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Was she born with it? Or does it all just come to the right place at the right time with the right designer? Every artist, regardless of their field, has a muse. Think of the Nine Muses of Greek mythology — daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne who inspired science and various areas of the arts — Homer's invocation of his muse in The Odyssey , Andy Warhol's art-pop with Marilyn Monroe, or John Lennon's songs about Yoko Ono. In the world of creation, inspiration has always been sparking lights and keeping artists moving. And, in the world of fashion, it's been no different. From Madonna with Jean Paul Gaultier to Grace Jones with Azzedine Alaïa, many figures have served as catalysts for art — often not only inspiring designers but becoming sartorial idols for the public alike. But what makes someone a fashion muse? While it is common to associate the muse designation with the concept of celebrities who influence creatives for a brief time — like Kim Kardashian for Olivier Rousteing back in the 2010s — or even with the current state of fashion, where brand ambassadors, such as Jennifer Lawrence and Lewis Hamilton for Dior, are becoming increasingly frequent, the dynamics of the muse-creator relationship goes beyond such ephemeral and financial interactions. Such a relationship is initiated by an exchange between two individuals — where a monetary gain may result — where the muse is an extension of the designer for quite some time, serving as the person they envision when creating their designs.  But in the fashion world, anything can become controversial. For some, the term muse  diminishes the person being referred to — as often muses are women and creators are men, placing women not in an active position, but rather in a passive one.  Although indeed male-dominant, when one goes back in time to reconsider the muse-creator situation in fashion, the earliest duo that potentially comes to mind is Rose Bertin and Marie Antoinette from 1774 to 1792. Commonly referred to as the first French designer, Rose Bertin first met Marie Antoinette in the summer of 1774, amid Louis XVI's coronation, when the to-be-queen commissioned robes for the special event. While their relationship began as a service, Antoinette was immediately smitten with the milliner's designs — she appointed Bertin as her personal stylist and they formed a creative exchange that led to a lasting friendship.  Working together, they influenced the epoch's fashion and defined a royal dress code that positioned France as a fashion leader. The exaggerated yet distinguished look of the Versailles court was based on what Bertin saw Marie Antoinette emulating, admiring, and wearing — think of the lavish, ostentatious gowns we see in Rococo art. Case in point:   in the late 1770s, after Bertin created a gown for the queen in comfortable fabrics for private wear, known as the chemise à la Reine or robe "en Gaulle" — which was one of Antoinette's favorite silhouettes because it accentuated the female figure — a fashion frenzy took France  (and the rest of the world)  by storm in 1781. The rest is history.  While Bertin and Antoinette's artistic collaboration evolved from a prestigious client-couturier relationship to an intimate friendship, a muse-creator dynamic can arise for a variety of other reasons. Sometimes the inspirational figure can first be a client, a friend, or a collaborator, and then become a muse — or vice versa. Such was the case with the father of couture, Charles Frederick Worth, and his wife, Marie-Augustine Vernet. According to Debra Mancoff's book ' Fashion Muse ,'  after F. Adolphus, a British journalist, visited the couple at their home in 1870 and saw Vernet in white satin trimmed lace and black velvet banding, he was left with the lingering impression that ''...she and her dress were absolutely one.'' One, they were. In Adolphus' eyes, Vernet embodied the very essence of Maison Worth's charm. Indeed, she was who inspired Worth's creations and who, over the years, the couturier envisioned wearing his pieces. It was in 1851 that Worth first met his soon-to-be muse and wife, Marie-Augustine Vernet while working as a salesman for Gagelin, where she was a model — known as a demoiselles . After demonstrating that he was an exceptional tailor, he started working with Vernet to display the quality of the costumes to clients. Over time, the relationship grew. From model to wife and muse, she inspired his designs for the French textile company and then for the establishment they opened together, Maison Worth, the first haute couture house, for which she continued to model until 1865, when she retired for health reasons — but remained the guiding force that ignited his creativity until his demise in 1895. The romantic couple dynamic as creator and muse has a long-established history in fashion — whether it is the designer Jacques Faith and the model Genevieve Boucher de la Bruyére, who married in 1939 and thrived for years in the fashion scene, or the infamous case of Paul Poiret and Denise Boulet. After Paul Poiret joined the Maison Worth in 1901, working only on basic garments — dubbed "French fries" or "side dishes" — his resentment due to the limitations of his role fueled the rise of his signature irreverent style. In 1903, he opened his own house and challenged the established conventions of tailoring. From neoclassical silhouettes to Japanese kimonos, his label was built around modern and subversive creations, promoted through lavish parties. The first lady to wear his many hits was his wife, Denise Boulet, whom he married in 1905. During the promotion of the designs, it was she who modeled the flamboyant clothes. At parties, Boulet also wore her husband's opulent work. And, in public, she was never seen without a Poiret creation. In a 1913 interview for Vogue , the couturier credited his wife as his primary inspiration, describing her as ''the expression of all my ideals.'' As his muse and the archetype of la garçonne  amid the Roaring Twenties, Denise was the embodiment of the decade's modernism and Poiret's designs. When the couple divorced in 1928 and Poiret closed his store as the sleek designs of Gabrielle Coco Chanel became increasingly in demand, Boulet's wardrobe endured as the ultimate symbol of their legacy. Although many assume that the muse is the romantic flame of the creator, this is not always the case. In the 1930s, Elsa Schiaparelli created a shoe hat inspired by one of Salvador Dalí's paintings, turning his art into her "muse" for the first time. Shortly after, the Italian designer and the Spanish painter joined forces in one of the first collaborations between fashion and art, creating a compact powder case shaped like a rotating telephone dial, which marked the birth of the ongoing creative relationship between the duo and the merging of their surrealist visions. Both provocative and unconventional, Dalí's reflections on humanity, subversion, and time were easily translated into Schiaparelli's clothing and accessories. Fragrances such as Le Roy Soleil, oversized jewelry such as a giant bee brooch, the skeleton dress, the sheepskin hat, and the now iconic lobster dress are forever etched in fashion history and represent a creative exchange between two artists who inspired each other and regarded each other's artistic creations as muses.  