A New Look for a New Lisa Lacy

When one’s life falls apart and one finds oneself at a delicate age and one isn’t where one thought one would be by that point…and one is a “journalist,” but journalism is in the throes of death/rebirth…and one’s quasi-boyfriend – the only thing that was really sort of going okay – decides that he “can’t” be one’s quasi-boyfriend anymore, etc., etc., it is nice to have friends at the Luxury Spot.

That’s because they’re more than willing to help a girl pick herself up and dust herself off and make herself look a little more fancy-pants for the next go-round.

And that’s precisely what happened to me: Makeover time.

And not just with anybody, mind you…my pals at the Luxury Spot got none other than celebrity stylist Alegra Torel to step in and help.

And, I mean, Alegra certainly knows her stuff. And I don’t say that just because the first thing out of her mouth when she met me was, “You have great legs! You should be showing them all the time!”

I initially met with Alegra about two weeks ago. But…the problem was that we were at this PR showroom for a bunch of designers and all they had were sample sizes and sample sizes are super-tiny…and I am, well, not. And…Alegra is really straight and to the point, so she was browsing the racks and saying stuff like, “No!” and “I would never put you in that!”

She ultimately found two dresses that she thought were okay for me — a black one and a white one. The black one was CRAZY and Bryce said that if I wore it out on the street, I would have a new (presumably real and full-time) boyfriend instantaneously. (I was skeptical, but it didn’t fit anyway.) So…that left me with this stretchy white one…and, you know, the fabric had a lot of give…so I *was* able to actually put it on…but my boobs were kinda bustin’ out and she could tell that I didn’t like it, so she said, “That’s okay — we can pin it.” But then she had me turn around — which I did really, really fast…and even then she said, “Omigod, NO! I would never put you in that! Take it off!” when she saw me from behind. And then she gently told me about my problem area…and — gotta say it, folks — it was such an enormous relief to learn that I only have one. (My friend Katherine from Chicago was here about a month ago and I joked that my problem area was “my neck to my knees.”)

So…since there was only one dress in the whole showroom that actually fit and it looked so bad off the hanger, Alegra said we would have to go somewhere else on Monday. And then she said I had to make my hair darker and “stop doing (my) eyes like that” (which I thought meant liner, but actually meant shadow…as I learned when she pulled me aside in the dressing room on Monday).

So…where does one turn when one needs a bit more variety? Daffy’s.

Alegra

Monday we met again at Daffy’s at Broadway and Grand and headed downstairs to seek out whatever treasures awaited us. (Then Alegra forbid me to wear cableknit sweaters ever again…and it was a little sad because I really like the sweater in question. But she prefaced it by saying I am too young and cute to be wearing them…so…I suppose I can live with that.)

Eventually Alegra pulled a bunch of shiny pants and cocktail dresses for me. I had to start with the dresses. We got it down to two, finally…(unfortunately, none of the shiny pants fit either)…and that’s when Alegra said, “Stop!” and pulled out this little black compact from her purse and told me to look up at the ceiling…and she applied undereye concealer right then and there and commanded that I get myself to a Benefit counter to pick up this product called Lemon Aid because it was going to change my life and make me look less tired. And then she said, “See? Doesn’t she look so much more refreshed?” and everyone oohed and aahed and agreed that I did, indeed, look refreshed.

We finally settled on a purple Narciso Rodriguez dress with a Jessica Simpson belt, but put on backwards…and this shiny black business-like jacket that just barely fit and Alegra said I *had* to keep the sleeves rolled up or I looked ridiculous. (She’s the expert.)

Lemon Aid

Then shoes. But that, too, was hard…in part because I have these huge monster-feet but Alegra finally found these heels and I said, “Great!” even though I know full well that I cannot really walk in heels…and then — as if she could read my damn mind! — she said, “Can you walk in heels?” and I tried to, you know, not overtly say no by saying, “Well, I don’t walk in them a lot…but I can certainly give it the old college try!” and so she said, “Put them on. Let me see you walk.” Which I tried to do…and totally failed — but part of it was because I was nervous…and she said matter-of-factly, “You can’t walk in heels.” And because this was supposed to be about more than just wearing something once to take a photo and going back to my old ways, it was important to find a pair of shoes I could actually use…so…Alegra went off to try to find me yet *another* pair of shoes. Finally did. These sort of bedazzled Nine West ankle bootie things. The outfit was complete.

Now on to the hard stuff…

lisaclacy@gmail.com'
By Lisa

a Brooklyn, NY-based food and business writer who has worked for Martha Stewart Living, Good Housekeeping, the Financial Times and Dow Jones. She also blogs for the Huffington Post and started her own blog – tastylacys.wordpress.com – to chronicle her preparations for the American Pie Council’s National Pie Championships.