I should’ve been a furrier. So far this winter has logged in 56473848 snow storms and in 2014 I would’ve made some good money. In recent years past, we had mellow and temperate winters, so I might not have struck gold, but I digress. Based on the recent Polar Vortex, this winter and fashion week has been numbing to the senses. I can handle the abundant snow storms because that’s mother nature doing its thing. It’s the repercussions and the aftermath: the frigid toes and hands, constant red nose, slush and dirty snow strewn all over your outfit. The only sense that is worth its weight in Olympic gold is the eyes. Street style right now in New York is blasting on repeat all around town, the energy is maddening, and everybody is wearing fur. Frankly, I’m into vintage furs, because the animal has already warmed up other bodies, and the concept is, better on me than accumulating cobwebs.
As day 6 of Fashion Week rears its ugly head, and my body is still sore from last weekend, the question still remains. For the next few days what the hell am I going to wear? And what does one do in the event of body-immobility? Protest, of course. Remain stationery? Doctors orders. I refuse to sit home and look through Style.com so, I’ll bite the damn bullet, put on something rubber and flat, and electively release myself into the jungle.
rag & bone fedora // vintage fur coat get a similar one here // j crew wool sweater borrowed from the mens dept // mango jacket // helmut lang stovepipe grey pants // miu miu patent leather ankle booties // devi kroell bag
photos: Lydia Hudgens
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