Sometimes, creatives can be their own muses. Many legendary fashion designers, like Diane von Fürstenberg, Vivienne Westwood, and Gabrielle Coco Chanel, only had to look in the mirror to be touched by the sparkling energy to inspire. But sometimes spontaneous encounters generate muses, too. In 1953, Hubert de Givenchy was visited in his Paris studio by an individual who he believed to be actress Katherine Hepburn. But he was actually meeting Audrey Hepburn, a relatively unknown actress at the time, who was working on the film Sabrina  and was interested in him designing the dresses for the movie. Despite his initial reluctance, over dinner, the star convinced him with her beauty, personality, and serenity. Forty years of friendship and inspiration ensued. From the 1950s until her death in 1993, Hepburn served as Mr. Givenchy's greatest muse — she was the face of the perfume L'Interdit in 1957 because he made it for her; donned his creations on the red carpet and in her daily activities; and, from 1956 onward, included a contract that Givenchy would design costumes for all of her future films, which is seen in Breakfast at Tiffany's  and Funny Face . Aside from attitude, a muse can appear in the light of her very own needs. One of the most notable cases is that of Jane Birkin and Hermès CEO Jean-Louis Dumas. Amidst fortuitous circumstances, such a connection was forged during a flight from Paris to London. When Birkin reached her assigned seat, her seatmate was none other than Dumas. As she settled in, Birkin accidentally spilled everything she had in her iconic straw bag on the floor. Hermès' CEO assisted her in picking it up and recommended that the actress switch to a bag with pockets. She responded that if Hermès designed a spacious bag that was perfect for the daily life and needs of a young mother, she would end up ditching her memorable straw bag for it. As the flight took off, the pair kept themselves busy — not with coloring books or movies, but rather by sketching such a purse in a sick bag. Once the bag was produced, Dumas proposed naming it after the actress, who accepted. Finally, the Birkin bag was launched in 1984, and since then, the legendary Anglo-French singer was seen everywhere carrying her own.  There is an inherent beauty in witnessing muses adopting what was inspired by their own essence, needs, and preferences. Betty Catroux, for instance, an androgynous model who was considered Yves Saint Laurent's greatest muse, was never a fan of fashion — so it was Saint Laurent who was in charge of curating her carefree wardrobe from the moment their paths crossed in the late '60s. The two first met at a nightclub called Chez Régine, instantly connecting ''morally and mentally,'' as Catroux shared with Whitewall . From then on, the model would be known as the embodiment of the post-gender femininity the designer introduced, as seen in garments such as the iconic safari suit and the cult-like Le Smoking. For Gianni Versace, it wasn't such a random situation that introduced him to his muse, but rather his family. As the middle son of dressmakers Francesca and Antonio Versace, the environment in which he grew up sparked his love for fashion. And, as the very embodiment of what he would create, his younger sister Donatella Versace would become his muse. Sharing a passion for creation, they were incredibly close. "I was his doll and his best friend. He dressed me up in cool clothes, took me out to discos and clubs from when I was 11," Donatella Versace told The Guardian  in 2017. She first dyed her hair when she was eleven, and, as she grew up, she possessed the kind of exuberant and exaggerated energy that is now associated with Versace. Although many saw her as just a muse, she was much more than that. When the label was already a success in the late eighties and early nineties, Gianni always asked her opinion, with her approval being crucial to him — because she had a profound influence on the brand's image, from photo shoots to runway castings. And then, after the tragic loss of her brother, Donatella became the creator, bringing with her the same spirit that was known during Gianni's years — after all, she has always been the spirit of the brand.  Speaking of fashion muses who fully draw one in, the Jamaican actress, singer, and model Grace Jones comes to mind. An icon in her own right, Jones became Azzedine Alaïa's muse with her signature '80s power dressing and bold, unparalleled attitude. Whether promoting Alaïa's lines or portraying May Day in the 1985 Bond classic ' A View to a Kill ' — in an extravagant hooded Alaïa bandage dress, with the kind of power that left a lasting impression on the industry and challenged its beauty standards — Alaïa and Jones' alliance was built on their passion for sultry, defiant, and artistic designs. The significance of a muse to a designer and their demeanor will always remain relevant to the dynamics of inspiration and creation in fashion. Take Jean Paul Gaultier and Madonna, for instance. As one of the few artists to speak out about the AIDS crisis and the homophobia that gripped the world during the eighties, Madonna has always had an unconventional attitude that was sure to attract  L'enfant terrible de la mode . With his provocative, cutting-edge, and non-conforming gender designs, Gaultier's creations matched Madonna's daring and rebellious spirit. From the iconic conical-breasted bustier the pop star wore on the Blond Ambition World Tour in 1990 to the equestrian dominatrix-esque look she wore on the Confessions Tour in 2006, an iconic partnership was forged between Gaultier and Madonna that has defined fashion, music, and pop culture forever.     