And While We’re At It, You’re Not Carrie Bradshaw Either
Please, just for one moment, let me be obnoxious and trite, because I just have an all too familiar feeling inside that burns so bad: I knew about Carrie Bradshaw and Jane Birkin way before they were trending. There. I said it! Listen, this does not make me better than anyone, nor does it make me more fashionable (but who knows, maybe it does). There is just something so unsatisfying about seeing your heroes become a trend on Tiktok.
It was a cold Saturday in January on the Upper West Side. I was fourteen and had nowhere else to be, and Friends and The Office reruns were just not cutting it. So I thought I would give the show my mother has been talking about since the 90’s a shot: Sex and the City. Yes! Finally something I could really relate to. Women in their thirties in New York City talking about friends, clothes, and men! Hallelujah! Except for the thirties part, it wasn’t far off. If Charlotte, Samantha, Miranda, and Carrie became my new family on the silver screen, then the clothes and the way they shaped those gals became my new way of life. Of course, specifically Carrie’s walk-in closet. She became my new fairy godmother. There was no Fendi Baguette, Donna Karen slip, backwards (on purpose) Chanel blouse, or Dolce and Gabbana mini skirt that went unnoticed. I started wearing my hair big and my heels high. And now, as pathetic as it may be, I live my life through a Sex and the City lens with Carrie as my guide. Hell, it even got me through a break up. Side note: I know there is a laundry list of things that are very wrong with this show (never forget Season 3, Episode 5), and it does not fall on deaf ears.
Jane Birkin’s entry into my life was not as intense, but equally impactful. I can’t quite remember how I found out about said 60’s belle, but I can say it was not too long after that fateful January night. Just like everyone else, I was captured by Jane’s obvious charm and effortlessness. Her feathery hair, the ease of her jeans, and the swan-like manner of her movements made me feel like I could also be stripped down and beautiful. But, let us not forget, la piece de resistance, the wicker basket. The fact that she took something so random and made it her own trend shows just how smart she is. Of course, I did and still do my best to emulate her, always relying on my staple pieces.
For nearly a decade now, these women have been my tutors, my gurus, my Jesus Christ superstars. But then, my biggest nightmare became my reality: Tiktok began to catch on, especially this past summer. I could not make it five minutes on my For You page without seeing “Here’s how to dress like Carrie Bradshaw” or “How to achieve Jane Birkin’s effortless style.” It drove me nuts! Bonkers! Bananas! Everyone started posting themselves imitating some of the most iconic outfits ever to grace our culture. Who did they think they were? It felt so void of true appreciation or respect, with the intention being to turn into a carbon copy. Carrie and Jane became so much of a trend that these ladies began to tarnish, and it made me so angry that I slowly started to resent them. Tiktok is the fucking worst.
Now, I am not saying that people can’t have fashion icons that they model themselves after. Otherwise, there would be no fashion! All I am trying to say is that the whole point of having inspirations and icons is not to try your hardest to BE them, but emulate them and make it your own. Translate it to your life. Also, don’t love them because it is a trend, love them because they are fantastic. So many people now think they are Carrie Bradshaw if they wear a feminine top with workout shorts and slingbacks, and Jane Birkin if they wear blue jeans, a white tee, and a bag with ribbons and charms. Hence, the issue with Tiktok. It makes things too easy. You can’t just copy their style, you need to transform it into your own.
Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I need to know why I get so competitive about this? Why am I so overprotective? It could just be the youngest child in me, or because I love a little too fiercely. It could also be that this is just what happens with celebrities. People begin to idolize and think they have a close and personal relationship with famous people, and it’s something that no one else could ever understand. However, that is what’s so great about icons and inspirations: they are accessible to everyone. Anyone can take inspiration from them, just as long as they don’t try to be them. So sorry girls, you’re not Jane Birkin or Carrie Bradshaw, and hey, neither am I. And nobody should be, that is their whole charm – they can never be captured or attained. But that doesn’t mean forget about them. Just braid them in.
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