Grace & Style

by Grace Helbig

  Cozy Sweater: Neutral-colored, slightly oversized sweaters have always been a love of mine. I like my sweaters like I like my men—not clingy and kinda sloppy. I keep a few different colors on hand—creams, beiges, dark greens, navy blues, grays, and blacks mostly. I’m sorry if this sounds like a Goop newsletter, but I honestly love the look of cozy sweaters with shorts. It’s impossible not to say or type the words “cozy sweaters” without seeming like a cozy asshole. Regardless, for me the sweater-and-shorts combo is like tater tots and cake frosting: delicious separately, addictive together, and sometimes misunderstood. Such clothes have the timeless, genderless, and ageless trinity I look for in most of the things I wear, and a lot of times they’re easier for me to throw on and keep track of throughout the night than a jacket. All in all, I feel better in my sweaters.

  Sweatpants: Well, this should be the biggest “no duh” of all time, but if you don’t know already, one of my fashion favorites is sweatpants. Damn, I love me a sweet pair of sweats. I’ve always loved comfortable clothing. Right after I graduated college, I went through a phase of constantly wearing leggings and my BF’s oversized collared button-downs. It was my go-to combo when going out to bars, going on auditions, and appearing onstage. For some reason I thought the combo looked hipster-cute and trendy without trying. And on a lot of other girls in Brooklyn it did. But when I look back at photos of myself wearing it, I look like I’m wearing an Ina Garten Halloween costume.

  Don’t get me wrong; Ina is a style IcOn. But I can’t pull this look off as well as she can. Every once in a while I give it another try, but I never look as timeless, genderless, and effortless as the Barefoot Contessa.

  But that’s where sweatpants come in! Stylish sweatpants, or “joggers”—as uptight fashionistas refer to them in an effort to separate them from sweatpants even though they are very much sweatpants—have become a huge trend in the fashion world and have fulfilled the tasteful-lazy void in my life post-leggings. I currently own probably fifteen pairs of fancy sweatpants and can’t walk out of a store without almost buying two more. I’m sure I’ll have the same thoughts about them in hindsight as I have about the leggings/button-down combo, but for now I’m letting myself believe they’re easy, breezy, stylish, and cheeky. They make me feel like Gwen Stefani, even if in reality I look like Al Bundy. Either way, I’ll take it!

  Jumpsuit: Currently my must-haves for formal affairs are jumpsuits and rompers. They’re like dresses but safer, or like two-piece suits but lazier. And I love them. Yes, they’re extremely risky and complicated for public bathroom scenarios, but we take all kinds of gross risks when we use public restrooms period. In my opinion, rompers and jumpsuits are both unassuming and eye-catching. My aesthetic for elegant events is “sexy car mechanic” or “sophisticated ghostbuster,” and that’s exactly what rompers and jumpsuits deliver. For me they take a lot of the guesswork out of putting together an outfit but still manage to look like I put in some time and effort with my ensemble. I’m a disillusioned illusionist; my style is primarily simple items that trick you into thinking they’re more sophisticated (like when you only read one chapter of every Malcolm Gladwell book just so you can pretend to talk about them at parties since everyone loves talking about Malcolm Gladwell books).

  Graphic Tees: As of late, graphic T-shirts have been the real foundation of my fashion. They’re the closest I’ll get to expressing my emotions in public. They’re also a clear sign that I’m trying to hold on to any available youth I have left. Again, like my other style staples, one of their most redeeming qualities is that they’re cheap and easy. But an added benefit with these buddies is that you can make your own even cheaper and easier (see: the future DIY section about restoring your boring T-shirts). Lately I’ve been a huge proponent of opposites; I love balancing a casual graphic shirt with a more polished leather skirt, or balancing a plain pocket tee with a fitted pair of black pants and heels, or even balancing an endless mountain of work with an extremely distracting RuPaul’s Drag Race marathon. Life is about finding harmony.

