Sorry I haven’t posted anything new in a while. I have been up in the Frigid North and my fingers have been too frozen to type. But now I am home in sunny North Carolina and my fingers have thawed out and I have lots to report from my trip to NYC, especially in regards to the weather and how one must go about preparing to face it.
Me, Posing with the Mannequins in the Prada Store (and wearing the questionable hat). Please DO NOT note the shoes.
First of all, let me explain my experience. I arrived in New York with my dear friend Allie ready for a day of good food and fantastic shopping. As such, upon stepping out of the subway into SoHo, we enjoyed a lovely lunch at the Mercer Kitchen. In case you are not familiar with this incredibly hip little joint, I must caution you: the food and the atmosphere is amazing. Once you go, you will undoubtedly return. Again. And again. So while we ate, we chatted about the city and school and caught up on a multitude of things going on in our lives, all the while interjecting with suggestions about the stores we just HAD to hit over the course of the day (Me: “PLEASE let’s go to the Tory Burch store on Elizabeth!?” Allie: “Ok. But I desperately need to go to Prada.”) Soon, we were polishing off the last of our delicious meals, settling the check, and bundling back up to face the cold city streets.
Well, to be more precise, Allie was bundling up. I was merely buttoning my coat and donning my flimsy (but stylish!) leather gloves.
Upon exiting the Mercer Kitchen, I realized that my cold weather attire was entirely inadequate. The whipping wind alone had already rendered my toes completely numb. But not only was my attire inappropriate functionally, it was also completely inexcusable style-wise. I should have taken note when Allie and I were leaving her house in suburban Connecticut that she was wearing riding boots, a scarf, and an adorable little knit hat. I, however, was clad in my dowdiest, least impressive shoes and an entirely unremarkable sweater. But of course, when one arrives at a destination unprepared to face the current circumstances, a girl like me understands that only one thing can be done: go shopping.
In all honesty, it really wasn’t that philosophical. Perhaps three minutes after we stepped out of the cozy restaurant, I was sprinting down the block to J. Crew. There, I snatched up the first hat and scarf I could find (in the appropriate colors and textures of course) and proceeded not only to purchase them but to wear them out of the store and on to the busy yet freezing sidewalk. Needless to say, my behavior completely horrified poor Allie. The scarf was beautiful – purple and white streaked with bits of silver – on that we both agreed. But the hat was somewhat questionable. It was white and very soft but it also had ear flaps. And a pom-pom on the top. I looked slightly bizarre to tell you the truth, especially among all the downtown hipsters in their chic cashmere berets and fluffy fur ear muffs.
Regardless, Allie and I proceeded to shop the rest of the day away. We found amazing deals and had a wonderful time venturing about SoHo, people watching and poking our heads into tiny hole-in-the wall boutiques. And yet, while riding the train back to Connecticut, it dawned on me that I hadn’t felt quite right all day. Something had been nagging at me, holding me back from shopping with my usual vigor and enthusiasm. And then I realized: it was my outfit. You know how they say, “When you look good, you feel good”? Well, I had decided early on that my look for the day was just not up to par. And because shopping is very closely tied to self-confidence (admit it, trying on clothes is much more fun when you are more or less convinced of your own cuteness), I was prevented from giving it my all.
As is customary when I realize that I have done something in a manner that cannot be considered “the best possible way”, I immediately started in on myself. Thoughts about my beautiful black riding boots that I had left at home in favor of my functional and rugged Danskos were flying through my head. My outfit was being rearraged right before my mind’s eye, complete with thick leggings, my shiny boots, and a VERY different hat. I marinated on my fashion faux-pas all evening.
The next morning, when Allie and I ventured out into the colder air of the Connecticut sidewalks in order to pay a visit to some of our favorite boutiques, I was feeling entirely dead to the fashion world. I thought, “That’s it. This is the end. I have committed the ultimate fashion crime: I traipsed around the most stylish city in the world looking like a complete moron. My life is absolutely over. I might as well go to medical school. I am unfit to ever walk the hallowed halls of Vogue!”
Fortunately, we stopped first in a lovely little store called Lucy’s where Allie worked for a while in high school. As she was already quite good friends with the woman working there that day, the three of us struck up a passionate conversation about fashion. As per usual, my heart started racing and I just wanted to run the nearest Neimans and bury myself in mounds of beautiful clothes, extolling the virtues of each one I laid eyes on. But when I glanced down at my feet by chance, I took in the sight of my utterly yucky footwear and immediately started apologizing for my clear lack of fashion competence. Allie’s friend only smiled kindly. “Honey, no one is quite sure how to dress in this weather. We all look a bit out of sorts in the winter,” she said. And even though she looked impeccable, dressed in knee-high boots, skinny jeans, a black sweater, and a belted black vest despite the snow that was now falling from the sky, I felt better. If this stylish woman understood my plight and didn’t judge me by my unfortunate shoes then maybe I hadn’t left too horrible of an impression on the city that never sleeps. Nevertheless, I resolved that upon arriving home, I would try that much harder to dress to impress in the future, come rain, wind, snow, or a spontaneous volcanic eruption. As people are rushing to the grocery store to stock up on bottled water, I will be strolling along in my most fashionable and appropriate duds, knowing that if I look good, I will feel good enough to weather even the worst storm.
As my father once said, “There are no excuses in Fashion.” For once dad, I have to admit, you are absolutely right.
My dear friend Julia is the younger sister of Jennifer Dixon, one half of the duo behind the Hunter Dixon line. Last week, Julia brought me over to her house after a fabulous lunch to have a look at some of her sister’s clothes. It was love at first sight. Each piece was more glamorous, fun, and timeless than the next. The fabrics were modern yet beautiful and rich. Never before had I seen such a youthful line of clothing pull off such simultaneous sophistication. From billowy silk tops to structured dresses, Hunter Dixon offers precisely the type of fun, functional, and financially sustainable options we are all looking for. Because although the pieces are investments, I promise you that the cost-per-wear is low. These are versatile clothes that you will want to wear again and again. Unique enough to garner compliments from your girlfriends, yet classic enough that your mother will totally approve of the price tag. Check out their newest pieces at hunterdixon.com.
Throughout history, there have always been icons, more currently referred to as “It-Girls”. These glamorous women are not simply famous people, recognizable for their role in a movie. No, they represent something deeper. They’ve got that certain je ne sais quoi. They keep it together under pressure, they handle themselves flawlessly in social settings, they are always fun, yet classy and smart, and they manage to look impeccably put together through all of this. Audrey Hepburn, Jackie Onassis and my dear friend Christy all come to mind. And of course, Carrie.