(My hot Greek adventures continue with the next post.)
IN WHICH I CARPE DIEM AND CARPE GLAM.
It’s accepted wisdom that you should dress not for the job you have, but the job you want. This is a powerful truth which works on psychological, emotional and spiritual levels to indeed bring you that job. After all, you’re a walking vision board (see my post “Fabricating Fabulous” 10/9/14 ). Apply that same insight to dressing well, an essential component of the GAS — Glamour, Attractiveness, Sexiness — that powers the Life à la Hot of your dreams.
Did you know French women — who traditionally reek with chic — wouldn’t be caught dead wearing sweat pants? They go to the gym, of course, but change in the locker room.
Wonder how that premise would go over in California, where the idea of casual is a part of the lifestyle, 24/7? Anyway, everywhere else, we’ve been gradually losing the necktie, while Casual Friday appears to be planning an insidious coup to slowly but surely liberate the rest of the week.
America’s legendary rugged individualism and love of freedom is embodied by our trademark clothes. The French may have started haute couture, but we’ve been far more influential, dressing the world in haute chill. We brought our California Gold Rush miners’ pants — blue jeans — to the closets of the world; teased the tee-shirt out from its subterfuge as undershirt, by way of James Dean and Marlon Brando; gifted the globe with our headwear of choice, the baseball cap; and ran our Chuck Taylor’s Converse All Stars off the basketball court and onto the tired, pinched feet of millions.
That’s because American style is all about comfort. But as much as the world venerates our laid back look, if you want to get laid, you’ll need to limit your running pants to, well, running. But don’t despair. Though in that form-fitting pencil skirt you won‘t be the one doing the chasing, your part will be the far more delicious role — the one being chased.
Purge your wardrobe with Stalinist zeal: Banish the Seattle grunge and the wannabe Amish, while exiling the unisex, the baggy, the frumpy, the dumpy, the dowdy, the sensible, and the boringly conventional to thrift shops on the outer steppes of Hotlandia. Welcome in the fashionable, the fitted, the slitted, the plunged, the key-holed, the scooped, the strappy, the feminine, the Goddess. And don’t be lazy — work it all the time.
Because everyday we’re starring in our own James Bond movie — as Glamour Pussy.
Yours truly,
