Author: Jessica Holmes

“Reality Bites” outfit

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“Évian is ‘naïve’ spelled backward,” said Janeane Garofalo in the 1994 classic, Reality Bites, blowing this then-young Gen X mind on the thin glossy line between commerce and satire. “See you in the ditch!” read the business card for Willie, the tow truck owner in Challis, Idaho, whereabouts my sainted Honda CRV found itself* ass-deep in a freak hotsprings quicksand mud patch. I just turned 45. It’s been hell on wheels so far. Lots of minor league lessons with super hard turns. Even on the attempt to get up to Tunnel Rock Cafe for a slap dash writing retreat. Rag & Bone black cashmere sweater – $210 (discounted from $700), Nordstrom’s Rack | Zara Woman premium denim collection floral dress – $10, Saint Vincent’s thrift store | Frye knee-high black leather boots – $75, Bombshell & Blokes “head to boots” fall make-up event Cheep it while speed-dialing first your dad then AAA in middle of nowhere Idaho. *read = its driver is an slip-ass idiot

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” outfit

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Lost my ever-lovin mind somewhere between home and the Capitol. For legal reasons, this story will be told exclusively in Eminem “monster” lyrics and batsh*t public displays. “I’ve created a monster‘Cause nobody wants to see Marshall no more, they want Shady, I’m chopped liver“– Without Me, Eminem Monster, you get in my way, I’ma feed you to the monster (yeah)I’m normal durin’ the day, but at night, turn to a monster (yeah)When the moon shines like Ice Road TruckersI look like a villain outta those blockbusters– Godzilla, Eminem “I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bedGet along with the voices inside of my headYou’re tryin’ to save me, stop holdin’ your breath… “And you think I’m crazy, yeah, you think I’m crazyWell, that’s nothin.” – The Monster, Eminem Like BLTs are my comfort food, this is my winter comfort ‘fit. Bruno Duluc KUSH burgundy velvet dress – $6.99, ReStyle thrift store | NN07 No Nationality pastel rainbow wool from Italian yarns – $170 (? on sale), Nordstroms Rack | Croc Allcast faux fur lined …

“Cocky Chick” outfit

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The staircase in my art deco dream pad is dramatic and steep. When you turn the corner, you’re surprised with a giant oil painting in a gilt gold frame by my friend Skyler Pierce of girls riding horse-sized roosters in the yard. I remember a few years back, newly single, bringing a beautiful man upstairs, eager for his reaction. “What do you think of my giant cocks?!” I asked, emphasizing the consonant cluster(f*ck), as I turned on the neon light I had in my bedroom then. It read FEAR, ILLUSION, DECAY and cast a sickly green pallor over the skin. “I’m…a bit afraid…of big birds,” he said in his dreamy British English accent. It was then the truth struck me like a bolt from the blue(jean): It’s me. Hi! I’m the problem. It’s me. Or if not me, at least my taste in art. I borrowed this outfit from a story slammer to wear last night at Story Story Night’s SLAMMER OF THE YEAR, because the team I coached decided to wear Canadian tuxedos. We …

“Not Going Back” outfit

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What a month and a half, no? The day of Trump’s near-assassination, I happened to be in Challis with a group of circled-up women, outlining rough plans if a Civil War breaks out after the election. You know. Just in casesies. (Waves white…er….American flag.) I know what I would do, I thought to myself, getting up to go….anywhere else….I would stand in the middle of the road and say, “Flatten me now, please and thank you. It’s too late to make me breeding stock, joke’s on you.” Putin-fleeing-journalist Masha Gessen wrote right after Trump’s election in 2016 about the apathy that sets in after a too long spell of the violently absurd. It felt almost surreal to feel….what is this strange thing?…after Biden dropped out and Kamala was vibing her way into the presidential race. Then it popped into my mind, a long-forgotten phrase fully formed by the wise words of Sarah Palin: “It’s that hopey changey thing.” It’s been a long, long time, hopey changey thing. Nice to feel you again. Custom Leather Works …

“Blowin’ in the Wind” outfit

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What if you’re so late to bloom you go to seed instead? Motherf…nature. I cannot pinpoint exactly what went wrong this year but it started with sudden weight loss and insomnia and hair loss and skin eruptions and severe unrelenting anxiety and you know when you learn new words to help better define your world? I highlighted ANHEDONIA in the Oxford: the inability to feel pleasure. “Ahhh, sounds about right. Dead-voiced yay.” Dictionary footnote: Maybe just don’t get off your meds, ok. “My books will be my kids,” I’ve said since I was 20. But what if I never wrote any books, and it’s too late to have kids, and what if I always thought all the gutting and hilarious and hideous things that happened were the ultimate storytelling fodder, but what if I was just dissociating from my real life, fictionalizing it in real time, instead? Here I am, 44, looking at myself dead-eyed in more ways than one. A pale vintage childless cat lady in a desolate red state in a white vintage Caddy …

