Who the fuck is Sloane Condé? (AKA I moved)

Hey, so, I bought a domain. And I realized I probably should've chosen a blog title that didn't require a pronunciation guide. 

You can find me at 

Sloane Conde (dot com)

Same shit, different name. 

Style/Variations on a Theme, Early Fall 2014

I've been kind of debating back and forth for a long time about sharing my actual outfits in this space. A large part of this is not wanting to discredit my opinions on style at large with my shitty outfits; the other part is that my only camera is an iPhone 4S. But more than I care about credibility, I want to separate personal style from aspirational dressing, I want to express what it means to dress consciously, and I also want to talk about myself. 

And no, I can't just pose normally, okay? It's not that simple. It's not that simple!

Monochrome vs. Menswear: Let's ignore that my leather jacket is hanging halfway down my legs, okay? So as I mentioned in a previous post, I was really taken with the simple, clean lines prevalent in Stockholm street style. I haven't been wearing color for... a while. I don't know why. This isn't some conscious pursuit of monochrome - I think it's honestly just that all my favorite pieces happen to be black, white and gray, and my wardrobe has expanded around that. So I had kind of already been doing this monochrome thing, and I was really inspired by the simplistic elegance of Scandinavian style. There's no need for ostentation - just do your shit, and do it well. 

And yet as I also mentioned in a previous post, I've really felt a passionate rekindling for my #menswear love these days. What I love about menswear is the attention to the cheeky little details - showing some excessive ankle, the playful exuberance of patent leather brogues (with a contrast sole to boot!), the hidden monograms. Traditionally, menswear and suiting are quite staid, and so I love that #menswear manages to be silly within those parameters. 

I think those details play really well with simple monochromatic outfits - you get this very clean look, but if you take the time to look at the details, there's just a little wink. In this fit particularly, that wink is more of a nudge: the badly rolled sleeves and the jacket around the waist, the too-large belt - they're all very youthful, very tomboy, and so you get these very serious colors and serious shoes becoming something completely different.

Thrown Together: One of the problems with growing up being a really poor dresser is that it created this deep seated fear within me of being sloppy - historically, I've shied away a ton from grungy looks because I was pretty terrified of doing them incorrectly and just looking like shit. So it was kind of a landmark moment for me when I pulled those torn-to-shreds shorts out of my drawer one day - they're Abercrombie Kids, I've had them since I was 14, and I stopped wearing them like 4 years ago. I actually have no idea why I still own them, but I'm glad I do. 

Lately I've gotten really into being a little bit playful with my clothing - I mean, as stated above, right? This is such an ideal late summer look to me. The white shorts, the oversized men's tee, the leather jacket - they're all things that I can honestly say, for once, "Oh, this? I just threw this on." Who cares anymore, you know? It's New York. Where whatever the hell you want, no one's looking. (Just kidding, yes we are.) Adding the leather jacket honestly was a matter of function, but now it's an important detail to me - I've always used this jacket as the black blazer I don't own, so it was cool to take something too simple and casual and clean, and add something with, you know, at least lapels and a collar. It's still really simple and clean, but there's something about it that just works without trying to work. That's what I want. 

The hat, it's ridiculous, I haven't decided how I feel about it. I'm open to opinions on this one. But the thinking was that it kind of adds to the playfulness. Again it's a menswear element, and just a silly little flamboyant detail in an otherwise very non-descript outfit. 

This also comes at a very (oh god I am rolling my own eyes so hard at what I'm about to say) at a very feminist point in my life, okay, where I just want to wear whatever shorts and no bra and be super comfortable with my body because fuck you, I love it, so, you know. Which transitions us well into...

Fuck Flattering: I'm not going to pretend I made up that phrase because I definitely did not. This isn't the best picture to show it, but those pants are a loose black cotton trouser that taper just slightly at the knee and again at the ankle. The result is a drapey (lol fashion buzzwords) black pant that does absolutely nothing for me, and I really enjoy that. 

Historically I've followed the well-prescribed formula of tight top/loose bottom and vice versa, but this was one of the first times I've gone for a drapey, oversized-tee on top in addition to a loose pant. The result is something very casual and yet somehow elegant. The front of the tee dips quite low, and that lets the outfit be still very sensual, although not sexual. There's a certain ease of movement here as well that lets the body speak for itself.

