letter from the editor: october '04.(fashion clothing)(Editorial)

After a Fashion

I went shopping the other day, determined to break out of my fashion rut. On the rack was a killer black cashmere coat, but I made myself pass it by for a version in gray-and-blue plaid. Feeling the way I always do when I shop for clothes (uncertainty verging on paralysis), I called Paul Cavaco, Allure's creative director, for advice. "I'm trying on the plaid coat at Prada; do you know the one?" I asked. Of course he did. "I want to like it because it's not black. But I'm not sure." I paused as the cell-phone connection faded in and out. "I think it might make me look like a refugee." "A lesbian?" Paul asked. "Is that what you said?" "Sure, a lesbian refugee," I answered. "Picture Rosie O'Donnell trudging over the Alps with the Von Trapps." I bought the black coat. Like a proper slave to fashion, I spend more money than I should replenishing my wardrobe each season. Every time I arrive home loaded down with shopping bags, my exasperated husband asks the same question: "Do you really need more new clothes?" My standard response, as I wedge another hanger into the closet, is, "I have nothing to wear." And when that seems insufficient, I usually throw in the line, "It's my job." The truth is, I do ...