And if there was another fashion collaboration between muse and creator that took pop culture by storm, it was Devon Aoki — also a darling of Karl Lagerfeld — as the true muse of the rebellious Jeremy Scott in the 2000s. From transforming into a mermaid in Jeremy Scott's Spring/Summer 2001 collection to walking in Moschino's Resort 2017 show in a '60s-inspired look, she quickly turned into the fearless designer's collaborator, working with him even after retiring from the fashion scene — as the face of Moschino's TOY 2 fragrance campaign, referencing her  Little Mermaid- esque look first seen in Jeremy Scott's Spring/Summer 2001 collection. In the years that followed, despite the ever-changing state of fashion and the increasingly commercialized nature of the industry, there were still instances of genuine creative collaboration between muse and creator. These included long-term friendships such as that between Riccardo Tisci and Maria Carla Boscono, who have maintained a close working bond despite their diverging professional paths, as well as unexpected pairings such as that between actress Taylor Russell and 2023 International Designer of the Year Jonathan Anderson. But the current duo that stands out is definitely actress Zendaya and stylist Law Roach. A friend of Kazembe Coleman, Zendaya's father and manager, Roach first met the actress back in 2011 when she was 14 and still a Disney Channel star. On a recent episode of TODAY with Hoda & Jenna, the stylist revealed how it all started. ''We made a pinky swear that I would do everything that I could do in my power and my reach to help her grow, and as she’d grow, she would bring me along with her, '' Roach explained. Since their first collaboration, at the premiere of Justin Bieber's Never Say Never in Los Angeles, where Zendaya donned a metallic blazer and a grayish leather skirt with tights, they forged an unbreakable bond. ''She carries herself like a seasoned diva on the red carpet,'' the stylist told Fashionista  in 2017 while trying to secure an Emanuel Ungaro gown for Zendaya.  As time went on while they grew, fashion has been smitten with their creative partnership, which has taken over red carpets, fashion events, and magazine covers. Whether it was wearing a Versace chainmail gown inspired by Joan of Arc at the 2018 Met Gala "Heavenly Bodies," the 2019 Met Gala ''Camp: Notes on Fashion'' where Zendaya transformed into Cinderella in a light blue Tommy Hilfiger gown — Roach obviously turned into her fashion fairy godmother to accompany her — the various tenniscore looks seen at Luca Guadadigno's Challengers premiere or the iconic Thierry Mugler archive robot suit pull at the Dune: Part Two  premiere in London, always when styling the actress, Roach was inspired by her witty, referential, elegant sense and style.  When Roach announced his retirement in 2023 via Instagram, he immediately shared on X (formerly Twitter), "So y'all really think I'm breaking up with Z..... we are forever," solidifying the actress as his longtime muse. But is it the artist who creates the muse? Or does the muse create the artist? Like the chicken and egg debate, fashion finds itself in a constant dilemma. In More Than A Muse , author Katie McCabe explores the controversial notion that a designer creates a muse, claiming that, in fact, the muse has credit, too. Thus, like a paradox, they create each other and thrive together. ''If I have an opportunity where he can come with me, he's always going to be there," Zendaya told   Elle Magazine  in 2023. "He's always been my creative director in a sense, and he continues to fill that role because it's more than just clothes on a red carpet. It's a bigger thing," the actress added. A bigger thing, it's indeed. 🌀 Ana Reitz  is a Brazilian fashion writer who breathes fashion. As a Latin American fashionista, she values a diverse and inclusive fashion landscape and aims to make a difference in the complex yet beautiful industry that surrounds her. She writes anything fashion-related for her own Substack For Fashion’s Sake .

A sigh of relief for another SS25 show focused on fun and fantasy — rather than the rigidity that is all too common in fashion presentations. At Collina Strada SS25, creative director Hillary Taymour not only encourages her audience to touch grass, but to roll in it. Held in an East Village private park, Taymour’s collection titled “Touch Grass” is a reminder that the sustainable brand isn’t promoting environmental pessimism but instead giving a healthy dose of fashionable realism. The audience sat among a whimsical grassy runway surrounded by towering concrete buildings, a reminder that nature can coexist with excessive urbanity. The soundtrack to the show was a soup of classics like “Pieces of Me” by Ashley Simpson mixed with Collina Strada’s own mantras — chants of “I care a lotta, Collina Strada… please stop cutting down trees and kiss the grass.” A punch of humor and a reminder of the dire state of our environment, but not without a hint of romance. This is Collina Strada. The show opened with a pastel watercolor and white lace slip dress paired with frilly mesh booties that will surely be adopted by everyone fashionable south of 14th Street. The hottest accessory was grass-stained hair that dragged on the ground behind the model, matching the grass that clung to her knees. The earth truly became part of the garments, adding an endearingly juvenile touch to high fashion. The looks that followed were classic Collina: long watercolor gowns with billowing fluid sleeves, cascading layers of ruffles in ambiguous animal prints, and a key lime blouse that flowed like a babbling brook, all paired with ruffled booties and phenomenal floral and plaid patterned sneakers equipped with quirky Miu Miu-esque bubble soles and an oversized flower patch hiding shoelaces. I urgently need a pair of each. Returning muses on the runway included Aaron Rose Philip, Indira Scott, Sara Hiromi, Jazzelle ( @uglyworldwide ), and Rusty, Taymour’s self-described model, muse, and mother. Model Veronika Vilim toted a small white Pomeranian pigmented with a leaf-like hue. Did the precious pooch get painted or did it simply take a tussle on the grassy runway? Another model wore thick pink sunglasses, a ruched black sheer top, and black mini shorts while slicing through the grass with an old-fashioned push lawn mower, kicking the bright green clippings onto his shins, achieving an illusion of grassy knee-high socks. So silly, so chic. One