The Fashionista Files (10 page)

IT’S ALL IN YOUR HEAD

The opportunity to add
more
clothing to any outfit is always welcome in the fashionista mind-set; therefore, fashionistas are staunch proponents of headgear. Especially since hats are a difficult accessory to pull off; fashionistas can’t resist a challenge. Some people should never wear hats. They look silly and pretentious. Fashionistas don’t mind looking pretentious (sometimes you can’t help it if you’re a fashionista), but looking silly is fashionista death. Therefore, hats are for varsity-level fashionistas only. If you must indulge, which of course, you must, here are some of the hats that will keep your head warm and your style impeccable.

The Mad Hatter
MELISSA

I saw it in the shop window of Barneys: an oversize black top hat made of velvety mink fur. I fell in love, and walked into the shop in a daze. Sometimes things just come out of the ether and you realize what you’ve been missing all along. For me, it was like that— when I saw it, I knew:
big hat!
My life was missing a big hat! How did I ever get dressed and walk out the door before this?

Once I put that big furry hat on my head, I never wanted to take it off. It was just the thing to wear with a slim, vintage leather coat that I was working all season. (You can never wear fur headgear with fur or chubby jackets—keep the line slim at all times, and make the large hat the exclamation part of the outfit.)

“Do you want this wrapped up?” the salesclerk asked.

“Nah! I’ll just walk out with it,” I told her. I went home, hugging the huge hatbox and feeling extremely giddy. New Yorkers don’t normally smile at other New Yorkers; we are a breed that likes to keep to ourselves. But somehow, my joy and the sight of the fur hat were infectious. I got comments like “Cute hat!” and “Cool hat!” and “Awesome hat!” all the way from Madison Avenue to Carmine Street in the West Village, where I lived at the time.

My hat even got the highest regard that I could think of. I wore it to Flamingo East’s Wednesday-night “salon,” a nightclub frequented by my coterie of gay friends and several high-profile gays. The designer Marc Jacobs was lounging in the center sofa (the “it” table where you could see everyone), and as I walked by, I felt the weight of his stare as he looked straight at me.

“That is a fucking amazing hat!” he said.

I was too thrilled even to squeak a thank-you.

Fashionista Headgear

Fuzzy wool cap—Preferably knitted and in a shocking color. Ear flaps are cute. But caps with actual “ears” sewn in are a little too cute. You’re a fashionista, not a fourteen-year-old. If you are fourteen and a fashionista, go right ahead!

On Mel (left), corded suede newsboy by Eugenia Kim; on Karen (right), leather driving cap by Marc Jacobs

Newsboy—Similar to a driving cap, but a bit fuller on top with a larger brim. Wear with a long ponytail or slightly tilted to the side with wild, sexy hair.

On Karen (left), red pinstripe Philip Treacy bucket-fedora combo; on Mel (right), cowhide cowboy hat by Amy Chan

Fedora—A classic topper. Never wear with a trench coat (too Humphrey Bogart and not the look you’re going after). Pair with slinky black jumpsuits or your too-dark superlong jeans.

Beret—Monica Lewinsky gave these a bad name, but berets, brimless wonders worn tilted to the side of the head, are very charming ... and Parisian.

Walk on the wild side with something bold that makes everyone stop and stare. Warning: Requires confidence.

Fur—Fashionistas never pass up the chance to wear fur-trimmed or fur anything. The larger and furrier the hat, the more fashionista. Wear with slim leather jackets. Never with your fur chubby. Otherwise you’ll look like a muppet. Beware of tofu-tossing activists.

Extra Touches

Other things to add to your accessory collection:

Gloves, be it driving or opera.

Scarves for braving the cold front and giving a French flair to whatever you wear.

Strands of pearls of varying lengths.

Lots of earrings, including chandelier and hoop.

Cocktail rings.

Cameo from Grandma.

Brooches, to add to hats, to close jackets, to doll up the hip-bone area of jeans. Get one that doubles as a pendant.

Classic belt. Hermès is ideal.

