Kiss My Fat Ass!

The Fashionista
On The Tyra To Do

Who knew that the rallying cry for scores of American women come from none other than supermodel-turned-talk-show-host Tyra Banks?

Anorexia has come to the fore in the fashion and entertainment industries because it’s so exposed—the covers of Vogue, the runway footage on Style TV, and paparazzi photos of mantis-thin actresses sipping Diet Coke. We’ve become so accustomed to equating thin with beautiful that we can’t remember a time when it wasn’t. Occasionally, in a fashion-magazine interview, an actress or model will remark on her weight, “Why, I’ve always been thin, it’s just my body type. Honestly, I eat whatever I want.” Across the American nation, millions of women read the interview, sigh dejectedly, and reach for some Cool Ranch Doritos.

The real problem with anorexia, sadly, is not the fifty actresses or 150 models that always appear to be too thin. It is instead the hundreds of thousands of women and girls who face eating disorders, and whose conditions often go untreated. In a country where the “average” woman is 5'4" and 152 lbs and 40% of women wear a size 14 or larger, we are fixated on an ideal that is half a foot taller and fifty pounds lighter. Granted, obesity has become an even faster-growing epidemic than anorexia, and it seems now that the body image issue has become severely dichotomized—the highly visible thin versus the chubby majority.

But back to Tyra. When supermodels ruled the earth in the mid-to-late nineties, Tyra was queen of the Amazons. She graced magazine covers from Vogue to Sports Illustrated, and as a result of her illustrious career, a decade later she has become the host of America’s Next Top Model and her own successful talk show. Already, Tyra is in a position to be a role model, but her moment of glory came, surprisingly, as a result of some unflattering photographs.

An Australian tabloid published pictures of Tyra on the beach in a swimsuit, and she didn’t quite look like she did in 1997 on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Rather, Tyra looked like any number of women you’d see at the beach—full thighs, a little pudge around the waist, breasts more ponderous than perky.

At first Tyra denied that she had gained weight. She blamed the camera angles. She wore the same swimsuit on her talk show to prove that a less-than-flattering angle was partially at fault for her appearance. On her show, she spoke candidly about the photo: “I’m not saying this is horrible. Like, I look at this picture and I think it’s curvy. I think it’s beautiful. I think it is hot. I think it is sexy. I do. I do. But it’s just not me, not right now, but the way that I’m eating, one day I will be like this, and that is OK. Who cares?”

It took a long time for Tyra to admit that she had gained weight and to accept that the change in her physique was not a bad thing. She made excuses and preposterous accusations of image tampering, but her public struggle toward acceptance is a struggle shared by women around the world. For the rest of us, slightly pudgy, or hook-nosed, or weak-chinned, and entirely out of the spotlight, it’s hard enough to trade self-deprecation for a positive outlook.

Tyra had been virtually eviscerated for the whole world to see. And though it was not immediate, she finally took a good long look at herself—her body and her ego—and embraced what she saw. By appearing en maillot on television, wobbly bits and all, Tyra asserted to all of America that this is how she looks. And to the critics who called her “fat,” she offered only this admirable response:

“I have something to say to all of you that have something nasty to say about me or other women that are built like me, women that sometimes or all the time look like this, women whose names you know, women whose names you don’t, women who have been picked on, women whose husbands put them down, women at work, or girls in school, I have one thing to say to you. Kiss my fat ass!”

Is Tyra the moral arbiter of our time? I think the jury’s still out on that one, but for now she’s won the hearts of millions of women the world over. She’s beautiful. She’s successful. She’s powerful. She weighs 161 lbs and you can kiss her fat ass.

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Fashion Forward

Tips From The Fashionista
Commandment #4:
Icons of Style

We recently had Fashion Week here in New York, and at this time of year with who knows what walking down the runways, it’s especially salient to refer back to those I consider Icons of Style. As we discussed last time, imitating any particular person always results in a look that’s more costume than outfit, and is highly inadvisable. So I give you these icons not to suggest that we transform ourselves into their likenesses, but to provide examples of truly gifted individuals who really have contributed something extraordinary to the world of Fashion—and to the very definition of Style.

Without further ado, my Icons.

Sienna Miller
You may have noticed already, but I love this girl. I can’t say it enough—she just pulls it all together. And with friends like Stella McCartney and Kate Moss, couldn’t you, too? Sienna’s a beautiful girl who’s not afraid to take risks, whether it’s a short haircut or slouchy boots, and she knows that a sexy man is a girl’s hottest accessory. Her whimsical, cheeky British sensibility on this month’s cover of Nylon magazine is an inspiration to us all.

