There’s a supposed difference between “want” and “need.” I want a chocolate chip cookie, but I don’t need to eat one. I want to watch SNL, but I don’t need to watch it. I want to get a nose job, but I don’t need to get plastic surgery. This has not been the case with Plaid and I lately.
“Want” and “need” have become a blurry blob of indecipherable nonsense. Every article of checked or plaid clothing that I see I must own, or I must, at the very least, put it into my dream cart on Reformation, Zara, etc.
It is a steady and certain affliction. I was at an artisan fair with a friend on Saturday, and I came across a vintage Burberry pullover. “$25?” I said, “It’d be criminal not to,” and now it’s sitting in my closet. It’s wild, really. I don’t even know how it happened. I blinked and it was over.
Zara is pushing out plaid faster than I can comprehend. Coats, blousons, skirts, pants: You name it, and Zara has coated it in some version of school-uniform checks.
This isn’t grunge plaid though, friends. This is sophisticated plaid. This is Sally Albright walking through Central Park with Harry Burns plaid. This is Alexa Chung at any event ever plaid. This is your mom killing it in 1993 plaid.
Patterns on patterns, ladies (or gentleman… Dad?). Mix your checks and your plaids and your stripes and your polka dots. Plaid is a neutral if you truly believe, and you will look classy as hell.
If you can snag a plaid suit that isn’t the price of a Kitchen Aid standing mixer, snatch it up. Wrap it up and hold it close to your heart. I want one more than I want air to breathe or food to eat.
This trend may or may not kill me.
ALSO: I just discovered that Joe (Sally Albright’s lame old boyfriend from When Harry Met Sally) is the son of former U.S. President Gerald Ford. That is bananas! Now I need a cocktail party to go to where I can share my newfound and impressive knowledge.