It's not necessary to be model, fashion editor, or Olsen twin to dress well. What it does take is practice, review, and editing. To dress well requires the wearer to have spent time practicing and reviewing what works for her body, trying on a variety of cuts and proportions to determine which shapes best suit her. The wearer must also set aside the constraints of ego, popular culture, and notions of beauty in order to edit her outfit. Editing requires the wearer to wear what is essential to her outfit and eliminate the rest, as in the above picture. Kate Moss is well-dressed because she has chosen one statement accessory, the oversized scarf. Everything else recedes into the background. Were she to have worn brighter colors or baggier clothing, the scarf wouldn't have so much impact, and the outfit would have dragged her down.

It's my opinion that the greatest style icons have endured because they dressed for their bodies first and fashion second. Neither Kate Moss nor Jackie Onassis have dressed spectacularly here. Their clothing is neither dressy nor period specific. Instead, they are well cut and fitted to their specific proportions. Having lean legs, Kate pulls of skinny jeans well, and her jacket is not so long or loose as to overwhelm her. Jackie's outfit is fitted close to accentuate her lean frame, and ankle-length pants can be elongating to women between 5'6" and 5'8". By dressing for their bodies first, their nods to fashion - the sunglasses, Kate's scarf - have a greater impact. Dressing for their bodies first also ensures an easier time of editing. By dressing with with the goal of enhancing one's shape, the desire to cave to the vagaries of fashion eventually lessons in proportion to the desire to dress well for oneself.

While it takes time to understand which shapes and proportions work best for your features, it's a process that's worth the effort, as it will eventually save you the time and money of investing in clothes that will never truly work for you. The way I've found which cuts and proportions work for me is by going to department stores with the express intention of trying on a variety of clothes to see what works. I've found that going to a store with this goal in mind has kept me more attentive to what's in the mirror as opposed to whether or not I've found something to buy. I've been careful to note everything I like about a garment's fit, whether or not the garment fits overall. Taking account of how individual elements flatter - a fitted sleeve, the cut of a shoulder - makes the exercise more productive than simply looking for a perfect shirt. I've done this exercise several times, and while no single time has given me all the answers, each session has been instructive, and the cumulative information has significantly reduced both how much I buy and money spent on unsuccessful purchases.

As far as editing goes, much of it occurs simply by dressing for your shape, as this alone weeds out a lot of possible cuts and silhouettes. After working so hard to find the cuts and proportions that flatter me, I'm not so eager to cover all that up with a ton of layers or with clothes that will disrupt the proportions. I'm more interested in finding what will work in concert with them. Admittedly, this initally felt a little boring to me. Having abandoned thoughtful editing for a couple of years, I felt constrained and impositioned with this return to thoughtfulness. The discipline has worked in my favor, though. No longer adopting an "anything goes" attitude to my wardrobe, I've significantly reduced the amount of clothing I have that I wish looked good on me and now possess a greater percentage of clothing that actually looks good on me.

This has required some sacrifice. I'm a great fan of boyish dressing and had developed a sizeable collection of t-shirts, sweatshirts, and jeans, all baggy to some degree. Even in narrower cuts, this overall aesthetic will never truly suit my body or my personality. As such, I'm learning how to better dress to accomodate both my body and aesthetics. Being a child of the 90s, I'm not yet able to give up that boyish grunge/alternative aesthetic. As a compromise, I leave the sweatshirts at home and wear narrower t-shirts and jeans with either straight or bootcut legs. I've replaced the sweatshirts with a cropped bomber jacket or, alternately, narrowly cut grandpa cardigans, staying true to the lean, elongated shape I prefer. Bagginess is no longer allowed.

When I start to feel constrained by the editing I've imposed on myself, I cheer myself with the new silhouettes I've adopted. While I've given up a lot of clothing that didn't work for me, this has given me the mental space to take in and appreciate what does work. These new revelations include finally finding the right cut and proportion of jeans, a body-conscious dress cut similar to a sheath while retaining the attitude of body-con, and a plethora of narrowly cut sweaters that both double as t-shirts and add polish and cool to my outfits. As much as these revelations have boosted my wardrobe, the real benefit has been in how I feel. Dressing boyishly was a way of hiding, and wearing baggy clothes didn't make me look or feel good. I've taken more pride in my body now that I've started to dress for it, and I'm no longer willing to settle for what doesn't work. I spend considerably less on clothes and like more of what I have. Overall, it's been worth setting aside my ideas of what should work and just appreciating what does work.