Marcello Mastroianni
Yes, I’m aware that he’s dead. But gentlemen, if you want a lesson on looking good, watch La Dolce Vita. Black suit, white shirt, black tie, dark sunglasses. Handsome Italian men still rock this look nearly 50 years after the movie came out. And Marcello wasn’t just well-dressed in character—I saw a photo of him from the 1970s, leaving a club in Paris with Catherine Deneuve (at 7:30 a.m., well done!), and he was rocking some sweet flare pants and a blazer. He could pull it off. And that is why we love him.

Ralph Lauren
Say what you will about the Polo Empire—I personally don’t care to match the walls of my kitchen to my t-shirts—but Ralph Lauren has defined American Style. Sure, the spawn of Polo has infiltrated every aspect of our lives, but for good reason. Ralph Lauren started out designing and manufacturing neckties, and selling them himself on Seventh Avenue. And now the ubiquitous horsie prances across everything from bath towels to $7500 silk gowns. But look at Ralph himself—he exudes casual elegance, as comfortable in jeans and a polo as he is in a tuxedo. He has given Americans something to believe in. And he’s given the rest of the world something to aspire to—and to purchase in mass quantities. Go Ralph!

Daniel Craig
He is the best-dressed man on the planet. Jeans that fit. T-shirt that fits even better. Expensive, appropriately aged leather jacket. That’s all you need, people. And then he takes it all off. I have nothing more to say.

Beck
Reinvention is essential, and Beck works it like none other. Yeah, 10 years ago he was wearing his t-shirts over long-sleeve thermals, just like the rest of us, and we were all cool like that. He was also singing about two turntables and a microphone. Today, he’s rocking a sharp suit and hat (props for bringing back the hat) and the songs are about earthquake weather. The man can dance, too. There’s nothing more stylish than skills.

Jane Birkin
They named a handbag after her, that’s how cool she was. And you can’t even buy it—you have to be on a waiting list for years. The Birkin bag is possibly the most coveted accessory in the world and Jane Birkin is the perfect example of how style attracts style and then begets style (she mated with Serge Gainsbourg, and their offspring, Charlotte Gainsbourg, could well merit her own spot on this list). Jane Birkin was young, fresh, and sexy as hell. If you have any doubts, download “Je t’aime…Moi non plus.” Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. Money cannot buy enough handbags to make you that cool.

Wes Anderson
Here we have a man who wears awkward glasses, high-water pants, jackets that expose too much shirt cuff, and Stan Smiths. Why is he stylish? Because he does it on purpose. You have to believe that what you’re wearing is right for you, and then others will, too. If you’re going to rock your own personalized style, you have to be confident about it. Wes, let’s get married. Please.

Sofia Coppola
Ok, her best friend is Marc Jacobs, I get it. Sofia Coppola has never lacked for anything—she even has a sparkling wine named after her—and she especially has never lacked for style. Going to the Oscars but your feet aren’t feeling so great? Wear flats! Looking for the perfect shade of lip gloss? Have Three Custom Color create it for you! Other kids say your nose is funny looking? Screw them! Oh, would that we could all be Sofia.

Diane von Furstenberg
A funny thing happened in the past half-century or so. Women once wore only dresses. Then we had a sexual revolution and women wore pants. Women wore ugly pants, women wore baggy pants, women wore whatever pants they could find just to prove they could wear pants. Then Diane von Furstenberg came along and designed an amazing little wrap dress in silk knit prints that flattered everyone, and women went back to wearing dresses again, because they looked so damn sexy. I have DVF dresses that belonged to my mother, back in the day, and I have DVF dresses I’ve bought for myself. I even met Diane earlier this year, and she was wearing one of her signature creations in plum-colored suede…divine!

Maggie Gyllenhaal
I don’t particularly like actresses; I find them over-styled and over-hyped, and highly foolish to boot. But I love my Maggie. Tall and statuesque, apple-cheeked and bright-eyed, smart and quirky, she’s that girl you’d hang out with if only she’d let you. She can wear couture as well as she can wear thrift store finds, and she doesn’t value one over the other, either.

