A few months ago I was walking down Broadway on my way home from a successful Saturday shopping expedition. About a block from my apartment I spotted a girl wearing one of the very pieces Iʼd just purchased, and momentarily stalled in my tracks. Surely it came as no surprise that the mass-market retailer had made more than one of their product, so why the reason for my double-take? Well for starters, the item in question was a lacy, floral-print bra. And she was wearing it as a top.
Like any good New Yorker, I kept right on walking. It wasnʼt until later that I realized just how strangely fortunate I am to live in a city where one can see a woman wearing lingerie as outerwear, and the standard protocol is “just keep walking.” Stopping to point or laugh or stare? Now that would be strange.
The incident conjures up memories of Seinfeldʼs Sue Ellen Mischke, the “braless wonder,” heir to the OʼHenry! candy bar fortune, and Elaineʼs arch-nemesis. And while the showʼs absurd storylines were pure fiction, that particular Seinfeldian creation wasnʼt all that far from the truth. After all, where else in this country can you be yourself as fully as you can in New York?
I was reminded of this again recently, when a Facebook friend posted a photo of a man riding the R train while covered head to toe in candy. He wasnʼt performing or singing or soliciting handouts, but simply standing there holding the railing with one hand while checking his cell phone with the other, just like any other commuter heading home at the end of a long day.
It was interesting to see the kinds of comments that the photo provoked from my friendʼs friends. Those from outside the city were surprised, amused, and even shocked. The New Yorkers, on the other hand, had all seen something “weirder,” and began one-upping each other with their best people-watching tales. My own response? “Thatʼs okay, yesterday I saw a guy with a tail.” Which was, in fact, the truth.
As a stylist, I routinely work with clients from different parts of the country. Many of them are hesitant to take fashion risks. “I live in a conservative area” or “people donʼt dress like that back home” are things that I hear quite often. Having grown up in the suburbs, I can see how that might in fact be true, and it makes me sad. It also makes me realize that far too many of us fail to take advantage of living in a city where individuality is as fully celebrated as it is in New York.
Some New Yorkers—like candy man or bra-top girl—are proud to embrace their uniqueness. Others have consciously decided not to care about their appearance, and are deliberately owning “I give up” as their look of choice. But what about all of the people in the middle?
Most of us have, at one point or another, walked into a generic chain store and bought the safest, plainest, least offensive shirt or pants or sweater that we could find. “Iʼm not going to win any fashion awards with this, but at least Iʼll blend in,” we think. “Nobody will notice that I have no sense of style if I donʼt bother to try.” And while there might not be anything wrong with that plain brown sweater, there is nothing particularly right about it either.
Now, Iʼm not necessarily advocating gumdrop pants or head-to-toe taffy—there are few among us who are brave enough to go to such extremes. But those snake-print jeans you thought looked cool? The pumps with the metal studs? That bright pink tie you feared would draw too much attention? Give them a try. Because really, the most amazing thing about living in New York is that just when you think youʼve seen it all, youʼll realize that you havenʼt. Purple polka dots or distressed denim might seem like a daring fashion risk, but five minutes later youʼll find yourself in line behind an Elvis impersonator or standing next to a clown on the crosstown bus, and suddenly youʼll realize that absolutely no one is looking at you.
