Looking At The Look Book
New York magazine's Look Book never ceases to amaze us, in a "where do they FIND these people?" sort of way. This week, they've managed to hunt down Julie Erdman, a sophomore at NYU whose single outfit is probably more expensive than your rent (obviously, we envy her). She is not, however, an Olsen. A self-described "culture-phile" majoring in French lit, Julia's goals aren't too high: she'd like to be a Times restaurant critic. Total waste case, sigh. After the jump, Intern Alexis gets some stylish input from this week's roundtable of Tom Scocca, Scott Claffee, and Jeanette Au.
How would you describe Julia's style?
Twenty-first-century "Do yew have any Grey Poupon?" aka platinum-card Minnie Pearl, with the speaks-for-itself Hermes in the role of the giant price tag. But I admire her coat. I got that exact same coat at Ikea only it was a rug. It didn't have that amazing topology around the collar, though. Or maybe sort of, but I put a floor lamp on top of it to tamp it down.
What do you think Bob Saget thought when he spotted Julia at Bungalow 8?
"This girl's fronting like she doesn't know Mary from Ashley-Kate, but she can pick me, Bob Saget, out of a crowd?"
Says Julia: "My dad is in investments it's one of those things where I don't really know what he does." What does he really do?
He's in "investments." In Vegas. Does Julia have to draw you a map? Daddy's Gucci lenses aren't transition-tinted; they're layered with ballistic-rated polycarbonate so he doesn't go out like Moe Green. But pretending for the moment that he actually is in investments—and not what we used to call "olive-oil imports" or just "business"—he might want to tip off Julia that money is perfectly fungible. So "I spend my money at Barneys and daddy's money on food" equals "I spend daddy's money at Barneys." Another financial pointer: I don't know who her friend Louis is who hooks her up with knockoff bags and shoes, but I guarangoddamntee I can go cheaper than him. I'll keep an eye out next time I'm at Yashow Market.
Whither dost Julia looketh?
At an invisible pistol sight, pointed at the base of Amanda Hesser's skull. One afternoon in ninth grade, she found the Mauser in daddy's top desk drawer while looking for the checkbook. Twice a week thereafter, she would sneak it out of its hiding place, drive a ways off into the desert in her mother's Alfa, and pick off tin cans at 50 paces till the light started to fade. If daddy ever noticed the missing ammo or the smell of powder on her hands, he kept it to himself. Won't he be proud when Julia is first-name-dropping Jean-Georges in the pages of Dining Out/Dining In?
Scott Claffee, law clerk and self-proclaimed karaoke superstar
How would you describe Julia's style?
It's very "Willy Wonka goes to Augusta." But I once wore sweatpants to school, so what do I know? Granted, they were Armani sweats, but still.
Speaking of school, I once had a "vintage Genny," but it was of the 12 Horse Ale variety, not the Italian pleated kind, and it left me with a raging hangover instead of a spread in New York mag.
What do you think Bob Saget thought when he spotted Julia at Bungalow 8?
"Amazing! Kimmy Gibbler had that exact same scarf!"
Says Julia: "My dad is in investments it's one of those things where I don't really know what he does." What does he really do?
I'm pretty sure he imports knock-off handbags, like the one he gave Julia for her 18th birthday, currently clenched in her pale, bony left arm. Wait, is she going to see this? Maybe it's a good thing NYU just suicide-proofed its dorm rooms.
Whither dost Julia looketh?
(A sonnet for our fair literature major)
Her gaze follows the vision of the man,
She met at Butter dining with her clan;
Lo! the image, blurry, starts to fade,
Or is it just the dark'ning of her shades?
Jeanette Au, Programming Manager, PlanetOut Inc.
How would you describe Julia's style?
Mon Dieu! One hundred percent unabashed label whore, part contrived fashionista but absolutely safe, predictable and indicative of the prevailing times. I am not convinced, I need a little more realism and some passion at least.
Too much is going on around her neck. I am charitable so I give her the benefit of the doubt and try to imagine that she is secretly a bad girl under all those tedious bourgeoisie signifiers that she dearly clings to. Maybe she's hiding a phat hickey courtesy of the doorman of her Park Ave. penthouse. You simply can t knot a Hermes on top of a turtleneck and then hike up your shawl collar to hide the whole mess. Lose the Hermes scarf or take that scarf wrap up those raven tresses in smartly folded turban. Yank it off to double as a lobster bib and marry your love of food and fashion.
Julia gets a Bjork swan point for wearing her Gucci shades indoors. That authenticates her Francophile disposition, adding the charm of true Euro-dorkiness. Irresistible! Plus need I point out that it s great camouflage for the occasional black eye. And since Julia s always wearing her sunshades indoors no one will ever know the difference. Brilliant!
Julia should take her friend s advice and throw on those sweats - preferably stained, well-worn perspired pair. She s needed to mix it up a little and not show up shamelessly in head to toe in designer logos. She could sure use some bobo chic cues from Bob and the Olsen twins.
What do you think Bob Saget thought when he spotted Julia at Bungalow 8?
Nanny material ... Let s stick the troll baby twins on her!
Says Julia: "My dad is in investments it's one of those things where I don't really know what he does." What does he really do?
Couldn't her parents have been profiled instead? I bet they are more fun and wild. Don t worry, Julia s just going through a stage and rebelling against them. She will grow out of it eventually and embrace her roots. Daddy's investing his time with showgirls and mama s a die-hard gambler. Why should she care what daddy does anyway as long as she s getting her Hermes allowance?