Bjork
Swan dress aside, you have to admit that Bjork is pretty fantastic. She’ll never be caught at Whole Foods in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads “World’s Greatest Mom,” that’s for sure. Iceland, I can imagine, is one of those places where one has a lot of time to learn to sew, compose music, and try on outfits in front of a three-way mirror, and Bjork definitely capitalized on her opportunities. What if Bjork and Beck mated? Groovy.

Remember, people: This is just one girl’s opinion. I’m sure you have your own Icons of Style. Discuss.

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Fashion Forward

Tips From The Fashionista
Commandment #3:
Matchy-Matchy, Theme Outfits,
& Other Aberrant Things One Should Avoid


My favorite Italian word is sprezzatura. You may have guessed it would be bella, and that’s a close second, but sprezzatura is a perfectly untranslatable word for the condition of looking like you’re not trying.

Anyone cool knows that the epitome of uncool is trying too hard. Sprezzatura implies that to look like you’re not trying involves a certain amount of effort—otherwise you just look like a slob. That artifice is part of sprezzatura’s beauty.

1. Matchy-Matchy.
This is a term we in the fashion world use with absolute derision. “Hmph! She’d be a cute girl if her clothes weren’t always so matchy-matchy.” “Look at his shirt! It’s the same color as the argyle in his sweater…that’s way too matchy-matchy.” Matchy-matchy connotes a certain pedestrian or bourgeois tendency, something associated with the suburban and the concept of trying too hard. Nothing identifies a tourist in New York City quite as easily as matching hat/gloves/scarf/bag/sneakers/umbrella/turtleneck. You see what I mean.

Now, there are some fashion pieces for which matching is necessary: suits, for example, are generally two items (a jacket and a skirt/trouser) made of the same fabric. Although you can wear your suit pieces as separates, they are the main exception to the moratorium on matchy-matchy. The best example of someone who successfully avoids dressing matchy-matchy is Sienna Miller; Kathie Lee Gifford would be the poster girl.

2. Theme Outfits
I must admit, theme outfits are possibly my greatest weakness, and consequently must be addressed publicly. October 31st is an entirely unimportant day to theme-outfit offenders—you know who you are—because you dress in costume EVERY DAY. Now, I’ve been known to have a “Bianca Jagger circa 1970 in Ibiza” outfit, or a “Grace Kelly in the Corniche d’Or scene of To Catch a Thief” outfit, and I realize that these things are wrong.

The most important thing about creating your own personalized style is to be able to glean the best elements of these iconic fashion moments, like Grace Kelly’s scarf or Bianca Jagger’s hat, and incorporate them in your own way. Mimicry ends up looking ridiculous, and heaven knows you could be headed towards the eventuality of waking up in the morning and dressing yourself like Shirley Temple in the film version of The Good Ship Lollipop. If you like to dress in costume, join the circus or throw a party.

3. The Canadian* Tuxedo
Like matchy-matchy, the term Canadian tuxedo is also used derisively to describe a specific outfit consisting of jeans and a denim jacket. The proliferation of denim in all forms and styles has created many more options for jeans and jackets than the standard-issue Levi’s, but variety of style does not compensate for homogeneity of denim.

I can already hear the chorus of “But my jeans are black and my jacket is blue—” But I don’t care. Wool blazers are so chic this season. Wear one with your jeans (bonus points for suede or corduroy elbow patches). Want to wear a denim jacket? Do it over a long sweater and leggings.

Style is and should always be a reflection of your personality, and who am I to judge if your personality dictates that your earmuffs should match your socks? I’ll tell you: it’s a cruel world out there, and you don’t want to be known as the purple earmuff girl when what you should really be known as is the brilliant post-modern one-act dramatist, or the fantastic flaky pastry chef.

There are enough colors, textiles, and designs out there for everyone, and they needn’t all be worn at once.

*Obviously, I cannot take credit for coining this term, as I harbor no disrespect for the fashion sense of our neighbors to the north. In fact, several of them have forgotten more about style than I’ll ever know. And just like us, some of them have simply forgotten about style.

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Fashion Forward

Tips From The Fashionista
Commandment #2:
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
New York is in the midst of its first cold snap of the season, and it’s gotten me to thinking: why is it so difficult to look good and stay warm?

In my family we have one coat that’s known by several different names. My mother calls it “impermeable,” because the coat is actually impervious to the elements. It’s the New England dream coat. Once you put the thing on, you could be standing in the middle of a maelstrom without knowing it.

