how to not look like everyone else
diaphanous dresses, a soft espresso leather jacket and a French-girl resurrection
In the last few months, it feels the world has realized we’re all pulling influences from the same pool because of that infamous algorithm, and the internet has risen up in revolt.
I understand: this chocolate brown satin mule shows up on my discover page every time I open instagram because well, the algorithm works. We are reaching peak personal style, but all that means practically is we’re all buying jellies, making shirt sandwiches and wearing High Sports.
The life cycle of cool might feel shorter now, but it all goes back to the hand soap conundrum. In the 2010s in New York City, having Aesop hand soap in your restaurant bathroom meant something. Aesop, born out of Australia and known for its organic, monochromatic stores and partnerships with The Paris Review, gave restaurants a sheen, a secret nod of approval that signaled to us we had chosen wisely. I don’t know if this is truth or folklore, but before the brand was ubiquitous, the rumor was Aesop only approved certain restaurants to use its soap. I once went to the bathroom in a new West Village restaurant, occupying one of those doomed spaces that turn over every few years, and pumped the Aesop hand soap to watch bright pink liquid squirt out. The restaurant closed a few months later.
We had it in our West Village apartment too, and basked vaunting when people would comment on it. Until one day, it was everywhere. A visual cue so ubiquitous that we became numb to it, and it lost the signifier. I’m always peeking into the bathrooms of people with taste to see if they’ve solved my dilettante’s dilemma: what’s the next Aesop?
And then in LA, during Covid, a little known brand called Flamingo Estate started delivering CSA boxes and fresh florals, from a hedonistic palace in Echo Park. The creative felt mythical in the vein of a Tim Walker spread. It was confusing, and tantalizing all at once. They made gorgeous, overpriced hand soap. I bought one for every room, along with candles that smelled like fresh tomatoes. Until every fancy room in LA begin to smell like tomatoes.
The anesthetizing thing, once you realize it, is that it’s not up to us. Just like inception, a reimagined Rocket Dog from Phoebe Philo is ridiculous, until of course… it isn’t. Until you find yourself wanting it, somewhat desperately, to complete all of your summer outfits that now dare to look basic and lacking with any other shoe.
But there are a few ways you can avoid the hand soap trap. Shop vintage, of course. And mix in a bit of discovery with your red jellies. Below, a few of my favorite new, forgotten and smaller players:
A few months ago, I was brainstorming potential collaborations with our Fashion Director and she brought up Carven, the classic French girl brand that used to be one of my go-tos in my early 30s.
The brand’s founder, Marie-Louise Carven, made her own rules, rebelling against the Nazis by hiding a Jewish employee and his family in her home. She was one of the first couture designers to debut pret-a-porter. Now under the wise eye of Louise Trotter, Carven is modern and ethereal all at one, mixing sheer romance with expert tailoring, structure with the nonchalance of a French slouch. And the styling (striped button downs with organza, square toe leather mules with flowing fabrics, a necklace that drips down into a low back) gives it a both a suggestive air and a crispness, a spine that we all need.
There are some pieces of clothing where you feel lucky to experience them. This FFORME leather jacket, crafted in gorgeous Nappa leather, is voluminous in all the right places (shoulders, padded but still slim in the arms, nipped easily at the waist). Like much of FFORME’s excellent collection, it’s restrained but head turning (their designer is a Row alum, after all). Every time I’ve worn it, compliments abound from colleagues, friends and strangers.
Grover Rad is a contradiction, in the best way. The fabrics are beautiful, the construction artful, and the ideas are… dark. With each collection, founder Lizzie Grover Rad tackles social issues - from plastic surgery to abortion - and commissions original art to make us ruminate on them. My most recent purchase? This silk wrap skirt with beads , with a textile borrowed from a painting that examines the meaning of death. I plan to wear it to a 40th birthday in Europe next month.
You may know Attersee from the vest worn around the world but the collection is so much more: a satin cocktail pant fit for the Swans, a sculpted cobalt wool dress, a champagne crochet turtleneck and cashmere t-shirts in every color. Their appointment only showroom, designed with Fabrizio Casiraghi, on the UES is also drool worthy: old world, perfectly appointed furnishings done quietly - much like Attersee itself.
I’d estimate I wear something from G. Label by goop almost every day. I’m biased yes, but the quality is impeccable, and the silhouettes mix lithely with my existing wardrobe. The collection is Italian-made and the fabrics feel expensive to the touch (they are expensive actually. It’s why it’s only available on DTC: the margin is too low for the brand to go into wholesale). I particularly love the courtroom sweater, this virgin wool sweater skirt (I wore this oatmeal look to an event we did with Loro Piana and I felt like someone’s fourth wife, but kind of in a good way?), and the deep V bodysuit which I’d pair with these barrel jeans.
A brand from two industry heavyweights (one designed all the celebrity couture at Calvin Klein and the other was the creative director of DVF) and dear old friends, this is a true sleeper hit. Their distribution is rather limited (Bergdorfs and some well-curated independents), and it’s a brand you truly have to touch, because... The fabrics! Soft silk jersey from Italy, the rope detailing that serves as a perfect wink, the breezy linen gauze. They recently won the FGI Rising Star Award and showed at Pitti Uomo.
Sometimes there is an item of basic clothing that hits a serendipitous note, despite the countless iterations that came before it. This crisp cropped boxy top is the top seller at Elyse Walker and Kirna Zabete. I own it and it’s perfect. As are their wide leg Didi pants. This one is such a perfect grey with hints of violet undertones, but I also have these in my rotation. And on my wishlist? This wide leg denim and this silk striped version of their famed Next Ex shirt.
For further reading: The White Shirt Problem. It’s like the trolley problem, but make it a merchandising dilemma instead of a moral one.
We're stuck in a tiny algorithmic k-hole. Mostly, I like it. After all, sometimes I *am* just like the other girls! But I always want to break out and punch things up, too. It's probably why I always have so many tabs open. Discovery is my drug. This was a great read, as always.
I love this. The Aesop story makes me think of Le Labo Santal 33. I remember when I first found it a zillion years ago, how fresh and cool it felt. And how quickly it was just... everywhere!