model in particular prompted an excited reaction from the audience, New York’s own micro-celebrity, 83-year-old Elizabeth Sweetheart, also known as @greenladyofbrooklyn , who wears solely monochromatic outfits in, you guessed it, green. In a perfectly predictable fashion, stylist Jorden Bickham chose a vibrant green ensemble from the top of her green apple space buns to the tip of her grassy sneakers. Along with a matcha tinted button-up, oversized cargos, a bedazzled avocado-colored sweatshirt tied around her waist, and a blinged-out emerald wallet chain hooked onto her belt loops, the charming model also cradled an iguana-shaped handbag in her lime green-painted fingertips. I see a new Collina muse in the making. At times, Bickham repeatedly combined garments that seemingly didn’t work together, which was the case for a few looks — like a delicate, puffy micro mini skirt reminiscent of a billowing jellyfish layered beneath a heavy-textured plaid chore jacket. However, this just aligns with the charming eclecticism of Collina Strada that intrigues customers who want something weird, maybe even unnerving. A few looks repeated this jellyfish silhouette that could have bordered on childish but resulted in playfully mature. A massive periwinkle crossbody bag whose frilly straps wrapped around a stunning, billowing black blouse. A dark ruched and ruffled asymmetrical gown fit for an anemone blooming at the bottom of the sea floor. Even a striped hat folded to almost resemble a pirate’s, paired with micro tweed shorts. Not to be missed were classic undulating, diaphanous skirts and gowns, manifestations of the brand’s whimsy. Mixed into these statement looks were also digestible neutrals and tastefully patterned mini dresses layered over white frilly skirts for the more conservative Collina consumer. Every part of Mother Nature was represented, from the ground we stand on to the ocean we swim in. Taymour’s choice of a park as the runway was aligned with her brand ethos — while highlighting New York’s complicated history with its green spaces, even in historic Central Park . Even more urgently, Nolita’s Elizabeth Street Garden, a beloved public park, sculpture garden, and community event space, faces a devastating demolition . Taymour not only achieved getting high-powered fashion industry attendees outside and into nature, but also encouraged them to laugh, applaud, and dance along, a much-needed grounding moment at the beginning of Fashion Month, whose industry produces the second-most carbon emissions in the world.  But this is what is at the core of Collina Strada: a commitment to producing garments sustainably, with recycled and deadstock fabrics made from endearing materials like rose bushes .  The show culminated with one model who lept, cartwheeled, and collapsed artfully into the grass, rolling and writhing in the fresh cuttings. The audience cheered for the performance, breathing a sigh of relief for another Collina Strada show focused on fun and fantasy rather than the rigidity that is all too common in fashion presentations. Perhaps spring’s hottest trends won’t be banal fads and microtrends, but something timeless instead: a return to the earth and rolling around in the grass that inevitably stains our jeans. 🌀 7.8 Jane Lewis  is a writer, editor, and fashion journalism student at The New School in New York City. She spent her adolescence playing and working on farms in California, but now wears her Marc Jacobs FW 2005 plaid trench coat every day and always matches her shoes to her bag. Find her on Instagram ( @janethefarmer ) and Twitter ( @janelikethesong ).

For SS25, Catherine Holstein responds to the scorn with a disorienting vision. “She was the purest being in the world. [...] She studied well, not out of an abstract thirst for knowledge, but because to be exempt from paying for one’s studies one had to be a good student, and therefore one had to study well. Just as she studied well, so without effort she washed dishes, helped in the shop, and ran errands for her mother. She moved noiselessly and smoothly, and everything about her — the inconspicuous quickness of her movements, her height, her voice, her gray eyes and fair hair — went perfectly together.” So begins Lara Antipova’s introduction in Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago. The mid-century language is sticky, spoony: here is a woman turned beautiful by her service to others and wholly oblivious to that beauty. The misogynistic problems with the prose are obvious, but nevertheless instruct us as modern readers: at one point in time, the feminine ideal, particularly for men, was a woman both lovely and credulous. This notion is annoying at best and rage-inducing at worst. And — despite being so antiquated — it has not entirely left our collective imagination. This is all too present in the constant criticism of Catherine Holstein’s Khaite. Many fashion writers are reticent to keel to the brand’s success and genuinely consider its creative juice. How could a brand so pallid and limp be so prosperous? How could this image of a modern Lara Antipova, clad in ‘80s shoulder pads and girlboss-y kitten heels, say anything worthwhile? The constant adjectives attached to Khaite: cold, characterless, inconspicuous, irritating, try-hard, mean girl, technically-pretty, technically-perfect, lovely and credulous.  I’ve yet to see a brand outside of streetwear inspire such fury in people — especially among fashion writers, who are usually horny for diplomacy (can’t risk losing a Substack sponsorship). But the Khaite hate, at least among industry insiders, is strong. Perhaps this is because, unlike many of the calendar’s other names, Khaite is not risky or innovative enough; perhaps we think the brand attracts the “wrong” type of fashion-lover, which is another essay; perhaps this is because we flay ourselves against commercially successful sportswear. To this day, top-designer listicles frequently omit the work of Donna Karan, Claire McCardell, and even, at very shocking times, Jil Sander. The fact of the matter is that sportswear designers know what women want — and they know that offering a patina of perfection, achieved through a well-made garment, is priceless. Catherine Holstein is one of those designers. During FW24, she told Vogue Runway: “I want women to feel exhilarated when they put on my clothes.” To exhilarate you have to catch unawares. After criticism of a too-shadowy space last season, the Spring/Summer venue is well-lit and cavernous. Metallic doors