Hip-hugging belt, worn not to hold up your pants, but to give oomph to low-slung pants, jumpsuits, shirt dresses, oversize shirts, and slinky dresses.

THRIFTY WOMEN: SOME THINGS ARE BETTER THE SECOND TIME AROUND

What’s Old Is What’s New
KAREN

I believe in reincarnation. Our souls live one life in one body and another and another and another, each time around learning new lessons, projecting new identities. The same goes for clothes. I look at vintage clothes with a vision. I don’t see it for what it is (or was). I see it for what it can be. When my mother gave me a hanging bag of her honeymoon trousseau (the new threads you get for the first romantic vacation a couple takes as husband and wife), all of which evoke the spirit of the late sixties; blouses from the seventies and eighties; and her luscious mink coat from the early eighties, I was in awe. Such a gift! If those threads could talk! They were full of a youthful energy of the younger version of my mother, who was a lot like I am now. Having her pass on her most special pieces—then splurges from a store called Mademoiselle in Bayonne, New Jersey, and Westfield, New Jersey—was a way of sharing memories, a piece of her life from an earlier day, a part of herself.

The fabric! The stitching! The details! While nothing was from a noteworthy designer, it was all so flawlessly unique, meticulously crafted, and very Jackie O. There was a pink-gold-and-silver-patterned cropped sleeve, A-line mock-turtleneck brocade dress with thick Lurex threading and heavily jeweled embellishment that was $300, a fortune at the time; a cream ornate floral lace sleeveless A-line mock-turtleneck dress with a pink bow behind the neck, which stood perfectly straight up due to intense boning; a white A-LINE (she was obviously very into A-line silhouettes) tank dress with silver Lurex zigzag horizontal stripes and a matching three-quarter-sleeve knee-length swing coat with a crystal-studded ball attached to the zipper; and a simple white shantung silk A-line knee-length dress with lace sleeves. Extraordinary. But not very wearable.

The dresses hung in my closet for years. My friend Sally wore one once to a sixties theme party. But other than that, they got no play. Until I heard of Guillermo Couture, an alterations wizard, who has his own collection and can apparently knock off anything from any designer to a T (all you have to do is show him a picture from a magazine). Well, I brought the pink and lace dresses to him to see what we could come up with. We chatted about what we could transform them into. The pink could be a short bolero jacket and matching skirt (kind of Prada-y from spring/summer 2003). After a few sketches, we decided to turn the pink into a mod evening coat, the kind of thing I could wear with sexy dresses at night or jeans and a tank top. As for the lace frock, I wanted something sexy. Maybe even backless. He turned it into a feminine scoop-neck, open-backed tank dress. The original bow from behind the neck is now above the bum. It reminded me of something you’d see on the Valentino runway.

So taken was I with my new creations, I went through my closet to find more things I could make over. I brought him old A-LINE skirts, which he tapered into pencil skirts. Next, he’s getting a green Gucci beaded top that I never wore (you’ll read about that in the shopping chapter next, entitled “Really, I shouldn’t have!”). I’m pretty sure he can shorten it from the top so there would be more width over my chest and then rescoop out the neckline. His sister is said to be a master beader.

Mom’s giant mink coat went to Anne Dee Goldin, a furrier who has designed for Karl Lagerfeld. The mink, she thought, was in mint condition. But to modernize it, she suggested shearing it. The shape of the coat, however, was a different story. It was very oversized—huge shoulders, a wide, full bodice. Totally overpowering for my frame. I had a number of choices, as there was a lot of material to work with. A short chubby—and make the remainder a hat, scarf, and pillow; a peacoat; a straight long jacket; a poncho. After trying on dozens of styles from her vault, we came up with a sharp design: a mid-thigh-length bathrobe style with a dramatic pseudo-hood collar and a sash. With that, she took my measurements, and two weeks later I came in for a fitting in muslin, a canvaslike fabric, in order to make sure the pattern was right. It was.

