This really cool thing happens every winter in New York wherein we think this might actually be the season that we get away with a definitively mild stretch of weather until boom!
Last year, that boom was a 72-hour polar vortex and wind chill that debuted just in time for February fashion week. This year, the boom was a snow storm that no one saw coming immediately following a 60-degree February day. It predictably inaugurated February fashion week once again.
For what it’s worth, I appreciate historically regular weather just as much as the next environmentalist. It is February. It should not be 60 degrees, and for the most part, the weather weather doesn’t actually bother me. You put on long johns, then leggings, then jeans, then snow pants and it’s sure as hell not comfortable, but you power through it in warmth.
But there’s an added layer of complexity and frustration when it’s fashion week because you’re not just dressing for survival anymore, you’re dressing for your peers and your legacy; those street-style photos may very well be the only thing to outlive you. So this season, instead of relying on picture-accrual from the venerated photographers/heroes who sacrifice feeling in their limbs on the front lines this time of year, I took mirror selfies to depict the outfits that I wore and the ones I wanted to wear — a fine but crucial difference. Here’s an example:
Thursday, February 9th; 29 degrees and eight inches of snow. What I wanted to wear:
This tropical tank top with checked wool pants I found on The RealReal for $200 and MR by Man Repeller loafers. Sure, I’d wear a coat, but whatever, these are my selfies, my rulez.
What I did wear:
Frozen tundra ready-to-wear with a Saks Potts coat, Creatures of Comfort pants, Céline snow boots, a wool beanie and great lunch box (there’s a cookie inside!) by The Volon.
The rest is in the slideshow, meet you there.