rhythmically twist, aligning into a partition wall every few seconds, throwing bronze light across the room. And a surprising soundtrack — Wilco, and “November Rain,” which I don’t believe has ever been played on a Fashion Week runway. It’s the kind of ironic sequencing you’d expect at a college radio station, not a Khaite show. The tack: meet our expansive taste palette, sometimes earnest, sometimes wry, made tenable through pretty logic. If you don’t like it, argue with the metal wall. The strategy was so successful that Khaite is arguably the most tastefully executed show of the season, cutting right under Ralph Lauren. That’s not even counting the clothes, which are just superb — and exhilarating. Holstein is clearly eager to startle both her loyalists and dissenters with garments that complicate. To note: sheer organza trousers; a black-and-white braided dress, its specks collapsing inward; a white blouse cut by a half-pipe; a thin, pink dress, exaggerated turtleneck half-covering the face; and a sea of crochet appliqués, obviously inspired by zippy Parisian atelier Les Fleurs. Oh! And lots of well-made leather, as always. The most evident criticism, here, is that these clothes are technically unflattering, having little to do with the body. For a designer accused of catering to a too-polished clientele, I think it’s brilliant.  Another criticism, less rigid: the fabric manipulations are a bit rudimentary, leaving even great ideas weighed down by rushed experimentation. An oversized organza poncho, its fabric stipules folding against one another, is more than unfortunate — it’s pointless. The same goes for rainbow seed-beed shoes, awkwardly placed. Obsession with theory and attempt, rather than practice and perfection, can break designers. “I think we got very far into the darkness, into the slickness [last season] —obviously that’s my comfort zone,” Holstein told Vogue Runway. “This is not my comfort zone, but I wanted to venture out into making myself more uncomfortable.” I just think Holstein made the wrong person uncomfortable. I also think, 24 hours later, that SS25 holds an inexplicable power. It’s the kind of show you revisit again and again, like a Jil Sander collection, in an attempt to answer its darkling questions. To chase that effect, rather than lovely credulity, is noble. 🌀 7.8 Savannah Eden Bradley is a writer, fashion editor, gallerina, Gnostic scholar, reformed It Girl, and future beautiful ghost from the Carolina coast. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the fashion magazine HALOSCOPE. You can stalk her everywhere online @savbrads.

Thunder! Go Team! Women’s Rights! After watching America's Sweethearts — The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders  Netflix Series — (which is a seriously lengthy title compared to director Greg Whitley’s previously simple Cheer ) — I’m admittedly dying to don a pair of white cowboy boots, white hot pants, an electric blue blouse and a star-spangled white fringed vest.   Something that is constantly reiterated throughout the series is the elevated image of the DCC. The importance of the look  and how that look is part and parcel of the DCC image. Words that come to mind — flawless , impeccable , high-femme , inhuman . Every centimeter of the DCC should measure to an effortless perfection. The pure dedication to primping and preening for this otherworldly look reminds me of drag. This observation is affirmed by the appearance of Dolly Parton in the latter half of the series, who once said, “It’s a good thing I was born a girl, otherwise I’d be a drag queen.”   The DCCs are expected to toe the line between coy , innocent , All-American  and dazzling , sensual , mature . Many of the women describe the outfit with the word “superwoman.” At one point the bootmaker who makes the DCCs iconic white cowboy boots says, “For a man you can dress up like Batman, for a woman you can be a DCC.” (The irony here cannot be overlooked. Batman is a fully covered anonymous vigilante while the DCCs are barely dressed, public-facing characters, and parts of the docuseries chronicle their experiences with stalking, harassment, and sexual assault.)   The role of the cheerleader and the cheerleading uniform itself is controversial. It’s been routinely critiqued for objectifying and sexualising women. But as professional cheerleading has become more complex, the modern cheerleading uniform now tends more towards spandex and athletic performance wear.  In a 2020 interview with Vogue , reflecting on modern cheerleading uniforms, Bring It On ’s costume designer, Mary Jane Fort, said: “I remember looking at so many cheerleading uniforms and just thinking, That’s awful. Nothing was particularly flattering. I thought, How can I simplify this, and make it look real but appealing and graphic?” Fort ended up streamlining the designs. I want to look at how versions of the cheerleading uniform have inspired fashion, because before there was athleisure, the way to show your dedication to Sports!  in your daily wardrobe was by dressing Preppy! The vintage cheerleading uniform is, in my opinion, a perfect outfit. A pleated skirt. A knit jersey, in collegiate colours; white, poppy red, dark blue, mustard yellow, or campus green. Colour blocking, thick lines, with rib-knit cuffs. Raglan socks. Off-white tennis shoes scuffed around the edges for a lived-in feel. Of course, part of the appeal is the knowledge that this outfit is, hopefully, constructed in breathable vintage cotton.   It's then no surprise that elements of the cheerleading outfit are recognisable in any American designer brand which describes itself as classic, or preppy, like Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger. (Among the many professions of the Polo Bear cheerleader is one of them! As seen on   this  vintage lambswool scarf).  Anna Sui’s eclectic Spring/Summer 1994 runway included a whole cheerleading   section , pairing pleated skirts with pointy black pumps and pom-pom headpieces. Although the pleated skirt does not belong to the cheerleader it will always be associated with one. During the height of the iconic American Apparel tennis skirt, the piece was often worn in cheer-esque ensembles, with matching tops or turtlenecks, white shoes, and cheer-y hairstyles. 2015 was a fashion year that readily embraced prep, with Tommy Hilfiger FW15 showing thick pleats, on glossy-haired, soapy-clean models, of cotton and wool, with luxe fur maxi-details.   