America's Playground isn't exactly a city known for its fashion: the name Atlantic City is more likely to conjure images of dealers wearing transparent green visors and smoking fat cigars than it is to call forth visions of women in high heels and chic dresses. With a hip new "Do AC" ad campaign and the opening of Revel, the shiny new resort right on the boardwalk, it would seem that the town is trying to a tell a new, slightly fancier story about itself. This tale includes high-end shopping, concerts from the likes of Beyoncé, and dining from celebrity toques like Marc Forgione and Alain Allegretti. So when I planned my virgin voyage to AC, one of the first things on my mind, of course, was how many fanny packs and tacky t-shirts I would see. Little did I know, what I was to discover would be far more shocking, horrifying, and hilarious.
-
Carpetbaggin'
This was my bizarre choice for travel clothing. I left for AC straight from work Friday evening, so I carried all my stuff with me and took this photo in the Dunkin’ Donuts I frequent for morning caffeine injections. I’m wearing a crochet crop top from Express, a high-waisted A.L.C. skirt, a scarf so large it doubles as a blanket, and black sequin Sam Edelman Oxfords (not shown). Pretty much everything about this look screams, “I’ve never been to Atlantic City,” but I feel pretty okay about that because, in retrospect, it adequately set the stage for the rest of my visit.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Introduction to the "Jersey Dress"
Normally the phrase “jersey dress” refers to a frock made of the sexy, slinky material that’s a favorite of designers like Ralph Lauren and Helmut Lang. But in the garden state, apparently, it describes a highly specific late-night look that comprises a very tight, very short dress, paired with extremely high stilettos and a lack of ability to walk in them. I saw so many of these on my first night that I felt I had been transported to another planet where people breathe through the skin of their legs. I spotted these ladies in the Revel casino — the girl in the blue isn’t the best example, as her heels clock in at less than the minimum 5-inch height requirement, but you get the idea. I’m pretty sure the state of New Jersey single-handedly keeps Bebe in business.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Version of the "Jersey Dress"
Upon arrival to AC, I had about 15 minutes to change out of my weird carpetbagger’s outfit and into something appropriate for dinner and a subsequent event. I bought this dress about a month ago at Scoop NYC; it’s a $500 Alice + Olivia dress that I snagged for — wait for it — $40. I had not yet worn the dress at all, so when I was packing, I lovingly folded the silk and placed it on top in my bag so it wouldn't crumple too much. I was so excited to wear it to dinner. It's a surprise lo-high: long in the front and short in the back! Well, actually, by Jersey dress standards it’s not short at all, but it hits just above the knee. As soon as I went downstairs to the lobby, a swarm of Jersey dresses flew by me and it fully sunk in that I would spend the whole weekend feeling like I didn't fit in at all. And this is how I unwittingly discovered a fashion time machine that transported me back to my entire childhood.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Introduction to the Jersey Exposed Bra
After dinner, I went to an event and spotted — there in the crowd tucked amongst more swarms of Jersey dresses — my first Jersey exposed bra. I’m not innately opposed to an exposed bra. In fact, as those in my inner circle will tell you, my fashion history is a tale rife with off-the-shoulder crop tops encouraging visible bra straps and hook closures. And it was refreshing to see a female choosing to expose a completely different part of her body - I mean, this girl was actually wearing pants. Maybe this particular species breathes through her sides?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Amended Version of the "Jersey Dress"
On day two of my weekend jaunt, I decided to change my ways best I could, to try to assimilate into the culture surrounding me. While I actually didn’t pack any other dresses - or pants, as it turned out, since I royally suck at packing — I put together my beloved American Apparel striped bodysuit, a (shorter) skirt from Urban Outfitters reminiscent of those tragic Umbro soccer shorts from days of yore, opaque black tights, black wedge sandals, and a bright pink Kate Spade necklace. Let’s be honest, I still didn’t quite fit the bill, but I believe I did my best with the resources available to me.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
Dinin' Tights
I had to bring my favorite blue tights with me, obviously, and I chose them for dinner on my second night. They of the trip to Paris that resulted in a French woman complimenting me on the subway platform. They, in all their super bright, opaque glory. I get comments on these tights all the time - I think it’s that the color is very eye-catching and human eyeballs flock to them like moths to a flame, or birds to really shiny things. However, I am sad to report that their magnificence was lost on the wonderful people of Atlantic City. Not a single person said a word about them. I’m not crying about it (anymore), but it is interesting to note that what stands out to Parisians is not necessarily what stands out to AC'ans. (Listen, try to contain your shock.)
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
The Requisite Cut-Out Skull T-Shirt...