“Yeeeeeehawwww” outfit

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For some obscure reason this outfit makes me think of Major Kong riding the nuclear bomb like a bull in Dr. Strangelove. I always thought he said, “Yeeeeehawwwww!” But he actually yells, “Whaaaaahooooo!” So we all learned a bit of annihilation cowboy trivia. I wore this to a saloon-themed awards ceremony, The Rockies, for the Boise advertising industry. I’ve been a writer in this ad scene for nearly 20 years, and it’s been one of the strangest years yet. AI has warped some brains, including mine. I had a horrific client who fed my work into ChatGBT to rewrite and it sounded like a high schooler with a thesaurus trying to sound smart. (Then she stiffed me for $6k. I should’ve known.) Demoralizing doesn’t begin to describe the way AI twists my painstaking writer mind into knots with its instant spitting out of mediocre paragraphs. My mind has been spinning for several reasons. I’m attempting three equally ambitious projects this year—run a successful business, launch a new brand, finish a book—and it appears I’ve bitten …

“Queen of the North” outfit (aka Lucrezia Borgia of the Idaho Wilderness)

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By the favor of the free and cheap, Cheep Universe, I ended up on an exquisite hand-painted pink-and-purple wooden Viking ship (ok, a Dory, but it felt like one) floating down the Main Salmon River for six days through the vast Frank Church Wilderness. For weeks before, I had been seeing salmon everywhere. Then a college friend spontaneously asked me if I wanted to take a last-minute cancelled spot on her long-planned birthday trip. I think she knew I’m one of the few on earth who could drop everything on a moment’s notice to simply float for a week.   For a last-minute gift, I went thrift store shopping and gave her the Caitlin River Capsule Collection in a neon green duffel bag. Because what do you get for the woman who embodies everything, but more ways to embody herself? Each outfit had a ridiculous name and tagline, ala Cheep, and brought such weird magic to every beach night. I am finally using my superpowers for good. Lately, magic has been a running theme. At …

“Desert bougie solitaire” outfit

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No one will read this because it’s Treefort in Boise but I’ll write it anyway. I stopped at a thrift store in Las Vegas and bought…everything. This dress says, “I sell crystals to heal your chakras from my Mercedes sprinter van. #vanlife”. My dad gave me this sweet cowboy hat right before I left. It has a Harley Davidson emblem in the middle. I was, indeed, born to be wild. pink & patterned Sage boho dress with fringe – $13, Savers in Las Vegas | Harley Davidson cowboy hat – $0, gift from dad | hot pink Columbia trail shoes – $80, REI outlet

“The Dunes are Alive” outfit

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The Kelso Dunes in the Mojave Desert sing. Like Julie Andrews with less Astroturf. When you break off a swath of sandscape, it vibrates the entire dune in this guttural hum. Earth throat clearings. Over 20 years ago, I camped on the side of this dune while on an “Into the Wild” style backpacking trip. More of an escape. Sand, everywhere. Coyotes, too. Another howl that cannot be captured by audio devices. The vague always lit vibe of Vegas haloing the mountains. Dune side that night, I dreamed of an orange beetle. It broke open to a radiant white goo. Now I’m writing a novel adaptation of this stint in the desert. (If not of the David Lynchian dream.) Strange and surreal, to come back here looking like you wear the sky with a backcountry sheepskin BDSM bodice. This place, already a sort of fiction in your mind. You, a sort of fiction, too. Sage sky dress – $13, Savers in Las Vegas, NV | The Comstock Load sheepskin vest – $60, from a friend’s …

“The End of an Era” outfit

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It’s the fin de siecle—and fin de this sick outfit. This will be the last time I ever wear this dress. It’s from the 1920s. Over 100 years old. It’s silk and velvet brocade with tassels and a fur-lined skirt. It’s the most exquisite dress I’ve ever owned. And I’ve owned a lot of exquisite dresses. But the seams rip every time I move. I kept painstakingly sewing it back together. The last time I wore it (before this last, last time photoshoot), I hand-sewed it for a half hour before going to Story Story Late-Night’s “A HOLiDAY NOT TO BE REMEMBERED.” It was a powerful show. The stories were riveting in the way that makes you put one hand on your heart and one hand in the air to feel the palpable electric buzz of the collective human experience of raw, real storytelling. I’m glad that this was the last event it will ever go to. I will not forget it. But sometimes, beautiful things cannot be resurrected. Because they are simply done here. …