In Spring/Summer 2016, London brand Sibling, known for their colourful knitwear, sent both male and female models down the runway carrying pom-poms. More recently a different iconic skirt, from Miu Miu SS23, was paired with cable knit, collared shirts, and emblemed sports jerseys.   The cheerleading uniform is ever present in American Culture. There’s always a TV show or film with cheerleaders swilling in the background or foreground, from Grease  to Glee  to Riverdale . Dazed’s Spring 2021  edition featured stars of the Gossip Girl  reboot in customised ‘XOXO’ cheerleading uniforms. One of Chappell Roans' several songs of the summer features a cheer chant - H-O-T-T-O-G-O . Both Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift have worn cheerleading uniforms in music videos. But the current metropolitan look of maxi skirts paired with sweatshirts, slick back buns, and trainers reminds me more of vintage cheerleading uniforms.  The cheerleading uniform epitomises the relationship between practical and presentable clothing. After all, a cheerleader is a performer. Where the cheerleader has featured in cinema and culture, she is usually the focal point, subject to the lens of the male gaze (and I do mean in the Laura Mulvey essay, not the TikTok co-opt of the phrase). Jennifer Check, Angela Hayes, Torrance Shipman — they all perform to  camera, sporting their acronyms and hairbands, thick as slabs of ice cream.  Although the cheerleading uniform has been rightfully critiqued, the position does hold a certain legacy for female empowerment. As a sport: it's female-dominated. As a memory, for so many women: it marks an occasion of, as they say in the show, truly “being someone.” I will admit I shed a few tears when, during the Netflix series, all ages of former DCCs came together to dance once again. And, at the end of the day, isn't that what fashion is also about? — finding a way to blend the practical, presentable, and identifiable. For me, personally, if I am to reference sports in my daily outfits, I’d rather do it with the silhouettes and details of a cheerleader. 🌀 Olivia Linnea Rogers  is a Norwegian-British writer, fringe enthusiast, film watcher, and poet, if you're lucky. Based in London. She can obviously be found online on   Instagram  (@olivialinnearogers) and   Twitter  (@olivialinrogers).

The designer grapples with commercial abjection. A few weeks ago, I found myself in an uptown Walmart and was struck with blinkered horror — these clothes were decent. Long gone were the days of Tweety Bird nightgowns; rhinestone crucifixes studded onto boho-Ed Hardy nightmares; and v-neck t-shirts painted with Marilyn Monroe’s pale, frozen face. Suddenly, I was pressed against tolerable, Magnolia Network-y blouses and jeans, indistinguishable from the Old Navies and Ann Taylor Loft’s of the world. The shock, here, was not that a supermarket, especially a supermarket known as a particularly American punchline, was sharpening its offerings. It was that Brandon Maxwell had accomplished something once unthinkable. Maxwell was hired in 2021 to round out the brand’s apparel division and shape its in-house lines. He was not the first designer eager to yoke themselves to a mass-market retailer; Max Azria worked with Walmart for a then-teenybopper Miley Cyrus collection, and countless designers have worked alongside Target on limited capsules. But Maxwell stepping into a Creative Director role was met with derision both on and offline. An editor DM’d me the story when it broke: “He’s out of money, right?” I’ve never thought that was the case. Maxwell largely makes great clothes; models like walking for him; he’s worked with the same people — like Movement Director Stephen Galloway — for almost a decade; he never neglects a brand corner. A lack of focus, both in the studio and the boardroom, is what presses designers for cash. And whether you like Maxwell’s work or find it repetitious, you must admit the man possesses an almost medical concentration and consistency. He is a surgeon. And it does take precision, especially in Maxwell’s case, to be amenable to throwing out the playbook. The past few seasons have seen Maxwell at his most architectonic, forceful, immovable, a Basic Instinct ice-queen glamour. Playing into the high-fashion brand angles across your repertoire is a smart move, especially when “Walmart Creative Director” swings under your byline. But SS25 sees Maxwell relaxed, loose, and — dare I say — slackened. Though I have the gut feeling that this laxity is as calculated as Maxwell’s stiffer work. “I’ve taken lessons that life has handed me about control and the lack thereof and translated them into the collection,” the designer writes in his show notes.  The most salient pieces are Maxwell at his best — governed by shape and drape. A blossom-pink silk dress, neckline cut to the belly button, hangs like a dream; belted halter dresses in matching fabric are fun, if derivative, with models’ hands covering their breasts (Sarah Burton’s Alexander McQueen did it better). Ruffled hemlines, a frequent hallmark, twist and twitch like kelp forests, though they’re far less becoming in Maxwell’s preferred dirty-mustard chartreuse.  These moments of bliss are intercut with jarring incuriosity. A bulky bomber jacket, silver zipper sparkling, squeezes a minidress; a trenchcoat is deadened by a snap-and-release section; a long-sleeve crop top, though lovely, does nothing but remind you less of Brandon Maxwell and more of Brandy Melville. These are wearable clothes, no doubt, but therein lies the issue: are they worth wearing? Maxwell is loved on the calendar for his intelligence and constancy, and I do believe the Maxwell of these past few seasons still exists. You catch glimpses of him occasionally: a black turtleneck under an asymmetrical leather coat, clear fisherman sandals, wrapped tops, and maxi skirts that hit the ankle with such easy grace. They are not the most revolutionary clothes in the world, but they are quintessentially Brandon Maxwell, and they’re outstanding. But to look at the whole of this collection — in its oscillating moments of brilliance and vacuity — is to feel like you’re in for open-heart surgery, and your physician is distracted by an iPhone notification: his Walmart order is out for delivery. 🌀 6.7 Savannah Eden Bradley is a writer, fashion editor, gallerina, Gnostic scholar, reformed It Girl, and future beautiful ghost from the Carolina coast. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the fashion magazine HALOSCOPE. You can stalk her everywhere online @savbrads.