After dinner on my second night, I went to a bar inside the resort and immediately upon walking in, this t-shirt assaulted my eyeballs. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t look away, and the longer I stared, the more the form of the cutouts slowly started to come together as one cohesive art piece: a skull. I didn’t capture it well in this image (look, I’m a writer, not a photographer), but the slashes in this shirt are definitely in the shape of a legit skull. You can sort of spot the two large holes for eyes, a smaller hole for the nose, and a series of vertical slashes to represent teeth. This clearly gives the look more street cred, which this couple desperately needed because...
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
� And The Requisite Accompanying Jean Hardware
… as my friend validly asked, how much jean hardware does a dude in Atlantic City have to wear to get a lady’s attention? In this case, a few tasteful studs on the back pockets seemed to work just fine: immediately after this photograph was taken, these two lovebirds — in all their slashed, studded glory — tucked in to one of the nearby leather banquettes, held hands awkwardly, and proceeded to not speak to each other at all. Sigh, l’amour.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
The Jersey Heels
Later that night — not that much later, to be honest, as I am seemingly now 84 years old and can barely make it past midnight on a really good day — I spotted these stunners on the elevator ride up to my room. They accompanied a Jersey dress, on the right, and what I can only assume is a slight reinterpretation of the Jersey dress — a top and short shorts — on the left. Notice how the lady on the right is tilting the toes up on her left foot, rocking back on her heel. This is what both women did on the entire ascension, just rocking back and forth on both feet, to provide some reprieve to what I assume were the extremely sore balls of their feet. They exited on the same floor as me and I watched them walk down the corridor; it will perhaps not surprise you at all, dear reader, that they both removed their shoes prior to entering their room. Bless their hearts, and their aching little feet.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Final Attempt at the "Jersey Dress"
By the end of the weekend I had fully accepted my lack of place in Atlantic City, but I was still determined to make one last-ditch effort to don a Jersey dress. This was the result: a black crocheted number — let's be honest, it's basically a swimsuit cover-up — over a black curve-hugger, the aforementioned blue tights, my Chloé bag, a red necklace from Old Navy (or as I like to call it, that store across from Bloomingdale's in Soho) and my sparkly Oxfords. The dress is certainly too long to ever fully classify as a Jersey dress, and were I a land-roaming citizen of Planet Jersey, I would suffocate beneath my aqua leg sheaths. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
Carpetbaggin'
This was my bizarre choice for travel clothing. I left for AC straight from work Friday evening, so I carried all my stuff with me and took this photo in the Dunkin’ Donuts I frequent for morning caffeine injections. I’m wearing a crochet crop top from Express, a high-waisted A.L.C. skirt, a scarf so large it doubles as a blanket, and black sequin Sam Edelman Oxfords (not shown). Pretty much everything about this look screams, “I’ve never been to Atlantic City,” but I feel pretty okay about that because, in retrospect, it adequately set the stage for the rest of my visit.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Introduction to the "Jersey Dress"
Normally the phrase “jersey dress” refers to a frock made of the sexy, slinky material that’s a favorite of designers like Ralph Lauren and Helmut Lang. But in the garden state, apparently, it describes a highly specific late-night look that comprises a very tight, very short dress, paired with extremely high stilettos and a lack of ability to walk in them. I saw so many of these on my first night that I felt I had been transported to another planet where people breathe through the skin of their legs. I spotted these ladies in the Revel casino — the girl in the blue isn’t the best example, as her heels clock in at less than the minimum 5-inch height requirement, but you get the idea. I’m pretty sure the state of New Jersey single-handedly keeps Bebe in business.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Version of the "Jersey Dress"
Upon arrival to AC, I had about 15 minutes to change out of my weird carpetbagger’s outfit and into something appropriate for dinner and a subsequent event. I bought this dress about a month ago at Scoop NYC; it’s a $500 Alice + Olivia dress that I snagged for — wait for it — $40. I had not yet worn the dress at all, so when I was packing, I lovingly folded the silk and placed it on top in my bag so it wouldn't crumple too much. I was so excited to wear it to dinner. It's a surprise lo-high: long in the front and short in the back! Well, actually, by Jersey dress standards it’s not short at all, but it hits just above the knee. As soon as I went downstairs to the lobby, a swarm of Jersey dresses flew by me and it fully sunk in that I would spend the whole weekend feeling like I didn't fit in at all. And this is how I unwittingly discovered a fashion time machine that transported me back to my entire childhood.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Introduction to the Jersey Exposed Bra
