Style idols

Again, I have let way too much time lag between postings. The end of my class is in sight and I'm bogged down in feminine construction on the 18th British stage (the revered Sarah Siddons pictured below) and racial interpretations of Frankenstein's monster. But my lack of writing has dipped me into complete boredom concerning my daily life, increased anger towards my commute, and a minor monotonous dread of getting into the shower each morning. It also has me suffering from a bit of amnesia as to why I moved here. So, to cure this bordering-on-severe case of the doldrums, I need to force myself to get out this weekend and reinstate the flair, and I intend on doing so in a very physical fashion. I was reading in Time Out New York that there will be an indoor flea market, or rather, the Westbeth Beautification Committee's indoor yard sale, this Sunday between Washington and 11th, that is boasting of handmade sweaters, thrift store art, hats and records. This spurred me into happy thoughts of a weekend of thrifting (and studying...) including the possibility of a Saturday trip to Beacon's in search of some sparkling broaches and intricately patterned scarves.

Attempting to increase my personal panache has me thinking in particular of two very stylish women with loads of flair, who have really helped me embrace NYC living in their own subtle ways. So, my weekend post will be partly an homage to Denverette, aka Taryn, and Sophia. The former is a thrift-o-phile who is now thrilled to be back among antique clothing that is priced accordingly. Taryn, a 7-year Brooklynite, fled to Denver in July to find a warm home amidst kayaks, bike-riding, light rails, and most importantly, health--a state of being that this city often takes pains to prevent. No matter what city though, I don't believe she will ever shed the Brooklynesque attitude, her natural edge, her passion for Chanel. I met Taryn because she was my former manager in the editorial department at Saatchi; she now showcases her talents for the National Stroke Foundation over in Denver. Some of the many things I take from her style are Parisienne obsessions, which comes with a shared love of vino, royal blue leggings, A-line black dresses and jumpers and a vast assorment of great flats. Oh, and of course her cardigans and perfectly red hair.

And then there's Sophia, pictured above as a lobster. We met at Rutgers and lived in the same house junior and senior year. We watched Breakfast at Tiffany's for the first time together and both fell in love with Audrey. We had all night conversations about our callings in life which would more often than not result in monkey and gazelle imititations. After too long a lag in friendship--she moved to the East Village to pursue acting way before I left Jersey--we reunited as roomates again last year in Astoria, in an oft happy home with our kitty, sometimes called Lula. I now live across the street. Sophia is certainly someone who marches to her own beat, takes the road less traveled, throws caution to the wind to pursue her passions, and represents all other idioms of this sort. Style wise, she is infamous for her exotic arm and hand warmers and her bondage-like bracelets that she often wears behind the bar while charming the karaoke crowd at Planet Rose. I am indebted to Sophia for bringing flair and creativity into my life once again.

In a place where I am constantly bombarded by beautiful women on billboards, at bus stops, on busses and in busses; by skinny jeans and boots and boots and more boots and long legs, and haircuts that way exceed my budget, these two stand out to me as people who possess just a little bit more je ne sais quoi, mostly because of who they are and their ability to own their own choices. And enough so to inspire my own style. So guys, or technically gals...I dedicate my thrifting and my future broaches and scarves to you!