On being cool

I have never felt cool. Not as a teenager, and certainly not as an adult.

I've made many attempts towards achieving coolness. In junior high I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that if I had a pair of Guess Jeans I'd be cool. In my grade, flashing that iconic triangle on the back pocket of a pair of slim-cuts marked you as a higher echelon of teenager. It practically guaranteed your admittance to the popular kids' table at lunch and earned you a slight nod of respect from the girls who sat there. Though I begged and pleaded and swore that IF I DO NOT GET A PAIR OF GUESS JEANS I WAS GOING TO DIE, LIKE SERIOUSLY DIE, I knew deep down that owning those jeans wouldn't necessarily make me cool.

When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who was cool. She had blonde feathered hair and a Trans Am and a gold necklace with her name imprinted in curling script. I think her name was Jennifer. Jennifer had a college boyfriend who would sneak in after she thought my brother and I were asleep. She didn't care an iota about being caught, and when she was, expressed no surprise or regret. I wanted, with all of my being, to be Jennifer. Jennifer possessed a nonchalance about being cool that only cool people seem to have. It took me a long time to understand that this nonchalance was what made her cool in the first place. She didn't try at it like I did, with my desperation for Guess Jeans. She just was.

It seems that everywhere you look, people are trying to be cool. They're dying their hair psychedelic colors or shaving off one side. They're buying neon leather messenger bags, and vintage Vespa scooters, and expensive sunglasses, and tee shirts with mustaches on them, and basically anything from Urban Outfitters. Myself included. Some people, the lucky rich ones or those with good credit, spend hundreds of dollars on clothes they see in fashion magazines all with the intent of being cool.

In Silicon Valley, some tech entrepreneurs have become enamored with with socks. The New York Times reported last week that flamboyantly colored, wildly patterned socks have become de rigor among those looking to be a part of the in-crowd. “I have been in meetings where people look down and notice my socks, and there is this universal sign, almost like a gang sign, where they nod and pull up their pant leg a little to show off their socks,” said Hunter Walk, 38, a director of product management at YouTube, whose favorite pair is yellow, aqua and orange striped.

In the classic movie Grease, Sandy, poor poor good girl Sandy, instantly became cool when she abandoned her cashmere sweater sets and mid-calf circle skirts for a skin tight pair of black vinyl pants and off-the-shoulder black tube shirt. That's when she got the guy, and cemented her status as pink lady. That's when she became cool. I remember sitting, rapt, watching Sandy strut confidently throughout the high school carnival. She was a goddess.

I wonder if a change of clothes can really make you cool. If I buy a pair of skinny cords at Madewell and ankle boots, will I get one step closer to channeling Alexa Chung's charming quirkiness and model-quality good looks? (Inexplicably, Alexa Chung seems to be the personification of cool girl these days - there's an entire Tumblr dedicated just towards being her.) If I drape myself in one-shoulders jersey maxi dresses and floor-length furs, will I tap into Bianca Jagger's chic demeanor? Men don't seem to have this quandry. Men want to be like Johnny Depp, who looks like he crawled out of the gutter most of the time, scraggly bits shedding from his oversize leather jacket, scraggly facial hair sprouting from his chin. Or they want to be Clint Eastwood, or Marlon Brando - men who look as though they'd rather get into a knife fight than step into Barney's.

The Times article notes that techies purchase wildly patterned, garish socks both as a way to impress coworkers and as a rebellion against their typical boring uniform of khakis and sweats. Socks are a nod to fashion without appearing as though you are playing by mainstream rules that Silicon Valley shuns - like, heaven forbid, dressing up. Going deeper, Diana Crane-Herve, emeritus professor of sociology at the University of Pennsylvania, said workplace fashion fads like outlandish socks are often an unconscious way to deal with worries about job security or fitting in.

Throughout time, women have based their sartorial choices on the desire to be cool. But being cool seems to be mostly about impressing the peers in our gender group than anything else. They're the ones we look towards to define what it means to be cool.  If we pattern mix, or wear Madewell cords, or thrift, or get a tattoo, our cool role models might think we're cool as well.

So what do you think about being cool? Have you ever felt cool? Be honest - have you ever bought an article of clothing with the intent of being cool? Is coolness about social acceptance, or nonchalance? Do you think clothing choice is related more to being cool, or to expressing individuality? Do you have cool role models?

Wonder Woman: Fierce heroine or infantilizing cosmetics marketing tool?

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite things to do was perch on the edge of the tiny bathroom sink of my childhood apartment and watch my mother apply her make-up. My mother was a notorious cosmetics hoarder, and lipsticks, eyeshadows, pencils and blush spilled from the medicine cabinet. In the morning, as she was readying herself for work, my mom would go through the complicated process of "putting on her face." It involved a tedious routine of blending, and brushes, and smudging. Applying her face meant as much as erasing her perceived flaws as accentuating the features she thought were acceptable. There was nothing fun about it. Putting on her face was a utilitarian act.

As a girl I had my very own make-up, from brands like Bonnie Bell and Tinkerbell and Barbie. It was scented like strawberries. I too spent time at the bathroom mirror, painting my lips and experimenting with peel-off nail polish. I wanted to look older, and glamorous, and chic, just like the models on magazines. I subjected my younger cousins to spontaneous make-overs, and we staged complicated photo shoots involving enough make-up to supply a Broadway production of Cats. Make-up was fun, and colorful, and a delightful way to practice at being a grown-up.