After dinner, I went to an event and spotted — there in the crowd tucked amongst more swarms of Jersey dresses — my first Jersey exposed bra. I’m not innately opposed to an exposed bra. In fact, as those in my inner circle will tell you, my fashion history is a tale rife with off-the-shoulder crop tops encouraging visible bra straps and hook closures. And it was refreshing to see a female choosing to expose a completely different part of her body - I mean, this girl was actually wearing pants. Maybe this particular species breathes through her sides?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Amended Version of the "Jersey Dress"
On day two of my weekend jaunt, I decided to change my ways best I could, to try to assimilate into the culture surrounding me. While I actually didn’t pack any other dresses - or pants, as it turned out, since I royally suck at packing — I put together my beloved American Apparel striped bodysuit, a (shorter) skirt from Urban Outfitters reminiscent of those tragic Umbro soccer shorts from days of yore, opaque black tights, black wedge sandals, and a bright pink Kate Spade necklace. Let’s be honest, I still didn’t quite fit the bill, but I believe I did my best with the resources available to me.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
Dinin' Tights
I had to bring my favorite blue tights with me, obviously, and I chose them for dinner on my second night. They of the trip to Paris that resulted in a French woman complimenting me on the subway platform. They, in all their super bright, opaque glory. I get comments on these tights all the time - I think it’s that the color is very eye-catching and human eyeballs flock to them like moths to a flame, or birds to really shiny things. However, I am sad to report that their magnificence was lost on the wonderful people of Atlantic City. Not a single person said a word about them. I’m not crying about it (anymore), but it is interesting to note that what stands out to Parisians is not necessarily what stands out to AC'ans. (Listen, try to contain your shock.)
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
The Requisite Cut-Out Skull T-Shirt...
After dinner on my second night, I went to a bar inside the resort and immediately upon walking in, this t-shirt assaulted my eyeballs. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t look away, and the longer I stared, the more the form of the cutouts slowly started to come together as one cohesive art piece: a skull. I didn’t capture it well in this image (look, I’m a writer, not a photographer), but the slashes in this shirt are definitely in the shape of a legit skull. You can sort of spot the two large holes for eyes, a smaller hole for the nose, and a series of vertical slashes to represent teeth. This clearly gives the look more street cred, which this couple desperately needed because...
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
� And The Requisite Accompanying Jean Hardware
… as my friend validly asked, how much jean hardware does a dude in Atlantic City have to wear to get a lady’s attention? In this case, a few tasteful studs on the back pockets seemed to work just fine: immediately after this photograph was taken, these two lovebirds — in all their slashed, studded glory — tucked in to one of the nearby leather banquettes, held hands awkwardly, and proceeded to not speak to each other at all. Sigh, l’amour.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
The Jersey Heels
Later that night — not that much later, to be honest, as I am seemingly now 84 years old and can barely make it past midnight on a really good day — I spotted these stunners on the elevator ride up to my room. They accompanied a Jersey dress, on the right, and what I can only assume is a slight reinterpretation of the Jersey dress — a top and short shorts — on the left. Notice how the lady on the right is tilting the toes up on her left foot, rocking back on her heel. This is what both women did on the entire ascension, just rocking back and forth on both feet, to provide some reprieve to what I assume were the extremely sore balls of their feet. They exited on the same floor as me and I watched them walk down the corridor; it will perhaps not surprise you at all, dear reader, that they both removed their shoes prior to entering their room. Bless their hearts, and their aching little feet.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Final Attempt at the "Jersey Dress"
By the end of the weekend I had fully accepted my lack of place in Atlantic City, but I was still determined to make one last-ditch effort to don a Jersey dress. This was the result: a black crocheted number — let's be honest, it's basically a swimsuit cover-up — over a black curve-hugger, the aforementioned blue tights, my Chloé bag, a red necklace from Old Navy (or as I like to call it, that store across from Bloomingdale's in Soho) and my sparkly Oxfords. The dress is certainly too long to ever fully classify as a Jersey dress, and were I a land-roaming citizen of Planet Jersey, I would suffocate beneath my aqua leg sheaths. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
Carpetbaggin'
