Vintage jacket, lucite necklace, jeans, and boots, t-shirt from American Apparel
Although a pair of leather tabi ankle boots elude me (I'm hoping to one day buy a pair, I'm pretty sure they're only for women, but I've been told I have the same shoe size of Paris Hilton, so I figure there's bound to be a boutique that caters to foot-size anomalies), I still try to express myself in as many Margiela ways as possible. Kind of the fashion equivalent of the kid who broke his arm trying to fly like superman. Even with the man himself gone from the house (I call it Maison Missing Margiela), my respect and love of his work still runs through my own. One way I pay tribute is by tucking my nude tee into my pants to create a maybe-fleshy, bodysuit illusion. I was instantly reminded of the flaking, painted boots Margiela did when I saw my paint-splattered boots in the store. Throw the nude and boots together, and assemble with other parts faintly reminiscent of elements peaking out of his ready to wear and artisanal shows, give it a good squint, and you have your own private Margiela look.