One would imagine this to be the ideal coat. But, unfortunately, it is not a thing of beauty. If you’re wearing this coat in the middle of a blizzard and walking down the street, do-gooders will ask you into their homes for a warm bowl of stew. My brothers call it the “homeless guy” coat. We wear it to shovel the driveway.

As an inhabitant of a city that receives more than its fair share of inclement weather, I have a very un-fashionista yearning for a fashion cycle when L.L. Bean duck boots and parkas are in vogue. However, assuming that day will never come, here are some tips, tricks, and fabulous finds to get you through the impending winter.

GLOVES!
The sexiest trend for women is the long leather glove. Naughty or elegant? Who knows. The long glove can be Grace Kelly or Betty Page. The best versions come to the elbow and they don’t have to be basic black.

If you’re more practical, H&M has fleece gloves for $3.90. That’s less than any drink from Starbucks, and can keep you warmer. In three colors—crimson, black, and winter white. There are hats and scarves to match for no more than $5.90. I would recommend buying several pairs of plain black gloves; you can wear them with just about anything and you’ll be much happier all winter if your hands aren’t cold.

LAYERS!
This season, the fashion world has endorsed layers of all shapes and sizes: leggings, chunky sweaters, and even armwarmers. Avail yourself of this opportunity to be trendy and cozy at the same time.

BOOTS!
Boots are hot for men and women, which means your feet don’t have to be cold. I know, I know, you don’t want to go teetering around on icy sidewalks in three-inch stilettos. Good news—you don’t have to! The in boots are flats. Suddenly those classic J. Crew riding boots are tres chic.

SCARVES!
Both men and women are also wearing another cuddly cold-weather accessory: the scarf. For men, the look is preppy and collegiate, very J. Press or Andover Shop. Women, however, have more flexibility. The ubiquitous pashmina is hitting the sidewalks in two-tone woven patterns, little fur wrappers are in all the department stores, and, of course, there’s always the standard long, stripy cashmere. The scarf is the easiest accessory to tailor to your own personalized style.

COATS!
My favorite trend is definitely the wool coat. Post-college, it’s time to invest in outerwear that you wouldn’t wear with a pair of Rossignols, and a wool coat is understated yet stylish. The pea coat has emerged as the must-have of the season, but more universally-flattering and certainly more useful for various occasions is the three-quarter length coat.

Even with the best of intentions, gloves to your elbows, snuggled and en-scarved, appropriately booted, you may still find yourself digging through your closet for your Waldo-style fleece hat as the last line of defense against the bitter cold. Console yourself by looking around: when it’s winter in the city, everyone looks a little ridiculous. And if you see a homeless-looking girl trudging along Fifty-first Street, it may well be me in my “special” coat.

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Fashion Forward

Tips From The Fashionista
Commandment #1: Cut Your Hair

Hair changes, people. None of us wants to be that lady buying flaxseed at the supermarket with a long scraggly mane of gray hair. When it comes to hair, don't fear the reaper.

That being said, hairstyles are even more difficult to buy off the rack than jeans. Undoubtedly, magazines pronounce that short is the new long, or black is the new blonde, but it doesn't always translate. Don't take a photo of Natalie Portman into SuperCuts and expect to emerge looking like her- you may end up resembling Lamb Chop (the puppet) and still be out $15.95. Some tips:

*If you know someone who always has great hair, ask her where she gets it done. Go there. Be sure to mention the recommendation to the stylist.

*Always always always consult the stylist. He knows more than you do.

*Just once, go in with a completely open mind and tell the stylist to surprise you and do whatever he wants. It's fun and you will probably look much better.

*If you do have an idea of what you want, bring a picture. Your concept of Ashley Judd may be current; his may be circa-A Time To Kill.

*Know your limitations. Be honest about how much time you can devote every morning to styling your new 'do. Make it clear at the beginning if you can't spend 15 minutes flat-ironing every day.

*Be prepared to pay. If a quality haircut is a financial hardship, ask for a style that will grow out gracefully, and will allow you to get your hair cut less frequently.

*Tip generously. I believe in hair karma. If you can't tip as generously as you'd like, be uber-grateful and bring baked goods for the salon.

*If you're anxious, sometimes it helps to bring a friend. She can provide comic relief, make small-talk while you're trying to keep still, and remind you how you resolved to go for more than just a trim.

*Have a man cut your hair. Call me crazy, but they know what makes a woman look good. Likewise, guys, try a female stylist.

*Remember, hair cutting requires specialized education and licensing. Hair stylists are professionals- trust them.

