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Look it girl

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What’s a day in the life of a girl look like in 10 countries?

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A black girl and an Asian girl huddle anxiously on the corner a few yards away, checking her out. Chloe looks up, wrapping her arms tight around herself in an instinctive gesture of protection, as if to reduce the exposed surface area of her body even as she manages a smile that is shy and skeptical and indulgent all at the same time. Chloe giggles with relief. She looks down at her jellies—transparent plastic sandals.

And the two girls standing on the sidewalk in their big black Doc Martens want to follow her. Chloe tries to remember where she got the sandals. Something Something. The girls thank her and practically run up the street. Chloe fires up a Camel Light and resumes her study of Vogue. Helmut Lang is my absolute favorite. God, Armani is so old-ladyish. Lagerfeld ruined the house of Chanel; Coco would never have done miniskirts. I watched this documentary about her.

She was so great. In addition to her jellies Chloe is wearing a very short white dress made of a shiny, flame-friendly space-age synthetic. It looks sort of familiar Gaultier? Maybe you saw it a few years back on the little girl from the next building who came around with her father and held her pillowcase open for the mini Snickers bars.

The funny thing is, it looks really good on Chloe. Two dollars. She accessorizes it with a fake Chanel bracelet from Canal Street, which she wears around her biceps. At this moment, she is five feet eight, weighs a hundred and ten pounds, and looks, in her current short coif, quite a bit like a skinny Jean Seberg.

She checks the racks methodically and holds up a pair of white vinyl pants. Chloe favors places in Brooklyn and her native Connecticut.

The first time it happened, Chloe was seventeen. She was standing at a newsstand on Sixth Avenue, in the Village, when she was approached by Andrea Lee Linett, the fashion editor at Sassy. At the time, Chloe had hair down to her butt, and she used to tuck it up inside a big Nefertitian hat of her own creation. After the shoot, Linett went out and bought baggy tan corduroy overalls for herself. Chloe was still a student at Darien High School then, sneaking off to the city whenever she could.

She grew up in a gray shingled ranch house near Long Island Sound that looks pretty raffish amid the austere white Colonials and the tall, picket-fenced Victorians. He started with our kitchen, and then he did it for other people. We never had as much money as everyone else. I came to the city with two girls from Connecticut who were my homegirls. Every skater in the city was there. It happened again a few months after the Sassy shoot, when Chloe was hanging out in the city, kicking it with her friend Harold and the other skateboarders.

Meanwhile, the folks at Sassy asked Chloe to be an intern that summer. And then Sonic Youth—the godparents of alternative rock, and possibly the coolest band in the world—cast her in their new video. The idea for the video was to do a little parable about the way Seventh Avenue plagiarizes the guerrilla fashion of the street: the Trickle-Up Theory of Fashion, where the Up Haute cops the Down Low.

The whole grunge thing was just peaking: runway models were slouching around in expensive hommages to the scruffy rockers of Seattle and their thrift-shop flannel shirts.

And who better than Chloe to represent the supercool street girl whose style gets ripped off in the designer showroom? She was dressing in arch preppy stuff and wide-wale corduroys, and she always had the best look. It was never off-the-rack skate stuff.

We were all into old Fila stuff from the mid-eighties, but it was like her Fila sweater would blow yours away. She looked like a village guy who steals from Polo. Everyone wears it now. Chloe was one of the models for the New York launch of the X-Girl line, which took place on Wooster Street last April—a major gathering of the interconnected tribes of hip-hop, rave, indie rock, and skateboarding.

Chloe was also one of the muses. It was this blue broadcloth shirt and it just fit her so well. When we were doing our fall stuff I had her try on stuff.

Sometimes I think, This is really Chloe-ish. But Chloe simply likes the Lemonheads. She still likes her parents.

It was one of the highlights of my life. Chloe really is the symbol for all those kids. But she does keep to herself. He also tried to represent her for modelling assignments, but found her curiously indifferent to being marketed. It was kind of a fuck-you thing. At the time I was pissed, but now I kind of admire it. Chloe cheerfully admits to blowing off Meisel, one of the most important fashion photographers alive.

