The Only Way Out Is Through
Styled from the Other Side
I may not be in Europe like everyone else on Instagram, but last week I joined the collective jaw drop over Zoë Kravitz's now-iconic exit from The Bowery Hotel. The look marked the first collaboration between Zoë and stylist Danielle Goldberg, theoretically simple in a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of mules. But like everything Danielle touches, there was an aura around the fit that money can't buy. Where was she going? The bodega? Home from a the club? Take me with you, Zoë. You look unreal!
It reminded me of my early twenties living in the West Village during a different era. Less athleisure, more Phoebe Philo Celine. Every day I'd cross Seventh Avenue, taking a left on Perry Street, passing impeccably dressed women in immaculately tailored trousers feverishly texting while clutching Sant Ambroeus lattes. Who was on the other line? Anna Wintour? The Dalai Lama? Could have easily been either. I always assumed one starts to embody this energy after either faceplanting into jacuzzi full of cash, or through some sacred ritual where a white Range Rover kidnaps you in the middle of the night and delivers you to a basement on Wooster Street for bootcamp led by Dries Van Noten, The Olsen Twins, and Amal Clooney as coaches. "Eventually my time will come," I prayed.
A few weeks ago I went to dinner at Via Carota. The Insalata Verde was fire, but it's impossible to escape the lore of the "West Village Girl." Sambas, spray tans, matcha lattes. Reading The Cut feels more complicated than it should lately, but they kind of nailed it with this one. After counting my fifth Cartier Love Bracelet in under twenty minutes, I felt tempted to roll my eyes before remembering this is what your twenties are all about. The ultimate accolade is simply surviving. Feeling like you belong becomes the singular goal. Blend in, steer the ship, dress the part. What they don't tell you is whether you like it or not, you will crash. A bad relationship, the wrong job, a string of cringe-worthy outfits, all cosmic course corrections sent to help you find your people, your angles, your perfect fit. It's picking yourself back up where you figure out the recipe for the real secret sauce that makes someone spot you on the street and think, "Who Is She?!"
The only way out is through. Here are a few outfits engrained in my brain that I’d consider styled from the other side.
Haha
Little lad
&
No further questions at this time, Grace
My Friday afternoon gigantic smile reading this.. & enjoying the terrific slew of images ⭕️❌
Amazing how much work is behind such an effortless look. Part of me is like - I can’t believe we pay for this…but the other part is in awe of how well it just *works*