“To err is human, to forgive is divine."

The Fashionista is going to attempt to be even more divine than usual by pointing out, and forgiving, the hideous fashion sins she witnessed just this past weekend.

Friday night at Le June, the Fashionista spotted a starlet-who-shall-remain-nameless wearing a micromini with stockings and a garter belt, sans underwear. Can we please let this hideous trend die? It’s been eons since we spied Paris’s or Britney’s privates, so if those fashionable flashers can commit to donning La Perlas, the rest of you have no excuse!

Then on Saturday afternoon at Gagosian Gallery in Chelsea, a certain Latvian supermodel (hint: she just landed a huge cosmetics deal and will soon have her face plastered all over the country) was spotted in denim cutoffs, four-inch Manolos, and a wife-beater with glittery suspenders. Now,
the Fashionista appreciates a certain degree of creativity, but if one is a known “face of style,” shouldn’t one avoid dressing like a clown? Saturday night at Casa Mono was equally disappointing, when the Fashionista was horrified by a parade o’ breasts. Never mind the to-the-chin cleavage (ladies, we know you’re proud of your boobs, but show some restraint, please!). What was up with the plunging necklines and the peep-show side glimpses? If the Fashionista wanted to see naked breasts, she’d go to Saint-Tropez. Or buy a copy of Playboy.

Sunday morning at church (the Fashionista’s church—Barneys), I caught a glimpse of a fellow worshipper, a famous Manhattan socialite, who should know better, wearing a pair of terry-cloth shorts, with the words Squeeze Please over either butt cheek. The horror! And at Barneys! Is nothing sacred? Sigh. The Fashionista forgives the aforementioned faux pas and trusts that the rest of my fellow fashionistas will wise up.

Your faithful Fashionista

“Fashion fades; only style remains the same.”

Do you know who said that? Care to guess what it means? Well, my fellow fashionistas, allow me to enlighten you. It was that ultimate fashion icon, Coco Chanel. And what Coco was so classily saying is that you can buy all the $1,500 Prada handbags and $500 Jimmy Choos in the world—you might even look pretty enough, dripping in all that high-end artillery—but, darling, if you don’t have style, you simply don’t have style.

I’d like to tell that to all the slavish fashion victims prancing down Madison Avenue who’ve shamelessly copied their outfits off the mannequins at Barneys with nary a thought—and the Fashionista doesn’t like to name names, but I’m thinking of a certain Upper East Side prep-school princess who recently dropped $3,500 on an exercise outfit, even though the girl hasn’t worked out a day in her life. People, there’s more to fashion than being able to buy it.You’ve got to work it. Work it in a glamorous vintage flapper gown purchased at your local thrift store OR in some extravagant piece straight from the latest prêt-à-porter collections. Just know your style, own your look, and be true to your most fabulous self.

It seemed fitting to open my premiere blog with a nod to Coco Chanel—even though Coco was long gone before blogs ever arrived on the scene. Fashion, after all, is about reinvention, taking
something old and making it new again, taking a dress created by someone else, sliding it on, and making it look like it was made for you and only you. Of course, to do that, you need style. And that’s what I’m here for. More to come.

Your faithful Fashionista