Papa's Got A Brand New Bag

Photo Courtesy Of JWF

Let's take a minute to address what's going on around the young man's collar. The sartorialist detail, it's exquisite, is it not? That said, this post is a preamble to the one below. The focus of interest: Men's clothing - how to wear if you're a girl. l'll be going all out with the pop culture references here, starting with "Sex and The City".

Do you guys remember the season three finale, titled "Cock A Doodle Do"? A link here, incase you forgot, or missed it. In this episode (spoiler alert), there's a scene where Carrie meets up with Mr Big for lunch in Central Park and later ends up falling into a pond after avoiding (upon prior advice from Miranda) a courteous kiss from her estranged lover. Carrie is wearing a powder pink Richard Tyler dress. Don't get me wrong the dress is cute and all. But compared to the outfit she ends up wearing after showering at Big's apartment to get the mishap out her hair, the dress might as well have slept with the fish because the white shirt paired with a black belt and heels, slays. All courtesy of Big.

Fashion aside, what I really enjoy about the episode is the play on our perceptions of gender roles. There are several hilarious scenes, some (major spoiler alert) including chicks with...hmm, how do I put this delicately? Allow me to rephrase: There are several hilarious scenes including T-girls. They're fabulous and funny. Although I have to interject that some of their ensembles deserve less than stellar reviews. If you guys want to bend it, why not take a cue from David Beckham?

Moving on from our sex addiction. The perk about men's fashion is that it's affordable to shop. All you need is a male relative or friend and you're basically set for life.

For instance, a few years ago, one of my friends used to rock these really cool shorts that she'd made from her ex-boyfriend's pair of jeans. To come to think of it, she didn't actually want to make a couture statement, she just wanted revenge. Bad example. I have another one. My mum once got my granddad a a grey sweatshirt for Christmas. It caught my eye so I penned down a heart-filled letter asking whether I could have it. And in a split second, it was mine. Then, I took to the scissors (I am terrible), and just like that, I had my very own oversized-Jennifer Beal-"Flashdance"-boat-necked-sweater, to go.

Wait, there's more. Every derby hat my dad's ever owned is now residing somewhere in my sister's closet in Paris. What's he gonna do about it, deny his daughter the right to be stylish?

He knows better.