My friend Allison
The most stylish person I know
“Was there a moment in your life when something ‘clicked’ for you about fashion?”
I remember visiting my friend Allison in Montreal for the first time. I must have been 18, sometime during my first year of university. She shared a very cool old house with a couple of roommates, and when she opened the door to her bedroom, I felt like I’d stepped inside her mind.
It was pure Allison: long necklaces draped on her dresser; a million chic silk scarves ready to top off a cute outfit; quality bed linens in muted tones; and her signature scent — Stella by Stella McCartney — at just the right olfactory volume. The room was tiny, but she’d considered every square inch and imbued it with her impeccable style.
My room in the much-less-cool house I shared with a bunch of roommates? Mismatched furniture my dad had found secondhand for me, a duvet cover I bought at a thrift store, my hulking desktop Apple computer, and photos of my friends and low-budget moody art taped to every surface. If I was chaotic-teen-on-her-own-for-the-first-time, Allison was Stella-scented sophistication.
Of course, she’d always been this way. In high school her total look was always carefully considered — like perfect side-swept bangs under the most cozy-chic winter hat — but now that she was on her own in glamorous Montreal, her taste could really go full blast. And she was effortless good taste personified, from head to toe; from wall to wall.
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That first night I was visiting we were going to some kind of art party. I’d brought my favorite oversized cargo pants that had a pinup girl painted on one leg (I was dancing with a hip-hop company at that point and was always mentally — and sartorially — in rehearsal) but I didn’t have an outfit planned. I kept trying things on and getting an, “Um, not quite,” from Allie, until she told me to try an off-the-shoulder top that let the straps of my racerback sports bra show.
“There,” she said. “You look hot.”
I looked hot! And I felt extremely cool. I felt athletic and dancer-y in a way that I’d always admired on other people, but I also felt like me — a little vintage, a little quirky, a dash of thotty, a squeeze of confidence.
I think I ended up drinking too much and irritating Allison that night (sorry, Allie!) but I remember that pre-party moment in her room so vividly because it was a before-and-after for my personal style. It was around 2005, the era of the going-out top and ultra-low-rise jeans, and in trying to find my place at university I’d tried on a lot of those trends with poor results. I’d gone from confident during my high school goth era to some weird in-between place where I was learning to wear color again and also dressing like a dancer and also trying to fit in. It was… messy. I had outfits I loved that made me feel cool and adult, but, more often, when I was dressing to go out, I put on what I’d found at the mall that I thought might get me some attention. And that’s no way to dress.
That outfit was a lightbulb moment. I realized I felt my absolute best in outfits that were some mix of retro, sporty, and sexy; that played with shape, silhouette, and expectation; and that really had nothing to do with any current trend.
I recently told Allison that she’s been my personal #influencer for decades; that I ask myself, “What would Allison think of this?” when I buy most clothes and home goods. And it’s all true. She has exceptional taste and the ability to envision a look then execute it flawlessly, be it an outfit, a room, an event, or otherwise. I know I’ve stolen (let’s call it “borrowed”) elements of her style countless times over the years (sorry, again, girl!) but mostly what I hold onto from our many years of friendship is the memory of that feeling — that “hot” feeling I had when we were babies in her tiny Montreal bedroom getting dressed for our Big Night Out.
I am not who I was at 19, or 22, or even 30 — I’m not seeking attention the way I was at 19, I’m not a budding fashion blogger like I was at 22, and I’m not newly single and liberated from years of bad relationships like I was at 30, either. I’m a mom, and a journalist, and a person who has endured grueling pandemic isolation for the last two and a half years, and I’m different now. But I think it’s possible to weave together some threads from every era to find the new me.