In honor of the first semi-warm day of the year, I broke out my favorite Michael Kors skirt and Target button up and paired them with a pair of black stockings and a fab pair of ankle boots. When I came across a few ivy covered houses in Midtown, I new it was the perfect place to photograph this dressy casual look.
Wondering about the puppy? His name is Bennett (@pombennett) and he belongs to my friend Alex (sheisred.com) who took these pictures after a delicious Sunday brunch.
Once upon a time, I was an Abercrombie & Fitch wearing teenager who spent all of her babysitting money on A & F polos bearing the moose emblem. I did so all in the name of preppiness. This was a precursor of the Aspiring Socialite journey I would embark on as a young adult in New York City. Over the years, I have found preppy style to be as timeless as a tennis foursome. Preppy fashion is not a requirement of being a socialite, it is an inevitability of the high life. These looks are as classic and versatile as men’s suits or the little black dress.
Popularized by the Kennedys, America’s Royal Family, preppy fashion with its iconic collars, plaids, and argyles is as distinctive as the East Coast Ivys where it originated. Even if you have never played tennis or golf, you have probably worn the clothes or at least an inspired style. These virtually unchanging looks give us a much-needed element of dressy casual. If it were up to me, we would all participate in athletics photo ready with a color coordinated collared shirt and matching bottoms? If there is anything I have learned in my 24 years on this Earth, it is that it is always better to be overdressed than under dressed. What separates a true prep from the rest of society is that a true prep is never under dressed no matter what the circumstances may be.
For a photo tutorial on how preppiness has stood the test of time check out Take Ivy:
The entire point of an exclusive club is exclusivity. Exclusive clubs line the streets of Midtown bearing the description of a country club without the country. In the city that never sleeps, there are three tiers of people, those who are members and frequent this elite scene filled with mahogany walls and 1960s charm, those who know the clubs exist, but have yet to catch a glimpse inside, and those who don’t even know they exist. Days after moving to New York, I became a member of the second tier. During my first week in NYC sleeping on various friends’ couches, I walked down Park Ave. past the Yale Club on a sizzling late August afternoon. Seeing that most of my free time was devoted to searching for a job or an apartment (since I had neither,) I rarely had the time to explore the city’s elite venues. But, on this day I did anyway. After strolling past Grand Central, I shortly ended up in front of the Yale Club of New York and stopped to take a look. As I stared at the building dreaming of a glamorous future here in the Big Apple, a beautiful bride in a classic white bridal gown pulled up to the Yale Club in an understated black car and I thought, “I’m going to be her today.”
