Will the Real Slim Shady Please Stand Up?

On the heels of Karen Walker’s most recent look book release, which included a selection of Kenyan artists posing in her frames, it occurred to me that sunglasses may or may not be the unsung hero of winter accessorizing.

If you think about it, the tools we use to cloak our heads and wrap our necks and force our fingers into fractured knit compartments for the sake of maintaining our warmth aren’t a group of particularly thrilling accessories to indulge in. They’re much more a necessity. But where sunglasses are concerned – and make no mistake, they are – there’s a unique thrill that comes with their decorated anonymity and a viable scope of fashion-elicited escapism.

Remember that scene in the critically acclaimed film Big Daddy when Adam Sandler is trying to help his effectively kidnapped son, Julian, overcome his reticence? Like a kid trapped in the body of an unfledged grown-up, Sandler tells Julian that if he puts on his sunglasses every time the plague of timidity strikes, no one will be able to see him, thus cutting his fear and presenting a much larger takeaway for us.

You see, sunglasses can be your mask. They can embolden you behind bug-eyed lenses, making you the Anna Wintour (Costume Institute) of your local supermarket. Whose that mystery woman buying a rotisserie chicken and toilet paper?, people might wonder. With sunglasses, you’re instantly always possibly a celebrity.

But they also have some magical ability to make every outfit exponentially better. Picture yourself in a burlap snooze sack — now add a pair of sunglasses. Excuse me, I think you just became Madame Prada on her most chic day.

See, who you are is who your sunglasses want you to be. But the beauty is, you’re the one buying the shades.

Maybe yesterday you were an alien, and today you are a model. Tomorrow you might be an editor and on hump day you’re a goddamn princess with sunglasses shaped like starfish.

So without further ado, here’s your Saturday slideshow served chilled with a side of shopping on Friday. Play this song, fuck the week, and buy some sunglasses because as Amelia said earlier today in bullshit regard to the cold uniting us all, it may just get you through February.