But what if you follow all the rules and your hair looks awful at the end? Say something. You've paid good money for this haircut, and the stylist wants you to be happy. Did you get the haircut you asked for but it just looks appalling on you? Probably your fault, but the stylist should have advised against it (consultation, people. Before the scissors come out, discuss). Or is it not what you wanted at all? Ask (politely) for your money back, and start looking for someone new.

Finally, if it's been a while and you're looking to leave your current stylist, be honest. Say you're looking for a change. "Everybody needs a little time away" is always a good line. If you can't be honest, lie. Maybe you're moving to Anchorage, or your new job as a dog walker came with a huge pay cut. The entirely spineless but still acceptable alternative is just to stop going and pray you don't run into Mr. Scissors at the Super Stop 'N Shop.

Hair is perhaps the most personal element of style-more than just an extension of the self, it's part of the self. So take control Cut your hair!

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Review: Half of a Yellow Sun

The Fashionista Takes Us To Biafra
We always seem to forget about Africa. Recent events have made this sin of omission painfully evident, and the unrest in Darfur is only one example of the West’s neglect.

In our lifetime, we can recall the turmoil in Rwanda and Burundi, Somalia, and even the abolition of apartheid in South Africa. And as far as literature is concerned, our experience is even more limited. For most of us, any literary inquiry into Africa has consisted only of the Norton’s brief (yet expanded!) homage to “the rise and fall of empire”: Achebe and Coetzee. So it is at just the right moment that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has written her second novel, Half of a Yellow Sun, recalling an overlooked and brutal period in twentieth-century African history—the brief existence of the Republic of Biafra, an independent state that seceded from Nigeria in the 1960s.

Half of a Yellow Sun is a novel of awareness. Through the rotating perspectives of three main characters—Ugwu, a young villager who becomes a domestic servant for a revolutionary university professor; Olanna, the professor’s beautiful lover; and Richard, Olanna’s sister’s British lover—the reader comes to discover and understand the effects of national upheaval on the individual. Adichie’s sensitivity, cognizance, and understanding for her characters and their interiority are reminiscent of the masterful empathy of Graham Greene.

The characters are self-aware, and Adichie allows us glimpses into their thoughts, however frivolous they may be. One example, from Richard’s musings on Harrison, his servant, who has a penchant for sherry trifle and meringues: “He wondered, as he boarded the train, what it was Harrison did during the weekends. Perhaps he cooked himself tiny exquisite meals.” The characters’ awareness, however, can also be chillingly serious, particularly as Biafra unravels and the characters realize that the world will not come to their aid. Richard, as a white man and an outsider, is especially impacted by the neglect.

It was like somebody sprinkling pepper on his wound: Thousands of Biafrans were dead, and this man wanted to know if there was anything new about one dead white man. Richard would write about this, the rule of Western journalism: One hundred dead black people equal one dead white person. “There is nothing new to tell,” he said.

Because the characters generate the structure of Half of a Yellow Sun, they are necessarily the strongest aspect of the novel. The narrative depends entirely on the reader’s willingness to accept the authenticity of the characters, and Adichie ensures that this acceptance occurs. Her characters are credible, they are endearing, they are flawed.

It is of tantamount importance that Adichie establishes the fact that the characters are just like us. And so her book begins in a university town, in houses with books and brandy and heated discussions of desegregation in the American South. Parties are lavish, hotels have swimming pools, and Olanna drives a Peugeot. The transformation of the characters as the time passes from the early sixties into the late sixties, as Adichie divides her book, is striking. By the final chapters of the novel, the same characters who were eating canapés in manicured gardens are fighting each other for bits of roasted rat or lizard in refugee centers. Because Adichie has so carefully and thoroughly established the us-ness of her characters, she guarantees an appropriate response to their defeat.

The strongest underlying current in Half of a Yellow Sun is the belief each character holds in Biafra. Their faith is unwavering, even at the bleakest moments of the war. Adichie challenges her readers to comprehend such an intense belief in a political concept, in the birth of a nation-state. In the beginning, Biafra is a glorious model, a republic that will be a fair and just paragon of African states. The ideal of Biafra unites its people, as Olanna observes at a rally for the newly-formed state:

Olanna watched them and realized with a sweet surge that they all felt what she felt, what Odenigbo felt, as though it were liquid steel instead of blood that flowed through their veins, as though they could stand barefoot over red-hot embers.

