Lisa Kogan's Makeover: From Schmattes to
It started with an untucked shirt. I mean, you put on a pound or two and you want to be comfortable, right? And maybe hide out in something just a little on the baggy side—that seems perfectly reasonable, doesn't it? And clogs are so easy to slip into—nobody really notices shoes, do they? Besides, the baby needs breakfast and the nanny is running late, and I've got to get to the office and who has time to deal with accessories or makeup...or one's reflection in a full-length mirror? Yep, it started with an untucked shirt, and before anyone could say "Stevie Nicks: the chunky years," the baby was ready for kindergarten and I had taken up residence in Shlumpadinka City.
I tell myself that it's obscene and vain and idiotic to think about personal style when the world is falling apart. This despite my mother's keen observation that "refusing to put on a pair of tailored trousers probably isn't doing all that much for the Iraqi people." Here is the truth:
I allowed myself to gain a lot of weight, and maybe as a punishment, or maybe as a form of denial, or maybe because I just couldn't find plus-size clothes that corresponded to the way I wanted to look (simple, sleek, modern, with just a hint of bling), I gave up on trying to look any way at all. I stopped paying attention to myself and hoped everyone else would have the decency to do the same.
Enter Adam Glassman. One part angel of mercy, one part dictatorial devil, all parts swathed in cashmere, Adam is the creative director of this magazine. But his influence doesn't stop there. The man is on a personal crusade to keep America beautiful. He will point out when your hair is too big. He will come to your home and angle your sofa. He will let you know if your hemline dips too low or your heels reach too high. To paraphrase Monsters Inc., he scares because he cares.
We are sitting in his office, reviewing an "O List" layout. "Adam," I begin, "what makes this particular candle so special?" He answers my question with another question, "What the hell kind of bra are you wearing?"