The Flack Files, Vol. 10: On Dressing For the Weather

by Ashley Baker
Flack Files

Shuffling to work in your Sorels? Our disgruntled flack approves wholeheartedly. Those of you aiming for a fashion moment? Not so much. 

Dear Aspiring Fashionista,

Originally, this column was meant to be dedicated to the absurdity of sponsored blog posts, but after witnessing someone in capri pants, Rag & Bone booties, and ankle socks (no tights) trekking through waist-high snowdrifts to the subway, I decided on a PSA. Listen, ladies—you may think you are living your best life by dressing to impress during the storm of the century, but let’s take a moment to assess.

First things first: proper footwear. You may think it is worth it to head out into a blizzard in an ankle-slimming 4-inch heel. IT IS NOT. If you do this, you are sure to end up like the idiot I saw on Saturday evening who was tying plastic bodega bags around her heeled feet in an attempt to vault over a rapidly growing snow bank. Right after I rolled my eyes and took an incognito picture of this hopeless Cinderella, I stopped to watch her slip and fall.

This scenario almost reminds me of the time I walked 50 blocks, roundtrip, in the rain, in Manolos, to hand-deliver champagne to an editor because I couldn’t afford a cab to and fro. Why did I think I could afford Manolos in the first place if I couldn’t afford run-of-the-mill transpo? But that’s neither here nor there.

I digress. If there was ever a chance to embrace a chunky knit sweater and a down jacket, it is now, because when you and I are vis-a-vis in that tightrope-width shoveled sidewalk zone, playing a mean game of chicken, I am sure that I will win as I unrelentingly charge you, full force, in my fur-lined Hunter boots and magical Aether jacket.

You can attempt to live-tweet this injustice from your ungloved hands, but odds are, you are going to just end up dropping your phone into a giant sludge puddle. Welcome to NYC street lasagna. The recipe? A layer of snow, layer of trash, layer of dog urine, layer of snow, repeat ad infinitum. Whatever the case, I’m pretty sure you aren’t Darlene Rodriguez or an active member of Storm Team 4, so seriously, just put your phone away until you arrive at your destination. Meanwhile, I am typing an ultra important client email via my Urban Outfitters touch-sense gloves…or am I generating a snarky Insta post about your fashion faux pas? You’ll never know.


The Frigid Flack

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