Because ultimately I'm not getting dressed to make my body look like someone else's ideal body, you know? It already is ideal, for me. Clothing for me is about aesthetic far more than it is about sexuality, although I love dressing in a way celebrates the body but does not hide it. I think the intersection where you get very cheap, ohmygod I am not shaming other women I swear, but trying to force your body into someone else's image of sexuality with your clothing can often go awry. Maybe someday this will become an entire post, maybe should shut up and stop copying Man Repeller, I don't know. 

Anyways. Your early Fall 2014, ladies and gentleman. 

Essay/On Minimalism

               

                               Avec mes mecs Tom et Daniel, en noir et blanc 

So this one starts with a little characteristic misanthropy. Then it gets honest. Then it goes back to misanthropy. 

I feel like everyone's so into minimalism right now. Generally in fashion, minimalism can refer to a few things: minimalism of aesthetic, for example, is definitely a thing right now - muted color, simple pieces, visual interest arriving from structure as opposed to color or pattern, everyone in Sweden. But even more powerful right now is wardrobe minimalism. Have you noticed this? Like on the Internet - tumblr and Pinterest and every goddamn blog, everyone's all about minimalism. I think it started picking up steam about two years ago with the five-piece-per-season "French Wardrobe" (ask me how ridiculous I think that name is, please). And then from there it branched out into, what? Capsule wardrobes, "30 pieces for 30 days" challenges, "curation", I don't even know what else. Fucking fashion magazines have us all going out and buying more things so that we can simplify and pair down our wardrobes into like 15 perfect pieces. 

What is happening to you, America? We are the land of the free! Capitalism! Buy more things, damn it! 

Okay, but seriously, I get it. No, I really do. First of all, let me eliminate any accusations of hypocrisy and say that "minimalism" appeals to me in a really big way. 

I'm a perfectionist. I would rather have one perfect, ideal white t-shirt than five less-than-perfect ones. I've been on the hunt for that t-shirt all my life, and I will pay exorbitant prices to get it once I find it. (I suspect it may be Alexander Wang). Further, I also understand having limited space in your apartment, or traveling a lot, or being on a budget and wanting a wardrobe that just works, or whatever. Go you, man. Fuck, I fully and totally respect the feeling of wanting to be simply your life, and be free from your shit, and have clothes that just perform their functions - whatever they may be - without interfering in your life. I am on that ship with you, man. I am flying your flag. 

I don't know though. I kind of think there's more to it than that. This whole "minimalism" thing has caught steam in such a big way. Obviously there are political, economic, and social appeals to minimalism, too. Buying few quality items rather than hundreds of pieces alleviates a lot of the social strain and economic division of the current fast-fashion market. It's better for the environment. It's a political rejection of consumerism. Personally I'm inclined to believe there's more of a social phenomenon behind it. 

When I packed for that trip I took this summer, I totally bought into that whole minimalism thing. I think it was a bit of romantic notion on my part - traveling solo around the world with nothing but a carry-on suitcase. I carefully planned my wardrobe down to the tiniest detail - it was something I felt like I'd had years of practice for, having had so many articles about cohesion and color planning and versatility trained into my thoughts. And when I got on the plane, I was a little proud of what I'd done. There's this weird idiosyncrasy I've had since I was really little, in which I really hate carrying multiple things, but I feel lost without a single bag on me at all times, carrying all the essentials. Like in case we need to get up and go, you know? Where, I don't know, but there was something so freeing about feeling like I had everything in the world I needed with me. 

It's funny though, because there still somehow managed to be things that I never wore - I mean literally, never, even though I ended up in about every temperature and formality range I could've imagined. And by the time I got to my last destination, I was so sick of that fucking suitcase, there was a little bit of the "call of the wild" going on every time I left another country - dump everything, put jeans and a t-shirt and some clean underwear in my handbag, and run away. It was this very weird personal state where the only actual constant was myself, and I can do myself in black jeans and a silk popover every day for the rest of my life, so fuck the rest of it. I don't need any other identities, I don't need any other clothes, throw away all the baggage, literal and metaphorical.

