I fancy myself quite the lover of neutrals. I like my coffee and my turtlenecks as I like my soul, I say to my invisible fan base, black. I figure that wearing neutrals can only further my image of the Cool New Yorker.
That, and finally learning that not all subways connect their downtown trains with their uptown ones. But the latter is a work in progress.
So this recent introduction of vibrant colours to my wardrobe has come as somewhat of a surprise to probably no one—the problem with an invisible fan base is that it tends to be, well, invisible—except me. I’m the only one readily scrutinizing and picking apart my clothing choices. I’m my own biggest fan. My own 11th like on Instagram.
Anyway, a good case for the start of my somewhat-recent colour love affair can be made for when I found this shirt. It was 12€ in the discount bin at Zara and it was calling my name. Wearing it made me feel like an escaped disco dancer from the ‘70s.
One (alleged) friend told me not to buy it, cautioning that it made me look “retro and not in a good way, in like a TV dinner kind of way”. I ignored her and disco-pointed my way to the checkout counter.
I’d love to tell you that I’ve since worn it with reckless abandon, possibly in pursuit of starting my own underground disco business in Midtown Manhattan. But what actually happened was I forgot about it, leaving it shoved into my drawers to rot (not literally) (I don’t have pests, mom, I promise my apartment is clean) until I impulse-bought a pair of mustard yellow trousers in a fit of autumnal-related passion. That same fit is how I ended up with a pumpkin spice-scented candle. I don’t want to talk about it.
Something I’ve been super into lately is monochrome looks, IE where one dresses head-to-toe in one colour so as to resemble a crayon. I don’t own a mustard yellow top (but the season is still young), so I instead turned to my once-beloved striped top from the Zara discount bin that fortuitously includes stripes of mustard.
The trousers included a tie belt which I am not into, so instead I repurposed it as a headband. Grey-blue kitten heels and a dark blue bag that can literally only fit my phone and maybe like half a sandwich finish off the look.
I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure this outfit makes me one drug addiction away from a 70s disco dancer.