Pretty florals, psychoanalysis, and the sublimated erotics of Jouissance Parfums’ debut collection. If one were to construct some grand machine whose sole purpose was to read my text messages and Google searches to generate a brand identity most likely to rope me into wanting a sample set, it might look something like the world Cherry Cheng has crafted with Jouissance Parfums . Emphasis on the word ‘craft’ – for the art direction, design choices, and multidisciplinary rollout for this set of new fragrances is compelling beyond the likes of which is expected or ever seen in modern fragrance markets. Little details, all carefully attended to, create a cohesive presence catering to the intersection between a very modern post-coquette girlblogging clientele and the overindulgent, highly aestheticized women’s erotic literature predating mid-20th century feminist psychoanalysis. Finally, a niche perfume house for young women who liberally describe situations as ‘Kafkaesque’ and have notifications enabled for the Anaïs Nin Twitter bot . The devil is truly in the details with the world of Jouissance: I am deeply enchanted by mock lace trim on the paper given with their Collected Works sample set, their website selling first edition copies of Unica Zürn’s letters and writings, and a fabulous launch party-cum-short story reading at the London Institute of Contemporary Arts. As a constant advocate for the continued tradition of L’écriture féminine in my own critical and artistic practice, I wholeheartedly echo both Jouissance’s inspiration from the writings of Cixous and the sentiment that perfume should not only be multidisciplinary, but inter-critical.  First encountering these touchpoints in graduate school at Goldsmiths, Cheng clearly has an anachronistic sort of feminine pleasure at the forefront of the design and branding of these fragrances. I do feel a somewhat troubling tension between the explicitly modern sex-positive feminist branding of the house, and the notoriously sadomasochistic stories that inspire its creation. The little bobblehead version of Andrea Dworkin that lives in the top left corner of my critical mind wants me to press harder on the idea of buying and selling a pretty-smelling beauty product to women inspired by a published fantasy of becoming a free-use sexual slave, but the idealist in me can’t help but swoon for the delightful word of women’s photography, performance, and scent Jouissance conjures in its complicated wake. One could argue that Cheng’s association of the theoretical idea of jouissance with Cixous and not Lacan inherently reveals the houses’ critical stance as both anti-patriarchal and distinctly contemporary. The idealization of writers like Nin who have remained difficult to reconcile with second-wave feminist praxis could at its most generous not necessarily condone or glamorize sexual violence, but gesture towards what Lacan termed “supplementary jouissance… a jouissance of the body which is beyond the phallus.”  Nevertheless, to a very mixed cultural effect, the three fragrances that consist of Jouissance’s debut collection are very delicate, feminine, and naturalistic. I would love to see future releases from Cheng transgress and provoke in not only name but olfactory practice as well. Perhaps it would make me feel better about their flirtation with a feminist take on female submission or even the idea of a feminist perfume house in general if the scents they created were on a certain level – ugly  and idiosyncratic enough to not beguile unbeknownst men. But like many of the stories they are inspired by, the more time you spend with these seemingly pretty things, the more their tiny little vulgar idiosyncrasies are revealed.  La Bague D’O is clearly presented as the crown jewel of the collection and does present perhaps the most novel appeal to the discerning perfume collector. Inspired by Anne Desclos’ fictitious chronicle of sexual servitude Story of O  — La Bague   is Damask rose in delicate chains. Drawing extreme similarities between Rossy de Palma’s well-loved signature fragrance  for the far more problematic male provocateurs at Etat Libre d’Orange, La Bague D’O resonates a neat and feminine floral core with far-out metallic frequencies. The opening presents a single squeezed orange and a crackling of pepper, but quickly submits its spice to a strong and dense rose geranium similar to the hybrid blooms found in Middle Eastern attars. I don’t smell any other flowers here, but rather, the tinny taste of blood that accents the central accord like a promise. The perfume’s copy promises an animalic defilement of these florals, but to me, the castoreum base does not necessarily take center stage but rather fleshes out the accord of ‘steel chains’ written of in La Bague’s top notes. As it wears, it becomes more aggressive, yielding to a vaguely animalic base for a number of very sophisticated hours. Certainly the strongest wear of the three sisters, I can easily see this one garnering the most popularity. Wear La Bague D’O if you love an unconventional rose fragrance, or if you crawl FetLife looking for a full-time daddy dom like a bad habit you can’t quite scratch.  In comparison to the other two fragrances, En Plein Air is perhaps the least anachronistic, my least favorite, and the least shocking. Inspired by the life and sexual exploits of Catherine Millet, its copy specifically references her oft-recounted love of outdoor orgies. Given such an explicit set of references, I am surprised by how clean this fragrance smells. The petrichor accord here is like that of Le Labo’s Baie 19 , laden in airy earthiness and a synthetic musk base. Dissimilar, however, is the overdose of grapefruit zest in the opening. Easily accessible to anyone who loves a good citrus, I can imagine this sitting prettily on the collarbone of a young woman with a respectable office job, who maybe hides underneath a pristine and approachable exterior the vaguest inclination towards something off .  