Something to consider when you’re road-mapping how you will avoid nudity after summer ends and your legs are pasty again and that glistening glow that you thought for sure your chest had figured out how to retain in perpetuity but lo and behold, disappeared with the absence of the sun again, is whether or not you will jump on the boiler suit bandwagon. You might not realize now that all you want to wear is one — it’s finally warm out for cut-offs sake! — but trust me that in a few short months’ time, you will. And so when you get there, I want you to remember that on one especially moist (yes, moist) day, it was I, who between shots of iced espresso and frozen cubes down my back, weathered the parks and streets of the East Village to bring you the very best of how to wear one like a professional jack ass.
Exhibit one: So You’re Not a Porn Lord but You Like to Wear the Glasses While You Take Walks
I have been pretty relentless about trying to make these sunglasses happen and will not stop until you’re face planting in them. A good way to under-literalize their crystal brim (very Gloria Steinem meets J. Lo, if I may say so), is through the fell use of a jumpsuit worn dutifully with a striped shirt — like any good sailor, plus a jean jacket as accessory — like any good Mark Wahlberg ca. Fear fan, plus running sneakers that were never intended for running’s use because I am back on a J.Crew model diet.
Exhibit 2: Strategic Reasoning — They’re Jeans, Too!
If you, like me, appreciate a solid game of cost-per-wear, I invite you to suppose that your jumpsuit is not just a jumpsuit. No, no, green lantern, it is also a pair of pants. You can cuff or uncuff them depending on how invested you are in Man Repeller’s bounteous dating stories and give your arsenal of shirts a way to be heard through the noise. Pumps are cool too, red tassels have so far never been a bad idea (especially not on my nipples! What?) and if I’m being honest, I really want an ice cream sandwich.
Exhibit 3/$: I Wore This to a Gala and Got Kicked Out, Now I’m Going to Write an Op-Ed About it
Satin mules? Check. Pretentiously-titled-in-french “minaudiere” handbag? Double check. Elaborate earring that could be mistaken for unique ear muff? Got it. So why in the good name of Harry Cipriani was I denied access to that gala, g-dang? Don’t you people know that in fashion, there are no rules, no dress codes, no single events where a boiler suit — the new age black tie jumpsuit for heaven’s sake! — is not appropriate? I’m starting a hashtag.
Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis