I blame my irrational fear of prints on the fact that I had my fashion coming of age during the relentlessly minimalist late ’90s: a time when chic meant Carolyn Bessette in a Calvin Klein sheath dress and pointy-toe sling-back pumps, or Kate Moss at Cannes (this was the Johnny Depp era) in a formfitting grey shift with nude sandals, nary a polka-dot or paisley in sight. I was at an impressionable age: I vowed to cut prints out of my sartorial diet entirely.
Fast-forward to the summer of 2009 when, seemingly out of nowhere, florals took up with bad-girl gladiators, bags dripping with fringe, and little leather jackets. Flower prints were suddenly cool and quirky, not frivolous and twee. (Whee!) I snapped up splashy maxi dresses and mini-floral tops with abandon, liberated from the only-solid-colors-are-truly-chic dictum of my youth.
Packing my fashion garden away yesterday, I felt a twinge of melancholy: did the chill in the air necessitate returning to my former no-prints-allowed existence? Not for this changed woman. I’m taking summer’s “petal to the metal” look into a new season, starting with three of my favorite fall frocks from Rebecca Taylor, Catherine Malandrino, and Tibi, then switching out sandals for suede platform booties (mine are Stuart Weitzman), and adding a BE & D studded belt.