At no point in the novel do the characters lose their conviction, and the steadfastness of their belief in Biafra becomes the tragic flaw for each of them. Only Ugwu, conscripted into the poorly trained army, gives any inkling of doubt about the reality of a triumphant Biafra.

It is dramatic irony, then, that drives home the novel’s pathos, as it becomes abundantly clear to the reader that Biafra cannot triumph, and the revolution is not led by intellectuals and diplomats, but by scrappy underage thugs. For the characters, a continued belief in Biafra is reduced to the hope that victory will at least give them food and shelter. The denouement is brutal; Adichie has prepared her reader to realize that it cannot be any other way.

The prescience of Adichie’s novel is that it provides, for our generation, a lesson in the consequences of ignorance, and a compelling argument against imperialism. While Half of a Yellow Sun imparts an important education about Nigeria in the 1960s, it provides as provocative a message about today’s conflicts in the Middle East.

Adichie’s novel could be a call to action, or perhaps only a warning—either way, it undeniably challenges our country’s and our generation’s disegard for human suffering across the globe.

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The Elements of Style

The Fashionista’s
Guide to Fall 2006Photograph by Kristahl
The September fashion magazines are out, and you’ve bulked up your biceps lifting them out of the mailbox. If there’s one thing I’ve always loved, it’s the fall season—especially now that school supplies, the Clairefontaine notebooks and Pilot pens of my college years, have given way to similarly necessary Diane von Furstenberg dresses and Michael Kors satchels. I may even plan an apple-picking trip just so I can wear a chunky Marc by Marc Jacobs sweater with cute little knit owls. But enough about me. Without further ado, the Fashionista’s picks for Fall oh-six.


Gentlemen,
The hottest, most accessible trend for fall is definitely the straight-leg jean. The look is modern, masculine, and undeniably sexy. Straight-leg covers a lot of territory, from comfortable (room to move) to extreme (think Diego Garcia). Colors are dark—blue, gray, or black. The straight-leg jean, long a favorite of the Wrangler crowd, is available everywhere from the Gap to Levi’s to Diesel. Once you put them on, you’ll never go back to “relaxed fit.”

The new James Bond, Daniel Craig, may have been named Esquire Magazine’s best-dressed man of the year, but not even 007 has as much influence on men’s style as your friend and mine, Johnny Depp. Granted, style is only 30% fashion and 70% attitude, but Capt. Jack Sparrow lacks in neither category. After Depp’s turn in Finding Neverland, men’s fashion experienced a “raconteur” or “dandy” moment, with emphasis on rich woven wools and intricate Liberty-style prints reminiscent of the turn of the 19th century. This year, after Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, Depp’s influence extends to men’s accessories, a long-neglected area once populated only by ties and cufflinks. Skulls, in any form, are everywhere, and layered chains with pendants like daggers, crosses, horns, and “found objects” are the height of panache. Stephen Webster and Chrome Hearts are at the forefront of this accessory explosion.

And now, some trends to avoid: unless you’re feeling the Rivers Cuomo or Grandpa Joe vibe, steer clear of the man-cardigan. I know, I know, I love it too, in that ironic sort of way, but I think it’s one of those concepts that’s better in theory than in execution. Remember: what’s good for Carlos D isn’t always good for you. Similarly, while velvet remains hot for fall, there’s a right way and a wrong way to wear it. The right way involves one posh piece, like a blazer (or, for the adventurous, a vest), worn with jeans after dark. The wrong way would be wearing a full-on velvet suit or wearing anything velvet during the day. Particularly if you work with animals or have pets that shed—forget velvet altogether. Although you are probably aware of the continuing prevalence of preppy, one final caution: this season’s sartorial styling relies on a single vital principle—irony. Much better to mix your tweeds with your plaids in a rumpled sort of way than to wear one or the other, neatly pressed, head to toe.

Ladies,
By now you have probably noticed the ubiquity of leggings. Now, just because I won’t wear them myself doesn’t mean I won’t condone them for others. When worn properly, leggings can be cute, and at least they can save you from the mortal sin of a skirt too short. And I actually love the legging with the extra-long sweater, à la Edie Sedgwick, maybe with a little ballet flat, no? Two things to remember when looking for the proper legging: length and opacity. As self-evident as it may sound, you will need to try on leggings before purchasing, as you’ll need to determine the best length for your body type. Stay away from leggings that end just below the knee or just above the ankle—these lengths look awkward on just about everyone—and aim for mid-calf instead. And please, don’t go anywhere near sheer; opaque is necessary if you don’t want to look like you’re wearing a cutoff pair of L’Eggs. The best thing about leggings: they’re cheap! Shouldn’t set you back more than $15-20 for a pair you’ll wear all season.

