Quotes About Style

I get told all the time that I'm a fashion icon now, but I don't really know what that means. I just get dressed.

I was only interested in music, but I spent so much time in the clubs and seeing fashions change. So naturally, I developed an interest in it.

The clothing, the makeup, the freedom of expression in [the models'] bodies. It was Linda and Christy and Naomi at the time. So I modeled before college.

I'm not worried about what's in fashion, what's not in fashion, what are the colors of the season. I go with my gut instinct because every time I haven't it's been a mistake.

I think the best coaches have their own style. That takes time to mold that.

But I will wear white - the whitest white! - purest most pristine white! - through the dark terrible days of winter - as no man of our time will ever dare.

Seriously, when's the last time you saw me wear shorts?

I'm truly obsessed by clothes. I just buy clothes all the time.

I don't wear dresses all the time - it's nice to save those moments for certain occasions and to make it feel extra special.

When I started working, the big models were people like Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss. It was a time when there were models who had real personalities and individuality.

My style when I was younger was still unique to me. I didn't necessarily dress by the trends, but I was always aware of what was trendy at the time and how I could apply it to my own sense of style.

I think it takes time to find your natural style and learn not to be swayed by trends that might not flatter you.

I hardly ever go to showbiz parties, it's not my style. That doesn't mean to say I don't have a good time. I love hanging out with mates.

I rarely buy a shoe that is completely specific to a time and outfit. I generally tend to spend money on good shoes that can go with everything.

Remember to write for yourself, not for a market and give yourself time to develop your own style, your own voice. It takes a lifetime. Enjoy it!

You've got to have fresh wardrobe. You can't just go out there looking like you did last time. That helps your transformation.

To me it's like, every time I'm a director, like today, you're the captain of the ship, so you better dress like it. You're the host of the party.

To me [Edgar Allan Poe's] prose is unreadable—like Jane Austin's [sic]. No there is a difference. I could read his prose on salary, but not Jane's. Jane is entirely impossible. It seems a great pity that they allowed her to die a natural death.

When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them--then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are far apart.

You can't throw too much style into a miracle.

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service — she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:

TOM! No answer. TOM! No answer. What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM! No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service-- she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well.

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:

TOM! No answer. TOM! No answer. What's gone with that boy,  I wonder? You TOM! No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well.