Dear Marshall,
When I started my style account for you, I was just a beady- eyed, full of joy, delusional little fashion gremlin of a fan, with stars in my eyes and screenshots in my camera roll, ready to take on the fashion world, but in this case; in the Eminem community on Instagram. I was ready, armed with nothing but hope, Wi-Fi, and a dream of documenting everything you have ever worn like it was the lost scrolls of hip-hop fashion history.
Now? I’m five and a half years down the line, and wondering what is life. Emotionally unstable. Fuelled by nothing but Cola and Redbull, and the absolute desperation to identify that one obscure hoodie you wore in 2011 for 0.3 seconds. I’ve pulled all-nighters, man, zooming in on pixelated videos looking like it came out of, I don’t know, World War 2. Crying 20 times in 5 minutes over a pair of sneakers, and aged 36 years in the process (I’m 25). My God, man, I haven’t been outside in years. I HAVE CABIN FEVER, MARSHALL. My camera roll is made up of 90% of screenshots from all of your public appearance to search for your outfits, an exhausted partner (Sorry Sawyer), and 10% of evidence in case I snap and need an alibi because who knows, man, WHO KNOWS.
Marshall, if you ever felt a strange presence like someone is gonna chase you up the stairs at 3 in the morning after you have switched off all of the lights… yeah… that’s me. Spiritually hovering nearby whispering “Tell me where you got your jacket you wore in 2010 when you performed with Rihanna, don’t be difficult.”.
Meanwhile, my best friend Tori, my other half in style crime is in the corner, hugging her knees, rocking back and forth, muttering about some sweat pants you wore in 1999 like the fashion war veteran she is. A real traumatized little trooper she is. And Sawyer, I don’t know, dude, he’s someone in the world, just chilling, and I haven’t heard from him in 10 years (It’s actually been 5 minutes, but who’s counting). We haven’t slept since the last performance you did in 2009. We may or may not be legally unhinged.
I’ve become a one-woman investigative unit (with my broken Tori). I can tell the difference between three identical black shirts based on neckline stitching. We treat outfit research like it’s a NASA mission. At this point, if your closet goes missing, look the other way, you gorgeous human, we absolutely had nothing to do with it, trust us even though you shouldn’t (joking).
Honestly? It’s very ghetto. Very ghetto. I would not recommend. It’s chaos. Our chaos.
Thanks for the inspiration.
Sincerely,
Your unofficial stylist, emotionally unstable detectives, and cola-powered chaotic little goblins
Keroline (EminemClosetArchives), Sawyer (The Legendary Partner), and Tori (ClosetOfShady).
P.S.
People are DMing us to know more about your clothing items like
“Hey, I’ll pay you. Just tell me what brand is it. I’ll mortgage my house if I have to.” and I’m sitting here, jaw touching the floor. Laughing, crying, spiralling, and wondering HOW DID WE GET HERE?????
Eminem Fashion 