Models and Citizens

Everyone has one thing that they are especially good at. Mine is being able to spot any model or fashion celeb from a mile away. And in New York City, this special gift certainly comes in handy.

When on the look out for a model, there are a few key traits to watch for. First of all, there's the unparallel height, which will be accentuated by sky high heels that she refuses to leave home without (even at 11 AM). Secondly, she will be lazily styled in a perfect blend of urban-boho chic (a look that usually involves super short shorts and no bra). And finally, hair will look as if she has just awoke from a nap on a beach in St. Barts-impeccably disheveled and with just the right amount of sun kissed highlights.

These are the models of Manhattan. And because the fashion industry is so prevalent here, it is rare that a day goes by that you don’t witness some variation of the aforementioned type. Especially on the brink of Fashion Week.

Take yesterday, for instance. Power walking on my lunch break, determined to get out of the NY August rain as quickly as possible and seek refuge in the closest Starbucks, who should be walking towards me but Coco Rocha. She was lengthy and pin-thin (much taller and thinner in real life, if that is even possible), carrying her portfolio through the torrential downpour sans umbrella. Despite the deluge, she remained looking impossibly chic in extremely belled black jeans and a racy leopard print blouse. Her face was bare and looked flawless. Definitely an "Only in Manhattan" experience.

Jessica Stam, a favorite of most, was another model I had the privilege of seeing. However, she was by no means as camera ready as the recently wed Rocha. I spied her at Dos Toros Taqueria in the East Village with a baseball cap but without make-up. I have to admit, seeing her in real life definitely ruined the illusion of the stunning model in the Aldo ads. Her hair was not the glossy bleached coif that she boasts in the campaign, and her complexion was not the flawless porcelain that the airbrushing had produced. Instead, she was pretty much just a plain Jane with dried out hair and a sour expression.

I'd have to say that nearly every time I've brunched at the East Village's Cafe Orlin, I've spotted one choice style icon. First it was Abbey Lee, looking stunning in a barely there tank, super short shorts and a floppy wide brim hat. Then it was Lily Cole, whose skin wasn't nearly as clear as one would have thought. And most recently, Charlotte Ronson, enjoying her meal alongside her photographer brother but, sadly, no Sam in sight.

I was also lucky enough to witness Agy Deyn at the gym and short about 3 inches of hair before seeing her again a few days later marching down Irving with combat boots and (what else) overalls. I also saw model-gone-missing Gemma Ward walking around St. Mark’s and Julia Restoin Roitfeld chatting on her cell phone in Chelsea.

Maybe claiming to have an eye for models and fashion folk isn't entirely accurate. It is much more likely that I just spend way too much time patrolling style blogs and live in a city where models are just as populous as Starbucks and Duane Reade. Either way, being able to see my favorite fashion ads in real life is truly a one of my favorite things about living in the fashion capital of the world.

(Abbey Lee looking cool, me trying to look cool)