The thing I love about New York is that you're just one part of a massive story. Sometimes in the midst of my own life, I forget there are eight million others who are going through life each day, just like I am. While some people find it scary, I usually take comfort in the fact that I'm never by myself. Every once in a while though, there are moments where I wish I could escape the madness (like the other day on the subway when a woman told me she cast a spell on me.) For those moments, I like to turn to the pieces in my closet that bring inexplicable comfort, and nothing screams comfort like family. This outfit features both my dad's old jacket from college and a skirt my mom picked out for me. My aunt sewed patches onto the jacket, and people who lived on my dad's floor in his dorm in college actually used to call him "Woodstock." Turns out my parents were (are) pretty cool.