What Twiggy Taught Me About Defying Convention With Style

It's liberating when you finally come to the realization that you don't have to dress like everybody else. For me, it happened in 9th grade when I became transfixed by The Rolling Stones and subsequently discovered the Swinging London scene of the '60s: an era that has both captivated and haunted me — this, because I now knew I could never rub elbows with a young Penelope Tree or become David Bailey's muse du jour.

Naturally you can't speak of such times without mention of the decade's golden girl, Twiggy, who at the time, I only knew as the British America's Next Top Model judge who replaced Janice Dickinson and greeted model hopefuls with an ever-charming, "'elloooo." But once I fell down the rabbit hole of Googling vintage Twiggy images, I was hooked on trying to emulate her. I mean, as well as a 15-year-old girl from Long Island could anyway.

To me, Twiggy's style had so much off-kilter appeal with her psychedelic colors, graphic prints, mile-high hemlines, and tongue-in-cheek accessories. I was no waif, and couldn't hold a smidgen of a candle to her in a mini-skirt, but her madcap style had me thinking outside the box. I stopped going to the Roosevelt Field mall in favor of trips to the hometown thrift stores my mom had been right about all along. I traded in my North Face puffer coat for a $19 PVC trench coat; my basic fleece boots for a pair of leather Chelsea boots; cotton leggings for vintage trousers; and flashy designer sunglasses for $5 round frames I fished out of a bargain bin. And then there was the beauty...