This was my bizarre choice for travel clothing. I left for AC straight from work Friday evening, so I carried all my stuff with me and took this photo in the Dunkin’ Donuts I frequent for morning caffeine injections. I’m wearing a crochet crop top from Express, a high-waisted A.L.C. skirt, a scarf so large it doubles as a blanket, and black sequin Sam Edelman Oxfords (not shown). Pretty much everything about this look screams, “I’ve never been to Atlantic City,” but I feel pretty okay about that because, in retrospect, it adequately set the stage for the rest of my visit.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Introduction to the "Jersey Dress"
Normally the phrase “jersey dress” refers to a frock made of the sexy, slinky material that’s a favorite of designers like Ralph Lauren and Helmut Lang. But in the garden state, apparently, it describes a highly specific late-night look that comprises a very tight, very short dress, paired with extremely high stilettos and a lack of ability to walk in them. I saw so many of these on my first night that I felt I had been transported to another planet where people breathe through the skin of their legs. I spotted these ladies in the Revel casino — the girl in the blue isn’t the best example, as her heels clock in at less than the minimum 5-inch height requirement, but you get the idea. I’m pretty sure the state of New Jersey single-handedly keeps Bebe in business.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Version of the "Jersey Dress"
Upon arrival to AC, I had about 15 minutes to change out of my weird carpetbagger’s outfit and into something appropriate for dinner and a subsequent event. I bought this dress about a month ago at Scoop NYC; it’s a $500 Alice + Olivia dress that I snagged for — wait for it — $40. I had not yet worn the dress at all, so when I was packing, I lovingly folded the silk and placed it on top in my bag so it wouldn't crumple too much. I was so excited to wear it to dinner. It's a surprise lo-high: long in the front and short in the back! Well, actually, by Jersey dress standards it’s not short at all, but it hits just above the knee. As soon as I went downstairs to the lobby, a swarm of Jersey dresses flew by me and it fully sunk in that I would spend the whole weekend feeling like I didn't fit in at all. And this is how I unwittingly discovered a fashion time machine that transported me back to my entire childhood.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Introduction to the Jersey Exposed Bra
After dinner, I went to an event and spotted — there in the crowd tucked amongst more swarms of Jersey dresses — my first Jersey exposed bra. I’m not innately opposed to an exposed bra. In fact, as those in my inner circle will tell you, my fashion history is a tale rife with off-the-shoulder crop tops encouraging visible bra straps and hook closures. And it was refreshing to see a female choosing to expose a completely different part of her body - I mean, this girl was actually wearing pants. Maybe this particular species breathes through her sides?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Amended Version of the "Jersey Dress"
On day two of my weekend jaunt, I decided to change my ways best I could, to try to assimilate into the culture surrounding me. While I actually didn’t pack any other dresses - or pants, as it turned out, since I royally suck at packing — I put together my beloved American Apparel striped bodysuit, a (shorter) skirt from Urban Outfitters reminiscent of those tragic Umbro soccer shorts from days of yore, opaque black tights, black wedge sandals, and a bright pink Kate Spade necklace. Let’s be honest, I still didn’t quite fit the bill, but I believe I did my best with the resources available to me.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
Dinin' Tights
I had to bring my favorite blue tights with me, obviously, and I chose them for dinner on my second night. They of the trip to Paris that resulted in a French woman complimenting me on the subway platform. They, in all their super bright, opaque glory. I get comments on these tights all the time - I think it’s that the color is very eye-catching and human eyeballs flock to them like moths to a flame, or birds to really shiny things. However, I am sad to report that their magnificence was lost on the wonderful people of Atlantic City. Not a single person said a word about them. I’m not crying about it (anymore), but it is interesting to note that what stands out to Parisians is not necessarily what stands out to AC'ans. (Listen, try to contain your shock.)
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
The Requisite Cut-Out Skull T-Shirt...
After dinner on my second night, I went to a bar inside the resort and immediately upon walking in, this t-shirt assaulted my eyeballs. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t look away, and the longer I stared, the more the form of the cutouts slowly started to come together as one cohesive art piece: a skull. I didn’t capture it well in this image (look, I’m a writer, not a photographer), but the slashes in this shirt are definitely in the shape of a legit skull. You can sort of spot the two large holes for eyes, a smaller hole for the nose, and a series of vertical slashes to represent teeth. This clearly gives the look more street cred, which this couple desperately needed because...