This seeming indifference to marketing herself may be her most attractive quality. It may also be canny. To call Chloe elusive is an understatement: contacting her is a matter of triangulation—calling friends, calling her parents, calling Liquid Sky, the boutique on Lafayette Street where she has been working for the past year.

Here in the blue-tiled bathroom of Tunnel, a night club that has survived the eighties to enjoy a second round of popularity, it looks like a rave is going on: dozens of street kids in their mid- to late teens dancing to house music, smoking whatever, and kicking it.

In their baggy pants and T-shirts, they hardly appear costume-designed. Clark then secured the invaluable backing of Gus Van Sant. He admits that he may have had Chloe in mind when he wrote the lead female role. Jim Nugent, the Teamster captain on the production, who has just finished working on the new Walter Matthau movie, thinks things on this set are getting a little too real.

One of them tried to pick a fight with me the other day. The next night—well, technically, Saturday morning—Chloe is back in the coed bathroom of Tunnel, this time as a civilian. Forget about the so-called V. It looks almost like the eighties in here, only more extreme—drag queens, drug deals, pierced lips, world-class posing. The crowd is homogeneous in its inchoate youthfulness no aging pop artists, socialites, or countesses in sight and heterogeneous in its drug use: a few grinning love bugs on ecstasy; glassy-eyed junksters; furtive, Speedy Gonzales cokeheads zipping in and out of the stalls.

And Ritalin, the drug often prescribed for hyperactive children, is a relatively new buzz on the scene. Then there are the truly fucked-up—the candy flippers, the most catholic of druggies, who mix their pharmaceuticals like the ingredients of a tropical cocktail.

They come out of the stalls pie-eyed after a couple of lines of Special K, a snortable combination of horse tranquillizers, heroin, and coke. Chloe is greeted and hugged by William, one of the club kids, a hulking, tatterdemalion figure wearing layers of shirts and ragged sweaters, with pink hair shaved close to his skull, and rings and plugs in his lips.

Someone—not Chloe—comments that Sophia looks good considering that she is, like, really old, like forty or thirty-four or something. Here also is the famous and much loved Junkie Jonathan, his eyes ringed with kohl, tottering on high platforms. Usually he has a kind of deconstructionist punk look. The club kids are professional party creatures, who dress and coif themselves to fabulous extremes and are paid by the management of the clubs to hang out—thereby, presumably, attracting the less fashion-forward wannabes and weekend scenesters.

The kids form one of the downtown tribes among which Chloe moves, like a roving ambassador without portfolio. All that athletic wear and techno wear, all the stripes. Anna Sui rips everything off. Chloe scans the room. The word has apparently gone out on some deep-buried wire that tonight is toga night. Here, at what should be the cutting edge of street fashion, the late arrivals look like a bunch of beer-bashing Phi Delts. And over there is Methuselan mogul Steven Greenberg, the Benjamin Franklin look-alike who has haunted the hot spots since at least the Pleistocene, wearing four young women with his well-cut navy business suit.

Her current boyfriend is an eighteen-year-old named Robby Cronholm, who plays in a band called Crumb. She takes out his picture and displays it. Unfortunately, Robby lives in San Francisco. The thought turns Chloe melancholy.

Chloe surprised a junkie there last week. The refrigerator harbors a pitcher of cold tap water and not much else. Lila returns at about three-fifteen. She is from a first-generation Korean family who live near Nyack.

Like Chloe, she hates the suburbs. My first kiss was in this squat; I kissed two different guys on the same night. It was a spot, and the dealers would watch out for us and take care of us, but eventually one of the dealers ripped my friend off. She was eighteen. It was a real hell house.

