My life is a haven for literature, both in the literal and aesthetic sense. I read at least 50 books a year, my walls are filled with art from The Paris Review and The New Yorker, and I worship my favorite authors like deities. My Joan Didion shrine — all of her books, a framed photograph and a coffee table book about her — sits proudly on my bookshelf. I am truly obsessed with reading and writing, and this obsession goes beyond whatever book I am carrying around in my bag.

My personal style — reflected in the clothes I hand-pick from my closet to wear everyday — has been an important part of my identity for longer than I can remember, and that too is largely defined by the written word.

During my time at NYU, I have come to identify myself as a writer and an editor, in addition to my lifelong stint as a bookworm. When I arrived at college in the fall of 2022, I stumbled upon the WSN open house and never looked back. I quickly began to fill the shoes of my writer self — something teenaged me would have never imagined, as I thought no one would want to read what I wrote. My literary urges grew and grew — in the WSN office, the classroom, the library and the way I portray myself. 

Through the way I dressed, I found myself embodying the writers — both fictional and real — that I had always admired in new ways. Not only was their inspiration visible on my bookshelf, but it was also there hanging in my closet. 

I have loved Carrie Bradshaw, the fictional relationship columnist, since I watched “Sex and the City” for the first time at the start of high school. Although I started to disagree with some of her dating choices as I aged, I still love her clothing. Her big, eclectic and over-the-top outfit choices inspire almost all of mine. Every time I opt for multiple huge bangles on one arm, a voluminous skirt or a crazy pair of shoes, I think about her. 

In fact, I bought my first pair of Manolo Blahniks — Carrie’s signature shoe — for the sole purpose of emulating her essence. I paid $30 at a thrift store for turquoise snakeskin flats that were a little too big, and promptly texted my best friend that I was “in my Carrie era” alongside a picture. The next thing I knew, I was walking into the first day of class with bleeding heels, which I could have predicted, but I just really wanted to be like Carrie. 

My favorite real-life writer is Didion, if you couldn’t tell, and her essays “Why I Write” and “On Self Respect” have probably had more impact on my identity than any other pieces of literature. Last year, I dressed up as Didion for Halloween, and it seems like I never stopped. Even though, in her last-ever interview, she claimed that she wasn’t a fashion icon, she still is to me. Though I would never reduce the writer to her exterior, I do wear my Didion-esque gigantic sunglasses each day because it makes me feel just a little bit like her. This only started after I researched the aestheticization of her character for a class, and discovered the true impact of her signature spectacles, which sold for $27,000 at her postmortem estate sale. 

I know that I do not dress like these women just because I like their clothing. Of course I do, but I also admire their personas. Didion was so self-assured that reading her writing sometimes feels physically sharp. Bradshaw managed to find love on every dark corner of New York City. These women embody traits that I think everyone in a big city could always use a little more of: confidence and whimsy. 

I feel this way about another fictional yet influential writer — Andy Sachs, the infamous assistant to Miranda Priestly in “The Devil Wears Prada.” Andy wants to be a writer, but she’s stuck in a hellish entry-level position. Every time I get dressed to go out on a Saturday night, the scene where Andy’s outfits change rapidly after a visit to Runway’s fashion closet comes to my mind. That scene is the true signifier of her commitment to her job despite the pain it caused her. Maybe it’s bad to admire a work ethic so strong that it borders on toxicity, but nonetheless, I do. 

The outfits in that scene are truly magnificent — it’s a movie about a fashion magazine, after all. Although, what excites me most during that fashion montage is watching the drive to succeed that lives so deeply inside of her. Andy was willing to put in the work to make it big as a journalist, and as someone soon to enter the workforce, I feel invigorated watching her, hoping to somehow embody that woman when I throw on a black slip dress and my secondhand leather Chloé boots. The soles may be falling apart, causing me, yes, to slip down an entire staircase at a frat party, but I like to think that’s part of their charm.

It’s no wonder that after identifying myself as a small, unknown writer in a big city that I would begin to try to emulate Didion, Andy and Carrie in my everyday life. The easiest place to start is by looking a little bit more like them with each outfit I wear as I learn to become more confident, driven and excited by life each day.