BOILER ALERT!
Call it mechanic-chic: Versatile, comfy coveralls are the season’s dark-horse style star
I T didn’t look like much on the hanger — a cross be-between a mechanic’s uniform and a stiff tarp. p.
But something amazing happened when I put it on. The boxy breast pockets were strangelyy flattering. The canvas belt hugged my waist. I waswas no longer lo a deskbound, denim-clad writer — I wass a street-streetstyle s star, ready to strut down the block with a trailtrail of photographers p in my wake. In short, I felt quite glamorous. The coveralls, or boiler suit— a long-sleeve garment arment made m from heavy fabric such as thick cotton or canvas — is the unlikely breakout trend of the season. Once meant to protect a laborer’s street clothes from muck, it’s it now considered a fashion statement. Luxe labels bels such su as Comme des Garçons have embraced thee look, and the likes of Victoria Beckham and Rihanna are stepping out in full-boil.
The eye-catching style is so popular that hip bou-bou tique ti Bird Brooklyn stocks six different versions, ns, says Christopher Yang, sales associate at the Wil-Williamsburgi outpost.
Jessy Cain, a stylist who dressed Christina Aguguilera il in Orseund Iris’ version for a casual-cool day-daytime ti event says, “It’s versatile, supereasy to wear ar and a looks good on almost everyone.” LA-based brand Lincoln is counting on the boililer suit’s broad appeal. Launched in September, the startup label sells just one $250 cotton suit in six colors. Co-founder Katie Hatch says she’s ’s offering her customers a unique — and of-themoment — style solution.
“It’s an update to that one-piece outfit that used d to be the dress for women,” Hatch says. “But with the th pockets and freedom of movement, this is so much m more functional.”
I must say, I agree. Wearing the suit, I felt sur rprisingly p tough. The fabric enveloped me like armor.armor. I liked li how I looked, and I wasn’t thinking aboutt my body. Worries of a wardrobe malfunction — an errantnt bra strap, a muffin top, visible panty lines — were delight-delightfully far from my mind.
Just call me Rachelle the Riveter. I’ve found aa new goto t for fall.