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
� And The Requisite Accompanying Jean Hardware
… as my friend validly asked, how much jean hardware does a dude in Atlantic City have to wear to get a lady’s attention? In this case, a few tasteful studs on the back pockets seemed to work just fine: immediately after this photograph was taken, these two lovebirds — in all their slashed, studded glory — tucked in to one of the nearby leather banquettes, held hands awkwardly, and proceeded to not speak to each other at all. Sigh, l’amour.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
The Jersey Heels
Later that night — not that much later, to be honest, as I am seemingly now 84 years old and can barely make it past midnight on a really good day — I spotted these stunners on the elevator ride up to my room. They accompanied a Jersey dress, on the right, and what I can only assume is a slight reinterpretation of the Jersey dress — a top and short shorts — on the left. Notice how the lady on the right is tilting the toes up on her left foot, rocking back on her heel. This is what both women did on the entire ascension, just rocking back and forth on both feet, to provide some reprieve to what I assume were the extremely sore balls of their feet. They exited on the same floor as me and I watched them walk down the corridor; it will perhaps not surprise you at all, dear reader, that they both removed their shoes prior to entering their room. Bless their hearts, and their aching little feet.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
-
My Final Attempt at the "Jersey Dress"
By the end of the weekend I had fully accepted my lack of place in Atlantic City, but I was still determined to make one last-ditch effort to don a Jersey dress. This was the result: a black crocheted number — let's be honest, it's basically a swimsuit cover-up — over a black curve-hugger, the aforementioned blue tights, my Chloé bag, a red necklace from Old Navy (or as I like to call it, that store across from Bloomingdale's in Soho) and my sparkly Oxfords. The dress is certainly too long to ever fully classify as a Jersey dress, and were I a land-roaming citizen of Planet Jersey, I would suffocate beneath my aqua leg sheaths. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
This was my bizarre choice for travel clothing. I left for AC straight from work Friday evening, so I carried all my stuff with me and took this photo in the Dunkin’ Donuts I frequent for morning caffeine injections. I’m wearing a crochet crop top from Express, a high-waisted A.L.C. skirt, a scarf so large it doubles as a blanket, and black sequin Sam Edelman Oxfords (not shown). Pretty much everything about this look screams, “I’ve never been to Atlantic City,” but I feel pretty okay about that because, in retrospect, it adequately set the stage for the rest of my visit.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Normally the phrase “jersey dress” refers to a frock made of the sexy, slinky material that’s a favorite of designers like Ralph Lauren and Helmut Lang. But in the garden state, apparently, it describes a highly specific late-night look that comprises a very tight, very short dress, paired with extremely high stilettos and a lack of ability to walk in them. I saw so many of these on my first night that I felt I had been transported to another planet where people breathe through the skin of their legs. I spotted these ladies in the Revel casino — the girl in the blue isn’t the best example, as her heels clock in at less than the minimum 5-inch height requirement, but you get the idea. I’m pretty sure the state of New Jersey single-handedly keeps Bebe in business.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Upon arrival to AC, I had about 15 minutes to change out of my weird carpetbagger’s outfit and into something appropriate for dinner and a subsequent event. I bought this dress about a month ago at Scoop NYC; it’s a $500 Alice + Olivia dress that I snagged for — wait for it — $40. I had not yet worn the dress at all, so when I was packing, I lovingly folded the silk and placed it on top in my bag so it wouldn't crumple too much. I was so excited to wear it to dinner. It's a surprise lo-high: long in the front and short in the back! Well, actually, by Jersey dress standards it’s not short at all, but it hits just above the knee. As soon as I went downstairs to the lobby, a swarm of Jersey dresses flew by me and it fully sunk in that I would spend the whole weekend feeling like I didn't fit in at all. And this is how I unwittingly discovered a fashion time machine that transported me back to my entire childhood.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
After dinner, I went to an event and spotted — there in the crowd tucked amongst more swarms of Jersey dresses — my first Jersey exposed bra. I’m not innately opposed to an exposed bra. In fact, as those in my inner circle will tell you, my fashion history is a tale rife with off-the-shoulder crop tops encouraging visible bra straps and hook closures. And it was refreshing to see a female choosing to expose a completely different part of her body - I mean, this girl was actually wearing pants. Maybe this particular species breathes through her sides?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
On day two of my weekend jaunt, I decided to change my ways best I could, to try to assimilate into the culture surrounding me. While I actually didn’t pack any other dresses - or pants, as it turned out, since I royally suck at packing — I put together my beloved American Apparel striped bodysuit, a (shorter) skirt from Urban Outfitters reminiscent of those tragic Umbro soccer shorts from days of yore, opaque black tights, black wedge sandals, and a bright pink Kate Spade necklace. Let’s be honest, I still didn’t quite fit the bill, but I believe I did my best with the resources available to me.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
I had to bring my favorite blue tights with me, obviously, and I chose them for dinner on my second night. They of the trip to Paris that resulted in a French woman complimenting me on the subway platform. They, in all their super bright, opaque glory. I get comments on these tights all the time - I think it’s that the color is very eye-catching and human eyeballs flock to them like moths to a flame, or birds to really shiny things. However, I am sad to report that their magnificence was lost on the wonderful people of Atlantic City. Not a single person said a word about them. I’m not crying about it (anymore), but it is interesting to note that what stands out to Parisians is not necessarily what stands out to AC'ans. (Listen, try to contain your shock.)
