I have a problem with white jeans. Not for what they are—which is bleached cotton cut into a pair of tubes and sewn together—but for what they represent. Because white jeans tend to be unforgiving. It takes a woman with healthy self-esteem to pull them off. Historically speaking, I have not been a woman with healthy self-esteem. Therefore, I have not been a woman who wears white jeans. And until recently, I felt a pang of spite every time I passed a woman who wore white jeans and looked great in them. The aversion is like a self-inflicted allergy: irritating, unpredictable in its emergence, and entirely my own fault.
It may also be universal. Every woman I know has a similar irrational intolerance for a particular item of clothing. Rompers, for example. Or kitten heels. Or sleeveless turtlenecks. Or peplums. Or empire waists. Or combat boots. Or whatever. It's the item that you tried on once as a teenager, and it looked so miserable that it still makes your skin crawl to think of it. The item that, when you see another woman looking great in it, injects you with petty, unfeminist feelings. None of this is reasonable, but neither is fashion. Which brings me to the runways this season.
Prada fall 2016
Getty Images
The runways were—what's the best way to say this? It's as though all the designers held a secret conference where they came up with a master list of the most difficult-to-wear items and then populated their fall runways exclusively with those items. There were oversize, rough-edged trench coats belted perilously high on the waist and tweedy menswear-inspired trousers that would seem to require at least 40 inches of leg to pull off (or on, as it were). There were fuzzy midcalf skirts. There was double-breasted everything. Miuccia Prada, who is the undisputed queen of challenging fashion, outdid herself with argyle tights and drop-shoulder jackets bearing fur sleeves, just in case any of us want our legs and arms to look four times as big as they are. Sheer madness, all of it.
It's as thought all the designers came up with a master list of the most difficult-to-wear items.
And yet if we know anything about designers, it's that their madness always has a method. While grappling with the fall forecast and its high-concept gear, I found myself turning to the French-born notion of jolie laide. That phrase—which Google helpfully translates as “pretty ugly”—refers to the unconventional glory of the not quite perfect. It's used to describe people, typically women, who sport an idiosyncratic, non-textbook beauty. The gorgeous lady with a gap tooth or a crooked nose or a slight asymmetry in her eyes (or all of the above)? She might qualify as jolie laide. Anjelica Huston is a commonly cited example. Jolie laide is the opposite of Barbie dolls and Kate Upton and Joan Smalls; it's Charlotte Gainsbourg and Daphne Groeneveld and Lady Gaga. Beauty icons are not jolie laide, but style icons often are. And in clothing terms, jolie laide might be exactly what has marched off the runway and into our lives for the brisker seasons ahead.
Anjelica Huston
WALTER McBRIDE/CORBIS VIA GETTY IMAGES
Sound intimidating? I thought so, too, until I realized that a bit of jolie laide fashion might be a relief after all the flesh-baring pageantry of summer. Gone are the sandals and off-the-shoulder sundresses of June. Gone are the crop tops and featherweight slip dresses of July. Come fall, nobody is mistaking your outerwear for underwear, unless you habitually fall asleep in a floor-length mustard velvet turtleneck dress. Best of all, you won't hear the phrase “body-con” for at least six months, guaranteed. See? You're breathing more deeply already.
4 denim styles that go beyond the basic blues:
Balenciaga fall 2016
Getty Images
Plus, the new fall clothes raise imaginative possibilities that crop tops can't touch. Can you see yourself draped in a tent-loose, pin-striped pantsuit? Or buttoned into a brocade tuxedo jacket with overstated shoulder pads and a matching necktie? Probably not, and that's the fun of it. Experimenting with new identities is one of the great privileges of getting dressed every day. Each time you open your closet, you're given a chance to shock your coworkers to pieces, startle your family to bits, and make your boyfriend or girlfriend question your sanity. Surely it's worth exercising that right every once in a while, if only to see the looks on their faces. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.
Proenza Schouler fall 2016
Getty Images
This doesn't mean you have to exchange your perennial fall staples (trench coat, cashmere V-neck in a tasteful neutral) for a rack of runway costumes. Baby steps in a quirky direction can be just as satisfying as giant leaps. If you're not ready to sport a statement pantsuit, you can try houndstooth trousers. If thigh-length leather jackets are a step too far, stick with a bomber. If full fur sleeves make you nervous (about your silhouette, about PETA, or about attracting stray wildlife), a coat with a faux-fur collar will accomplish the job. The only taboo is playing it safe. And once you discover the pleasures of being unpredictable, you might just find yourself strapping into that pantsuit after all.
A fashion alchemy was occurring before my eyes: I'd worn an outfit so wrong that it started looking right.
In my case, it was the white jeans that got me. After decades of avoidance, I woke up in a perverse mood one morning last year, opened my laptop, and, from bed, ordered a pair of Levi's 501s in a snowy selvedge. It seemed like the mature thing to do. If I could force myself to wear a pair of white jeans for even one day, I figured, it might have the effect of a vaccine, curing me of my spiteful thoughts and hypersensitivity for good. When the pants arrived, I let them sit in their plastic wrapping for a full weekend. On Monday, I forced myself to wear them to work. At 9:15 A.M., I got a compliment. By noon, I was passing reflective surfaces on purpose in order to clock myself in the pants. I didn't recognize the woman in the mirror, but I was starting to respect her style. In fact, a fashion alchemy was occurring before my eyes: I'd worn an outfit so wrong that it started looking right. By lunchtime, I'd ordered a second pair.
Now I wear them all the time. My favorite outfit—regardless of the season—consists of white jeans, white brogues, and a white silk shirt. I think it makes me look like a big, sexy glass of milk. If there's a lesson here, it's that our sartorial antipathies might be worth exploring for precisely the reasons they make us squirrelly and anxious. And the timing couldn't be better: This season offers more opportunities than ever to face your fashion allergies head-on. Or feet first. Or, you know, however you get dressed in the morning.
RELATED
0 Response to "A Case for Changing Up Your Style This Fall"
Post a Comment