Sadly, the fashion world is experiencing what I’d like to call a “bag-lady” moment, perhaps inspired by Zoolander’s “Derelicte” line. In a charge led by the Olsen twins, designers are flaunting long dresses over baggy pants and Henley tops—dégoutante! That being said, there is an oversized look that can be worn stylishly. Now’s a great time to buy a maxi coat in a long length with big lapels, or a pair of wide-leg Hepburn-style pants. The key to pulling off this look is balancing an oversized piece with other trim separates—like the aforementioned extra-long sweater with leggings, or a slim pant under the maxi coat. At least one piece should be your proper size.

And I simply cannot let the opportunity pass to comment on my favorite accessory of all—jewelry. Luckily, many of the trends in jewelry are accessible to everyone, due in large part to the great fashion jewelry in the market today. On street corners from New York to San Francisco, you can buy fabulous big earrings or chunky wood-link necklaces, generally for around $10. You can also get dolled up this season with yellow gold jewelry (again, faux is widely available) and estate-style pieces (raid your grandmother’s jewelry box!), especially emblematic pins and brooches (à la Hogwarts’ insignia). No well-dressed woman should leave the house without jewelry—not only is it a personal statement, but it can take an outfit from looking fairly put-together to looking expertly styled.

So, fashion pupils, ’tis the season for shopping. Make some key purchases to update your wardrobe and be the envy of your friends and neighbors, because this season is all about going back to cool.

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Meet The Fashionista

The Fashionista (Fauh-shun-E-stuh) is a post-collegiate, pre-professional twenty-something writer, Saks jewelry-buyer, bright young thing living in New York City. A graduate of Harvard University, Fashionista is JBB's resident expert on everything Greek, diamond tiaras, James Merrill, elegant entertaining, and East Coast men. She likes karaoke.

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An East Coast Lady on East Coast Men

The Fashionista Takes On
The Coopersexual

As a sexy single girl living and working in the big city, I have a confession to make: I’ve only seen about five episodes of Sex and the City. And one of them, “Evolution,” I’ve seen repeatedly. Whenever people are talking about the show, I always bring up “Evolution” as my avowed favorite episode, mainly because it’s the only one I can really remember. (It’s season two, 1999, if you’re wondering). Charlotte is interested in a man who seems to have evolved into a “gay straight man”—a man who, due to prolonged exposure to the lifestyle of Manhattanites ($15 lychee cocktails! Art galleries! Oh my!), embodies the best of both worlds.

The slightly confusing term “gay straight” later evolved into the ubiquitous “metrosexual,” which describes men who get manicures, read magazines, use hair products, and still sleep with women. It’s been applied to Bono, Brad Pitt, and George Clooney. But over the past several months, I’ve begun to notice another trend, or possibly an evolutionary offshoot of the metrosexual. The orangutan of metrosexuality, as it were.

He dresses well, uses hair products, watches sports on television, but never makes any effort towards sexual definition. He is vehemently ambiguous. He could be a “gay straight man” or a “straight gay man.” Unlike the traditional metrosexual, who carries a Jack Spade bag on one arm and a beautiful girlfriend on the other, the “Coopersexual,” named in honor of everyone’s favorite Prada-wearing CNN anchor, remains patently unattached. He has nothing to prove.

The benefits of Coopersexuality:
1. Women love you.
2. Men love you.
3. You never have to commit.

But allow me to backtrack: we’re not talking “bi” here. Bisexuality is the boy with the fauxhawk. It’s hip but mostly among the high school crowd; it’s prevalent enough that it has hit the radar of New York magazine, which devoted a cover article to the sexual activities of high schoolers at Brooklyn’s selective public Stuyvesant High School. But men of Coopersexuality are generally beyond the realm of mere “experimentation.” This is a lifestyle choice.

We used to play a game in college: Gay Or Foreign? We actually invented it while waiting in line at the Met to see an exhibit of DaVinci’s sketches. Obviously, it was the only thing to do while waiting in an interminably long line stretched around the grand staircase. Yes, Gay or Foreign was entertaining, but it was also instructive because, let’s face it, sometimes it’s hard for a girl to tell.

