I have an unfortunate obsession with Rachel Zoe. A high-profile Hollywood stylist, Zoe is credited with reintroducing the world to seventies influenced fashion. Her signature style can be defined as boho-chic, a term that came to be when, in 2003, Nicole Richie went to Zoe for help in 2003 for help and was photographed in oversized jewelry, flowing blouses, gigantic sunglasses and platform heels. Other celebrities took notice, and Zoe became a household name.
A doe-eyed, darkly tanned, pin-thin creature, Rachel Zoe is often seen wafting through racks of vintage Missoni with celebrity friends on her hit Bravo reality show. She teeters on gravity-defying heels, travels with 20 assistants, and air-kisses the likes of Kate Hudson, Karl Lagerfeld, and Jennifer Gardner. I imagine she smells like a combination of Starbucks non-fat lattes, the ocean, suede, and gardenias. Her masses of jewelry and outsized sunglasses add up to a theatrical, exaggerated, ostentatious sense of glamor, and at times she resembles a dizzying character from a madcap musical.
Perhaps that's what I love most about her. Zoe is the perfect example of a more-is-more approach. In her world, there is no such thing as too much costume jewelry, too many artfully-placed highlights, too dark of a tan, too many feathers, too high heels or too much fur. She changes her sunglasses depending on the light, has professed a hatred towards condensation (in a NY Times interview - seriously, look it up) and her Blackberry ring tone is "Riders of the Storm" by the Doors. She spends an afternoon at home with her husband attired in a white cashmere bathrobe, high-heeled espadrilles and full photo-ready hair and make-up. She is a grand gesture. Indeed, she is the complete and total opposite of me.
I adore how deeply Rachel Zoe embraces Californian style and culture. From her accent to her laid-back glamorous style, she exemplifies the Malibu bohemian who eats organically, drives a massive hybrid SUV and has her facialist on speed dial. She's someone I'd love to grab an iced green tea with and gossip about vintage stores, where to get the best manicure, and the benefits of cleansing oils. I wouldn't want to work with her, though - listening to her utter "I die" and "Ba-nanas" repeatedly might induce me to shank her with a rusty blade.
Yesterday I was tempted to pull out all the stops and dress a la Rachel Zoe, complete with platforms, chunky gold watch, sequined beret and fur vest. Alas, I am not in possession of any of those items. I recently acquired a vintage oversized blazer I am certain Rachel would approve of, so that had to do.