When it comes to jeans, for both men and women, I am a purist. The closer any pair comes to looking like a pair of Levi's 501s the better. I don't like any funky pocket details or weird colored stitching; and certainly any kind of contrived whiskering is out of the question. I am especially picky about the cut and fit, particularly for men. While there are always new trends in women's denim, I am most attracted to a traditional cut for men. Although you won't believe the number of men I see these days wearing jeans that are "skinnier" than most of my girlfriends would dare to wear. At first I found it confusing and odd--if skinny jeans were too trendy for me (and I'm often a sucker for trying out a trend), then how could so many guys be more adventuresome than a fashion chick like myself? But then I started to see the very rare guy whose skinny jeans really suited him. My favorite sighting was on a guy, must have been in his twenties, who had an otherwise laid back schoolboy look--Polo sweater (logo included), scruffy hair, and Docksiders--but his jeans were tapered. I would have passed him off as too predictable if his narrow jeans hadn't given me something to look at. I think they worked because they stuck out from the rest of his look. They were so unexpected. And doesn't every guy want to catch a girl off guard??

My favorite skinny-jeans wearer mixes a street trend with preppy classics. August 2007, Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn, NYC.

It's not a foregone conclusion that corduroy will make you look like a preppy schoolboy or a college professor. Of course if that is a look you aspire to, just throw on some wide-wale trousers and a cable-knit sweater and you'll be good to go. That look really does work for some men. But it's the less conventional sixties-and-seventies-vibe corduroy that captures my attention most. I've spotted guys on my block in vintage fine-wale Levi's corduroy pants, and, once upon a time, Steve McQueen in a strict corduroy blazer and Paul Newman looking the epitome of American style in various forms of corduroy -- they all revived my interest in this wintery staple. But its probably a 2002 picture of modernist architect Phillip Johnson -- the ultimate minimalist -- that took me the furthest away from the preppy connotations of corduroy. It always takes someone who is able to look at something for what it is, not for what it conjures, to truly reinvent a classic.

I have a very ambivalent relationship with Birkenstocks. While I would never wear them, I do occasionally like them on guys. They work especially well here to give a groovier look to his cord pants. Bleecker Street, NYC, September 2007.

When I look at pictures of men wearing scarves, I notice what a big impact they make on a guy's overall look. It's not really the actual scarf that makes me wanna take a picture of someone--in fact, I've never made a folder of scarf photos, which I often do when I find a recurring theme that I like. But then when I looked at all the recent photos that I do like, I noticed that most of the men were indeed wearing scarves. It seems that a scarf is this cozy, organic-shaped piece of cloth that adds a sense of the unexpected to an otherwise neatly tailored or put-together look. There's the navy scarf that reinforces the classic yet minimalist effect of one man's matching navy overcoat and wool cap. There's the brown tweedy-looking scarf that gives one guy's jeans and seemingly inexpensive overcoat a more together, grown-up feeling. And then there are the more colorful striped or patterned scarves that transform basic clothes into a statement of "I'm not Everyman. I have a way I like to look. And this is an easy way to express myself." An extreme version of a "statement scarf" was worn--successfully, in my opinion--by English photographer Norman Parkinson in 1970. It's a long length of leopard fur casually tossed over his shoulder, worn with a white sweater and white trousers. It's not a look that would suit many people, if any, but it certainly represents the enjoyable outer limit of how a scarf can make an impact.

I love this man's all-navy look. Madison Avenue, NYC, December 2007.

I always think of a men's overcoat as a particularly grown-up item of clothing. I remember when I was 15 I went to Antique Boutique on Fifty-ninth Street in New York to buy a vintage men's black overcoat for myself. Even the smallest size was too big on me, but I didn't care--I just desperately wanted to look like Molly Ringwald at the end of The Breakfast Club with Judd Nelson's overcoat draped over her shoulders. I grew up at least two years in an instant just by walking around in that coat. I also remember my father telling me that when he was 14, he would put on his father's overcoat, perch himself on top of two firm pillows in the driver's seat of his father's car, and illegally drive around Palm Beach at night when his parents were out at cocktail parties.

Regardless of the mature, upstanding image of the tailored overcoat, there are many new versions today, or just new ways of wearing them, that make me look at them in a different context. I've noticed more than a few men wearing sporty outerwear--such as a down vest or windbreaker--under their overcoats. I happen to really like this look. There is an Italian outerwear company called Fay (sold at Barneys) that stitches a cashmere cardigan or down vest "dickey" inside the lapel of the overcoat so it's actually all one piece. Clever. I've also seen pea coats and duffle coats that have been morphed into longer, more structured version of themselves. But perhaps the most inventive overcoat design I've seen is the Inverness cape made by Harris Tweed (an old-school English tailor) in 1947--it was a belted tweed overcoat with sleeves that could be unzipped up the side to turn the coat into a cape. Sounds suspect I know--but it looks cool to me. See for yourself below.

I like the shorter length of my friend Stewart Shining's overcoat. I also love his chunky cardigan worn underneath--it's a great contrast to the formality of the coat. Bleecker Street, NYC, December 2007.

Nick Cannon is by far the best red-carpet dresser this year. He brought a modern sensibility to old-school black-tie classics like pocket squares, bow ties, and fedoras.

(Credit: Getty)