One thing I found about this Winter in New York was the ironic toll my lack of makeup took to my skin. With no powdery, creamy, self-tanning barrier between my epidermis and Manhattan’s brutal tunnel winds, my late nights slaving over photos, articles and lookbooks were far more obvious, and by the end of Fashion Week, no amount of coconut oil could bury the fact that my face had lost a little shine (why yes, my new shoes were shinier). When I arrived in London, I overcompensated by smearing Lanolin on every exposed surface each morning, which, though heavy, provided the illusion of being fresh and well-rested, but even then, it has taken me the two weeks of being back home to regenerate what New York City’s elements stripped me of (except sleep – that’s still a work in progress).
By the same token, my suitcased excuse for a wardrobe was also getting a little tired by this point. And so, finally, I gave in to wearing my loyal waist plaid the way Hayley and Lauri had intended. Poor Libertine, however, remained quietly bottom-bound – though I would say that its perfect matte green was the unsung hero of this particular look I wore to my final day of NYFW runways.
But, the spotlight still sits on this origami outer shell of a bonded crop jacket (Cue, you are killing it) – and rightly so. You all know me: I won’t touch a cropped jacket unless it’s under an ankle-length trench to balance it out. Something about the proportions and generous cutouts, strategically angled zips and overall scuba feel works impeccably well with this slightly grungy boy get-up, with a tiny black bikini, with a sporty leather shift dress, or this DKNY for Opening Ceremony onesie I’ve been swooning over (should I get it!?). I would even go so far as to wear it to class with a sports bra and high-waisted leather pants that I don’t currently own, but will most likely buy solely for this purpose.
Oh it is on.
And now, back to work. It never stops, but I love it.
photos by Nicole Warne