Last September was an extremely confusing time for women’s fashion. Plenty of us started doing things we said we’d never do (wearing tight tank tops among other body huggers, for example), then Céline and Vetements sprung cowboy boots on us, a mere season following a resuscitation heralded by Miu Miu, Marc Jacobs, Valentino and longtime proponent, Isabel Marant. That’s really when I figured I was losing it. “It,” meaning my interest in trends — my ability to take a complex theory (so complicated!), break it down, publicly make sense of it and ultimately try it.
Amelia on the other hand, who you might know as Susan Miller, dutifully bought in — first by positing: runway or real life? Then by going to Jackson Hole and spending 24 hours upon her return talking about her dumb-ass trip and how she planned to wear the cowboy boots she acquired. I yawned and eye-rolled and then yawned again until boom! Like clockwork on a trend report, I, too, was in contemplation mode.
I slipped a pair into my market report last week. And maintain that no other boots feel right. (That I can’t perfectly distill what I mean by “right” frustrates me but essentially my ankles are bored, my jeans are dead).
There’s something curiously, hideously awesome about them. This morning, I saw a woman wearing a pair with leggings and a sweater. I will totally try that! When I wore them, it was with a brocade skirt and a wool blazer — sort of Marie Antoinette meets Oliver Twist and then says something cheesy like, “This isn’t my first rodeo [LOOK DOWN!!!], old chap.”
Mostly, I am consistently fascinated when I find the cues that define my taste changing in real time. I know I chalked it up to mere exposure effect last time we spoke about the nuanced evolution of my taste buds, but we are more than mere data points for psychological phenomena! Are we not? So what gives? Or in other words — you in?
Photo by Krista Anna Lewis.
