In 1983, I was finishing up my last year at the University of Colorado. I was bored with the sorority thing, having just moved into a cool old off-campus house with three other friends, and fancied myself living a more bohemian lifestyle than whatever the DG house had to offer. One of my best friends, Debbie had a more 'artistic' bent and so we would spend the weekends in Denver, thrift-shopping during the day and then clubbing at night in whatever industrial neighborhood was the thing at the time.
When Debbie and I weren't off in "the big city" we would sometimes go to the old movies they'd screen on campus. Another form of escapism. It was a college town in Colorado with a sportier-leaning crowd, so I remember seeing Warren Miller ski movies just as often as artier foreign films… but we somehow made it to Breathless (or À bout de souffle), which made a huge impression on me. Big enough that I chopped my hair off into a Jean Seberg-style pixie cut. I really thought I was cool. Or maybe it's more that I desperately wanted to be cool and thought the haircut would seal the deal. I took my cues from the movie just as much as from a girl I hardly knew named Megan. Let me tell you: Megan was IT. Even the pronunciation was cool: MEE-gan. She appeared out of nowhere in one of my classes and the lack of details or background was critical to the combination of awe and envy that was in my heart. I didn't see her again after that semester. Had Megan been a real friend, the mystique would have faded, and I would have seen her as she really was: a 22-year-old girl with cool hair and perhaps as much insecurity as the rest of us. Is anyone as confident and self-assured as we imagine them to be?
But, as you might be able to tell… the impression she left was big. Big enough to cut all my hair off. Megan's hairstyle was Jean Seberg's Breathless pixie, but an early-80s version. These were the early days of MTV. Slightly more asymmetrical, like something that you would have seen on a member of Duran Duran or The Police. At the time it felt totally avant-garde and fresh. If you have ever cut off 12 inches of hair in one fell swoop, you know the shock and liberation it creates. No turning back. Years and years to regrow what you purposefully cut off. It wasn't bad, but it did not make me look like Megan or Jean Seberg. Wherever you go, there you are.
Unbelievably, I would make this same mistake again seven years later, on a whim when working in New York. The year was 1989, Linda Evangelista had that same Megan haircut at the time and once again I felt like copying someone cool. I was working at Glamour and had access to all the very top hairstylists of the era, so I called in a favor with this amazing French girl named Odile, who cut yet another pixie for me. I didn't tell Sid my plans, just said goodbye on Saturday morning after a coffee and bagel and headed uptown. We met up for lunch at a Chinese place and I walked in totally shorn. Surprise. It was fun for a minute, but I let it grow out once again. My hair grew too fast, I frankly couldn't afford the trims, and I was pretty sure Odile was only good for one favor. Never again. For real this time.
But beyond the dramatic haircut, there was another mark that Jean Seberg's Breathless performance left on me, and this one has lasted to this day: her trim, striped t-shirt. A symbol of cool. French cool, in fact, which was way better than the local Boulder variety. The striped tee was way easier to copy and longer-lasting than impulsively chopping off my hair.
I started with an L.L. Bean version — all that was available to me at the time. It wasn't quite right, but not bad for a first try. And the point is that it was a symbol, anyway, not an exact replica. Over the years I have acquired dozens more versions to give that dose of je ne sais quoi. And not just on me… I dressed my daughters in kid's versions for years as a de facto uniform. Stripes go with everything, I reasoned. Or at least, I willed them into going with everything. From ruffly skirts to painter's jeans to camouflage cargos, they became a useful little neutral top for whatever bottoms fit the girls at the time. If we had a family team… striped tees would be our jerseys. A seaside French version of the Von Trapps.
I can't stop you from getting an aspirational haircut, but I CAN save you the trouble and expense of the hunt for the perfect striped tee. Because the one we make really does check all the boxes for me. It is trim but not tight, lightweight enough to wear all year round, in pima cotton jersey that is fine but not too tissue-y or delicate. The neckline is a beautiful, face-framing boatneck. Just covered enough to hide your bra straps but wide enough to show your collarbone, which I find very pretty. In hopes of making this instructional rather than just sentimental for me, I will tell you exactly what I do with them:
I wear them as layering pieces under sweaters. Just three inches of stripes poking out from the edge of your sleeve adds a lot.
It gives a sense of ease under a more constructed jacket… either a menswear-style blazer or a collarless Chanel-type cardigan jacket. It makes the look feel less "career woman." The stripe is a nice pop even if the jacket itself is patterned.
They are very handy as an accessory, not just as a top — I will tie one around my neck, in place of a scarf, with a simple sweater and trousers.
I will also tie one around my waist to add a hit of pattern, and it takes the place of a belt to visually break things up.
I will even double them up as above – one worn as a shirt + another around my neck or waist.
They are fab on vacation… tied to cover your lower half on your way to the beach, then as a sweatshirt replacement if you are chilly after a swim.
I am not telling you anything you don't already know. But if you have ever seen me in real life — walking the dog around the neighborhood, picking up eggs at the grocery, dashing into my store to pick up something else I have promised myself I need — there is a good chance you have seen me in one of these striped tees. Out of everything we make, almost nothing gets as much mileage in my closet. Like I did with my daughters… I have made them my own uniform. Useful is an understatement.
So many years later, I am grateful to no longer want to look like the gorgeous young Jean Seberg with her pixie. I have figured out my own look and my own hair. But I do still want to feel like her, or at least how I imagined her when I first saw her at the university cinema: cool and simple and confident. The striped tee still delivers for me. Maybe it will do the same for you.