Somewhere between my childhood experimenting and growth into an adult, I lost the playful quality which cosmetics used to contain. Now, when I'm in front of the bathroom mirror in the morning, I too "put on my face."My routine includes eyeshadow primer, shadow, liner, mascara, foundation, and blush. I smudge and line and contour, all with the intention of covering flaws and accentuating the features I deem positive.

When the New York Times wrote about the growing market of women purchasing cosmetics featuring cartoon and comic book characters, I was intrigued. MAC, the innovator of such lines, has produced collections inspired by Hello Kitty, Miss Piggy, Wonder Woman and villainous Disney characters such as Cruella De Vil. According to David Gager, the brand's senior vice president and group creative director, cartoon-based collections generally sell very well and tend to become "very coveted and special" to consumers.

There is certainly an element of nostalgia behind the popularity of these cosmetics collections - I have fond memories of watching Wonder Woman on TV during rainy Sunday afternoons. But the cult love behind cartoon-inspired cosmetics might signify more.

Steve Stoute, an advertising executive who helped broker a collaboration between MAC and Lady Gaga said, “I think that anytime you find a way to incorporate the essence and glamour of the beauty business, but also find a way to touch a woman and make her still feel like a girl, is beautiful. It creates a healthy tangent between a little girl and a sophisticated woman.” There is something about these collections that taps into the playful, creative element of cosmetics. A glimpse of Miss Piggy on the case might remind women that cosmetics are not only functional, but also fun. In addition, swiping on a shadow from a Wonder Woman palette could inspire a woman to be sassy, or fearless, or powerful, just like her heroine was.

Some might see these collections as a baffling form of infantilizing women, and products such as Maybelline's Baby Lips lip gloss and Hello Kitty bubble bath certainly hint at it. But marketers are becoming increasingly crafty at injecting products with an emotional element. To some women, items that hint of a more innocent time resonate deeply. A Wonder Woman compact might remind these women of a time when life was simple, and their heroine was a a fictional superhero who was strong and glamorous.

So what do you think of these cartoon-inspired makeup collections? Have you ever bought cosmetics from one of the MAC lines? Are you intrigued by these collections? Do you see make-up application as a chore, or a way to be creative? How much make-up do you wear on a given day?

Men are from Sears; Women are from the mall: Stockpiling, shopping, and gender

I went shopping with my husband the other day. This was a rare occurrence, the sort of thing that happens with the same frequency as the passing of Halley's Comet. He needed jeans and casual shirts to replace the fraying college sweatshirt he insists on dragging out during weekends, so to the Gap Outlet we went.

Once we arrived, I meandered over to a tantalizing display of cable-knit sweaters while he strode purposefully towards the men's wear. A mere ten minutes later he had finished, and victoriously marched towards the register with an armload of identical crewnecks in multiple colors and a single pair of jeans. I, on the other hand, was still considering a red cardigan, black tights, leopard ballet flats, a gold belt, grey jeans, two long-sleeved tees and a pile of socks.

Back in December, the New York Times examined the shopping habits of men, and came to the conclusion that men stockpile and women shop. The article profiled sixteen men, some of whom are employed in the fashion industry as designers, style bloggers and magazine editors, and described their buying habits. Designer Billy Reid confessed to buying "three or four" pairs of identical Levis at a time. Gabe Schulman, contributor to Thestyleblogger, explained that he loved the cut of a particular pair of pants so much that he bought four identical pairs. And tattoo artist Scott Campbell told of his infatuation with plain old black Gold Toe socks, of which he purchases in bulk.

When I shop, I'm perfectly content to meander through sprawling displays or detour through the shoe department. I give little thought to stopping at a cosmetics counter for a quick spray of perfume before, maybe, making a purchase. In contrast, Wharton Business School research has discovered that men regard shopping as a mission and are much less inclined to browse and wander. In general, men intend to buy a targeted item and flee the store as quickly as possible.

In a study titled, "Men Buy, Women Shop," researchers at Wharton's Jay H. Baker Retail Initiative and the Verde Group, a Toronto consulting firm, found that men are more likely to respond to more utilitarian aspects of the shopping experience than women are - such as the availability of parking, whether the item they came for is in stock, and the length of the checkout line. However, Women place more value on the attention of customer sales associates, and whether associates are readily available to help when needed.

One female shopper between the ages of 18 and 35 told the researchers: "I love shopping. I love shopping even when I have a deadline. I just love shopping." Compare that to this response from a male in the same age group who described how men approach retailing: "We're going to this store and we buy it and we leave because we want to do something else."

I believe most men shop like they're smartbombs dropped from F-22's. They're tactical. They have lists. If they walk into a mall, they usually know exactly where they're going and what they're buying. They are concerned with durability and comfort because if the item lasts, they can shop less often. These men generally don't pay attention to what's trendy. They don't go from store to store to store. They don't wander aimlessly. They want to get in, buy what they need, and get out.That's it.

This utilitarian shopping philosophy easily explains the tendency of some men to stockpile favorite pieces. However, I also know women who dread going shopping, and negotiate the need for new clothes with both online ordering and purchasing multiple pieces of the same item in different colors. The tricky fit of certain pieces, such as jeans and undergarments, may also encourage a shopper of either gender to stockpile. My own stockpile of J Brand jeans is a testament to my preference towards their fit.

The Times article led me to wonder if gender differences in shopping habits really are as concrete as the piece suggests. Do you consider yourself a stockpiler when it comes to shopping? Do you prefer to wander and browse, or are you focused on buying what you need and leaving when finished?