If there’s one great thing about fashion week, it’s the street style. People from all walks (and heels) of life congregate to celebrate everything fashion, including their own personal style. With the heyday of street style being circa now, it has all of our favorite fashion enthusiasts pulling out the stops to share their personal perspective on design — and what better canvas than themselves?
Yes, tourists and street style photogs may snap pictures of these inspiring aficionados, but is this really a spectacle? It used to be that New York City was the place to go to express yourself no matter what mood you were currently feeling. Somewhere along the way, (thanks to the over-saturation of the market and bottom lines becoming very real thanks to the never-ending recession), street style up until recently started to well, falter, leaving it up to our Parisian and British counterparts to really up the ante. And then the Internet birthed this beautiful thing we fondly call a blog.
Now, we are able to peek into the lives and closets of some of the craziest dressers around, regardless of where they rest their heads at the end of a day. This lit a fire under some very stylish asses to start curating major looks. This got us thinking, why did we ever stop taking risks with our attire? When we were just wee ones, we’d dive into our mom’s closet or sneak into our sister’s pile of laundry to devise an outfit that was purely original. Where did the creativity stop and the conformity begin?
Keeping that in mind, we decided to devote this week’s Style Diaries to just that: taking risks. When I first received the Agatha de la Prada pants I wasn’t exactly sure how to rock these bad boys. I was nervous that the vibrant check would accentuate some areas I typically try to conceal on a given day if worn as pants. In totally unrelated research, I was studying the Spanish bullfighting tradition (long story) and that’s when it dawned on me: sleeves.
I shimmied my arms into the legs of the pants over a relatively simple outfit of a men’s white tux shirt and a deconstructed sweater. A sucker for juxtaposition, I dug the voluminous sleeve affect compared to the languid shape of the sweater. Resembling a pretty awesome shrug, the pants caused the outfit to take on a totally new life.
With my first step out of the door I’m not going to lie, I was a little timid. I didn’t know if I would be mistaken for a clown or have a crowd of tourists following me asking for a photo with the weird New Yorker. Then I realized, I didn’t give a sh*t.
The pants/sleeves were fun and infused a much-needed sense of humor into my day. What’s wrong with having a little fun? Maybe it was my attitude or the lighthearted sense of the look, but passersby readily complimented my ensemble. The thing was, I wasn’t dressing for them anymore, I was dressed for me, and that was the best part of it all.