Cancer, but make it fashion

Christy Lorio
4 min readJun 3, 2020

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Early on in my cancer treatment, I realized the importance of dressing well and the impact it has on my sense of well being. I’m not talking about wearing constricting clothing for the sake of fashion; I’m talking about wearing what makes me feel good.

VIntage skirt I bought during quarantine because it makes me happy

I always like to feel somewhat put together, even when I’m just lounging at home. When I received my initial cancer diagnosis I immediately started looking for vintage pajamas on Etsy. I figured that if I would be stuck at home and feeling sick, I might as well wearing something that might perk me up a little. This Covid-19 quarantine has many people working from home in their PJs all day. I can’t do that. Even when I’m being productive, I feel like I haven’t done anything until I put “real clothes” on.

Vintage boiler suit a friend gave me. I added the sequin shrimp appliqués.

The word “fashion” often gets a bad rep. Just uttering the word is intimidating to some people. You don’t have to participate in the rat race of trendy dressing to feel good about how you look. Developing a personal style can be fun, even theraputic. It’s about figuring out who you are and what you gravitate towards. It’s about pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and growing as a human being.

About a month before I was diagnosed with cancer I bought a pair of pale pink Adidas sneakers. I was about spend a month in Ireland for the second time and I needed a comfortable pair of shoes for all of the walking I was about to do. Prior to that purchase, I only wore sneakers to the gym. I don’t know what drew me to those shoes, but something inside me said it was time for a change; little did I know that I would be pacing the halls of an Irish hospital after I had a seizure on the streets of Cork (my cancer metastasized to my brain.) Those Adidas were the shoes I was wearing when I seized and they were the only shoes I had in the hospital.

I flew back to New Orleans with a renewed sense of self. I knew exactly who I was. I had gone through the most traumatic event of my life. I was eager to start treatments and get a move on eradicating the cancer but I was also scared shitless about my future. I used clothing as a way to latch on to Christy, a human being, instead of succumbing to being just Christy, a cancer patient. It’s easy to get wrapped up in your diagnosis and forget who you are. I strived to maintain a sense of normalcy while giving myself the grace I needed to recover. After brain surgery I wore a lot of dresses. Even though I was sequestered in my house, I felt the need to dress up, even just a little. It made me feel like I was part of the world again. I overdressed for the simplest of errands, like walking down the street by myself for the first time to grab some sundries from the corner store. Prior to my diagnosis, I was running three miles several times a week. After brain surgery, walking two blocks was a big deal.

July 2018, A few days after brain surgery. Note the smile — I couldn't smile from both sides of my mouth. The headscarf was covering my incision.

Now that I’ve been in cancer treatment off and on for the past two years, I have a pretty good idea of how to navigate treatment and clothes. On days that I get chemo I have to wear something that grants easy access to my port. When I have to wear a chemo pump for forty-six hours I know which clothes to wear and which ones to avoid. I shy away from short skirts and dresses that can ride up (I wear the chemo pump in a bag that resembles a fanny pack) and I have to wear button downs or a shirt that I can easily run the tubes under. When I get PET scans, I try not to wear bras with metal and I have to take my nose ring out.

In a way, cancer has made it easier for me to adjust to quarantine during Covid-19. I’m used to being holed up in the house. I had to wear a face mask last year for three weeks after my last chemo session. I already know how it feels to face an uncertain future. Just because the future is bleak doesn’t mean we can’t attempt to cheer ourselves up with our clothing choices.

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Christy Lorio

Writer, photographer, stage IV colorectal cancer patient. MFA in Creative Writing, working on my MFA in Studio Art. christy@slowsouthernstyle.com