  OUTERWEAR AND UNDERWEAR

  Whether you know it or not, outerwear and underwear have a lot in common:

  1. They serve practical functions outside of simply being stylish.

  2. They protect sensitive parts of your body against the elements.

  3. They can make you feel like a completely different person.

  4. You don’t always need to wear them when you go out.

  5. A true significant other keeps an eye on them for you at social events.

  6. It’s okay to upgrade them every year.

  7. This is kind of embarrassing to include, but don’t be afraid to purchase the pieces that might make you feel sexy. Eep! It can be fun and empowering on a private, personal level.

  8. As you get older, you learn the benefit of investing in higher-quality versions of them: turns out they last longer, even in the most extreme conditions.

  9. No matter how sophisticated you might feel as an adult, don’t throw away those old “in case of emergency” pieces: you’ll need them.

  10. Do not forget to pack them when you travel. Your mother or grandmother will inevitably ask about them, and it’s a real bitch being without them when you don’t know how far away the closest Target might be.

  11. If they’re more complicated to clean than you assume, then you should probably clean them more often than you do.

  12. They make decent impromptu hairnets/umbrellas if you get caught in the rain.

  13. Make sure you have them before you start your walk of shame. DON’T leave them at a stranger’s place.

  “A woman’s dress should be like a barbed-wire fence: serving its purpose without obstructing the view.”

  —SOPHIA LOREN

  “A woman’s dress should be like a barbed-wire fence: it keeps the prisoners from escaping.”

  —GRACE HELBIG

  dear miss mess

  HOW TO FAKE-FIX YOUR FASHION FAUX PAS

  Optimistically speaking, we’re all whirling dervishes

  of potential disaster. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, and wardrobe-ally. At the same time we’re all bedraggled tools of potential disaster relief. We f*ck up. We fix it. It’s the circle of life. Just ask that emotionally-unstable-yet-very-lithe-for-his-age monkey from The Lion King.

  And when it comes to disaster, our clothing is no exception. At this point in my life, my ability to accidentally defile my outfit has reached an all but spiritual level. I consider myself a practicing ChrisTaIn. And, trust me, this is a very popular religion. Janet Jackson and Fergie have done some great work spreading the word of the Church of Wardrobe Malfunction. In this faith, R.I.P. has a HOLe new meaning. Get it? Rip? Hole? Like you rip a hole in your . . . okay, mass has ended, go in pieces.

  But on another, philosophical level, the world revolves around the cycle of destruction and creation! That means every fashion affliction has a chance of being reborn reworn. I’LL sTOP.

  We all face unexpected wardrobe malfunctions. So allow me, Miss Mess, to offer you some advice that might remedy what’s been wrecked and fix what you f*cked up. May these answers lead you to everlasting eterKnITy. sIKe, I can’T sTOP.

  Dear Miss Mess,

  This morning I was rushing into my office building ten minutes late. I was late because I had that dream about Jon Stewart again. I wrote to you about it last week in my “cargo pants OH nO” email (which ended up working out fine because I found another pocket in my pants where I could keep the cake). Anyway, if you forgot, every week I have a dream that starts off with me bumping into Jon Stewart in a Chipotle and ends with him paying the extra cost for my guac. This dream’s sexual innuendo is what should cost extra, I’ll tell you that much. If you have thoughts on what it means, that’d be great, but it’s not my primary question.

  I was in such a rush this morning that I threw on a pair of Banana Republic trousers. Yes, I own clothing from Banana Republic. I’m really impressive, I know. But I’m also super ec
onomical; I got these pants for 70 percent off last summer because the waist is twisted and there’s an extra pocket on the hip. I thought they had potential and that I could fix them. I even signed up for a sewing class a couple weeks after I bought them, but I walked out of the first lesson because the old woman next to me kept complimenting me on my natural ability at the sewing machine. I knew she was either being sarcastic or she was trying to win me over with praise so I would help her get to her car or something after class and then slowly start asking me week-to-week to do more and more things for her until we were in some weird pseudo-grandmother/granddaughter relationship and that’s noT what I signed up for.

  These pants look totally fine. . . if I never raise my arms above my waist and if no one looks at me below my neck all day.

