A Straight Dude's Take On High Fashion

image

She was the love of my life. Beautiful, charming, kind, funny. The sort of woman I could see myself marrying. But then came the shoes. Two weeks into our relationship, she showed up for drinks in a pair of Steve Madden platform sneakers with überthick soles. It was the late ’90s and these kinds of clodhoppers were all the rage, but I didn’t care about the zeitgeist. They were awful. Embarrassing. Only circus clowns and Essex girls should be wearing such footwear. They had to go, or I would have to, I feared.

"Hey," I said casually, “Those are some shoes you got there.”

"What’s wrong?" she replied, on to me instantly. "You don’t like them?" 
I said they were simply “different,” adding, “I guess they’re ‘in’ these days.” She got the picture, and thankfully, I never saw the shoes again. And while our relationship eventually fizzled like most fashion fads do, the experience got me to thinking. I never go to Fashion Week shows. I’m not an InStyle subscriber. I couldn’t pick Tom Ford out of a police lineup. Why should a straight, not-particularly-fashion-savvy guy care so much about what a woman wears?

The answer didn’t come from studying those seemingly sacrosanct street-style blogs or watching The September Issue on repeat. Instead, I relied on a man whose entire wardrobe consisted of white tunics, the second-century Greek sage and philosopher Epictetus, who once wrote, “Know, first, who you are, then adorn yourself accordingly.” I couldn’t agree more—it’s not the clothes that make the man, but vice versa—and this applies especially to the fairer sex. When I first meet a woman, I evaluate her outfit—not in terms of dollars and cents, but sense and sensibility. What do her clothes say about her? Does she dress confidently? Boringly? Crazily? Just as a pair of thick-soled shoes can set off an alarm, the right look can create a spark. Case in point: Years ago, when I lived in Paris, I met a fetching blonde who had a penchant for scarves. I didn’t particularly like the neckwear, but the way she wore her scarves—and more importantly, the way she owned the look—screamed of sophistication and self-possession. Soon enough, those scarves made me swoon.

I find that women are mysterious creatures, wondrous combinations of contradiction and conundrum. Understanding fashion helps me to decode them. Like art, music, and writing, style is one of the few forms of honest and public self-expression. If her closet is chock-full of floor-length skirts and buttoned-up-to-there blouses, you can bet the mortgage that she’s conservative in other ways too. But, should the shelves be stocked with leather pants and low-cut tank tops, there’s no question (despite what she might say) that she’s far more Lindsay Lohan than Taylor Swift.

All this is to say that since Maddy Moonboots squeaked her way out the door, my appreciation of women’s fashion has grown. These days, I’ll find myself flipping through the latest WWD, and every Sunday, I’ll peruse the style section of The New York Times. And it seems the studying has paid off. Recently, while having drinks at Bemelmans Bar at The Carlyle, I even recognized the well-heeled man sitting at the next table: Tom Ford.

image

Aside from clocking what women are wearing, I’ve also started to pay attention to what will soon be hitting the streets. Mind you, I’m no André Leon Talley (although we both look great in a tunic), but designers, too, are a mysterious lot and with each new season I find myself surprised, delighted, and slightly baffled. Fall 2014 is no exception.

Where to begin? I guess even a layman like me cannot deny the omnipresence of shearling coats. They were everywhere, from the American mainstream (Coach) to the Italian intelligentsia (Prada). But seriously, who doesn’t love shearling? Also, the Mod look. I’m a lifelong fan of The Who! Bring it on, Baba O’Riley, in your color-block patterns! Plus, if this winter is anything like last year’s (picture Siberia in early February), these bold and brash colors will keep spirits bright.

Next, the wildcard: oversize knitwear. At first glance, I am concerned. The pragmatist in me envisions those long hems dragging through winter puddles and slush. But I am sold when I see the impeccable Céline, the graceful and chic Chloé. Then I come across an oversize knit number from The Row, which looks like a Yeti costume. The jury is still out on this one.
I am most perplexed by the robe coat. Robes are not practical items (especially in winter). They are drafty, flimsy, and tend to open unexpectedly. It’s why they’re supposed to be worn indoors or, by the pool, if you’re rich/old/European enough (see: Reuben Tishkoff, Tony Soprano). Not to mention, this look isn’t novel: it was popularized by the one and only Jeff Lebowski. Should fashion trends really be patterning themselves on The Dude?

My declarations, of course, could be totally off base. But hey, at least I’ve started to pay attention. Women may thumb their noses at shearling, and the robe coat could become the next LBD. I could be—and I probably am—wrong. These are just one man’s opinions. However, as long as the runways stay busy, I’ll be interested. Not because I’m on the hunt for a date. But rather because what I’ve learned, slowly, is that fashion is not as trivial as the latest trends. It’s something deeper, something significant. As Epictetus might have put it, it’s a window to the soul.