Have you ever wondered what Ms. Claus would wear if trapped in the apocalyptic landscape of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road? Have you ever wanted to get precision shopping details from someone who gives long, comedic titles to her outfits? Behold. Dreams—or nightmares—coming true:

I call these pants the Apocalypse pants, because, made of pleather and purchased at Forever 21 for $20 (half off, original $40), they would outlast the cockroaches. Fitting for the Story Story Night theme PLANES, TRAiNS & AUTOMOBiLES, if you’re dark like me.

The Laurence Kazar (est. 1960s) shirt, if you can call it a shirt as it surely is something far more spectacular than a mere shirt, was purchased at my favorite thrift store, Restyle, for $7. It was also half off (original $14), because I roll dirt cheap in vintage silk, sequins and beading, bitches.

You are not really bitches. That’s the pants talking. Erm… The Salvatore Ferragamo orange suede boots I found at the Idaho Youth Ranch for $45 mother-bleeping-fucker-dollars. (OK, now suddenly our tone of voice has shifted to a badly censored Quentin Tarantino film.) I looked these up on the internets later and they appear to be worth upwards of $1200. Boom, there it is. Bad assery. Cheeeeeaaaap. (Gratuitous side note: One time, at film camp, a gorgeous millionaire black man hit on me in Sun Valley bar while I was wearing these boots. Which means they are made of magic. And also that is why some people pay $1200 for shoes.)

My sister gave me the Bronze beaded bracelet from an Albuquerque thrift store on our visit there over the holidays. It has a tiny arrowhead in it. I will always think of her when I see that. The power of accessories.

My dear friend Bethany gave me the 1920s Afghanistan vintage silver bracelet. It is also a glory, glory halleluia visage, but I’ll have to show it to you more later.

I borrowed the fez (slash story slam hat) from a friend after I scoured the El Korah Shrine and could find none, suspecting they all lock them up in personal safes at night in customized fez hat boxes. Note to you: Most shriner hats are more blingy than this shirt. They are sights. To. Behold.

Grocery Outlet plug, as is required not by sponsorship or gain, but by my heart ties.

A Shriner showed me how to turn on this custom neon light from the 1960s. It takes 3 different switches. It’s like this venue matches my soul perfectly. Like it’s the Wardrobe, you know, and I am the both Lion and Witch, or something.

May the show go on. Happy story-days.

Photography by Paul Budge.