Just be who you are, are who you be.
Man Repeller tells such a cohesive story this week! Jokes.
I am really excellent at contradicting myself. Forget what I inferred about a comment on dressing like a woman to become a stronger, more powerful one yesterday. Instead, take a cue from a. Charlie Chaplin (and an up-do cloaked by any hat, mine is red), b. Woody Allen (I don’t know why, short jeans? Have you seen his piece on Hypochondria? I think I’m an alarmist,) c. Mr. Peanut (umbrella cum cane) and then tie it all together with a. layers (I don’t know if you can see this but I am totally wearing two blazers. One is wool and one is silk–I am pretty sure that does not make the combination sha’atnez but you probably also don’t know what that means so I’m going to cancel this comment), and b. a pair of killer heels. When I say killer, though, I don’t mean, “damn, girl, those shoes are killer,” I mean more like, “damn girl, if you fall you will die, which makes your shoes quite literal killers.”
Or, you know, just be who you are.
Once you start clicking through the slideshow, you will see that yes, I have sideburns. They are the consequence of harboring the flocculent spirit of my mother’s Persian heritage and the downside too of bearing the light-wash (it’s just like denim, really) skin of my Turkish father’s forebears. Rich heritage is tricky when you’re expected to be a bald ass American, but I for one, like my bewhiskering heirlooms as they are. (Which is to say, growing from even the most unexpected follicles in my fingertips; fine, full disclosure, that is an ambitious dramatization).
Rag & Bone hat, 3.1. Phillip Lim striped blazer/blouse, Acne tuxedo jacket, Citizens of Humanity jeans, Stella McCartney heels, Calvin Klein white clutch and Delfina Delettrez earring which, I know, looks like a belly ring.