A week later my coat was ready. Sheared, the fur had a fresh, sumptuous feel—like smooth liquid butter. The color, once chocolate, was lighter and richer. And the fit—like a glove. It is the most perfect custom jacket I could imagine. I get compliments on it wherever I go. And then came Mom’s old shirts. I brought them to Guillermo, who cinched one at the waist, trimmed another, shortened a third. And just like that I had a new wardrobe of reinvented vintage, better than anything I could buy new or find on a thrift store rack. The best part: When I wear them, it’s like my mom is with me. She’s proud of what her old clothes have become. And we both wonder what my (future) daughter (if I have one) will do to give them a whole new life—again.

I’m sure they were great in the ’60s, but they’re not now.

Now it’s fitted, backless, and that constraining turtleneck is gone.

Guillermo puts the finishing touches on my fabulous new evening coat.

Scavenger Hunt: What to Look for
When It Comes to Secondhand Clothes

White and ivory ruffled blouses with puffed sleeves from the Victorian (1890s) era. Wear with distressed jeans you already own. So Chloë Sevigny.

Black flapper dresses from the twenties. Wear to parties with a denim jacket à la Kate Moss.

Fur. Psychologically, it’s easier on the conscience to get an old fur rather than a new one. Besides, it’s a fraction of the price.

Belted dresses from the 1930s in voile prints, just like the ones Prada offered several years ago.

Mink stoles from the 1940s. How Greta Garbo!

Frothy 1950s prom dresses in pastel shades. Think Gwen Stefani and Marc Jacobs—the frothier and more many-tiered, the better. You can also have a tailor cut it to turn the bottom half into a fab skirt. Skip the embroidered sheath prom dresses from the same era; they are very matronly.

Vintage lingerie, such as slips, bustiers, camisoles, peignoirs, and bias-cut nightgowns from the 1930s, makes great evening wear. Who needs to buy a new dress when you can wear an old nightgown? Stella McCartney used to ravage thrift stores for antique lace lingerie to use for her collections. Be choosy and pick fabrics in great condition, in the most flattering colors. The look is reminiscent of Madonna in her “Express Yourself” heyday.

When buying vintage denim, beware of jeans that are too fussy—way too many buttons, rivets, and fancy stitching. These details are more frumpy than fashionista. Look for straight-leg Levi’s with the red label. So Sheryl Crow.

Vintage leather should be soft, thin, and well constructed. Fashionistas love leather in unusual colors rather than the typical black or brown.

Keep an eye out for Emilio Pucci’s psychedelic creations. The Italian designer turned out collections for swimwear, evening gowns, minidresses, halters, purses, skirts, pants, and lingerie. Jacqueline Susann was a Pucci fanatic, as was Marilyn Monroe, who was buried in her favorite Pucci. Make sure it’s authentic by looking for the Pucci signature repeated in the print. There’s a lot of pseudo-Pucci out there!

Quality Control!
Make Sure What You Buy Is in Good Condition

Check the lining. If the lining on a jacket is torn, it will be expensive to replace and not worth your while. Unless, of course, you love, love, love it.

Hold the garment up to the light. Is the fabric so threadbare it’s almost see-through? If so, leave it on the rack.

Check for stains. If you have a fabulous dry cleaner who can get red wine out of ivory lace dresses (can we have his number?), then you might be able to salvage it. However, if it’s a very dark grease stain, it might not come out, and you’re left with a fashion don’t.

Take a good, long whiff. If decades of body odor waft from the garment, no amount of dry cleaning will help it. Leave that stink at the store, where it belongs!

Never buy underwear at the thrift store. Slip dresses, fine. Underpants, no. But did we really have to tell you that?

Warning: Some designers licensed their name to everything, and while these items might carry brand names, they are actually very cheaply made and not fashionable at all. For instance, Pierre Cardin allowed his name to go on everything from sunglasses to umbrellas and ugly men’s ties. It’s very hard to find a real sixties piece. If it’s polyester and Pierre Cardin, don’t buy it. Halston is another one whose name was heavily licensed. Get a Halston original only if it’s a gorgeous dress.