Los Mejores 31 Looks De Nuestra It Girl Preferida: Alexa Chung

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French Girl Style

A black girl and an Asian girl huddle anxiously on the corner a few yards away, checking her out. Chloe looks up, wrapping her arms tight around herself in an instinctive gesture of protection, as if to reduce the exposed surface area of her body even as she manages a smile that is shy and skeptical and indulgent all at the same time. Chloe giggles with relief. She looks down at her jellies—transparent plastic sandals. And the two girls standing on the sidewalk in their big black Doc Martens want to follow her. Chloe tries to remember where she got the sandals. Something Something. The girls thank her and practically run up the street.

Chloe’s Scene

Coincidentally, this email arrived the same day as a new essay collection by the New York fashion and culture writer Natasha Stagg, Sleeveless: Fashion, Image, Media, New York , from Semiotext e. Stagg is best known for her fashion work—particularly as an editor at V magazine—but Sleeveless also touches on her brief tech career. For the most part, this It Girl spends her time alone and is seen on Instagram. In a different era, the It Girl was someone whose photo was taken by onlookers at all the good parties. The new It Girl is someone who takes photos of herself, at home.

She was also one of the first faces of live fashion photography, a new development at the time. But scandal soon followed.

Forget about waiting 40 weeks to find out the sex of your baby. Practically since the beginning of time, moms-to-be and the people who love them have come up with ways to try to figure out if that bun in the oven is a girl or a boy. This semi-invasive procedure is a slam-dunk way to know your baby's gender for sure, but because of the small risk of miscarriage your doc probably won't green-light it for curiosity alone.

It girl style

In , Paramount Studios presented the already popular Clara Bow in the movie It, skyrocketing her career and creating a cultural phenomenon still recognized today. Drawing from the title of the silent romantic comedy and the Elinor Glyn novella it was based off of, the modern It Girl was born as Bow captivated audiences with her enchanting mix of beauty and personality. On what would have been the screen star's th birthday, CR looks into the evolution of the It Girl. Although she took on a variety of roles throughout her career, Bow is most remembered for embodying the ultimate flapper.

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Every decade has one — the It girl who captures the spirit of the age and has the look that all the boys love and all the girls want. But what is 'It'? And is Alexa Chung — whose book 'It' is published this week — really the It girl for our times? Alexa Chung, sometime-model-slash-presenter-slash-creative-director-slash-brand-ambassador, and thrice winner of the British Fashion Council's "Style" award, is adding author to that veritable litany of occupations. It is published this Thursday.

7 Simple Ways To Look Like An “It” Girl

Skip navigation! Story from Fashion. It's the je ne sais quoi woman. It's the person at the bar who you purposefully sidle up next to to find out where she bought her jeans. It's the friend who, following each friend-date, always inspires you to spend way too much money during your next shopping trip. It's that person at work who always seems to be wearing the exact thing that's currently burning a hole in your online shopping cart. She's "that girl" — the one wearing an outfit you've never seen before, but is somehow so right and meant to be. Hyperbole aside, there's no special formula in dressing with the sort of panache that looks both effortless and advanced.

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You might think, judging by the current crop, that to be an "It" girl you need to be born in Belgravia with a Cartier spoon in your mouth. Not so. It was a barmaid and a shop assistant who were the notably un-posh, earliest embodiments of "It". Back then, class was beside the point. The point was sex.

From Clara Bow to Lil Miquela: The Evolution of the It Girl

These are some recent headlines about girls around the world. When you start searching for stories about girls, you get a mix like this: stories about victimization, sexualization, and the exceptional girls who fight back. But we wanted to know what life looks like for girls, beyond the headlines.

The “It Girls” of Every Decade

Her ensemble of layered silver chains, oversized dark jeans, and neon socks had sparked questions about her sexuality at school. In an environment where girls use clothing to put their bodies forward, to accentuate their figure, it can be difficult to dress to self-express. An increasingly stylistically bold generation is no longer afraid to reject conventional fashion trends.

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Why the New Instagram It Girl Spends All Her Time Alone

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Comments: 3
  1. JoJocage

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  2. Kazrajin

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  3. Kajizil

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