Spy

All clothes are costumes, when you get right down to it. That's the idea behind the advice "dress for the job you want," as well as "beware of all enterprises that require new clothes" (Thoreau). So why pretend? Can't we just wear costumes every day?

And wigs? Can we wear wigs every day?

Spies are tricky, and so is Spy. I bet you think you know what the back of Spy looks like, don't you?

Bwaha! You can call me Anna Chapman. (Not my real name.) To recap: front of Spy:

back of Spy:

Nothing is trickier.

The upside of wearing costumes (ha! as if there's a downside!) is that it gives you license to do things you wouldn't normally do, as long as you remain in character. Like hide under tables.

Eavesdrop on secrets.

Find camouflage wherever I go.

Here is a secret: Spy isn't vintage (my shame, my shame, my eternal shame). I bought it in 2001 at a BCBG outlet (shame!) near Las Vegas (shame!) after winning $60 at the roulette table (shame! and also a little misplaced pride!). But I love it d'amour; I wish I had a time machine, and lots of money, because now I have a system for roulette. A system! But it involves risking exponentially higher sums of money each spin, so it's not super practical. But anyway, had I a time machine, and had I a practical system, and had I lots of money, I would definitely go back to Vegas in 2001, win more money than $60, go to the BCBG outlet, and buy up this frock in all the patterns and fabrics they had.

Because what is better than Spy? Spy vs. Spy.

I like to think that as a spy, I'd project the fey menace of Jarvis Cocker.




But I would probably be closer to the goofy cheer of John Flansburgh.



All photos by Claire Loeb!