I ambushed a chic financial analyst at the office for her beauty and style secrets

love a girl who paints her own nails

“Garnier Nutrisse 111 White Chocolate.”

The lithe blonde financial analyst I’ve been stalking around the office shares her go-to box dye with a girly nonchalance that makes me feel like we’re on the phone, specifically one of those clear trimlines from the 90s with a curly yellow cord. I need something to twirl. Anything. But my hair’s up tight and I’m stuck on her words: Garniernutrisseoneelevenwhitechocolate. Abracadabra! Nothing beats the rush of being in on a secret.

Her name is August because of course it is. August and I meet at my desk and head down to the cafe on the sixth floor. She tells me she’s only 26. I tell her I still have 15 pounds of baby weight to lose; like that old phone, I can’t help showing my wires. We both have our whole lives ahead of us when you think about it.

Before we reach the elevators, I ask about her outfit: wide-leg corduroy pants the color of salted caramel; black shirt tucked in; black cardigan only buttoned at the top; and these loafer slides in a leopard print delicate enough to remind you that animal print is a neutral, damnit. She points to the shoes, “There’s this tiny thrift store in King of Prussia called Marian’s Attic. The proceeds go to domestic violence victims.”

I ask August if she considers herself a capital T thrifter and she gushes that she hasn’t bought anything new and/or full price in recent memory. And thank God, right? It’s risky business these days, approaching a chic stranger about their style. They could tell you they exclusively shop at Quince. But I found myself a RealReal-hunting Maxxinista who favors consignment for a cause. She was vegetarian for five years “for environmental reasons.” She only got Instagram like, a year ago. Special girl, real good girl.

Let me back up and give you some context: The reason I’m having coffee with August is because I don’t know any other writers with boring corporate jobs asking people around the office—preferably strangers—about their relationship to clothes and beauty. Which is not me saying I’m doing something radical or even necessarily INTERESTING here. But as far as I know, I am filling a space that both meets my creative desires and holds allegiance to my reality—my reality being that I go to work. I go to work in Philadelphia, a normal person city, and I fall in love every day with other girls who go to work and choose to make something beautiful out of it. There is a purity of spirit here that I’m trying to capture; it certainly won’t always reveal itself, but how spectacular when it does?

For months, I’d pass August’s cubicle on my way to the kitchen to make coffee. I could never find the right moment to tell her I’m obsessed with her vibe, that she glides around the office in a way that glows and sticks like maple syrup in the morning sun. Maybe it’s always the right moment. Maybe it never is. The point is August always looks amazing. A Slavic doll from the early aughts meets today’s J.Crew. Perfect balance of put together and undone. Low contrast. Five-eight and angular and, if all that’s not enough, a very easy laugh. Love love love an easy laugh.

We grab a booth. I’m drinking black coffee with a pump of sugar-free vanilla for whatever reason. She’s drinking a whole milk cappuccino. We dive right in and the water is warm.

Mamma’s girl

Becoming a girl mom has made me desperately sentimental toward mother/daughter love. So when August tells me her mom is her style icon, I sit up straight like, “tell me more!”

“She’s a queen. She’s 6’1, went to art school, worked at QVC forever and has a lifetime discount. Growing up, she’d take me to art museums and shopping afterward. Her uniform is jeans, a white button down, and a fun shoe. She LOVES a fun shoe.” (The “Shoe Diva” episode of Nymphet Alumni comes to mind.)

I ask August if she has any other style icons, maybe celebrities or favorite follows on social media who inspire her: “Not really. Mostly just family and friends.” That I find this response so endearing illuminates my own brain rot. Surprise, Dia! Not everyone has entire Pinterest boards dedicated to the Olsen twins. It’s a reminder to look around you, to be curious about the people you love so that they become bigger and more interesting in your mind, which is to say: to see them for who they really are. We are all somebody’s icon.

Loves a big coat

Sometimes I feel bad for the finance team in that they come in earlier and stay later than anyone else on my floor. And I mean, they’re a fun ass group of people; I’ve drank with some of them. But they might have the least fake jobs of the entire company.

August on work and dressing the part:

“I love coming in. I love putting on a cute outfit. I love being social. The exposure is great for your career. You can look professional and put together while having a personality. For women, there was a stigma against being too fun, too blonde, [what’s now called the] ‘office siren.’ I’ve had fun in my career proving none of that’s true.”

For many, the capsule wardrobe—i.e., a small collection of simple, versatile pieces that can be styled interchangeably—remains a linchpin of corporate life. Snoozefest for a girl like me but I get it. I really do get it. I ask August how she feels about capsule wardrobes. She notes that she takes a similar “less, but better” approach to shopping, but prefers to have fun. This means day-to-night. Clothes that she can crunch numbers in and bop over to The Mulberry afterward. Her ideal outfit: jeans, tshirt, oversized coat, kitten heels, little shoulder bag. Boom.

When I ask about her favorite pieces in her wardrobe, her eyes glitter: “I live alone in Rittenhouse. There’s a closet in my kitchen that’s definitely meant for other stuff that I use for all my coats, and it’s still not enough storage. Mostly thrifted, wool, leather. A sick coat makes any outfit.” Who needs a broom anyway? Carrie Bradshaw stored sweaters in her oven!

We segue into trends, which August says she loves and finds fun, but engages with judiciously knowing they create so much waste. “If I sense it’s something that’ll die out, I look for it secondhand on TheRealReal, eBay, etc.” Like any fashion girl, she remains on a perpetual hunt. And like any American girl, she gets her basics from the usual suspects: Abercrombie, Aritzia. If it ain’t broke… as they say.

Garnier Nutrisse 111 White Chocolate

Because I always want us to understand each other, me and you, writer and reader, I should first tell you how I define low-maintenance beauty. It is two-pronged. First, the majority of, if not all, maintenance is done by the individual. Second involves time: A low-maintenance beauty doesn’t require much time to get ready on a daily basis; more significant maintenance is performed weekly, monthly, etc. Of course, there’s nuance (e.g., gender-affirming makeup or shaving). But that’s my gist. Take it or leave it, bitch.

People nowadays put a lot of money and hours into looking like a well-rested glazed donut. That’s not August. August is a true blue DIY pop-of-blush-and-out-the-door girl. She achieves her easy glow with The Ordinary hyaluronic acid, Isle of Paradise tanning drops, and cream blush—some favorites are Rare Beauty and Glossier. “No Botox. I don’t get my eyebrows or nails done; I’ll do regular polish once a week, if that. I’ve been dying my own hair once or twice a year forever: Garnier Nutrisse 111 White Chocolate.”

Angel number 111. Sweet white chocolate. Us beauty lovers find clues everywhere. Clues about universal delight and what makes a person charming and how to really sit with them over coffee, suspended in divine normalcy. Sometimes you approach a stranger and it just works out.

August is a busy girl. She just started her MBA at Temple. She begins yoga teacher training in January. A few days later, we show up at the office wearing the same shirt.