I’d wager a huge number of young women look at Rebecca Minkoff and see their ideal self: cool, a little bit rocker-ish, but never pushing you outside your comfort zone, never weird. It’s fun and confident. Yet as a Weird Girl (TM), I look at a great many of these pieces—especially the outerwear, which is remarkably strong—and see them translatable into every corner of my wardrobe. That’s the Minkoff magic.
Last week, between chatting with a man who told me he made “clothes that are memes” at a dance party that purported to be “wifi” and observing a room full of art types and archetypes watch Kim Cattrall eat popcorn, I found myself in Chelsea looking at Rebecca Minkoff’s Pre-Fall ‘13 Collection, which is inspired by Amelia Earhart and a potion of hardware and drop waists and midi-length skirts and quilted workwear with shots of neoprene that I found quite heady.
I was in a swell way to be up on scrappy, progressive women, because I was reading a biography of Mencken, a contemporary of Ms. Earhart’s and a great admirer of women’s progress. “Women in general seem to me to be appreciably more intelligent than men,” he wrote in his diary (cute!), and though he was mostly patting us on the head for voting Woodrow Wilson out of the White House, I think he would’ve agreed the fairer sex knows something more than the fellers about getting dressed, as well.
If you like outerwear, which I do, there were a great many things to like in this collection. There were jackets cut with precisely oversized shoulders—nothing smarts like an ill-cut oversized garment, and these get the slouch just right—and a neoprene motorcycle vest with hardware details that was the color of Clark Gable’s hair.
A royal purple over-sized bomber with the perfect slouch factor.
Vest of dreams with leather shorts I’d wear to start a revolution.
There were also beautiful beaded pieces, like a pair of blush trousers with art-deco beading that I’d wear to the grocery store and a movie date and a night home alone and my own dog’s funeral because they’re so pretty.
They’re so pretty I COULD FALL OUT OF THIS CHAIR!
And there were trench details and lots of little accordion pleat skirty flounces and the other sorts of requisite things you would want and love from a collection inspired by Amelia Earhart. At a moment in which many are taking the easy aesthetic tack by gazing Luhrmann-ward and sighing, “Gaaaatsby,” a look at Rebecca Minkoff’s cool collection of understated pre-fall pieces had me saying, “What Gatsby? Let’s us ladies fly.”
Leave it to Rebecca Minkoff to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.
You guys, there I was on Friday, just minding my own business, tweeting my tweets, writing rap lyrics for my first album (which is actually just a bunch of CD-RW’s of L’Trimm's Grab It! with “Pizza’s Debut Album” written in sharpie), when lo and behold, a gift arrived for me from the queens of cool at Rebecca Minkoff: the Cooper Clutch.
As you can see, it’s a leather buckle beauty with rabbit hair trim. More like rad-bit hair, if you ask me. It’s the perfect Night Bag, because not only is it covered in fur—meaning it will never be like “Ugh I’m so cold, can I borrow your jacket? I’m just soooo cold”—but it’s big enough for a book. Too many Nite Timez bags are the size of my heart (which is historically small unless I’m looking at a pair of cool shoes), meaning it’s impossible to carry a book with you. You need a book if you’re going anywhere or no one will take you seriously and then you’ll never get a book deal or a modeling contract.
Look at moi: old Smarmageddon here. Wearing a plaid skirt suit with a fox fur collar by the sadly defunct (but maybe returning?) label ADAM by Adam Lippes. This is one of the kewlest sewts I own. Black Mickey sweatshirt from Dear Rivington.
Those Dalmatian boots are from Joe Fresh, which is a rad place if I’ve ever been to a rad place (which I have, natch). They look cool with everything. I got them a month ago and they don’t seem to be available online, but you know what? Stop trying to be like me. Stop trying to buy everything I have, or you won’t get invited to my Colonial Era Candle Making Party. And you really don’t want to miss this party—look at this photo from the last one:
Everyone was out of their mind on ecstasy, as you can see.