Outfits, man. They infer so much but say so little. They mark events as momentous as a woman’s losing her virginity, or first getting her teeth cleaned (what?) and can often function as a memory bank for forgotten events that still somehow live and languish in white space that remains peppered by a pair of gloves here, some red printed shorts there.
In the history of outfits, at least a dozen have amounted for someone’s promotion. Double that toward his or her demotion. And this isn’t even considering the dexterity of the clothes we use to cloak our bodies when we work in fashion, which ironically enough seems to place the emphasis not on what you wear but how you wear it.
See, when I obtained my first internship, I was a senior in high school. The night before I was set to walk through the magical doors that were 11 West 42nd Street, I spent at least 35 minutes considering not what I would wear — that was clear: high waist jeans and a leather jacket from Forever 21, a purple cotton long sleeve dress with black spots all over it by Ella Moss and blue and green snake print pumps, which I had found on sale at Scoop at least a year earlier — but whether I would tuck this cotton dress into my pants or leave it out to run and flap like the Annie that it is.
Eventually, I settled on both. Until 2PM, I would wear a dress over my jeans and after that point, I’d perform a tuck-check and transform the outfit. I’m not sure what I was thinking or why I found it appropriate to “change looks” midday but I was also 17 and potentially had this warped view about the way fashion PR worked, which is to say that it wasn’t work so much as it was a perennial fashion show. As it happened, no one noticed the tuck I’d fabricated, which led me to wonder if anyone had noticed the outfit to begin with. The answer was probably no but I disregarded that, if only to keep my morale high.
I can’t remember what I ate, or who I met, or a single task I had to complete that day, but the first day of my first internship will be forever immortalized because of that tuck.
Do you remember your tuck? Please, tell me everything there is to know about what you wore on the first day of your first internship. If you can’t remember, just ask what Amelia wore on hers. I’ll give you a hint: one authority had to tell another authority not to try to “bang” the intern.
Image by Tyrone Lebon via T Magazine