Also, just fuck trains, fuck carrying that heavy thing around for two months, and bless all those random people that sprang to my aid when I couldn't lift it. That might've been most of it. 

What's even funnier is that since I've been back stateside, my life has calmed into, if not predictability, then at least consistency. And oh shit, what do you know? I've found myself buying a ton of clothes. It's definitely not boredom and, honestly, I'm really, deeply happy right now. So although I am totally a stress-shopper, this time, I can't say it's filling any kind of ~tragic emotional void~.

I'm not really a fan of consistency though. This is New York. This is the city of constant motion and constant consumption. I want the next thing. So there's so much more temptation to experiment. I can't imagine a minimalist wardrobe right now. I need room to move personally, because right now, I don't have it literally. Last night I bought a marinière. This brings my count up to three. But I don't have one in red and white stripes yet! 

Fuck simplicity! Let's consume! I buy, therefore I am! 

Why are we all so into minimalism, you guys? I'm not sharing my personal anecdote to suggest that every one of us craves simplicity because we have escapist fantasies. Or that we buy because we want to play with our identities. Everyone's after different shit. But what if we aren't?

But really, to what extent do you guys think minimalism is an escape, an opting-out from the constant social pressure of display, of self definition? Because it smells to me suspiciously like by narrowing things down, by simplifying, we're deciding to remove ourselves from the constant pressure of redefinition and recreation. You know? It's constant, it's consistent. And given that the great majority of the trend seems to be taking place among an age group, and in an era, who clearly remember life immediately post 2008, it seems like it's a chance to reject this capitalist pressure to consume, to be constantly redefined by our things.

Why are we all bragging about it, trying to achieve it, and shaming ourselves for not doing so?

Here's my minimalism trend theory: I think that we all have a ton of choice. The post-modern world is a constant affirmation of possibility, and in that possibility, we lost meaning. That's been done to death, we all know this, no need to rehash it. We're all in this weird post-post-modern Internet world where every single one of us can scream our identities from the rooftops, and it's getting lost in the din and cacophony. We're everything and we're also nothing. We're commodity. Create yourself! But who fucking cares! 

And so I don't know, don't you think there's something kind of appealing about creating something honest and simple for ourselves? To look at our wardrobes and say okay, this is it. I am these things; these things are mine and they are me. This is self-branding, just like the Internet age has carefully taught us to do. We're still creating a self, an image. But this is at least calm. It's a consistent, quiet voice. It's refreshing. It's a pause in the constant motion. Oh god, let's just pause for two seconds and free ourselves from our shit and have our wardrobes just work. Let's be one person, with one identity. Let's do it in black and white, too. 

And then let's put it on our blogs. 

Inspiriation/Saturday Mornings

Don't you kind of want to hear a spout of random bullshit from someone still in bed at 1 pm on a Saturday? I know I do. Can we start with some tunes? 

First: Using espresso beans and brewing with barely any water does not espresso make, mother. 

(Just kidding, I love you, you're the coolest.)

Second: So sometimes, I'm kind of embarrassed to tell people that I have a fashion blog. Or that I "write about fashion." It's because I think many people have this certain image in their head of someone who's "into fashion" - polished, chic, perfectly well-coiffed and styled. And then there's me, and I'm wearing like, a five dollar men's white t-shirt from Uniqlo and J.Crew jeans. Also, I was probably wearing that last time you saw me, too. Also, I probably have mascara smeared under my eyes. I guess I could say "I totally know how to dress awesome but I just don't feel like it," which is essentially the truth, but that seems kind of humblebraggy and disingenous. Or just like, total bullshit. 

The truth is, though, that I dress the way I do for some pretty specific reasons. I'm looking for clothing that reflects my life, that works for the way that I live and the person I am. I'm not looking to mold myself into something else. I will never wake up more than 15 minutes before class and, except for those six months I was blonde, I could not give less of a fuck about my hair. But I also think a lot about clothing and identity. I try to reflect something really specific, really honest. Clothing is language, clothing is communication. And so I kind of wish I could just ask people to trust that I'm saying what I want to say.

In a lot of ways I think honesty of expression is far more important than say, style. Maybe I'll write a real, big kid post about this one day. But I think you can kind of compare clothing to art in that way, like if it says what it's trying to say, and you get it, is it successful? 

I need to go back to school because my abstract thinking skills are rusty. 

Third: Thursday evening, I accidentally - no seriously, accidentally - walked from my apartment on 60th St to Canal St. And then I went to McNally Jackson. And then I went to Brooklyn via Union Square. I haven't had a solid, buried-in-my-thoughts, solo walk like that since Paris. And holy shit, was it cathartic. Because you know, sometimes you want something, and you get it, and you don't even realize that you got what you wanted because you're too busy looking at the next thing: "What is happiness? It's a moment before you need more happiness," etc, etc. But sometimes you take a long walk and remember yourself a year ago, who did the same thing, this time last year. And you realize that what you wanted was to be someone, and you actually are that person and you have been for a long time, and you're going to keep going forward and keep getting better - maybe not always in a straight line, but eventually.

That's the first and last time I'll ever get that personal in this space, but there it is. Good shit. 

Fourth: Here's some stuff I'm loving right now. Seriously, am I the last person to know that Margaret Howell is amazing? 

Essay/Hashtag Menswear

                             Menswear inspired loafers, and a cat. 


Hi, okay, I'm reunited with my precious Macbook and we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming now. I'll skip the excuses because the excuses are laughable so let's hop to it.

So, menswear. Menswear, menswear, menswear. 

Oh Milan, you have rekindled my love for menswear.  

Definitely one of those words that looks ridiculous if you type it five or six times.

As I think I tend to repeat ad nauseum, I actually got into fashion through menswear (I am going to have to find another word for this soon). I used to be really obsessed with the idea that you could have a strict, prescriptive set of Things Required to Be Stylish - obviously completely misguided, but it was hella appealing. I promise, that's the last time I'm going to tell that story in this space. 

At the time I got into it, circa 2010, it wasn't merely men's clothing that was having a moment, but Menswear. #Menswear. The internet was at the forefront of this massive awakening in men's fashion - it was the birth of a sort of nouveau dandyism, a sort of very radical traditionalism, marked by a sudden interest in details. 

Mainstream American men's fashion, prior to about 2008 in major cities and 2011 everywhere else, was shaped by what I like to consider to be a very deeply rooted cultural emphasis on functionality and conservatism. People joke about cargo shorts now like they were some ridiculous collective nightmare we all faced, but it's misleading to pretend that any widespread stylistic choice isn't the expression of a social value. Cargo shorts weren't "ugly because no one cared" - they were stylish because they were functional, because early 2000's fashion in general was having a sort of pseudo-preppy, staid moment.

Things were weirdly conservative, man. It seems so far away now, but there was a time less than ten years ago when a straight man that was interested in fashion was labeled a metrosexual - because there were "straight male" norms and there were "gay male" norms and if you stepped outside of those gender boxes even a little bit, say, to express preference for cashmere, we needed a separate word for you.  

And then, I don't even know what happened to be honest, but something actually quite radical - suddenly people stopped caring about stepping outside of that gender box. Suddenly it was cool to be interested in fashion, and not just fashion, but suiting in particular. It wasn't just men's clothing, it was #menswear - an entire Internet Thing marked by an emphasis on traditional tailoring, on details, on like, cashmere socks in contrasting colors. And that's why I'm calling it a nouveau-dandyism - because it was a rejection of these bougie ideals and these deep-seated gender roles. It was traditionalism, and it was super radical. 

But things reach saturation, you know? There were always be people interested in traditional suiting and I don't intend to suggest that the fashion world has forgotten all about it, but the mega-popularity - the hashtag menswear - has kind of died down a bit. People are equating dressing up with dressing well less and less. There's almost a sense that suiting is an entry point into fashion, that the avant-garde stuff is where the real fashion is, and all that other stuff is just basics. 

Man, I forgot, too. I forgot how cool and radical the whole thing actually was. 

Milan, though.

I'm going to be honest, I've always been vaguely aware of the history of suiting and menswear in Milan - like, I was enough of a menswear nerd that you couldn't not be aware of it. I knew it was a part of the sartorial tradition of the city, and before I left, I did a little research into the history. But like I said, I've distanced myself a lot from that particular corner of fashion history, so I'm far from an expert on what the scene is like there now. I did keep my eyes open though.

