Part of her 1979 essay “The White Album” is a packing list: “To Wear and to Pack,” one of her most iconic pieces of prose, oft-shared among women who have literature degrees and an interest in not appearing slovenly. The list starts off with a tone of practicality — two skirts, she writes, two jerseys, one sweater. And then the list takes on an epicurean slant: Didion will also travel with her “nightgown, robe, slippers; cigarettes; bourbon.” But it’s not until the end of the list that we learn the trip’s not a vacation: she’ll bring a mohair throw and a typewriter and legal pads and her files. Crucially, Didion goes on to explain, after this catalog of items: “This is a list which was taped inside my closet door in Hollywood during those years when I was reporting more or less steadily. The list enabled me to pack, without thinking, for any piece I was likely to do.” These are the two sentences I wish I could print onto business cards and hand out to those readers who question her interest in clothes. She’s not just wearing the skirts she’s packed; she’s reporting in them. She’s not just reporting in them; she’s writing the greatest New Journalism of the 19th century. She’s wearing the skirts while she’s writing a bestselling novel and later when she’s writing a bestselling memoir that would win the National Book Award. She’s wearing them while she’s taking pains to craft a voice, startling, anxious, and razor-sharp, that the world will try to dismiss.
Claire Luchette, “Why Joan Didion Writes ‘So Much’ About Clothes” (via Racked)
















