A Tale Of Two Cities

by / Mar 03, 2021

Elise Taylor is a Senior Writer for Vogue, covering interior design, travel, food, and society. After seven years in New York, she decided to do what, well, so many twenty-somethings had done before: try to live in Los Angeles.

I was born and raised in Connecticut, went to college in Massachusetts, and later moved to New York. This is just a long way of saying — I’m a lifelong East Coaster, and when comes to my fashion, it shows: I have a penchant for blazers (especially of the plaid and houndstooth variety), Peter Pan collars, Victorian lace, black knee high boots, ballet flats, and anything— anything— Ralph Lauren. When asked to describe my style, I usually respond with “romantic prep,” or, if that doesn’t register, “everything floofy, poofy, frilly, or preppy.” 

That’s not to say I haven’t been fascinated with how the other coast dresses. On the contrary, I spent my teen years soaking in Summer Roberts and Marissa Cooper’s beach girl, bohemian style on The O.C. (Marissa, in case you forgot, carried around her books in a Chanel tote). Even once the show ended, my moment with Southern California did not. Soon, I’d moved onto Lauren Conrad’s baby doll dresses from The Hills and Cher from Clueless’s endless, rotating closet.  (“Where's my white collarless shirt from Fred Segal. It's my most capable looking outfit!”)

And those were just the looks of the nineties and early aughts: in 2021, I’m regularly clicking on pictures of cool girls like Hailey Bieber and Kaia Gerber stepping out in fabulous ab-flashing Jacquemus bras and leather jackets.

SENREVE Mini Alunna Bag in Pebbled ChestnutSENREVE Mini Alunna Bag in Pebbled Chestnut.

So this winter, when I decided to head out to Los Angeles, I knew my geographic location wasn’t the only thing about to change. After decades of idolizing Jackie, I was ready to switch allegiance to Marilyn.

Problem was, I didn’t know exactly what my California style was. Was I a secret athleisure aesthete who’d rock head-to-toe Alo Yoga? Or perhaps a Venice-esque ensemble with round sunglasses and ripped-jeans was more up my alley? Should I be searching eBay for a pair of Yeezys?

There was only one way to find out: shopping.

On my first SoCal Sunday, I perused the parking lot stalls at Melrose Trading Post, one of the city’s famous flea markets. Vintage band t-shirts were a dime-a-dozen, but another item entirely caught my eye: a 1980s houndstooth blazer with Versace-esque gold buttons and sky high shoulder pads. Within minutes, I’d haggled down the price and Venmo’ed the vendor. It wasn’t until I walked out that I realized that I had gone to a Los Angeles flea market, found, and then subsequently purchased