Embarrassingly enough, despite cutting all my hair off but two days before I flew out, my hair has quite literally sprouted an inch since I landed in NYC. As a result (though also slightly attributable to some degree of laziness), I have taken to putting my hair back in a low pony and side part – usually reserved for runway hair gel and androgynous models. Indeed, I really do now resemble the angry lady-man (not to be confused with angry lady-boy) I always seem to end up channelling, no matter how hard I sprint in one direction. Gowns are always buffered by sneakers and angry leather jackets, and boyfriend jeans with stilettos.
And so, as there is nothing much I can do about my hair being attached to my final equilibrium, this paper bag dress seemed to be the go on Day 2 of Fashion Month… but of course, what is a dress without your boyfriend’s shirt around your waist, right? This flannel in particular worked exceptionally well against the ZIMMERMANN glossy weave.
Steve Jobs’ turtleneck as cleavage is not to be forgotten.
Oh no, never.
In the same way that dirty snow heaped along West Village sidewalks is undoubtedly a little charming, tying one’s dress to oneself and covering the bulk with a roomy trench is no less impractical (somewhat like celebrities who have to be sewn into their dresses pre-red carpet, or those crazy people who decide not to pack their Hunter Boots to the coldest New York winter since the 1800s).
But (oo-oo-ooh) I like it like that.