Felicity Sargent loves words. She pens a column for Vogue.com called “Connected” and co-founded Definer, an app that gives modern linguists a place to store and share their made-up words, phrases and the accompanying definitions (see: “nerdleneck,” and “Chungfidence”). But Sargent is as well versed in outfit pairings as she is term creation, so this week’s installment of New York Closets follows her through the course of a week where nothing — not two versions of iPhone 6+ in one selfie, not a choice pair of grey track pants selected to give a presentation at the School for Poetic Computation (really!) is off limits. There is even a pastel coat — one she prefers to call fit for a pimp — which she acknowledges as the most accurate approximation of herself.
If I ever have to write a dissertation about what I wear on Mondays, that dissertation would be titled, “Paradoxical Double Negativity: Such Wrongs Make Rights.” It’s disputed whether Coco Chanel said, “A woman is closest to being naked when she is well dressed” on a Monday, but I’d be willing to bet that she did, because that’s such a Monday thing to say. In other words, it’s not entirely unwrong. Anyway, I call this look #CanadianTuxEmo.
Today I’m on my way to give a presentation to the School for Poetic Computation, and I feel like nothing screams “I’ve got my $ymbolic $hit together” like racing striped trousers, kitten heeled loafers, and cat eye glasses.
I’m just going to be really honest here. Sometimes I get mid-week yearnings to “be more like Alexa Chung.” Side effects of this can be as cute and silly as spontaneously sprouting a terrible British accent, but they can also be as extreme and traumatic as purchasing a pair of counterfeit tickets to Glastonbury from some dude on craigslist named Angus Rucksack. So I’ve learned (some might say, the hard way) to just embrace the mid-week “Chungs” by wearing something designed to stoke my Chungfidence – typically some ill-fitting distressed denim and a mildly musty vintage coat.
Whenever my outfit better matches my boyfriend’s iPhone (his is silver, mine’s gold), I’ll grab his and say (in my most annoying “Valley Girl” voice): “Bae, so, like, can we like swap phones, bae, cuz it’s totes a space gray kind of day for me bae?” I am absolutely certain he finds my schtick uproariously funny even though he has yet to laugh.
This evening I set out to dress for a cider-making class at ABC Cocina. But for some reason, I ended up dressing like a Cider House Rules Groupie. Seriously, if Tobey Maguire, Paul Rudd, Michael Caine and Charlize Theron were all in a band of apple pickers, I would be that band’s Penny Lane.
My inner goddess feels like these tight black jeans and patent leather shoes are all porny and nubile. Yet my inner Shelby thinks this denim jacket and blouse are all wise and stubborn n’ Southern. So perhaps I’ll call this look #AnastasiaSteelMagnolias.
I was on my way out to a party when I discovered these two awesome lifehacks: 1) you can use tiny elastic bands to fasten your choker and, in so doing, create a stretchy comfy necklace; 2) you can fix any anklet with dental floss and, in so doing, create a super-secret floss stash for some late-night flossing action #YourDentistIsWelcome #RememberToFloss
Today, while Eminem-ing out my closet, I discovered a Dolce & Gabbana tee featuring Richard Gere as Julian from American Gigolo. I bought the shirt at TJ Maxx six years ago, but two years later, it mysteriously disappeared. For the four years since it’s been gone, I’m ashamed to say that I have repeatedly and persistently accused my very own mother (a huge Richard Gere fan) of stealing it while I, her daughter, was visiting her up in Vermont (the most honest state in the Union) in 2010. Well, it turns out that People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive from 1999 has been in my closet the whole darn time! I’m sorry momma, I never meant to hurt you!
This is me at my most “me.” Seriously, if I were forced to wear a uniform (but permitted to pick said uniform), it would be this: a pastel pimp coat paired with coordinating sweats and fresh pair of orthopedic sneaks, capped off with a cream-colored Carhartt. Warning: when dressed like this, I’ve been known to introduce myself as “Felicitaaaay”
Follow Felicity Sargent on Twitter and Instagram. Read her Vogue.com column here, and be the wordsmith you always wanted to be by downloading Definer here. If you missed it (or are currently missing it) see last week’s New York Closets, which was actually a Shanghai Closet, featuring Leaf Greener.