I don't know that you can actually refer to it as #menswear, because as far as I know it exists far outside the whole Internet phenomenon, but that's essentially what it resembles. Or what #menswear resembled. You get what I mean. 

I was coming to Milan from Stockholm, the land of minimalism and monochrome and simplicity. It's quiet and calm but never boring or conservative - just perfectly balanced. And I'd really, really loved it. So I was sort of taken back when I arrived in Milan and saw bold color, and texture, and a little flamboyant detail everywhere and found myself remembering what drew me to menswear in the first place. 

Windowpane blazers? Yes please. Patent loafers, sans chaussettes? Oui, s'il vous plait. Goddamn ascots? Sign me the fuck up. 

To put into words what I love so much about it - there's something so charming about having fun with your clothing. It's taking this very conservative, formal clothing piece and enjoying it. It's a reflection of tradition, no doubt. And yet it's also very individual and free, very unabashed. There's something so refreshing and almost bold, these days, about getting dressed and being a little over the top. No need for pretensions of minimalism and simplicity, no need to tell ourselves that we shouldn't take clothing seriously, or that we're moving towards some future fashion utopia in which everything will be better. "You're damn right, these shoes are alligator." 

I think my interest in menswear for women was always a little different - like I said in my tomboy post, there's something a little rebellious and rakish about a women in men's clothing - but I don't know, maybe that's changed now too. My style is also a lot more feminine now than it ever used to be, but I can see myself incorporating some of those ideas into my everyday wear.

I think it kind of hits on something else I've been really feeling lately (which will probably become its own post eventually) - essentially what it boils down to is "fuck trying to be cool." You know? Like as much as I'm always drawn to new and interesting silhouettes, to experimenting with my clothing, to being on the forefront of things - I don't know. I'm also really over trying to keep up with things. "Cool" is still rules, just different rules. So yeah, I'm still gonna lust after Nike high tops, but I'm also going to wear my patent brogues, and I'm going to enjoy it, damn it. 

Essay/French Style, or Not

Let's get one thing out of the way: don't buy an iPad for blogging unless you like browser crashes. So that's where I've been. Oh, I guess also having fun in Paris, and stuff ;) 

In the past few weeks I've been doing a lot of careful observation of Parisian girls and their clothes. American girls, I think, have this really long and interesting history of fascination with our French counterparts - particularly when it comes to fashion. There's a century old trope of the stylish Parisian - oh sure, it waxes and wanes, and what exactly we like about her changes with the current "look" in Vogue - but there is always this suggestion of an effortless yet impossible elegance, a certain "je ne sais quoi" that I think American culture finds fascinating. It starts for little girls with prints of women in pink dresses next to the Eiffel Tower in our bedrooms and continues through our teenage years with reblogged images of Jane Birkin and lands us in adulthood with books like "Bringing Up Bebe" flying off the shelves, a constant attempt to somehow harness this mysterious ease. 

Search "French girl style" on the internet and you'll find a myriad of books and blog posts describing just how you, too, can achieve the non-chalant, devil-may-care elegance that every single Parisian girl supposedly has. There were times when I totally got sucked in - I mean I'm like the Queen Mother of Starry Eyed Francophilia, let's be honest - but mostly, I've been ready to call bullshit. And so I've been paying very close attention - how much truth is there to the myth, and what exactly is it that's so appealing to the American gaze? 

To be clear: my intention here is not to prove that the French aren't as great as we think we are/"Americans are just as great!" or any nonsense like that. Make no mistake - Paris is an absolutely killer city for fashion, and a great majority of the people here are fucking killing it. What I want to know, though, if it warrants this insane cultural thing in which Americans paint French girls as mythical unicorns of style, and why that might be in the first place. It's not French style that I'm calling bullshit on - it's the American fetishization and reductionism. 

I had - I still have - very mixed feelings about the glorification of "French style." On one hand, in many European countries there is definitely a distinct cultural value placed on looking presentable that simply doesn't exist in the US. No one's suggesting you wear a suit and tie or dress every day, but it's considered a mark of politness and respect for others to at least trade the sweatpants for jeans before you leave the house. Further, France definitely has a very long and distinct history of garment dcsign and construction, and I don't intend to minimalize that. Certainly, many people dress well, and certainly there are things I think many people could learn - but I think that basically ends at "don't leave the house in sweatpants." 

On the other hand, to suggest that there's some uniform "French style" is simplistic at best and, at worst, smells a little classist and narrow. Saying that every French girl is wearing a scarf and a blazer at all times is a bit like walking into an Upper East Side restaurant, seeing a girl in a Lilly Pulitzer dress, and declaring that you've found the key to "American" style. You can see how much that eliminates right off the bat - the contributions of, you know, the other 95% of the population. It's really weird to me that we can so easily narrow a country that's really incredibly cosmopolitan and diverse - if you wouldn't do it to New York, why would you do it to Paris? 

So, okay, before we jump into the philisophical navel gazing, let's discuss what the landscape actually looks like, shall we? And let me disclose that my sample was pretty diverse but leans heavily towards people in their mid-twenties, perhaps slightly a little more Williamsburg than Bushwick but definitely not Park Slope - do you see what I'm getting at here? Trendy but not really starving artist but definitely not Yuppie, although certainly representatives from all three. 

Okay, here it is: there are a few things that stand out as particularly different, but for the most part, I think there's no real seperation from major American cities like New York or LA. I can definitely tell you there's a huge seperation from how people dress in Buffalo - (sorry guys, I love you but you know it's true) - but honestly, with the exception of dudes wearing scarves it's all pretty much the same. You've got your young Bugaboo pushing mommies in blazers and ballet flats and you've got your girls in blazers and boyfriend jeans and your summer dresses and your cutoff shorts, etc, etc, etc. The gang's all here. 

It was kind of weird, actually. I was in a bar a few weeks ago with an American friend - we were speaking English and the DJ was loud enough that you couldn't really hear anyone else. I was looking around at people's outfits, admiring this girl's denim jacket and wishing I'd had room to pack mine. The music stopped and I had this weird moment of shock that the people around me were speaking French - In my reverie, I'd actually completely forgotten I wasn't in Brooklyn. 

One of the things about this American glorification of French style is that it created this set of myths about how French women supposedly dress that I think we all know are kind of ridiculous but are somehow constantly repeated as fact. Like, "French women don't wear sneakers." In fact I'm pretty sure 99.5% of French girls aged 18 -24 are currently wearing those Nike high tops with the velcro, you know the ones. Or, "If you wear jeans you'll look like a tourist!" Which, what? Because right now, outside my window, I can't actually find one person who isn't wearing denim. It's like, where is this stuff even coming from? Why are we spreading it around like it's undeniable fact? 

There are a few distinctions - hardly universal, but noticable nontheless - and here they are, for women in my age range and general demographic. Obviously, these don't apply to every woman or even most women. However! Your look is generally less "finished," that is to say, hair can be a little unbrushed and natural texture is generally embraced. Makeup definitely tends to be a little more natural and simplistic - "No Makeup Makeup" or just literally no make up. Think more Alexa Chung and less "southern sorority cliche." Dressing up is not equated with dressing well, i.e no need to change out of the jeans and tee-shirt you wore today for the party tonight, as long as they're stylish (and clean). I would say outfits tend to be slightly less "matching" and more "complementary". Like I said, there is no mythic "French style" - really anything goes. 

What you don't see is athletic wear worn casually (no Lululemon yoga pants or leggings for shopping, generally not athletic sneakers unless they're Frees), or really casual clothing worn in public (oversized hoodies, pajama pants, sweats, you get the idea) - jeans and a sweater are totally just as comfortable. You also see a little less fast fashion "trend salad" - i.e navajo print or neon but not both. 

Sidebar: If your concern is "not looking like a tourist" - totally fair, especially for safety reasons - I'd say 1) Tourists generally look like tourists no matter where they're from, just by privledge of who they travel with and overall demeanor, it is not the end of the world to look like one, relax; 2) You are probably not the person wearing pajama pants to dinner in the first place, so what you wear normally is probably fine; 3) Wake up in the morning and do your best to dress like you respect the city you're in and you will blend in perfectly well, I promise. 

Moving on! 

