New York girls these days don’t want to look cutesy and innocent—they want to be dark and fucked-up and maybe on speed and heroin. They want to look kind of… eccentric. Hence the umpteenth revival of the Edie Sedgwick look. On any given night at any bar you’ll find at least one girl who’s desperately trying to channel the spirit of overrated old Andy Warhol’s overrated poor-little-rich-girl buddy whom he overratedly exploited the shit out of. These ladies will wear adorable little minidresses with the scariest, most painful high heels in existence. (If you’re a foot freak or a shrimper, New York City is Shangri-La right now.)
Parallel to the Edies are the Mary-Kate Olsen wannabes. These are the tiny little wisps you see in line at Starbucks, frantically punching away at their BlackBerrys, wearing big-ass clunky shoes and gargantuan hoodies to shield themselves from their natural enemy, daylight. Essential to this look are obnoxiously large rings (on every finger) and big bug-eyed sunglasses, which they would be terrified to realize aren’t dissimilar to shit Bono wore in the early 90s.
These girls rage harder than anyone else, and because of this they tend to surround themselves with tomboys. These are the short-haired androgynous things you see chain-smoking cigarettes outside of Earnest Sewn at 11 AM—they’re all still totally obsessed with James Dean and Morrissey and so now, for the third year running, we want to officially say that you pretty, well-adjusted, rich fashion fuckers have ruined the Smiths for real fans, so fuck you.
Men’s style in downtown New York has all melted together. It’s the exact same look with different accessories for different crews. If you listen to Justice and LCD Soundsystem you probably own a pair of patent-leather lace-ups by Schmoove. You wear pants so tight you need to coat your legs with baby powder before you put them on.
Do you skate and listen to Children of Bodom? Then we guarantee you have a lifetime supply of plaid shirts and plaid jackets in your closet. Guys like this are always surrounded by a crew of nicely groomed male “fans” who either work at Opening Ceremony or desperately try to look like they do.
When these Tompkins-skater fanboys hear the sound of little wheels on pavement they get Pavlovian boners. They wear tons of plaid as well, but usually with a Mr. Rogers-esque cardigan (these are ubiquitous and have also filtered down to the absolute bottom of New York society, aka people who work in “marketing”), and sometimes a bow tie. They’ll also wear the most outlandish jewelry—little things carved out of baby puma teeth or something equally ridiculous. Occasionally you can find this breed carrying a “murse” (man purse) from somewhere fancy like Prada or Jack Spade.
Photos, text, and styling: Annette Lamothe-Ramos. Boys: Endovanera jacket, Paul Smith shirt, Nudie Jeans pants, Schmoove shoes; vintage jacket from What Comes Around Goes Around, J. Crew shirt, RVCA jeans, Draven shoes, Burton hat; Corpus sweater, Loden Dager shirt, Howe jeans, Vans shoes, Black Sheep & Prodigal Sons necklace. Girls: H&M dress, Lady Grey Jewelry bracelets and necklace, Alexander McQueen shoes; Topshop dress, Fremont hoodie, H&M belt, Tristan Blair shoes, Insight bag, Kloset necklace, rings by Marc by Marc Jacobs and Noir; Converse by John Varvatos jacket, Earnest Sewn jeans, Tristan Blair shoes, Telfar ring.