On fashion

I spent the past weekend in Northern Virginia, with frequent trips into downtown Washington DC. It's always fascinating to me to travel from one East Coast metropolis to another, taking note of the tremendous differences between these two cities that are, geographically, so close. It had been quite a while since I'd been down to DC, and thus the differences were particularly striking to me this time around. Perhaps because it's warm (actually, that's the understatement of the year - temps soared into the 90s yesterday and today!) and you can actually see what people are wearing, I found that I spent an awful lot of time thinking about fashion.

Yes, you read that right: fashion. Yes, I too sometimes think about it. In fact, what I wear has occupied steadily increasing amounts of mental energy since I moved to Manhattan. After enough time in this city, anyone's insistent apathy towards clothing gets worn away by attrition, I'm convinced. You can't live in New York and not care about what you wear, at least a little. Because New York is a constant fashion show. 

When I first arrived way back in August, I remember quickly becoming aware of several trends. First and foremost, the New York wardrobe is characterized by a notable lack of sneakers and sweats. Unless you are actively working out (and if you're gonna play that card, you'd better have worked up a legitimate sweat), the aforementioned items are verboten. If you're going to wear jeans, they need to be tight (it took me months before I bit the bullet and bought into this trend - it's just so goddamn uncomfortable!) and preferably stuffed into trendy boots (guess who now owns several pairs). But the most fascinating and powerful New York fashion rule (at least according to my observations) applies to leggings.

Yes, leggings. An obsolete article of clothing that, prior to November or so, hadn't graced my closet since elementary school. Proud Sconnie that I am, leggings had always fallen into the Coastie  clothing categories that were vehemently denounced by the Badger Herald shoutouts, including, but not limited to, North Face fleeces, uggs, and puffy jackets. Just so happens I live on the Coast now. And, while I will never, as long as I live, turn into a full-fledged Coastie (pronounced with the appropriate accent, of course), I fear I may have started dressing like one. I'm not going to admit to the number of leggings and tights I now own, to say nothing of the accompanying articles of clothing that go with them. The peer pressure to own and wear these strange pieces of legwear is crushingly irresistible. Which would be fine, if I could actually figure out the rules on how one is supposed to wear them. 

Clearly, I am not going to be the next contributer to Vogue. I have no actual knowledge of fashion, just an amateur's eye and a knack for observing details. And it seems to me that the absolute key ingredient to putting together a New York look is an above-it-all air of boredom. You can wear whatever the hell you want as long as you act like it looks completely normal, and like you couldn't be paid enough money to give a shit about what anyone else thinks (only, of course, you do). You master this art and you can wear neon green half-length leggings with a fluffy purple skirt and a red wife beater and look fantastic (as long as you throw in some really awesome boots). You cultivate this, and no one in their right mind is going to mistake you for a tourist. And believe you me, being mistaken for a tourist is the last thing you want to happen to you. 

It's been a difficult concept for me to wrap my mind around because, though not a tourist, I have zero interest in being mistaken for a real New Yorker either (first and foremost because...I'm not). So I try to strike a balance. I rock the leggings. I bust out my boots (I even bought my very first pair of rain boots recently!). But every once in a while, I pull out some jeans in which I can breathe and a Wisco shirt, just for good measure. And I refuse -flat out refuse - to give up my Birkenstocks. Nope, sorry, New York. Not happening. Your fashion trends are an amusing diversion for a year, but I'm looking forward to having my WI wardrobe back eventually (I wonder how they dress over in Connecticut...?).

Thus it was good to spend the weekend in a place where people dress like normal people. It was somewhat distressing how strange it was to see people in sneakers and track pants - in public! For shame! Apparently I have joined the ranks of New Yorkers who are in frequent need of a reality check.