I learned this the hard way one July afternoon in Barcelona. The heat was sticky, the kind that clings to your back the moment you step outside. My suitcase was on the hotel bed, unzipped and hostile. Inside: six tops, four dresses, three pairs of shoes, a panic blazer, and a skirt I never wore. … Read more
I still remember ruining a perfect summer outfit because I picked the wrong shade of green. It was one of those humid June afternoons in Milan, the kind where linen sticks to your back and you swear you’ll never wear anything but white again. I had on a sharp, cream linen shirt, relaxed pleated trousers, … Read more
I learned this the hard way. My first week at a corporate job, I showed up in a stiff blazer, shiny black Oxfords, and trousers that were technically “formal”… yet somehow made me look like an intern playing dress-up. By 11 a.m., I was uncomfortable, overdressed, and weirdly invisible at the same time. No one … Read more
Fast fashion tries too hard. For instance, you can see it in the stiffness—blazers that hold their shape better than you do after a long lunch and shoes that shine as if they’re waiting for inspection. Conversely, Italian style moves differently. It is softer, lived-in, and feels as though the clothes belong to the person … Read more
I still remember my first real attempt to plan a trip to New York Fashion Week — I booked flights and a hotel a month too early because I genuinely thought NYFW was always the first week of February. I strutted around JFK in my nearly-new Common Projects white sneakers and a freshly steamed trench … Read more
I learned this the hard way one October morning in Boston. And I wore a loud plaid shacket, chunky sneakers, and a beanie I thought looked “editorial.” And I caught my reflection in a café window and realised I looked like I was trying very hard. Not polished. Not timeless. Just… busy. That was the … Read more
I once showed up to a dinner wearing a jet-black shirt with black pants because I thought it looked sleek. In photos, I looked like a floating head. No shape, no contrast, just… darkness. That’s when it clicked: black trousers aren’t the focal point. They’re the frame. Everything else—especially the shirt—creates the shape, the balance, … Read more
I once tried to impress a table full of very well-dressed Parisians by declaring my love for Elle, which I described — with great confidence — as “that French magazine about elegance.” A woman across from me smiled the way only French women can: kind, composed, and quietly lethal. “You do know elle just means … Read more
I once showed up to a winter party in a thick knit dress, fleece tights, and a giant wool coat… and still spent the entire evening shivering near the heater. I looked “covered,” sure, but I hadn’t dressed for the room, the lighting, the fabric, or what happens to winter party outfits after two hours … Read more
I used to think I was “good at fashion” because I owned expensive clothes. Then I saw a photo of myself at a brunch in SoHo wearing a rust overshirt, olive chinos, burgundy sneakers, and a navy cap. Individually? Great pieces. Together? I looked like a walking paint sample wall from Home Depot. That photo … Read more