Photo: Meghan Bialock
After dinner on my second night, I went to a bar inside the resort and immediately upon walking in, this t-shirt assaulted my eyeballs. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t look away, and the longer I stared, the more the form of the cutouts slowly started to come together as one cohesive art piece: a skull. I didn’t capture it well in this image (look, I’m a writer, not a photographer), but the slashes in this shirt are definitely in the shape of a legit skull. You can sort of spot the two large holes for eyes, a smaller hole for the nose, and a series of vertical slashes to represent teeth. This clearly gives the look more street cred, which this couple desperately needed because...
Photo: Meghan Bialock
… as my friend validly asked, how much jean hardware does a dude in Atlantic City have to wear to get a lady’s attention? In this case, a few tasteful studs on the back pockets seemed to work just fine: immediately after this photograph was taken, these two lovebirds — in all their slashed, studded glory — tucked in to one of the nearby leather banquettes, held hands awkwardly, and proceeded to not speak to each other at all. Sigh, l’amour.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Later that night — not that much later, to be honest, as I am seemingly now 84 years old and can barely make it past midnight on a really good day — I spotted these stunners on the elevator ride up to my room. They accompanied a Jersey dress, on the right, and what I can only assume is a slight reinterpretation of the Jersey dress — a top and short shorts — on the left. Notice how the lady on the right is tilting the toes up on her left foot, rocking back on her heel. This is what both women did on the entire ascension, just rocking back and forth on both feet, to provide some reprieve to what I assume were the extremely sore balls of their feet. They exited on the same floor as me and I watched them walk down the corridor; it will perhaps not surprise you at all, dear reader, that they both removed their shoes prior to entering their room. Bless their hearts, and their aching little feet.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
By the end of the weekend I had fully accepted my lack of place in Atlantic City, but I was still determined to make one last-ditch effort to don a Jersey dress. This was the result: a black crocheted number — let's be honest, it's basically a swimsuit cover-up — over a black curve-hugger, the aforementioned blue tights, my Chloé bag, a red necklace from Old Navy (or as I like to call it, that store across from Bloomingdale's in Soho) and my sparkly Oxfords. The dress is certainly too long to ever fully classify as a Jersey dress, and were I a land-roaming citizen of Planet Jersey, I would suffocate beneath my aqua leg sheaths. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
This was my bizarre choice for travel clothing. I left for AC straight from work Friday evening, so I carried all my stuff with me and took this photo in the Dunkin’ Donuts I frequent for morning caffeine injections. I’m wearing a crochet crop top from Express, a high-waisted A.L.C. skirt, a scarf so large it doubles as a blanket, and black sequin Sam Edelman Oxfords (not shown). Pretty much everything about this look screams, “I’ve never been to Atlantic City,” but I feel pretty okay about that because, in retrospect, it adequately set the stage for the rest of my visit.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Normally the phrase “jersey dress” refers to a frock made of the sexy, slinky material that’s a favorite of designers like Ralph Lauren and Helmut Lang. But in the garden state, apparently, it describes a highly specific late-night look that comprises a very tight, very short dress, paired with extremely high stilettos and a lack of ability to walk in them. I saw so many of these on my first night that I felt I had been transported to another planet where people breathe through the skin of their legs. I spotted these ladies in the Revel casino — the girl in the blue isn’t the best example, as her heels clock in at less than the minimum 5-inch height requirement, but you get the idea. I’m pretty sure the state of New Jersey single-handedly keeps Bebe in business.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Upon arrival to AC, I had about 15 minutes to change out of my weird carpetbagger’s outfit and into something appropriate for dinner and a subsequent event. I bought this dress about a month ago at Scoop NYC; it’s a $500 Alice + Olivia dress that I snagged for — wait for it — $40. I had not yet worn the dress at all, so when I was packing, I lovingly folded the silk and placed it on top in my bag so it wouldn't crumple too much. I was so excited to wear it to dinner. It's a surprise lo-high: long in the front and short in the back! Well, actually, by Jersey dress standards it’s not short at all, but it hits just above the knee. As soon as I went downstairs to the lobby, a swarm of Jersey dresses flew by me and it fully sunk in that I would spend the whole weekend feeling like I didn't fit in at all. And this is how I unwittingly discovered a fashion time machine that transported me back to my entire childhood.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
After dinner, I went to an event and spotted — there in the crowd tucked amongst more swarms of Jersey dresses — my first Jersey exposed bra. I’m not innately opposed to an exposed bra. In fact, as those in my inner circle will tell you, my fashion history is a tale rife with off-the-shoulder crop tops encouraging visible bra straps and hook closures. And it was refreshing to see a female choosing to expose a completely different part of her body - I mean, this girl was actually wearing pants. Maybe this particular species breathes through her sides?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
On day two of my weekend jaunt, I decided to change my ways best I could, to try to assimilate into the culture surrounding me. While I actually didn’t pack any other dresses - or pants, as it turned out, since I royally suck at packing — I put together my beloved American Apparel striped bodysuit, a (shorter) skirt from Urban Outfitters reminiscent of those tragic Umbro soccer shorts from days of yore, opaque black tights, black wedge sandals, and a bright pink Kate Spade necklace. Let’s be honest, I still didn’t quite fit the bill, but I believe I did my best with the resources available to me.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
I had to bring my favorite blue tights with me, obviously, and I chose them for dinner on my second night. They of the trip to Paris that resulted in a French woman complimenting me on the subway platform. They, in all their super bright, opaque glory. I get comments on these tights all the time - I think it’s that the color is very eye-catching and human eyeballs flock to them like moths to a flame, or birds to really shiny things. However, I am sad to report that their magnificence was lost on the wonderful people of Atlantic City. Not a single person said a word about them. I’m not crying about it (anymore), but it is interesting to note that what stands out to Parisians is not necessarily what stands out to AC'ans. (Listen, try to contain your shock.)