So what is it, exactly, that makes all of this so appealing to the American imagination? I can't speak for the general cultural values that Americans ascribe to the French, but I can speak for the style.

Like I said above, I think what appeals to us about this supposed "French Style" changes pretty consistently - right now, we love the "devil-may-care" non chalance, and in years previously, it's been the unabashedly feminine and put-together elegance. It's almost as if we look at French women as an idealized version of ourselves - thinner, trendier, classier. If right now, the cool thing is tomboy-ish Alexa Chung (who, for the record, is not French) in a moto jacket and destroyed denim, then obviously that's what all the French girls are wearing. In five years, they'll all be wearing long skirts and marieneres and ballet flats - supposedly.

To give credit where credit is very much due, I think, part of the idealization comes from the fact that if you took a 10 random girls from the street in a small city in France and 10 from a small city in the U.S, maybe 7 of the French girls would be "well dressed" - whatever that even means - and maybe 5 of the American girls would be - I'm leaving out big cities for obvious reasons. And I think this is because many Americans are raised to equate dressing up with dressing well - we know how to look nice when it's time to look nice, but we're also rebellious and fiercly individual and independent. There's no strong cultural emphasis on looking nice as a sign of respect - oh sure, at a nice restaurant, we bring it home. And although there are obviously a great majority of us who like to "look nice," in whatever way that means to us an individual, I think when it comes down to the runs to the grocery store, we consider it a personal choice to "look nice"  - "I look good when I wanna look good."

I get the impression that's different here on the continent, and so if I really had to take a guess, I'd say you're seeing the result of people who are geeeenerally more dressed up and have, ever so slightly, more experience with just putting themselves together. What I'm saying is, I think in the U.S there are wider extremes of being "dressed," whereas in Europe it tends to be a little more evenly-keeled. 

Then there's the very long history of American idealization - almost fetization - of French style, likely dating back to past centuries when America had yet to find its cultural foothold and we turned towards everything "continental" for matters of aesthetic. And I think a lot of that still resides in the American psyche, in the form of a very weird tension. America is the land of freedom! and independence! and adventure! but Europe is the land of class and refinement and civilization. I think there are plenty of people who will strongly take alliance to one side of this myth - let me present, as totally professional evidence, the reaction of Will Ferrel's character in Taladega Nights to the French race car driver. But there are the people who rest somewhere in the middle, and so you can see why it's easy to sell something Americans by labelling it "European" - I think, deeply rooted in the American psyche, there's a tiny little voice that suggests that the key to being stylish- or even, honestly "cultured" at all - is to be European. And thus, French girls. 

I mean, no one is entirely pulling all of this out of thin air - like I said, the slightly disheveled look that Madewell is selling us hard right now is totally a thing here. But it goes both ways. I think many Europeans have a similar tiny little voice in their psyche that suggest that to experience innovation is to be American - although I'm not European (YET!) so I'm not going to pretend to know. 

Myth or reality aside, I leave you with this: this a city with a really high population of girls on motorbikes who are seriously just unbelievably cool as fuck, so whether or not there's really any basis to the American idealization, we can all agree that they're winning that one. 

Inspriation/Summer 2014 Inspo

Warning: I suck at Blogger, so this post is super, um, long. 

Something I do when I have a really gross excess of free time and a creative itch is create inspiration collections for the aesthetic I'm kind of interested in, or for just things I'm really feeling that season or period of my life. I usually use Pinterest for visuals, but I'll also usually have an iTunes playlist and all of the files collected together in a folder. They cover everything from clothing to "lifestyle" to just images I'm really liking. It's probably super nerdy, but it's also ridiculously fun. Honestly it's so hodge podge and personal and incoherent that I doubt it makes any real sense, so I don't know, whatever. It's fun, so, you know. Here's mine for this summer. 

This year's motifs: Adventure, duh. Also, a more muted color palette: navy, cream, gray. Drawing images from nature. Celebration of the body - immodest in the sense that you're showing a lot of unabashed skin, but modest in the sense that it's more sensual than sexual. More relaxed fits, all very soft and calm, but definitely still that element of #menswear I'll never grow out of. Clothing that embraces that ease of movement and playfulness I've talked about in the tomboy post - again, adventuring clothes, but somehow quieter.