If you’ve been around here for some time, you know that I like to hang out in coffee shops, whiling away the hours contemplating first world problems in my journal. That luxury is less frequent these days, but a few weeks ago, I was indulging in my latte + croissant respite and overheard a conversation that perked my ears right up.
Two women were sitting at the table next to me, intently discussing style. More specifically, one of the women had hired the other one to become her personal wardrobe stylist. I had no idea that people outside of Hollywood and New York City did that. The stylist had her work cut out for her; her client defined her quintessential style as a mix of Kim Kardashian and Kate Middleton. A fascinating challenge, if I’ve ever heard one.
This, of course, led me to think about my own style. I show a very particular affinity for linen and dark or neutral hues here on the blog, but when I look at my closet and dresser drawers, there’s actually a surprising riot of colors and an abundance of textures. I don’t wear them nearly as much as the “boring” clothes, but they’re still part of my so-called style. I then thought about my super-sized tee days, and of countless fashion ‘don’t’ moments of yore (for my middle school graduation, I forced my mom to make me a shiny, all-white ensemble with a blazer, silk tank and long skirt. I looked like an underage bride getting ready for her civil court ceremony). I was actually quite impressed with the woman who confidently declared her Kim-Kate style, because inevitably the questions of “who am I?” and “who do I want others to see?” pop up. The woman is more than a caricature of a reality star and royalty, I’m sure, but she knows that she wants to be sexy and refined. I don’t know if I could pinpoint my style icons that clearly.
I’m reading this very entertaining book right now. It’s actually a teen novel entitled Deadly Desperados, about a young boy on the run from a band of desperados in 19th century gold/silver rush era. Written from the boy’s perspective, it’s quirky and clever and there’s a part where he starts to disguise himself in various costumes to hide from his pursuers. He observes how different he feels depending on his outfits, and even starts affecting a British accent at one point. For me, regular, every day clothes have that impact too. I feel more polished and together in darker colors; energetic and athletic in my workout gear (despite being neither of those things); girly and pretty and vintage-y in lace-trimmed tops. Clothes have a lot of power.
I wonder what it would feel like to have a personal stylist? I’m not sure that I would like it – I can think of other ways to spend cash, though I wouldn’t be opposed to a free consultation. It’s kind of like getting your colors done, no? It could be fun, frivolous and interesting, but needs to be taken with a grain of salt. What about you, would you ever consider hiring a wardrobe stylist? Do you already know your own definitive style? I’m still trying to figure mine out…