Photo: Meghan Bialock
After dinner on my second night, I went to a bar inside the resort and immediately upon walking in, this t-shirt assaulted my eyeballs. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t look away, and the longer I stared, the more the form of the cutouts slowly started to come together as one cohesive art piece: a skull. I didn’t capture it well in this image (look, I’m a writer, not a photographer), but the slashes in this shirt are definitely in the shape of a legit skull. You can sort of spot the two large holes for eyes, a smaller hole for the nose, and a series of vertical slashes to represent teeth. This clearly gives the look more street cred, which this couple desperately needed because...
Photo: Meghan Bialock
… as my friend validly asked, how much jean hardware does a dude in Atlantic City have to wear to get a lady’s attention? In this case, a few tasteful studs on the back pockets seemed to work just fine: immediately after this photograph was taken, these two lovebirds — in all their slashed, studded glory — tucked in to one of the nearby leather banquettes, held hands awkwardly, and proceeded to not speak to each other at all. Sigh, l’amour.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Later that night — not that much later, to be honest, as I am seemingly now 84 years old and can barely make it past midnight on a really good day — I spotted these stunners on the elevator ride up to my room. They accompanied a Jersey dress, on the right, and what I can only assume is a slight reinterpretation of the Jersey dress — a top and short shorts — on the left. Notice how the lady on the right is tilting the toes up on her left foot, rocking back on her heel. This is what both women did on the entire ascension, just rocking back and forth on both feet, to provide some reprieve to what I assume were the extremely sore balls of their feet. They exited on the same floor as me and I watched them walk down the corridor; it will perhaps not surprise you at all, dear reader, that they both removed their shoes prior to entering their room. Bless their hearts, and their aching little feet.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
By the end of the weekend I had fully accepted my lack of place in Atlantic City, but I was still determined to make one last-ditch effort to don a Jersey dress. This was the result: a black crocheted number — let's be honest, it's basically a swimsuit cover-up — over a black curve-hugger, the aforementioned blue tights, my Chloé bag, a red necklace from Old Navy (or as I like to call it, that store across from Bloomingdale's in Soho) and my sparkly Oxfords. The dress is certainly too long to ever fully classify as a Jersey dress, and were I a land-roaming citizen of Planet Jersey, I would suffocate beneath my aqua leg sheaths. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
This was my bizarre choice for travel clothing. I left for AC straight from work Friday evening, so I carried all my stuff with me and took this photo in the Dunkin’ Donuts I frequent for morning caffeine injections. I’m wearing a crochet crop top from Express, a high-waisted A.L.C. skirt, a scarf so large it doubles as a blanket, and black sequin Sam Edelman Oxfords (not shown). Pretty much everything about this look screams, “I’ve never been to Atlantic City,” but I feel pretty okay about that because, in retrospect, it adequately set the stage for the rest of my visit.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Normally the phrase “jersey dress” refers to a frock made of the sexy, slinky material that’s a favorite of designers like Ralph Lauren and Helmut Lang. But in the garden state, apparently, it describes a highly specific late-night look that comprises a very tight, very short dress, paired with extremely high stilettos and a lack of ability to walk in them. I saw so many of these on my first night that I felt I had been transported to another planet where people breathe through the skin of their legs. I spotted these ladies in the Revel casino — the girl in the blue isn’t the best example, as her heels clock in at less than the minimum 5-inch height requirement, but you get the idea. I’m pretty sure the state of New Jersey single-handedly keeps Bebe in business.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Upon arrival to AC, I had about 15 minutes to change out of my weird carpetbagger’s outfit and into something appropriate for dinner and a subsequent event. I bought this dress about a month ago at Scoop NYC; it’s a $500 Alice + Olivia dress that I snagged for — wait for it — $40. I had not yet worn the dress at all, so when I was packing, I lovingly folded the silk and placed it on top in my bag so it wouldn't crumple too much. I was so excited to wear it to dinner. It's a surprise lo-high: long in the front and short in the back! Well, actually, by Jersey dress standards it’s not short at all, but it hits just above the knee. As soon as I went downstairs to the lobby, a swarm of Jersey dresses flew by me and it fully sunk in that I would spend the whole weekend feeling like I didn't fit in at all. And this is how I unwittingly discovered a fashion time machine that transported me back to my entire childhood.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