As a point of reference, it was not uncommon, nor has it been for many years (possibly a Platonic tradition?) for young southern European men to have an older male lover. Eventually, the young man (the eromenos, or “beloved” as Plato calls him) would grow up and marry, leaving his lover (the erastes), and his homosexual dalliance would be a thing of the past. Beyond the obvious benefits, this relationship was also a form of patronage and education. Growing up in the shadow of that tradition has, with the help of tight jeans and man-jewelry, created the Gay Or Foreign conundrum.

Furthermore, Coopersexuals often have careers for which they aren’t willing to commit to any defined sexual identity. It indicates a reluctance to alienate any particular demographic. I have several examples, just from my own self-interested curiousity.

1. Anderson Cooper
I have loved Anderson Cooper since his days on Channel One, when he was dodging shrapnel in Bosnia. I have imagined the intelligent, sensitive, prematurely grey children we would have together. We could even name one of them after his dead brother, I conceded in my dreams, although it was a bit morbid. Anderson is now legitimately a rising star in television news: When there’s a Story to be reported, Anderson is there, just as he was twelve or thirteen years ago, risking life and limb to show the rest of America the face of disaster.

Discussion on blogs and bulletin boards can go on for days about Anderson’s sexuality. He maintains that his refusal to comment on his personal life is a matter of policy, not an indication of gayness or straightness. Bloggers on both sides continue to wait for an on-air slip-up, scour his magazine columns and lately, his memoirs, for some red flag. The latest theory, espoused on Gawker.com, has involved a mysterious man named Julio. But unlike America’s obsession with Matt Lauer as television’s most eligible bachelor, married man, separated-and-looking man, and finally divorcé, Anderson has managed to remain under the radar. So is he or isn’t he? Yes, I understand that it really isn’t our business.

2. Dave Lieberman
TV chefs are the next big thing. All of a sudden, cooking is glamorous and seductive and its practitioners are celebrities and household names. Bobby Flay is married to a beautiful actress, Jamie Oliver parties with JK from Jamiroquai, and Giada de Laurentiis is Hollywood royalty. My aunt in Chicago goes to bed every night praying that the next day, Tyler Florence will show up on her doorstep to make dinner for her. Dave Lieberman was scouted and recruited after appearing on his own local-access television show while an undergrad at Yale. He fits the formula for television chef perfectly: young, telegenic, smart, sensitive, and incapable of demonstrating scores of semi-original and simple meal preparations. For these reasons, I adore him.

On Lieberman’s website, he has a bulletin board that was meant to be used as a forum for fans to discuss food, recipes, and general information. The #2 topic of conversation is Lieberman’s sexuality. It’s a question that begs to be asked: On television, Lieberman only mentions his “friends”—Flay features his wife, Oliver his entire family (wife + two daughters), and Florence his son, flouting their heterosexuality for the camera. But Lieberman is new to television, and in the potential goldmine that is TV-chefdom, he cannot afford to alienate a demographic. Without any definitive accomplishments or culinary renown, he has to sell himself to establish a dedicated viewership. If statistics dictate that his viewers are primarily gay men or young women, he must cater to both simultaneously. Consequently, mum’s the word.

3. The Italian
This example is purely personal. Most of the men I meet through work are gay, absolutely, out and proud. It’s a function of the fashion industry. I get it, I expect it, and I accept it. But the Italian was different, somehow. He was, and still is, the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Yes, even more so than Billy Nicholas. That accent, that style, that perfect and inimitable three-day-stubble. I was hooked. But the jury, according to everyone I’d queried, was still out, and wasn’t likely to return with a verdict any time soon. The Italian had a “business partner,” another Italian, but that evidence was far from conclusive (see above paragraph, Gay Or Foreign?). He was also photographed at swanky parties dancing with supermodels. In discussing the Peter Braunstein affair , he made off-hand comments like “my gay friends in Chelsea said…,” differentiating the gays as if they were a distinct and separate breed.

The Italian’s business is built primarily on an amazing PR machine that gets his product on stars, in films, and in front of magazine editors and merchandise buyers. In this industry, those people are overwhelmingly either women or gay men. It is highly advantageous not to alienate either demographic. And so here I am, a silly girl reduced to parsing conversations as if they were lines of Homer.

So be warned, kids. There’s a new strain of man out there, and you’re not likely to figure him out soon. Or maybe you shouldn’t even try. We’re evolving beyond metrosexuality to Coopersexuality, and all the cool kids are doing it. After all, it’s better to keep them guessing.

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