The dead of autumn brings out my favorite life of fashion, probably because the articles you tend to see are in one of their most charming reincarnated states. Yes, the overly tried and true bodes best for winter and its older brother. This is one season of my years in New York the citizens are least likely to fuck up: Their key to success is simplicity. No one wants flashy when the day’s aura demands you be dim. Everyone, in a very roundabout absurd way, looks a lot more English (only really pans out in this time of year).
Anoraks abound, ADIDAS & Nike track jackets, and Fred Perry knockoffs were plenty to be had of even the most surprising loiterer. Maybe it is very much the year of the skinhead: many tight-fit open leather jackets sat comfortably over plenty a torso nursing a Christmas best flannel. Around my SoHo hub of business, which more or less makes this article too easy, I’ve gazed at a couple of instances where delivery boy and patron share a kinship in aesthetics (light down jackets and dark beaten jeans).
That denim is more of a star here than it tends to be in the spring. Richer hues and more intricate stitching makes its oft unnoticed presence much more striking. My meager disappointment lies in the lack of corduroys. Really, people? They’re made for above 40 and below 70. But much to everyone’s gratification, there is a low of college sweatshirts in today’s forecast.
By Dru G., New York Correspondent