After dinner, I went to an event and spotted — there in the crowd tucked amongst more swarms of Jersey dresses — my first Jersey exposed bra. I’m not innately opposed to an exposed bra. In fact, as those in my inner circle will tell you, my fashion history is a tale rife with off-the-shoulder crop tops encouraging visible bra straps and hook closures. And it was refreshing to see a female choosing to expose a completely different part of her body - I mean, this girl was actually wearing pants. Maybe this particular species breathes through her sides?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
On day two of my weekend jaunt, I decided to change my ways best I could, to try to assimilate into the culture surrounding me. While I actually didn’t pack any other dresses - or pants, as it turned out, since I royally suck at packing — I put together my beloved American Apparel striped bodysuit, a (shorter) skirt from Urban Outfitters reminiscent of those tragic Umbro soccer shorts from days of yore, opaque black tights, black wedge sandals, and a bright pink Kate Spade necklace. Let’s be honest, I still didn’t quite fit the bill, but I believe I did my best with the resources available to me.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
I had to bring my favorite blue tights with me, obviously, and I chose them for dinner on my second night. They of the trip to Paris that resulted in a French woman complimenting me on the subway platform. They, in all their super bright, opaque glory. I get comments on these tights all the time - I think it’s that the color is very eye-catching and human eyeballs flock to them like moths to a flame, or birds to really shiny things. However, I am sad to report that their magnificence was lost on the wonderful people of Atlantic City. Not a single person said a word about them. I’m not crying about it (anymore), but it is interesting to note that what stands out to Parisians is not necessarily what stands out to AC'ans. (Listen, try to contain your shock.)
Photo: Meghan Bialock
After dinner on my second night, I went to a bar inside the resort and immediately upon walking in, this t-shirt assaulted my eyeballs. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t look away, and the longer I stared, the more the form of the cutouts slowly started to come together as one cohesive art piece: a skull. I didn’t capture it well in this image (look, I’m a writer, not a photographer), but the slashes in this shirt are definitely in the shape of a legit skull. You can sort of spot the two large holes for eyes, a smaller hole for the nose, and a series of vertical slashes to represent teeth. This clearly gives the look more street cred, which this couple desperately needed because...
Photo: Meghan Bialock
… as my friend validly asked, how much jean hardware does a dude in Atlantic City have to wear to get a lady’s attention? In this case, a few tasteful studs on the back pockets seemed to work just fine: immediately after this photograph was taken, these two lovebirds — in all their slashed, studded glory — tucked in to one of the nearby leather banquettes, held hands awkwardly, and proceeded to not speak to each other at all. Sigh, l’amour.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Later that night — not that much later, to be honest, as I am seemingly now 84 years old and can barely make it past midnight on a really good day — I spotted these stunners on the elevator ride up to my room. They accompanied a Jersey dress, on the right, and what I can only assume is a slight reinterpretation of the Jersey dress — a top and short shorts — on the left. Notice how the lady on the right is tilting the toes up on her left foot, rocking back on her heel. This is what both women did on the entire ascension, just rocking back and forth on both feet, to provide some reprieve to what I assume were the extremely sore balls of their feet. They exited on the same floor as me and I watched them walk down the corridor; it will perhaps not surprise you at all, dear reader, that they both removed their shoes prior to entering their room. Bless their hearts, and their aching little feet.
Photo: Meghan Bialock
By the end of the weekend I had fully accepted my lack of place in Atlantic City, but I was still determined to make one last-ditch effort to don a Jersey dress. This was the result: a black crocheted number — let's be honest, it's basically a swimsuit cover-up — over a black curve-hugger, the aforementioned blue tights, my Chloé bag, a red necklace from Old Navy (or as I like to call it, that store across from Bloomingdale's in Soho) and my sparkly Oxfords. The dress is certainly too long to ever fully classify as a Jersey dress, and were I a land-roaming citizen of Planet Jersey, I would suffocate beneath my aqua leg sheaths. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Photo: Meghan Bialock
Via: Atlantic City: A Fashion Story