One Denim Jacket, Three Ways

Will I ever get sick of denim? It seems like a fat chance. Even beyond prosaic, straight blue jeans — what has become a dual-gender wardrobe “staple” — it occurs to me almost every time I wear it that denim, like the model co-worker, will never let you down. It will collaborate with you, often hide your blunders, and sometimes even cover your ass.

This theory was only further cemented when I set out to make like Man Repeller (the site, not person) and wear my denim jacket three ways. By placing it over my shoulders and calling it a “a way,” I could have easily cloaked an avalanche of different outfits but this is about utilizing the jacket creatively. Like it’s not just a jacket. It’s a passport. One that officiates your stance as a global citizen of a world made from study cotton twill.

In look #1 I wore the jacket as a blouse buttoned to its collar. Then I popped them collars and placed an ivory double breasted blazer over the jacket and allowed for the denim to peak out of the sleeves. I tucked the front into these crazy-ass peplum pants because they are black, kind of big and baggy at the top and therefore created no such illusion of questionable vagina junk. Then I walked across the same quarter of a sidewalk for about 15 strolls so that you could get a whiff of the outfit’s movement. In the event you’re curious about the pants: they are Miu Miu and I found them at a consignment shop for (drumroll! Please!) $44.

Blk Dnm blazer, Acne jacket, Miu Miu pants, Charlotte Olympia heels.

In look #2 I am not just wearing the jacket as a jacket but as an integral part of The Canadian Tuxedo at large. Paired with meme colored denim pants, a striped sweater and a beanie, I am almost your younger brother. But with the inclusion of lipstick, a bright multi-color neckerchief, a wooden clutch that features many crystals and some white Ferragamo flats, I am either your little brother, an understudy for CATS with very chapped lips, or, you know, just myself.

Acne jacket and jeans, striped sweater, Hermes scarf, Devi Kroell clutch, Ferragamo flats, Steven Alan beanie.

And in the final look, I am the kind of woman who throws a denim jacket over her shoulders like it is fur or something equally as polarizing to reveal details about where she is going. This, of course, is to a black tie event as the silk gown skirt and dramatic winged top would suggest. The way I see it, we live in America, people, and if ever there is a societal rule that mandates one should not to wear denim is the most salient excuse to get the shit out of there.

Acne jacket, Peter Soronen skirt, Rosie Assoulin blouse, Chanel shoes, The Row handbag, Lionette ring bracelet and Monica Sordo choker.

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