She Named It After Her Worst Year

There’s a particular kind of celebrity nostalgia that arrives when someone you’d written off turns up still operating—still making things, still showing up, still somehow not done. Lindsay Lohan at 28 triggers exactly that. She drove an enchanted Volkswagen in a movie about a sentient car. She did the body-swap comedy. She fought a mean girls clique so memorably that the phrase entered the language. And then somewhere around 2007, the tabloids swallowed her whole and spent the next several years not letting go.

The collaboration with Civil Clothing, an LA streetwear label, is called "My Addiction"—a wink at the drug years, or at minimum a very deliberate choice of title for someone who didn’t have to go there. The collection runs mostly in neutral tones, the kind of basics that apparently photograph best against pale, freckled skin. Whether she named it herself or just let the brand do it, the effect is identical: impossible to look at without thinking about the version of her that made every front page for reasons that had nothing to do with movies.

I always thought the Lindsay Lohan story was sadder than it was funny, even when everyone was treating it as entertainment. Calling a clothing collection "My Addiction" is either the most self-aware move she could have made or the bleakest, and I genuinely can’t tell which. Maybe she can’t either. She’s still here, anyway—which, given everything, counts for something.