For a pants person, I certainly seem to find my way around a great deal of skirts. Perhaps, it’s a mandatory weekly affirmation that I am, in fact, a lady, that has inadvertently warranted my experiments in panted skirting and skirted booting. Would that be different if I grew my hair out again, I wonder? Or if I wore more makeup? Probably.
Unfortunately, on this particular Snow Day in New York, I had neglected to bother with makeup (nothing new there), lazily disguised the fact with the most reflective shades I could dig out of the black hole that was my suitcase, and my hair had been so pummeled by sleet en route to buying bodega berries that morning, that I had no choice but to slick it straight back. As a result, I closely resembled a barely pubescent boy – an attribute that I have been cursed with for the rest of my selfie days.
The only way to offset boyish looks in the absence of red lipstick, excessively winged eyeliner, and sunshine, is to up the 90s sexy – loosely translated to Donatella mini hemlines, no bra, and the illusion of a lot of skin in sub-zero degrees Celcius.
Such is the magic of going nude.
I say nude, and not camel, as most of you would describe this shade, because my skin tone awkwardly (or not) swatches perfectly as ‘camel’, such that if my boots had also walked the camel line, I would have been a shivering and stark naked camel with shades on – all of my career aspirations at once, of course, though a little too forward for my liking.
At the very least, leave the state of your knees to the imagination. Mine were bruised from falling on my face getting out of the subway like a boss.
For those of fairer complexion, perhaps baby pink would give the same results, and on the other end of the spectrum, I’d try either burgundy or a darker khaki. No two elements should have the same texture – leather, ribbed knit, wool, and suede are a foolproof combination, but if you can sneak in a furry something, all the better.
And so, it would seem that what was intended to be a lesson in wearing miniskirts has turned out to be a tutorial in going naked in the snow without being naked.
Though, my butt was so frozen over after trekking it to Michael Kors’ show and back that I may as well have been. Bill Cunningham certainly seemed to think so – he looked alarmed, grabbed my elbow and exclaimed, “Button up and get inside child!!!”.
Perhaps the nude is not for everyone.
Michael Kors Coat, Knit, and Skirt