I’m not a heavy metal chick. I’m not punk, I’m not goth, hardly a rebel without a cause. Thus, when I wear leather, I feel a bit like an imposter—the material seems meant for rockers, groupies, Marlon Brando, aviation pilots, The Fonz:
cool people. And as much as I’d like to convince myself otherwise, I am incontrovertibly nerdy: a girl who would much rather curl up to a book at 11pm than set out for a night on the town. I prefer tea to lattes, enjoy unwinding my day over a Vogue Paris and a lit Baies candle, feel a jolt of excitement when I hear about the latest skincare miracle, make a trip to Pierre Hermé for a box of macarons on every visit to Paris, and schedule early morning yoga classes every Sunday: in today’s vocabulary I am quintessentially
basic.