by Heather Russell

Created on: April 16, 2007   Last Updated: April 17, 2007

I love my sunglasses. Wait, scratch that; I am OBSESSED with my sunglasses. They are huge and round and make me look like a Powerpuff Girl. And I love them.

I justify my love for my sunglasses by reminding myself that they are blocking harmful UV rays, protecting not only my eyes, but the upper half of my face as well. I tell myself that they balance out my large forehead, that wearing them helps me avoid people I don't want to talk to (just about everyone), and that I dread the day that large sunglasses go out of fashion because they're the only ones I love.

However, I realized that all of those reasons were secondary the day that I referred to my sunglasses as my "Nicole Richies." As I uttered the name of everybody's favorite love-to-hate-her celebutante, I realized that by trying to convince myself that I love them for all of the aforementioned rational and practical reasons, I have been attempting to deny the very real influence that celebrities have on style and, by extension, on me.

This influence became all too obvious about a year ago. I cringed as the fashion magazines heralded the return of the skinny jean, laughed at the models wearing them, and scoffed at the idea that any trend this similar to the acid-washed tapered-leg jeans of my youth could ever catch on.

Then Sienna Miller wore them.

I am now the proud owner of not one, not two, but three pairs of skinny jeans. I have convinced myself that they are more modern than my (more flattering) boot-leg and flared jeans. I tell myself that they are much prettier and more conducive to wearing the platform, round-toed high heels that are popular now. I even (laughably) try to tell myself that they don't make my thighs look as huge as I thought they would. I ignore the fact that Sienna wore them first. And I love my skinny jeans.

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