When you survey your closet do you ever feel anger—dare I say rage—when you take stock of the pieces that you’ve only worn once? I do: I feel mad at myself for depriving that blouse of a better home, and I feel mad at myself for depriving my wallet of money that could be put to better use. And then I feel mad at the sales person who convinced me that the blouse looked good. And then I vow not to ever shop at that boutique, or department store, or chain store again.
Because the best sales people don’t lie.
Kyung!
In my mind, a pushy sales person is a bit like an undermining friend: You know, the type of friend who encourages you to house five brownies when she knows you’re on a diet. Or, to wear a dress to an event that’s clearly two sizes too small. There’s healthy encouragement…and then there’s flat-out sabotage. I think about one purple top I bought at a vintage store in Nolita in New York City. It was wildly overpriced for what it was, and I knew, in my heart, that it didn’t look good on me, but the boutique owner, who was also a stylist, convinced me that I had body dysmorphia and that it was really the best thing ever. I hesitated, and bought the shirt, and wore it out with some friends in Miami. The next morning, poolside in my bathing suit, my friend Michael, who had been out with me the night before, leaned over, and said: “You know what? I had no idea you weren’t fat…why do you wear those tent-like tops?” Good question indeed.
One of my closest friends back in New York City is a hilarious lady named Kyung Lee, who owns an unassuming dress shop in the West Village called Albertine. At Lucky, we wrote about Albertine ad nauseam, in part because Kyung always finds the best small independent designers before they make it big, but also because we all shopped there. I could easily spend three or four hours sitting on the tiny couch in her tiny shop watching Kyung sell. In fact, I spent so much time there, I even learned how to run the credit card machine so that I could help out when she was overrun.
See, here’s the thing. Kyung could sell, because she didn’t sell at all. I have bought a lot of things at Albertine over the years—a lot, a lot—but there is not one thing that I bought there that taunts me from my closet. Because Kyung would never, ever let me—or anyone else for that matter—buy something that didn’t look good. Being in that dressing room is pretty intimate stuff: Women reveal their deepest insecurities, and look for real assurance. I’m not quoting her here, but I think Kyung takes that faith and trust seriously. Maybe talking clients out of dresses isn’t the sanest business move, but the cling of the cash register doesn’t really motivate her. Her clientele has been built on word of mouth—and the best press she can get is when her customers wear the things they’ve bought from Albertine, and wear them again and again.
Kyung has taught me a lot about how to dress my body over the years, by reminding me of one of the simplest rules out there: Everything doesn’t look great on everybody, and you should never trust someone who would try to persuade you otherwise. Skinny jeans? They make my hips look ginormous. A tailored shirt with a collar? The best way to simultaneously play up and down my curves. A belt? Pretty much my best friend ever.
I’m not Kyung, but I’d like to think that I can be here for you guys: You can always email me from the dressing room at elise [at] beso [dot] com, or you can click on over to our Editor’s Picks tab, where we’re unrolling a series of styling and shopping videos to hopefully make it easier to get dressed in the morning. If we’re missing a topic you’d like us to tackle, please drop me a line in comments so we can address it soon!
