On the Pinterest-board that follows my recent post about spring style inspirations, Fran Lebowitz pops up in several images.
I guess that the algoritm quite easily picked up pins of women in suits and suggested pinning Lebowitz, and rightfully so.
Lebowitz is lauded for her sartorialism as well as her sardonicism. The 2021 Martin Scorcese for Netflix-series Pretend It´s a City put her on the style-map for a larger (and younger?) audience, inspiring many thinkpieces.
Vogue describes her style like this:
She is immediately identifiable on the sidewalks of the city by her long overcoats, pocket squares, Savile Row men’s blazers, and Levi’s 501 jeans. Her round tortoiseshell glasses and worn brown leather cowboy boots have long been a part of her sartorial self and persona too. (…) Her relationship to clothes and accessories can be a cerebral one, but more to the point, she represents the effortless, timeless style of a classic New Yorker.
Why am I so drawn to Lebowitz´ looks right now?
I have been drawn to a more formulaic sort of getting dressed lately, maybe as a consequence of things getting more busy at work, and having to plan my days more in detail to make sure I have extra time to do nothing.
And as my mind is more occupied with creative work-related ideas, there is less space for thinking creatively about clothes.
A uniform sounds strangely alluring, right now.
In a lovely interview, Lebowitz is asked about her uniform:
É. You’ve been wearing the same uniform now for years – jeans, shirt and blazer. Isn’t it frustrating sometimes to always dress the same way?
F.L. No, because I don’t think I dress the same way every day at all. When I change my shirt or jacket, it’s not the same. And when I change my cufflinks – I love cufflinks and have tons of them – I feel like it’s a whole new outfit. If you think I dress the same every day, you’re really not looking very closely.
I love this. So let me quote some more:
I dress properly, and I treat my clothes with respect. When I get home, I hang up my coat and jacket, I change my shirt. Once a week, I shine my shoes. I put my cufflinks in a box. I wash my jeans.
This is someone who cares deeply about style, which is and should be aspirational, no matter our aesthetic preference.
I love her demand for lasting quality, and how she cares for the clothes she spends her money on and carries on her body.
I most of all admire her confidence and sense of self. I think that makes her a very attractive woman.
So, could I see myself in a slightly Lebowitz-inspired uniform? Yes. Maybe.
I still dream of a cashmere coat, but I own several blazers (none of them tailor-made, unfortunately), and several pairs of Levi´s.
I have some shirts: Most of them a bit too fitted to channel her silhouette, but a few nice and more relaxed button-down short sleeved ones.
In the same interview, Lebowitz talks in detail about her 40 year old cowboy boots, and how she used to wear loafers when she was a kid. I do have a pair of thrifted Italian cowboy boots, and two pairs of loafers.
So. Enter uniform?
Maybe now, but most probably not forever. I would find it more restricting than liberating, I think.
And my January experiment of limiting my wardrobe to a capsule of 33 items was an ambivalent experience, as you can read here:
My slight aversion to the concept of a capsule wardrobe may seem contradictive to me now wanting to dress more formulaic.
To quote myself (!):
I crave variation and spontaneity and I enjoy the small creative act of selecting a daily outfit, just for me.
All of this tells me, that for me, my wardrobe is a collection of tools for different modes and moods, for different situations and seasons.
I can wake up and crave color, and beam like a ripe orange. Donning an all-black outfit the next day.
I can lean into fitted, flirty femininity, or I can feel most comfortable in a relaxed suit.
And when life is life´ing and demanding more of my attention, I can crave a more streamlined selection of clothes to choose from.
Or. Maybe I just don´t know myself enough, to identify and create a uniform for me, now.
That´s cool, though. I am me, and not Fran Lebowitz.
But I can dig her style.