Smoker’s Leather Jacket
Sandalwood, Orris Root, Vintage Fur
I want to reach people and express myself. You have to put up with the risk of being misunderstood if you are going to try to communicate. You have to put up with people projecting their own ideas, attitudes, misunderstanding you. But it's worth being a public fool if that's all you can be in order to communicate yourself.
― Edie Sedgwick
The “It Girl” as a concept was born from the pen of journalist Tom Wolfe and captured in the print of The New York Herald Tribune in 1964. The woman herself was immortalized on the arm of Andy Warhol. The muse, the gamine, a profound symbol of the culturati—
The Girl of the Year. Mistakenly first attributed to Edie Sedgwick, the original subject of Wolfe’s Girl of the Year essay was Baby Jane Holtzer, the socialite muse of the pop art king of The Factory. As soon as she took agency over her narrative, a new It Girl, Edie, was crowned in the pages of Vogue and The New York Post. Cemented in celluloid, these women have been regarded as mere muses of the greats, but were in fact gifted artists themselves working more as collaborators behind the scenes; their genius being the unseen force driving their lasting influence. Until the next one is crowned.
Girl of the Year is an exploration into the private enclaves of the woman, off film, away from parties, protected from the flash of the camera. It is the quiet moments between calls and engagements, the space reserved for nestling into your memories.
Artifacts of a life being lived populate your space, untidy and endearing: the leather jacket left behind by a lover lazily draped on the sofa, your vanity clumsy with perfumes and jewelry, the littered ashtray on your windowsill. Every article of clothing and tube of lipstick a talisman of self expression and protection becomes a souvenir of the moment, iconic of an era. From the solitude of your dressing table, you stare at your reflection with no one else to see. The phone rings. ♦