Eccentric Killed Chic
Thank God.
Yesterday I wore a pair of black knit pants, with a long sleeve Justin Bieber stadium tour merch t-shirt and sparkly ballet flats. Underneath it all, a lace bralette on it’s last thread and knee high socks by Lourdes. I impulsively purchased the pants after feeling entirely too self conscious that people were staring at my sweet peach (🍑). Literally. I’ll tell you what happened.
Walk the Line
I’m on my way to meet Destiny at Thai Diner for lunch. The sidewalk on Prince Street is my Uber and the oversized Celiné glasses I’m always wearing make it a black car. The only good thing left in America is a curated dispensary, yes, I’m talking about Mighty Lucky. So I blame the mini j I had just disposed of for making me feeling like hot shit, while wearing the tiniest skirt on earth by 7 for All Mankind. I found it in Bushwick at Other People’s Clothes. I was walking in calf height brown leather boots, a hammy-down from my mom, boasting (pre-me) historic etchings down the sides, and a tie-dye Bob Marley T-Shirt I stole from my dad. If this outfit sandwich sounds weird, that’s because it was – but in a good way. Like Victoria Beckham’s WAG era meets Brad Pitt x Jen Aniston or Shia LaBoeuf leaving the grocery store. As I continued walking, I felt the gaze of normal folk dressed in Marine Layer and Faherty brush up against me like an unwelcome stranger’s thigh on the C train.
I peeked out towards the Jacks & Dianes, and they’re dressed like math equations. I see their bodies as straight lines and their eyes as dots staring back at me. y=mx+b. The lovely couple = alo tote bag + performative merch (derogatory). Was I in Soho, or had I just died and gone to hell? The heat on my skin felt so brutal. Surely, my ass had to be out.
Still unclear, I’d had enough, so I trot into Uniqlo off Broadway the way a thirsty camel would to a nearby oases.
WWJBD?
I thanked god for my sartorial sensibilities leading me directly to the perfect pant. I bravely summited the staircase hoping no one would care enough to look up my skirt, and raced into out of the fitting room in less than 5. I asked the staff to escort me to checkout with my new leg blankie. Back on the pavement – I’m feeling comfortable, but somewhat defeated. I had given up my quirky little outfit out of fear of real time public scrutiny. WWJBD? What would Justin Bieber Do? Stand on business of course. I guess maybe I am a fake belieber.
After lunch, we make our way to DIANA on Henry to check out Zeke’s show and I’m hiding from the sun in an attempt to protect my skin from the PRP microneedling I had done 3 days ago. My face is flush red, just like the Ferrari F1 hat I’m wearing. I spill my guts about a mile a minute, and my sweet friend reassures me that maybe I’m overthinking this whole thing. Maybe they just thought I looked cool. I considered the possibility, trying to connect the dots, but I had my doubts.
Standing on Business
My insecurity was louder than the music in my Apple headphones. I was already in a vulnerable emotional state, which I can talk about another time. I assumed the cruel thoughts I was having about myself had to be shared by the dozens of strangers I passed by. I was self-obsessed, forgetting that no one thinks about me as much as they do themselves. The next morning at home, I started the day with mirror work and affirmations, promising myself to next time care a little less , and maybe wear a little more.
Incredibly Chic and Eccentric Things
All good things must come to an end. Like this post, and the concept of “chic”. The discourse surrounding Mattieu Blazy’s Chanel (love, btw.) and The Row’s penciled invites (LOVE, LOVE.) has gotten a lot of people’s panties in a twist. I think those people have lost the plot a little bit. The real key to being chic is knowing your codes, and how to break them.
Here’s where I leave you, with a non-exhaustive list of things I find incredibly chic:
dinner at home
compact mirrors
rest
barrettes
wrinkled linen
Pierro Picconi
handwritten notes
flossing (religiously)
rimless eyeglasses
layered fragrances
Gaetano Pesce
dill
fig
ikebana
glass mugs
being particular
being polite
calligraphy
hostess gifts (the less predictable, the better)
public figures with private lives
Claire Jones
the perfect black gel (sorry) manicure
a chipped black manicure
percale sheets
an upcycled dust bags
drinking a Coca Cola past 10pm
Victoria Beckham
x SL