Every summer for the past five years, my family and I drive up to my father’s gravesite in New York. As Muslims, we take death anniversaries very seriously and believe cemeteries are sacred sites. I say As-salamu alaykum (Peace be upon you all) upon arrival, greeting everyone including the unseen world. My brother pours water over the grass whispering Alhamdulillah (God bless) 11 times. My siblings and I take turns telling my dad life updates as if he was physically present. Deep down, I believe he is listening. We play verses from the Quran and pray for my dad’s eternal peace.
The spiritual cadence of this family affair always triggers waterworks. When I attempt to hold back the tears, my emotions possess me. Instead of suppressing the crying act, I’ve learned to simply accept it.
Yet, I rather not be so exposed. My latest solution is wearing my vintage YSL sunglasses.
Sunglasses have long been my favorite beauty accessory. Not just for how they elevate an outfit, but for how they protect me from the gaze. If I’m heading to the gym in an oversized tee, a pair of my gray Gentle Monsters gives the whole look an editorial edge. Sunglasses let me choose what part of myself I offer the world. If I can’t be fully seen, I can’t be fully perceived. That’s the hot girl logic I abide by. Today, women are constantly watched: stories, selfies, and status updates. It’s exhausting to perform, to curate, to constantly present a version of yourself irl and online for consumption. I take back control and agency with my shades.
And all the timeless it-girls know: I channel Kate Moss in the ‘90s avoiding paparazzi, Yasmeen Ghauri walking a runway for Versace, or Julia Fox slaying in courtroom attire.
Lately, it’s my duty-free Louis Vuitton pair from Tokyo that I reach for the most. It’s functional in Dubai’s scorching sun, but more importantly, it shields me when I need to emotionally disappear.
Because truthfully, my sunglasses are more than a prop. I often get overstimulated by my environment with too many lights, sounds, faces, questions, and people’s gazes. All of these compound, leading to my hot-girl spiral of social anxiety and harsh self-talk. I start shrinking inside myself, drowning in invisible noise.
But when I put on my YSLs, something shifts. I interrupt the spiral. I put on my reclaimed veil. I channel idgaf energy, like Charli XCX during her Boiler Room set. I wear them when I dance. I wear them in cabs after long meetings. I wear them at my dad’s grave so I can cry and still feel protected.
From Rihanna’s Dior J’adore campaign to Bella and Gigi Hadid leaving at Karl Lagerfeld’s funeral in blackout shades to the latest Charli XCX brat wedding pics, sunglasses carry a message. I am here, but you don’t get all of me. And for women like me—Muslim, neurodivergent, grieving, iconic, ambitious—that veil is holy.
More summer fashion appreciation post here bbs. <3