Too bad Alex didn’t get a shot of the entire outfit.
Dress blouse, red capris, blue wool socks and hiking shoes. At least you can see the backpack straps, the too big ball cap and sunglasses. New York City was hot.
I don’t mind looking like a dork. I figured out a long time ago that I was never going to be a fashion maven, hate shopping for clothes and would rather spend my whole life in Levi’s and a chambray shirt than anything else I’ve ever worn. So I am what I am. I do wonder what other people think about my attire, but not to the point of wanting to change how I dress.
In NYC I saw more regularly dressed people than not. I saw few women on the streets walking in those impossibly high heels the stores carry in droves and saw too many cut off denim shorts—are we reverting to yet another 1970s fashion flub?
We were in the city for my first time in thirty years for a wedding. That entire event could not have been more fun due to the couple getting married, the diversity of their guests and a lovely setting on one of the piers. Even a view of New Jersey looks good covered in a rosy sunset (that’s specifically for my Jersey-ite college friends).
I look about the same whether we’re in the USA or Europe—not usually jeans because if we’re walking a ton, they aren’t as comfortable as hiking pants or cotton slacks.
My first trip to Europe was to Germany. I didn’t speak the language, but somehow thought I could sneak in under the radar and blend in. Seriously? Before opening my mouth I was mistaken over and over again for a Brit. I could have understood Irish with my flaming red hair and multitude of freckles, but British? Ah well, I quickly realized tourist I am even if I ever manage to speak Deutsch without an accent.
So I’ve embraced the tourist role.
Camera is always at hand, clothes are always comfortable and eyes are ever alert. The most important thing to me when I’m traveling is to learn, to soak in the atmosphere and culture of where I am.
For New York, it was riding the subway for the first time (not as easy as DC, but manageable). It was asking for directions because they are not generous with signage—where’s the 9/11 Memorial (a blog unto itself); where’s the subway; how do I catch a cab? I decided that New Yorkers must love tourists because rather than put up signs, they put up with visitors asking the same questions a thousand times a day. Thank you for that.
One of the fashion capitals of the world, home of Wall Street tycoons and self-made millionaires, thanks for letting me play my tourist part, look like a dork and come home being glad I visited NYC and walked more blocks than my feet thought possible.
Read: Dressing for Europe