Writer's Style Guide 021: L.J. Sysko
Last year, I said, “If it doesn’t drape, I don’t want it,” so for months, I billowed gently like Gandalf.
L.
J. Sysko is a writer from the American mid-Atlantic suburbs. Her "goddam funny" debut poetry collection The Daughter of Man, selected by Patricia Smith for the 2023 Miller Williams Poetry Series, is "a clinic in irony," and Sysko is "a valley girl Beowulf." Anthologies Best New Poets and Let Me Say This; Battledore, a chapbook about postpartum depression and early motherhood; and literary journals Ploughshares and The Georgia Review are among her publication credits. Sysko writes for the president of Delaware State University and is a Contributing Editor at Tupelo Quarterly where her original interview series “Be Kind Rewind: Where Poetry Meets Proust” can be found. For more: ljsysko.com.
1. What three words would you use to describe your personal style?
Silhouette. Sportswear. Moxie.
2. Who/what/where/when is/are your style inspiration(s)?
I love 1940s Hollywood broads—Bacall, Hepburn, Lake—in shapely columns worn with offhanded wit or ensconced in tailored suits feline-curling around their figures. If you can make people laugh, shake their heads, and mutter, “Helluva broad,” you’ve got ‘em by the brass ring. I’m not sure if it’s happened to me yet, but I’m striving. Give me shiny hair, defining makeup, and a salty quip. Ralph Lauren’s aesthetic left a lasting mark on my taste as an 80s-90s girl, and Cindy Crawford and I have the same mole above our lip so I feel archetypally if irrationally connected to her denim and white t-shirt sex appeal.
3. What colors or prints do you consider an essential part of your signature looks?
I’m concerned first with structure/silhouette and color second. Here’s a lesson I learned from selling wedding gowns: if you have a waist, show it. And as a lifelong swimmer, I never met a halter top my shoulders didn’t like.
As for color, I curate it to one or two in any given outfit. I feel chaotic in three. White, black, blue, jewel tones, and fluorescents look best on me, and if I’m wearing a print, stand back. Cue Diana Ross’ “I’m Comin’ out.” I recently bought a Diane von Furstenberg animal-print jumpsuit. They call it “fawn,” but it’s … giraffelope? My id said I needed it and outsourced the reason to my superego, which is still leaning out the window waiting for a giraffelope to canter by with an invitation someplace wild. Maybe I’ll wear it to my next book launch? When The Daughter of Man was published in April 2023, I threw myself a party at a Wilmington theatre called The Queen and wore an 80’s, asymmetrical, hot pink Hervé Léger-inspired cocktail dress.
On any given day, I’m in my sleeveless t-shirts (I hack the sleeves off ‘em all) and a blazer (I’m a sucker for a high-armhole jacket) if I’m not on some other streak. Last year, I said, “If it doesn’t drape, I don’t want it,” so for months, I billowed gently like Gandalf.
4. What’s an early memory of how you used clothing to express who you are?
I remember a silver-sequined ballet tutu, a racing Speedo with gold lightning bolts on the chest and right glute, acid-washed Guess jeans with ankle zippers, a series of ruched taffeta straplesses worn to dances, and the tragic Dorothy Hamill haircut my mom insisted I get at age eight that transformed me from a sweet, pigtailed, swim team mascot to a mistaken-for-a-boy Peter Pan. That same summer, she replaced my beloved Dr. Scholl’s clogs with brown leather Docksiders and killed off my click-clack. Earthbound as I felt, I did get funnier. Fast.
5. What’s your favorite season of the year to dress for?
It’s the novelty of any new season, isn’t it? But I love summer’s ease: sandals and a flowing maxi dress make me feel as free as the Von Trapps in curtains.
6. What fabric or texture do you especially love to wear?
There’s nothing like worn denim poured like ganache over my waist: hip ratio topped with a dollop of blouse du jour. I also enjoy the feel of a backless, long-sleeved, sequined gown I’ve been wearing like a uniform to formal functions of late. It exemplifies antithesis in fashion—there’s comfort in contrast. As in: if your back is bare, cover your arms or raise the neckline. Inner Bacall activated. I’ve held onto that Diana Vreeland edict, “Never let the dress wear you,” and so everything, regardless of how formal, ought to feel and move like sportswear in the end. I think this is a very American and kinesthetic notion of femininity.
7. What’s a favorite piece in your wardrobe, and how did you get it?
I took my daughter to Rome for her study abroad and we happened upon their January coat sales, thus my fuchsia wool overcoat. I should’ve bought another color, too, but the pink is a fun icebreaker amidst winter’s Magritte-ish onslaught. And my “POETRY” necklace helps reconnect my head and heart when I feel doubtful, dumpy, or daft.
8. What’s your favorite bit of style advice you’d like to share with others?
Open the vent on your coats. Throw a bris if you must, but make the cut.