Leather gilets may not be basics for everyone, but as someone doesn't wear jewelry, these would provide interest and detail to my outfits without the weight of metal. I'm torn between them. I think I like the brown version better, with its slightly easier shape and contrasting collar. The fit of the black version might end up looking tortured. I would be happy to wear them both, though.

Finally, no discussion of Rick Owens can be complete without reviewing the jacket that started it all. Despite having designed for many years, Rick Owens can be said to really be noticed by the public when Ashley Olsen, and later Lindsay Lohan, were frequently photographed wearing this jacket. This is quintessential Rick Owens: a little bit biker, assymetrical, leather, and very black. Any real Rick Owens fan dreams of owning this jacket someday.

Body-con gained a bad reputation for excessive aggression, but it need not be so aggressive. The best looks balance the straightfoward display of the body with softness in fabric or cut, allowing for a look that's more feminine and less raunchy. L'Wren Scott's design is a perfect marriage of the extreme cut of body-con paired with a muted, respectable blue and an elogated shape to flatter and balance out othe tightness. I'm particularly fond of her inset shoulders, as they subtly reveal skin without degrading ito vulgarity.
Thakoon's shift dress provides a feminine take on bandage dresses. The fact that this is a shift dress need not throw you. Most body-con dresses, including bandage dresses, are essentially shift dresses cut down to exactly conform to the body. Thakoon's shift dress detours from standard office wear with the embellishment of black ribbon bandages, providing a knowing nod at bandage dressing in a far more feminine and forgiving cut than bandage dresses could ever claim.Of all the included dresses, I find this Prada dress the sexiest. While not as tight as the others, it is even more body-conscious, as the cut's plunging neckline and slit literally point to what's underneath. The fuller cut also allows for a movement of fabric impossible in a narrower cut, allowing the dress to slink around the body with each movement. The tension between the obscured view and revelation, as well as friction of the fabric against skin, heightens the dress from mere body-consciousness to eroticism.

Finally, no discussion of body-con can be complete without inclusion of bandage dresses. Though Lou Doillon's dress is too short and, really, too tight, I've chosen it as an example of the design possible in bandage dresses. The beige contrast provides more interesting detail than would be found in a simply black dress, and the off-the-shoulder cut also softens and feminizes the look. What strikes me most about this picture, though, is the wearer. Lou Doillon is looking the camera dead on, smiling and owning the outfit. This is largly unseen in sexy dressing. Too often, women allow the outfit to wear them, as though putting on a standard, uniform "sexy dress" will make them into standard sexy people, denying the responsibility of finding their own look and sexuality. I love this picture because my attention is on Lou Doillon, not on her sexy dress or on a naive "sexy" posturing. This is what I appreciate most about body-conscious dressing, that it forces the wearer's body and wearer herself front and center. There's nothing to hide behind, with no room for passivity. It takes consciousness and confidence to wear these clothes, separating them from ubiquity and slutty vulgarity. These are clothes for women of thought and self-possession.

It's amazing how much cooler and lighter I feel in the summer heat when I switch from trainers to sandals, and living in a climate where the weather quickly becomes humid and very hot, anything that can keep even part of me cool is essential. This pair meets my sandal prerequisites. They aren't flip-flops, they have the look of natural leather, they don't cut off my legs at an ungainly height, and they have interesting design details due to the placement of the buckle and straps. Also, as someone who doesn't believe in spending a lot of money on sandals that I will inevitably trash, they are not very expensive.

Being small, I best suit dresses that skim the body. Despite the prevailing belief that bandage and body-conscious dresses are overly tight, properly fitted ones hug and flatter the body. Their design is no accident; the placement of each stripe of cloth is such that these dresses make the most of their wearer's bodies, giving them their best possible shape. Plus, they have the wearable ease of shift dresses.