Confession. I am not keeping up with runway shows and designer duds anymore. Not forever, but that sure explains my mostly neutral closet and drawers full of boring basics. Sure I still appreciate the artistic process behind each collection and their gowns still appear in my Instagram feed, but it's kind of just not on my radar these days.
These days I'm really into dressing "trend-free." I can honestly say everything I put on my body is a conscious blend of comfort and function. Does this mean I'm an adult? Probably not. Probably just lazy. I've ditched all my high heels for sleek tennies and strappy flats because blisters are not friends of my city-stomping feet. I wear most tops buttoned up to my neck because cleavage makes me feel too self-aware. And I haven't washed my black skinnies in a month or so because they're the closest thing to black leggings I can wear to work.
With comfort at the top of my sartorial priorities, I've slowly sunk into a sort of boyish look that's kind of fun and new for me. Shapeless jumpsuits, crew-neck T-shirts, sloppy shoes and maybe a kimono for a splash of drama. I like it. New York has stripped me of my love of A-line dresses because you can't sit Indian-style at your dresk in those. My beautiful strappy black heels are in my "can't fit in my closet" suitcase under my bed. But it's OK. My style's never been one to sit in one place for too long. I'm excited for what spring will bring. Maybe I'll be inspired by one of Oscar's polka-dot numbers and dress like a '50s housewife for the month of May. But for now it's all curb-stomping street-wear.
In the 7th grade my English teacher made the class read the Outsiders. It was probably the first book in school I enjoyed and we celebrated the end of the lesson by watching the '80s flick with Ralph Macchio, Tom Cruise, Matt Dillon, etc. I fell head over heels for Ralph Macchio's portrayal of Johnny and every now and again feel a shared bond between the character's kind, meek side—but even more so his dark locks, Converse sneakers, and muscle shirts. Many days I find myself subconsciously likening my outfit to the Greasers, but of course adding a bold lip for girlish flair. Ponyboy, Johnny, Sodapop.... you are my sartorial sprit animal. But my wardrobe is a lot like Robert Frost's poem and the last line of The Outsiders "Nothing gold can stay." Next season it will be on to the next character Abbey wants to play. Cheers, Pony.
Side note: This was the longest winter I've experienced to date. My dream city made me long for sweltering Southern summers. And seasonal depression is real friends. A girl can only take so many grey sweater, grey weather days in a row. Thank goodness the sun has decided to show his elusive self these past couple of weekends. New York spring is beautiful.