What started as an uproar against my yeshiva education (where long skirts were mandatory and therefore short skirts were highly lucrative) turned into a nonsensical crime of passion in 2009 when I declared violent hate for, in addition to maxi skirts, pants. Why? I don’t know. I think I probably wrongly disseminated my feelings. Looking back, I just hated the way the button and zipper mannerism on jeans endemic to the early aughts made my thighs and FUPA look. But calling it high school’s fault likely seemed easier than blaming myself.
I remember wearing one tight, spandex cotton black American Apparel skirt nearly every day for a full two years. Two years. You name it, I paired it. Sweaters, linen blouses, tank tops, blazers, leather jackets. Tights. No tights. Heels. Ballet flats. I think I even layered two versions of the skirts – which I holstered in three colors. (Somehow, the white just didn’t do for me what the black did, though. I am not very good at wearing thongs and evidently, pant lines can become a nuisance).
By the time I was a senior in college and still stuck on an inexplicable reluctance to wear pants, my favoritism in the short skirt department shifted from tight to A-line, which kind of felt like the difference between Tara Reid and an ingenue. For the latter half of 2010, I would look like a feminine, naive cupcake with legs and arms.
It was when I graduated that something weird started to happen. Late into that summer, I began slipping deeper and deeper into pants that only got longer and longer as the fall season approached. Two years later, which leaves us right here, I can say with true conviction that over the last two winters, I’ve rotated approximately four pairs of pants and four pairs of pants only.
Yet here I find myself once again, highly craving the skater-style but more structured, girly mini skirts of my collegiate past. Blame it on a combination of really good street style, Zara, and the timid runway predictions of the imminent Fall/Winter and further distant Resort seasons, calling to mind a highly customized, deeply individual, decidedly fresher nod to the girl I was, melding with the one I am.
You know what?
All of it.
We’re probably just really, really, finally visibly back on the Clueless bandwagon.
Above you’ll find me pictured in a J.W. Anderson skirt that all but screams Cher Horowitz and an Alexander Wang white sweater from last S/S. The shoes are Rick Owens and here’s the beauty in that: if and when you can find yourself at the helm of a Yoox-fostered 80%-off-all-summer-inventory sale, you may be able to find the shoes that typically run for 4-digits-worth-0f-hard-cash at a very impressive $200. I know, it’s still money, but he makes the same shoes every season. They never get old. They never get boring. If ever there was any salt to be held up to the old adage, “buy now, wear forever,” it is right here.
In addition to what I’m wearing, you’ll also find a composite of skirts we love from the likes of Net-a-Porter, Nasty Gal, Shopbop, and Pixie Market. Click around, and let us know what you’re thinking. As in — cupcake: yay or nay?