Yes, that is quite an appropo way to describe my first two years of high school. Miserable people finding their only contentment in their attempts to make me feel small and inadequate. But lucky for me, it was short lived, and I spent my junior and senior year at a performing arts high school, with all the other misfits that didn't fit in at their "regular" school either. I look back on my time there as one of the more defining moments in my young life for many reasons. In addition to finding a haven of acceptance and proximity to talented artists of differing genres, I was also being exposed to a world outside of my slightly sheltered suburban upbringing. Being 16 and spending your days and nights in a city defined by Poe, crab cakes, "Hons", excessive crime, John Waters and Natty Boh is a learning experience all its own. Why all the nostagia? Well, I am currently en route to an alumni function at said alma mater, where inevitably everyone will be dressed to impress with the main ambition to wash away any memories of our awkward younger selves.
And how did all these urban eccentricities define the adolescent sense of style of yours truly? As I recall, I was over-worked and rather tired in high school, so comfort was key and being it was the early 90s, this translated into grunge unfortunately. But then my high school BFF M, led me down the garden path (or at least that was how my parents saw it at the time), and in came the years of goth clubs and industrial music. Oh yes, you saw correctly my faithful readers. I was slightly tragic! (see aforementioned suffering theme.) I may have been one of the first, and possibly only, goth ballerinas! This lasted a few years, and despite outward appearances and associations, a lot of fun was had, in addition to some rather interesting fashion statements which usually involved fishnets and some sort of pvc material. Rebellion and angst in the form of a spider web mini dress and combat boots.
But alas adulthood and professionalism beckoned, and to be honest I was kind of tired of all the effort with the requisite eye makeup, so a bit of social conformity took place around age 24. The travels in Europe and move to France helped to solidify my love and appreciation for the art of clothes. Though I must admit, as iconic and classic as the essence of French style is, when it comes to inventiveness and self expression via fashion, New Yorkers win hands down. One of my favorite things to do in the summer is sit at the outdoor cafes and people watch. You can almost imagine the passers-by individual stories. The Upper East Side mom with two kids, nanny, logo bag and massive diamond in tow. The 40-ish Tribeca finance guy with a young impressionable amazonian model on his arm. The Williamsburg hipster in skinny jeans and Amish beard who abides with 6 other dudes in a built out loft that in actuality would comfortably sleep 4. The Hell's Kitchen out of work actress in a dress, heels, and thick nude Danskin tights racing to her next audition at a "I hope I get it" kind of pace. Oh how I love them all!
And for this 30-something Brooklynite's style du jour? There is a part of me that realizes and frankly enjoys that my life is probably also obviously displayed by my outward appearance though I hope I will continue to surprise and mix it up from time to time. Black nail polish, bondage collars and excessive velvet probably won't make a come back for me, but never rule out a nice beehive and cats eye bejeweled glasses, Hon!
