You asked, here it is: another installment of Lesson in Layering. During the last round, copious different prints were a focal point. Today, we look to only one print and in the true spirit of our values, aim to exploit the shit out of it. First there was a small cheers to suede, then there was leather, an important post to recall as the use of skirt over pant was evidently being implemented before–and some may argue after–its time, then came a look at layers of denim and that was weird but I made the executive decision to let it go live nonetheless. And now, we have plaid. Loads of it.
You’re offended, I get it, this is an unusual photos to look at for me too. Important though, figure this: the starting point features Man Repeller clenched against the corner of two walls. Sure, it’s a plaid skirt, it’s a plaid blouse, but ultimately, it’s…nothing. The opposite of fashion’s everything indeed.
And so the layering process begins. Alas, you guessed it, another look at layering skirts. Last time I used this guy to emulate a certain Liv Tyler, an onlooker asked what prep school I went to. The Brittany Spears sentiment attached halted my wearing of the skirt. But then I layered it, so, morale is high.
Two plaid shirts in the same color scheme: not a happy accident. Pretty strategic, actually. Now, leg pops up against wall a la Danny Zuko and copious plaid strategically placed a la Kurt Cobain. Intense facial expression does not yet relieve the mouth nor does it explain whatever my eyebrows and lids are doing. Let’s move forward.
Behold, layer five. That’s three plaid uptop, two plaid down below. But now, where most people stop, we ask the inevitable question: what can we do to make this more offensive? –This is a question you should ask yourself with but every layer you pile on. It ultimately ain’t over ’til your Joey Tribiani moment.
Eureka! Socks and sandals, of course. Here’s to a pair of Miu Miu shoes that unintentionally stand the test of plaid blocking paired with a pair of Synagogue socks–yes, I went there–taken from an undergarment drawer in my sixteen-year-old brother’s room. And that’s it, that’s the whole thing.