On The Streets of London

Where laughability and wearability are not mutually exclusive. Those damn Brits.


Though fashion has migrated through London and well into Milan already (thus rendering this story practically illegal by some unwritten code pertaining to timeliness, hemlines and shit like that), I, for one, am still far too fixated on the acute differences between New York’s street style and that of London’s to pay attention elsewhere.

It is obvious and therefore unnecessary to restate (though make no mistake, I will) that style at fashion week has transcended the boundaries of a runway en masse and flooded the sidewalks. More often than not, you can find enthusiastic girls dressed to the nines, loitering around show venues preparing to perform their own narcissistic versions of fashion week in a dramatic walk across the same street three times and a half. You can spot the advanced ones by their phone-to-ear gesture or faux cab-hailing technique.

I’m starting to wonder though: is this blazon of behavior which seemingly takes its toll on the clothes we wear indigenous to New York? In reviewing the street style photos of our Great Dame and deeming everything on point, beautiful but not particularly interesting, I’m just not sure why the street style in London as chronicled by one Tommy Ton and Mr. Phil Oh appears fresher, more crisp, new…even if it’s not.

There’s a sense of ease and carelessness in London that doesn’t exist on our side of the Atlantic. My lawyer friend told me last Thursday that if she could use one word to describe the street style in New York it would be: contrived. So I ask this — and maybe I’m only speaking on my own behalf: is it so obvious that we, in New York, stand in front of our closets mulling over what we’ll wear, upset over its deficiencies, trying desperately to compensate for them in any shape available for the nearing seven day rally? Because such is totally not the case in London.

And even the American editors look better when they’re there. Does this revert back to our age-old point about role playing and that sense of complete understanding, where just knowing that the mood in London is more jovial, the clothes can be as well? Amelia says everyone can benefit from a little tacky — a word she uses to describe some of the more elaborate outfitting formulas of ye Great Brits — but I wonder whether this is “tacky” so much as it is completely and utterly organic, pure fun and appreciation for the sake of Fashion with a capital F.

Furthermore, I ask you: if New York prides itself on being the epicenter of where the initiated fashion editors thrive, is London its countering hotbed, full of unapologetic fans who get it quicker, and often better, than we do?


Also, give me these Celine creepers or give me death.

Photos courtesy of The Cut, Style.com and Vogue

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