It’s not a costume you take off on Monday.

It’s not chasing the front row, artist, or your ravebae

It’s not running to another festival because life got rough.

It’s not a better version of you.

It’s who you already are when you loosen your grip.

Walk through the crowd looking for nothing,

and the crowd opens.

Stop chasing set times,

and the peak set finds you.

Let go of who you’re supposed to be,

and who you are walks right out.

You don’t have to think about what you like.

You know what you like when you dance to it.

When a stranger hands you kandi,

you don’t decide to smile.

The smile just shows up.

It’s the kids at recess who forgot recess ends.

It’s a pacifier, a wristful of kandi,

and a grown person on a stranger’s shoulders

screaming at the drop, forgetting anyone’s watching.

It’s your body moving before you tell it to,

not to be seen, not to be heard,

but because the song is such a fucking banger.

It’s the moment your inner critic gives up and fucks off.

It’s all of you, expressed without resistance.

So,

Monday comes. The outfit comes off.

The kindness doesn’t.

The love doesn’t.

Caring for strangers and expecting nothing back

was never part of the costume.

We don’t make clothes to make you uninhibited.

You already are.

You were born free.

Sometimes you just need a reminder

that it’s okay to be loud or weird, and unapologetically yourself,

so our clothing is bold, it’s experimental, and loud on purpose

Go play.