There is no experience so profound as identifying a new face on the street style circuit and subsequently pledging allegiance to his or her mode of dress.
An element of very welcome discomfort washes over you as you observe this new face wear a double breasted poplin dress — neither branded nor too-dressy — that is striped in red, white and blue and looks not at all like a walking promotion for the vaguely imminent presidential elections so much as she does the most compelling case for using toothpaste as a style icon to aspire toward.
Then there is also the question of how long you must wait for your eyesight to depreciate in order to approximate both the thick rimmed eye glasses and wire frame aviators so endemic to her style, which perfectly compliment a pair of brocade Dries Van Noten boots that you thought were a myth and prompted a goose hunt across New York City once you realized they were not so that you too could call them your own.
And those varying tonal shades of barely-worth-mentioning white! Or is it earth? What must I do in order to wear a sand-colored linen blouse with a dove gray trench coat and white culottes without looking like a millennial cross between Morticia Addams (as in, dead) and this one gym teacher, a failed artist, that I had in high school?
Speaking of culottes, there’s another pair that’s striped! And it’s cleverly paired with alternatively striped slides. WHERE DO YOU BUY YOUR STUFF?
Can’t I be that girl?
But see, nothing feels as satisfying as realizing, once you’ve finally addressed with her the vaguely creepy circumstance at hand (you’ve had your photographer style-stalking her all week), that she maintains an English accent, does not work in fashion (she’s a gallery director, of course!) and agrees with you, absolutely, that toothpaste-chic trumps designer anything.
By a landslide.