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Silk parachute pants. A gold lamé jumpsuit. Ankle boots with fringe. Were these fashion-forward items sending men running in the opposite direction? Maybe, but Leandra Medine never cared.
Slipping into drop-crotch shorts and a boxed sequin blazer in the dressing room of Topshop in downtown Manhattan, a brokenhearted Leandra had an epiphany. Looking in the mirror, she suddenly realized she didn't have a boyfriend because of the way she dressed. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that such outfits said a lot about her life-romantic and otherwise.
Now, in her first book, the acclaimed blogger and fashion darling recounts her most significant memories through the lens of her sartorial choices. With her signature sass, blunt honesty, and some personal photos, Leandra shares details of the night she lost her virginity right down to the pair of white tube socks she forgot to take off, as well as when and why she realized her grandma's vintage Hermès ostrich skin clutch could hold much more than just keys and a cell phone. Through it all, she proves you don't need to compromise even your most repellent qualities to find your way into that big white dress (and an organza moto jacket). See? You can have your yeti and wear it, too.
Showcasing the singular voice that has won Leandra millions of fans, this book is a collection of awkwardly funny experiences, a sweet love story, and above all, a reminder to celebrate and embrace a world made for women, by women.
If you can accept the idea of a 23-year-old blogger writing a memoir, then you'll find plenty of life, love, and fashion advice in Medine's candid debut. The budding fashionista provides the backstories to many sartorially questionable ensembles featured on her Man Repeller blog, dishes on her lifelong attraction to oddball outfits, and tells "the tale of the Repeller who landed a Man" (she recently married her on-again, off-again boyfriend of five years). The skeletons in Medine's closet wear some hilarious get-ups: there's the burgundy tent dress with a Peter Pan collar she wore when she had her first kiss in kindergarten (which gave her chicken pox); the mandatory, ubiquitous black maxi-skirt from her time at a Jewish school; and the outfit she wore the night she lost her virginity. Another incident involves a much-coveted Hermes ostrich-skin clutch belonging to Medine's grandmother, which was horribly defiled after a night of binge drinking in Paris. Then there are the "violently offensive" gray harem pants that ultimately led to a rekindling of her relationship with the man she would marry, and a pair of shorts that inspired her to create her blog. These essays establish Medine as not just a fashion wunderkind, but a clever and engaging storyteller who's not afraid to laugh at herself.
Worth the read
Leandra's book was far beyond what I expected. It is worth reading, reflecting upon, and laughing along with