At Christmas I was given a present by my twin sister that changed my life. That present was a pair of vintage high waisted jeans… but not your average denim numbers. These ones were special.. they are denim printed with vintage champagne labels. Anyone that knows me knows that I will never say no to a glass of champagne (who would?!) and these trousers are now one of my most prized possessions.
These babies were at the top of my moving to NYC packing list…. I thought that if anyone would appreciate them it would be the stylish New Yorkers. I had been saving their first outing for a special occasion, and then last night, after 6 days of straight work (this means wearing all black every day) I was determined to squeeze as many colours and prints into an outfit as possible… and hence the time was right for my champagne trousers to make their maiden voyage into the New York fashion scene.
Dressed in white gladiator sandals, champagne trousers, a blue and white striped bodysuit and bright orange lipstick, I was dressed and ready for dinner at a friends house, excited for my day of and feeling like a million dollars. Post dinner, on the way home at 1am, I had my arm twisted to stop for a nightcap in a newly opened bar. Seemed nice inside with a good bunch of people until I began talking to one gentlemen.. after about 5 minutes of talking he looked me up and down and ask me if “my outfit was the result of loosing a bet”. I was speechless!
Instantly I thought of using Romy’s call (of Romy and Michelle) “Would you excuse me, I cut my foot before and my shoe is filling up with blood” Or saying no you twat. Take your button up shirt, black chinos, pointy shoes back to urban outfitters, drink a vodka soda and go talk to a girl in a tight dress. Instead I decided to not waste anymore time, oxygen or energy talking to a person that clearly was from a very different planet from me, I smiled and excused myself back to my friend at the bar.
And here I was thinking that you could wear anything out in New York and no one would look twice. Last weekend I wore a black sequin bra out instead of a top (38 degrees definitely warrants a bra as an top option) and no one said anything. Perhaps New York is just not man enough for my champagne trousers!
I say… man up New York!!!