At this point, it is professedly deplorable that I’ve delivered the same, dated utterance so many times. “The test of true style rests in a woman’s ability to style a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt,” yadi, yadi, ya. Bla bla bla. But seriously–think about it. Driving 200 mph is fitting in a sports car and therefore expected. Maintaining that speed in a family sized sedan is notable and even though the car in question isn’t as appropriate a vehicle for the task, its incompatible form only makes it that much more remarkable.
Would you rather operate as the sedan keeping up at 200mph, or as the sports car, just doing what it’s supposed to do? I’m opting with the former and in what is either a testament to that or my eventual having to deep throat my foot because I have so comprehensively failed at my own abstraction, here are three different outfits cataloging three different scenarios, utilizing the same pair of light wash, ripped D-Squared jeans and a white Etoile Isabel Marant t-shirt.
In #1 which is actually #0, I wear the jeans alone with the t-shirt (sleeves rolled up, obviously) and a pair of prosaic-but-perfect nude Chloe mid heel single strap sandals. To avoid the risk of typecasting the most banal but simultaneously most wearable version of the looks, I will say that the scenario married to this one boasts an extensive breadth that starts and ends wherever you want it to.
In the real #1, I pair a pink blazer with the jeans and tee and a pair of red Brian Atwood sandals to riff on Valentine’s Day and love in general but then eat it, chew it, swallow it and throw it up in an attempt to strip it of a stigma that decrees that the Hallmark day and its mascot can’t be cool. If I had to pinpoint where this is most wearable, I’d say under most circumstances that beguilingly implement a “smart casual” dress code. (The jewelry is by Khai Khai).
In #2, I attempt to dust off my layering skillz and layer Blk Denim’s most sublime leather jacket (no, really, the leather feels like butter but is even better because it doesn’t taste like it nor is it even edible, so cholesterol is of minimal importance) over a denim shirt from American Apparel with the common denominators and add Nicholas Kirkwood’s SS12 sandals for Peter Pilotto to spruce it up the way, say, Lisa Eversman might when placing ornamental birds on a tote.
I’d probably wear this one out to dinner, on a casual week night, to a party, to visit my great grandmother in the hospital, to pick up organic apples, meet a realtor for coffee, etc.
In #3, I utilize the 90s as a pillar in spite of my reluctance to continue participating in nostalgia and a tie a navy blue shirt (from Uniqlo) around my waist the way, say Jordan Catalano may have–introducing several ironies (he’d probably never wear a mock rosary made with daisies, now would he?) and ultimately getting lost in a pair of chunky, heavy black flat lace up sandals that may well call themselves boots. I suppose I’d wear this one to battle.
The subsequent opportunities are, of course, endless–pair a peplum, several additional layers of shirt, a sweater, a coat, a sweater and a coat, seashells–heck, try drowning your white shirt in mouthwash to offer it a glistening turquoise glow. This should function as nothing more than the diving board that helps you spring into plentiful, chlorinated waters.