  Anyway, I didn’t need the class because these pants look totally fine with a belt and a long cardigan, if I never raise my arms above my waist and if no one looks at me below my neck all day.

  But the problem is, people look at me a lot all day because I have a very striking nose and I wheeze a lot. You see, the air that blows from our building’s air-conditioning system is extra dry and I have numerous emails out to the owner of our building about it but he won’t reply to them because I’m almost positive he’s involved in the Persian mafia and the air-conditioning units are what they use to smuggle their drugs and he doesn’t want me to find out. I’m like 80 percent sure.

  Drugs aside, my bigger problem today is that I forgot to grab my belt. And the long cardigan I brought with me is completely wrinkled. Which brings up a long-standing question I have about how sweaters get wrinkles. You’d think their thickness would keep them wrinkle resistant. I think the Downy Wrinkle Releaser people have invested in something that gets mixed in with sweater fabrics and causes the garments to wrinkle so that the Downy company can keep the demand for their product high. Everyone’s corrupt. Also, sidenote, do you know anyone who knows Jon Stewart? I get a feeling you’re well connected. Let me know.

  Anyway, I got to the office building this morning and sprinted into the elevator, and it smelled like musty onions because Kevin the janitor was already inside eating an everything bagel. Every morning he rides the elevators up and down and eats an everything bagel while he watches highlights from The View on his flip phone. Kevin is a huge Whoopi fan. He dresses up like her for Halloween every year. It’s creepy, but he’s one of those people I make sure to be nice to because there’s a 60 percent chance be might kill me. He’s got a face like that.

  But when I got into the elevator and I smelled the stupid onions, it reminded me that I was supposed to sit in on a meeting my boss had set up with Henry Bagel, the inventor and CEO of Go-Gurt, to map out a digital campaign for their new savory pizza and pasta flavors. Which is a huge misstep for their product if you ask me, but then again, the invention of their product is a huge misstep for the snack industry in general if you ask me.

  The meeting was supposed to be happening in five minutes. You can’t even eat a burrito with extra guac in five minutes! Then I remembered that extra guac was part of my Stewart sex dream and that sex dream is what made me late and caused me to end up in a pair of deformed pants with an ugly sweater! I couldn’t possibly be in a meeting with Henry Bagel looking like that! It’s HenrY BaGeL! Yes, his product is of questionable taste, but his sense of style is spot-on. The man makes Calvin Klein look like Calvin and Hobbes. It’s wildly ironic. But my time was running out. My first thought was that if I could make it to the boardroom before everyone else, I could choose a seat that kept me covered from the waist down for most of the meeting.

  But that won’t work!

  Cheryl the intern (she has a forehead tattoo) always gets to meetings before everyone else. I’m like 75 percent sure it’s because she made an irresponsible young-adult decision to get the forehead tattoo, so now she lives in a world of overcompensating in order to make herself seem somewhat responsible. To be fair, the forehead tattoo is a star and it’s extremely stupid.

  The elevator kept going up and up and I was scrambling to think of some way I could make it to the meeting on time. Finally it hit the ninth floor and the doors opened. I pushed past Kevin, but not before he said to me, “It’ll get better.” I asked what he meant and he pointed at my pants and said, “I make my own pants, too. The first couple times are the hardest. But I am LIVInG FOr that secret side pocket. It’s perfect for pickles and cigarettes.” And then the elevator doors closed.

  There weren’t enough hours in the workday for me to completely process what he’d just said or try to erase the image in my mind of him sitting pantless at a sewing machine. So I raced to my desk to find a message saying the meeting had been pushed back a half hour. Which gave me enough time to write this email to you rather than trying to find the closest clothing store in order to possibly buy a new outfit. In hindsight, I feel I’ve made terrible use of my time, and now I have only fifteen minutes left before the meeting. I’ll be sitting here refreshing my in-box over and over hoping you respond immediately rather than attempting to find a solution on my own. Again, I don’t believe that’s the greatest decision I should make for myself, but there’s no going back. What should I do? Help!

