Blame Sex and the City

As was the case with a lot of women who experienced their early twenties during the early Noughties, Sex and the City (SATC) was one of my favorite programs. Out of the four characters, we could all relate to at least one of them on some level. And those clothes, those wonderful clothes. Costume designer Pat Field realized how important dress was to the development of these characters. Remember how Miranda dressed during the first season as opposed to the later seasons? She and Charlotte, for a time, dressed in a near-stereotypical manner. The former clad in sterile all-black, and the latter in wasp waist enhancing dresses with a bow or ruffle planted somewhere.

Many of us were heavily influenced by the SATC philosophy of having fun with personal style. I was no stranger to the oversized flower corsage on my coat lapel during early 2001. And Carrie Bradshaw helped to usher in the vintage craze. Very few people indulged in used clothing before she made it acceptable. If they did, they were either high-end collectors of Courrèges and Rabanne or grungy types who had a steady rotation of flannel.

However, some have taken their personal style too far. Whatever your aesthetic is, it's imperative to edit. Thankfully, we're in the middle of winter and people are desperately trying to make it to the inside of their destination. There's basically a sea puffy black coats, black gloves, and black tams. It's during the summer where things really get egregious. There's a profusion of over-styled young women roaming the streets in shorts and stilettos. Their idea of juxtaposing different prints, styles, textures and labeling ends up looking like a hot-messed mish mash of madness. These girls fail to realize that the styles they're emulating are from television—a hyper-reality. The styles were meant to entertain and inspire, not be taken literally.

This February marks five years since our quartet of friends bid us adieu. The film that premiered this past summer brought with it a few more validated trends: belted waist, graphic print dresses, and statement jewelry. These have been lasting sartorial movements amongst those in the know, but SATC validates the styles to a global audience. While there have been some major guffaws on the street level, the show did teach a lot of us to take risks and push our fashion limits. The Style Therapy message is to figure out your own style organically. What works for YOUR figure, coloring, lifestyle; etc. Just because it looks cute on Carrie doesn't mean it works for the rest of us.

Heroine Chic

The other day, I ran into a friend on the train...the same train as that dreadful PAO who applied her concealer in front of the world. We were both on our way to a Decorative Arts class that's a part of our graduate program in Visual Culture. She had on a gorgeous Issey Miyake cocoon coat, which she wore often, that was purchased in her hometown of Montreal. The color is the deepest, most beautiful navy. And the pleats, oh the beautiful pleats! That being said, it was a pretty cold day and I wondered how she was able to stay warm with such a thin layer. Her style is impeccable and she takes big risks with prints and colors. So for her to suffer for fashion wouldn't be unheard of; but, on the other hand, she was highly intelligent and pragmatic about matters, too.

When we got to the unbearably hot classroom, we both removed out coats and placed them on the backs of our chairs. I had to get up to do something, but when I returned to my seat, I noticed that there had been a black, fleece jacket underneath the Issey Miyake the entire time. The best part about it was that it was from Old Navy. My classmate was a Style Therapy Hero (STH) in that she mixed high and low...even if the low was concealed. I'm sure there are instances when the Old Navy jacket reveals itself, and since she's an STH, she's a pro at properly rocking it.

You Learn Something New Everyday

I always assumed Mr. T was born with those gold chains attached to his neck. But with a bit of research (read: a quick stop by Wikipedia), I came out with a new found respect for the man who brilliantly portrayed Rocky III nemesis, Clubber Lang and tough guy B.A. Baracus on The A Team.

Back in the 1970s, the man we would come to know as Mr. T (né Laurence Tureaud) was a bouncer in his hometown of Chicago. If a bar patron lost a piece of jewelry due to carelessness or as the result of a fight, he would simply wear the chain around his neck until the owner came back to reclaim it. Usually, the customers failed to return; thus creating the world renowned gold chain heap we know today.

One day, while reading an issue of National Geographic, Mr. T stumbled across an image of Mandinka warriors. He was taken by their hairstyle and appropriated the look for himself. As his jewelry collection soared to a value of $300,000, this was a safer, less labor-intensive alternative—Mr. T had spent hours were spent placing the chains around his neck. He would also sleep in the bulky chains to get a sense of what it must have been like for ancestors who were slaves. However, after seeing the devestating aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, he decided to forego his trademark jewelry.

Mr. T remains an indelible icon of the 80s. With his uniform of fatigued pants and denim jackets with sawed off sleeves, he was aware of his image and took a proactive role in creating it. Dirk Benedict, as Face, may have been the hotty of the show, it was Mr. T who left the biggest mark.

This Little Piggy Went to Market, This Little Piggy is...Fake!

When I was in secondary school, I used to ride the bus with a grade-schooler named Jennifer. No, it wasn't the special "short" bus with the tinted windows. I attended a private school that had grades Pre-K through 12. In any case, Jennifer's people, be they her mother or older sisters, always made sure she was finely turned out. While kids in the upper grades had to wear truly appalling polyester numbers, the elementary girls had a navy jumper made out of natural fibers. Jennifer never had a hair out of place and her saddle oxfords were always well-buffed and shined.

One afternoon, during the ride home, she volunteered that she had prosthetic toes on her right foot. Of course no one believed her. She didn't look like she had fake toes...whatever that meant. Once she realized our incredulity, she propped her leg up on the bus seat and removed her saddle oxfords, then her socks...then whipped off her toes. Everyone's mouth had enough room for a swarm of flies to swoop right in. Jennifer was quite matter-of-fact about the whole matter; she'd spent her entire life with her fake toes. She said there'd been some freak accident during her delivery or it was a birth defect. I can't remember, as it's been 15 years.

The thing that impressed me the most about Jennifer (and her people) is that the prosthetic toes were painted in a beautiful ruby red enamel. Her fake toes were perfect. Of course they were. They don't manufacture faux toes with bunions and corns. She and her people understood the importance of a polished appearance, regardless of her circumstances. To put it in the punniest of terms: Jennifer put her best foot forward.

This was also the case when I interviewed for my first job out of university. It was at a prestigious publishing house and I wanted it desperately. The human resources manager who interviewed me was a lovely Blonde woman with a quiet disposition. As I recall, she had a Veronica Lake curve to her hair. When I looked down at her fingers, I noticed that all 10 weren't there. I tried not to appear obvious about it, but often inconspicuousness only leads to the opposite.

She, too, subscribed to Jennifer's school of thought. Some fingers had barely a nail. I'm talking the most modicum of matter; a scrap of a nail! But if she had a nail, there was polish. Again, that lovely ruby red color. Jennifer and the HR manager didn't opt for subtle French colors or shiny clear. Their nails made a statement.

While not everyone may be a fan of Ms. Heather Mills, it must be noted that she doesn't permit her lack of a leg to stop her either. She bops around in opened-toe pumps and sandals, proudly, in ruby red nail enamel.

My message is that there's never an excuse not to present one's best self. People with no appendages are walking around looking sharp. There's no reason why the rest of us should parade around in sloppy university sweatshirts and sneaker slides. In this new era of change, let's upgrade our personal style, too.

Jennifer should be around 25 now. There's no doubt that she's stepping out in her Loubous, leaving common girls (with all 10 of their real toes) in her dust.