Prep School

Back in the '90s, Plum Sykes arrived in New York from London and promptly found herself in the thrall of preppy chic. Now, she writes, it's all coming back.

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My love affair with preppy style began with a sweater—a pistachio green, cable-knit, three-ply cashmere Ralph Lauren crewneck, to be exact. It had exquisite proportions—a skinny, slightly cropped cut, tiny armholes, and narrow sleeves that made your arms look like they went on forever—and the wool was so soft that it felt like a baby’s hair when you touched it (which I did a lot, obviously). In my New York of the late ’90s, it became part of my work uniform: I would wear it to the Vogue office on Madison Avenue with a pair of pale pink silk Dolce & Gabbana flared trousers, my granny’s pearls, and Manolo Blahnik kitten heel sandals in pale suede. On my shoulder: a huge leopard-print Fendi sack that André Leon Talley had given me. (It was quite normal for André to throw a heavenly bag on your desk and say something like, “You need it more than me, darling!” before pirouetting out of sight.)

Soon, I’d added a chocolate brown version of the Ralph sweater to my collection (the “collection” forever remained at a modest two), which I teamed with another pair of Dolce trousers (this time in lime green silk), snake-print shoes, and an L.L.Bean tote monogrammed with my initials in pink letters. Beauty-wise, the Bobbi Brown “no makeup” makeup look reigned (think: an immaculate nude mani-pedi, a subtle stain on the lips, a dash of mascara, and a light tan courtesy of a weekend in the Hamptons).