening again. Our pockets are disappearing (if they were ever even back), and so is our power.

But we can fight back. As poet Sharon Owens put it in her poem Dangerous Coats, we can "start sewing ... pockets and sedition."

It’s on us to stitch resistance into our garments, to reclaim what’s being taken. That’s what I had in mind when I designed the Rittenhouse Dress, with its enormous pockets—not just for convenience, but for what we carry.

Pockets big enough for a copy of the Constitution—for knowing and defending our rights.
For cash—because financial autonomy is power.
For pepper spray—because safety isn’t guaranteed.
For a phone—to call our legislators or a friend for support.
For Gender Queer—because banned books belong in our hands.
For Narcan—because harm reduction saves lives.
For Plan B—because our bodies should be our own.

Pockets alone won’t save us. But they’re a start.

As we wear deep pockets, as we sew them — every stitch, every wear — it's an act of resistance.

What will you carry in your dangerous coat?

So ladies [and all genders], start sewing
Dangerous coats
Made of pockets & sedition

— Sharon Owens

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