Mom hasn't called, and the real Gossip Girls are in Bed-Stuy

Spotted: my not at all regular-degular friends eating the GG cast up on a Sunday.

Aug 12, 2021

I knew I was a Blair before I realized I hated my Serena. Rufus pressing waffles pressed me to confront my steadfast interest in older men. The rise, fall, and reinvention of Jenny Cornelia Humphrey laid the foundation for my own.

There is a strong case to be made for Gossip Girl (2007–2012) being the most important piece of American television from this millennium; second only, if at all, to The Hills (2006-2010). Its impact cannot be overstated. So when HBO announced the reboot of Gossip Girl, I was piqued, excited, and salivating at the thought of what GG is at heart: a camp-lite dramedy serving up elite-level fashion and beauty to aspire to, while allowing us to savor in the worst of humanity being depicted on television. Greed, obscene indulgence, betrayal, and an unholy, unhealthy, and completely warranted adoration of New York. But as is the case with any reboot, the question arrives: can they (read: will they) do the original justice?

In Gossip Girl’s case, they tried. GG 2021 found the most attractive Gen-Z passing cast they could find. Brought back the original showrunner, stylist, and writers. And assembled a premise that made sense on paper: GG comes back as a social media platform—years after the original blog went dark ten years prior—to again, report on and ruin the lives of New York’s elite. It all reads so well on paper, but there are several things wrong with the reboot, beginning with what bothers me most at present:

The fashion is not giving what it needs to give.

I will admit, when the reboot’s first photoset dropped I was gagged; so much so I prematurely tweeted, “They’re eating the old gossip girl cast UP. the BOOTS,” a consequence of boot envy induced by my obsession with the protagonist Julien wearing the influencer boot of the then-moment, the Schutz Maryana. I was inconsolable, especially knowing GG 2007 fashion lived aboard the hot mess express. Apart from a handful of iconic looks—Blair’s all-white Hamptons pool party number coming in hot at No. 1—the show’s style did not represent the best fashion of the 2000s. It did, however, make you feel something, which is all fashion is meant to do. Now five episodes in, the only feelings the reboot have inspired thus far are a. disinterest, and b. pride, knowing my friends—extraordinary, not at all regular-degular humans of Brooklyn—could eat the Gossip Girl cast up on a random Tuesday. And that’s because the real Gossip Girls live in Bedford-Stuyvesant.

It wasn’t until last year, when I attended local org Building Black Bed-Stuy’s Block Party that I realized Bed-Stuy was a fashion girl’s Mecca. And like so many of our Black fashion girls, she was slept on. The looks served that Sunday afternoon in September were an inspiration. We were still deep into the pandemic. Most forgot what a serve looked and felt like, but Tompkins Ave was very much a runaway, flanked by the most fashionable people in New York wearing vintage, independents, Pyer Moss, and masks. If I tried to count the number of Telfars and Blackwoods spotted I’d need to borrow a few hands. My neck could not and would not keep still. My eyes swelled with pride.

There is something very interesting about people of everyday means looking and feeling phenomenal. Conversely, the supposed elite of New York looking ok and acting insufferable is a light snooze. To right their wrongs and restore balance to the universe, my friends and I took to the New York Public Library in response to a simple brief: dress as if you’re pulling up to the Constance girls on their steps. Or, the library’s steps, because we read, and could not be bothered to trek twenty minutes further north to the Upper East Side.

Pleated skirts. Blazers. Boots. Jewelry—all items worn by the cast in the pilot episode, but made special because the people wearing them are. Outfits enhanced by a trio of Brandon Blackwoods, pearl embellishments atop of tight bun, vintage brooches, delicious wrist and neck candy by way of the Brooklyn It Girl’s favorite Don’t Let Disco, and varsity jackets on loan from my personal favorite, Byas & Leon. We looked good. More importantly, though, we felt good. How could you not when you’re with the people you love, looking prosperous and fun, cover-ready and cool? If you’ll allow it, clothing can be a tool to tell the story you want the world to hear.

The story written by the Gossip Girls of Bed-Stuy says something like:

You see me.
But I need you to hear me.
And when you do, fear me.

It’s my hope the back half of GG 21’s inaugural season is stronger than the front in every way: acting, writing, plot, and fashion. And in the event it’s not, I know eight Bed-Stuy baddies ready for an HBO Max debut.