  Sincerely,

  Frumpy Dumpy from Wall, New Jersey

  Tip: This fashionable pose doubles as an editorial way to check if you’re wearing deodorant.

  Dear Frumpy Dumpy,

  Looks like you got yourself in a real pickle. And not the kind Kevin likes. Though he seems great. First of all, no, I do not know anyone who knows Jon Stewart, and if I did, I’m 99 percent sure I would not introduce them to you. And definitely not because you’re severely neurotic and wobbly in the emotional stability department, but because I believe dreams are sometimes better than reality. So go on with your spicy Chipotle sex dreams.

  In regards to your outfit, here’s what I think your options might be.

  You could, one, ask for help. You could talk to that guy whose name you don’t know—all you know is that he’s the quiet, shy guy who drank an entire bowl of Jell-O shots at the office’s nondenominational holiday party and tried to lick the inside of your ear because it looked like a “small vagina” . . . maybe it didn’t happen exactly that way for you, but every office has that guy: the quiet guy. And I’m sure you think he has an extensive plan to kill you, but he’s actually just waiting for you to start a conversation with him first. But I’m fairly certain that won’t happen. Try asking him to let you borrow the oversized cardigan that he keeps on his desk chair. If you add that to your ensemble instead of the wrinkled cardigan, you can make it look like you’re a hip, young creative type who loves shopping for vintage clothes and mixing and matching old and new (like you and Jon Stewart). You’re an artist. You’re innovative. Preppy is out, schleppy is in.

  Goooooo, Go-Gurt!

  Also, I’m assuming the meeting shouldn’t take longer than an hour, so you shouldn’t break out in too many unwashed-sweater-induced rashes before it’s over. And you sound like the kind of person who keeps a variety of ointments nearby in case of emergency anyway.

  You could, two, creatively convert. Does your purse have a detachable handle? Awesome. Use it as a belt! And if your burrito bliss caused you to forget your purse altogether, then today’s the day you sweeten up Cheryl to see if she might be able to help you out. She’s got a forehead tattoo; therefore, I assume she’s got to have some sort of oversized puffed-rice hemp necklace or something at her desk. See if you can use that to cinch the waist. Meanwhile, gather the excess fabric on the ill-fitting button-down you decided was “good enough for today” in the back and staple it together to give yourself some shape. Then either tie your cardigan with the corporately induced wrinkles around your waist or over your shoulders to conceal the staples. That or just take a trip down to the Lost and Found and see what helpful treasures may be lurking there.

  “If I’m going dancing, then I wear the highest heels with the shortest dress.”

 
—KATE MOSS

  “If I’m going dancing, I stay away from high expectations and hope to spend only a short time at the dance club.”

  —GRACE HELBIG

  You could, three, alter the scenario. If no one’s willing to help you out, why not create an elaborate story about the trials and tribulations you have endured since agreeing to be a model in a Project Runway rip-off clothing-design competition reality show. You thought it would be a “fun time,” but it turned out that the episode you were in was the one in which the designers’ pets made the outfits for them. Unfortunately you got teamed up with a man named Guy whose French bulldog gave zero sh*ts about accentuating anything but the amount of followers on his Instagram account, and thus you ended up in the atrocity Mr. Bagel will soon see before him. And if you smell like piss (polite laugh), that’s obviously from THe DOG.

  You could, four, own it. Embrace your haphazard sloppiness. It’s what makes you a human. So what, you were running late this morning . . . it happens to everyone! The people at the meeting don’t need to know your salsa specifics. What you’re wearing was unfortunately the only thing you had around that was even close to clean. Make a joke of it. You’re self-aware, and that’s charming. But in your haste to get ready for work this morning, the one thing you wish you’d had readily available, more than an ironed sweater, is a quick, satisfying meal on the run. You don’t know, maybe something like a saVOrY GO-GurT. uH-OH, sLam DunK. Your hot-mess-ness now becomes the hot ticket into the psyche of the young, entrepreneur types Mr. Bagel should be marketing his new products to. TaKe THaT, cHerYL.