You know how in Sex and the City the foursome was always sashaying about, their hair four corners off the Clairol color wheel, their clothes unabashedly conforming to type?

Carrie the bohemian…Charlotte the royal…Miranda the professional…Samantha the mature It Girl.

In my experience such tidy diversity isn’t always the case in the real world.

I occasionally see girlfriends in the city dressed and accessorized so similarly it’s as though they’ve signed a Shopping Suicide Pact.

“On pain of death, we hereby swear allegiance to the Skinny Jean for the term commencing…”

And I wonder—or “I couldn’t help but wonder,” as Ms. Bradshaw would muse—is the similar personal style the root of the friendship, or the result of it?

Either way, I sort of like the occasional outward manifestation of how or why friends have found their way to each other. I think I also like the youthful simplicity of it.  (Wardrobes, like friendships, are indeed forged more simply in youth, in my experience.)

Anyway, these uniformed, tired shoppers with UK accents made me smile. And all three reaffirmed what is clear amongst trendier T riders these days: blueish/greenish nail polish is IN.

Aaaaaaaand I’m out.