I knew before I had even smelled this set that Les Cahiers Secrets would be my favorite of the set. Inspired by the early diaries of Anaïs Nin, its copy references the bohemian atmosphere of her writing circle and the small aesthetic indulgences she would insist on amongst her working artist squalor. The website specifically uses the dreaded phrase “grandma scent” to refer to the general boudoir atmosphere it creates: nine times out of ten, it’s code for powdery perfume that smells so good it gatekeeps Gen-Z girls with poor misguided hearts desperately afraid of aging and noses broken from overexposure to the noxious rose-lychee-vanilla accord in vapid perfumes like Delina Exclusif . On skin, Cahiers   wears like a hyper-atmospheric interpretation of a classic Belle Époque perfume. Like spraying L'heure Bleue through a tightly stretched pair of pantyhose, vague kitchen spices mingle with orris and skin musk. This is the direction I would love to see Jouissance continue in – perfume that smells evocative, romantic, and ancestral to certain women, and wholly sexually expired to the clueless men who pursue them. The central floral here is a gorgeous lily. I’m not shy about my love for mournful lily masterworks like Passage D’Enfer , and in its delicacy, this does perhaps reference Giacobetti’s work. Wear this perfume if you love Comme des Garçons’ iconic Sticky Cake , and wish it went more in the direction of Vivienne Westwood’s tragically discontinued Boudoir . My gorgeously designed full bottle will surely be an easy reach for the frigid months of the oncoming winter, surrounding my person with a tiny little halo of makeup powder, flushed skin, and single flowers tied up in neat little white ribbons. 🌀 Audrey Robinovitz is a multidisciplinary artist, scholar, and self-professed perfume critic. Her work intersects with the continued traditions of fiber and olfactory arts, post-structural feminism, and media studies. At this very moment, she is most likely either smelling perfume or taking pictures of flowers.

Now, more than ever, women are blitzing the merchandising industry in hopes of finally scoring more appropriate sports merchandise. I can still remember the first jersey I ever owned. It was a white Philip Rivers one that hugged my waist and had a bedazzled #17 on the front and the back. Raised by a father who spent his Sunday afternoons teaching me all about first downs, touchdowns, and all the other ways in which a player could be “down,” that jersey became not only a staple in my wardrobe but a guide for the pieces that joined it. Adding to my jersey collection was a uniquely gratifying experience, the brightly-colored, loosely-fitting, boxy-cut merchandise contrasting all the corsets, dresses, and skirts that also call my closet home. It’s a visual testimony to the duality of women, one that conveys that femininity isn’t necessarily a one-size-fits-all concept.  I’ve spent the last decade of my life adding to this elaborate collection of sports merchandise (I currently own nine jerseys!) and that doesn’t even include my other gear, from hoodies and T-shirts to hats and sweatpants. One could easily ask, “Why so much?” to which I would reason that it’s only fitting for a sports enthusiast to boast a wardrobe full of team merchandise. However, what’s not fitting is the gear itself. The Washington Post  previously reported that just within the National Football League (NFL), women influence 85% of the league’s disposable income decisions. But despite such significant sway, women’s specific sports apparel doesn’t seem to reflect this consumerist influence — V-necks, hourglass silhouettes, and rhinestones are just a few of the embellishments sports apparel brands have added to their selections for women. Much of what you see in this targeted gear, whether bedazzled or small enough to fit a child, feels like something you’d find in a trendy department store as opposed to the Fanatics website. To make matters worse, women’s merchandise also falls victim to the pink tax , another prevalent form of gender-based discrimination that already applies to specific cosmetics and sanitary products — which only inhibits their purchasing decisions in yet another industry. One of the few exceptions to this is Major League Baseball (MLB) jerseys. On the MLB Shop website, a men’s  home replica team jersey for the San Diego Padres costs the same amount ($114.99) as the women’s  equivalent. But a majority of women purchase jerseys sold to the male demographic anyway; why tailor them even more? Christella Santiago, a Parsons School of Design student and diehard Detroit Lions fan, voiced her own distaste for this overly specific gear. “The NFL website still has really weird cuts,” she said. “I’m not a fan of it. I always go and buy the men’s shirts because they’re more comfortable.” Her striving for change takes a less formal stance in her life as well; her love for the Lions was born the moment her dad uttered, “They suck!” when they were watching NFL Redzone one Sunday afternoon. This love for the “underdog,” which she referred to the Lions as, gave her insight into a perspective geared towards minority audiences. And with her own background in fashion studies and marketing, she also posed some alternative design solutions that are more likely to appeal to women, such as “revising the ‘child cut’ and making them looser and more suitable in terms of their length.”  “It would be really cool if there was a collaboration between the NFL and Etsy creators,” Santiago said. “Etsy is a really hidden market and, for sports, it’s mostly women designing for women.” Fortunately, the NFL’s Director of Consumer Products, Rhiannon Madden, acknowledged the research that goes into uncovering what female fans look for in merchandise, even partnering with Victoria’s Secret and Nike to better market to the ever-evolving female fanbase. According to her, the selection for women has significantly increased, extending to plus size, maternity, and even athleisure.  “We’re really looking at the individual customers, since we have such a massive female fanbase,” she told Fashionista . “Forty-five percent of our fanbase is female, so we can’t speak to them all the same way.” However, the predominance of stereotypical designs emphasizing women’s femininity as opposed to what’s really important — the fandom for their sports team — is still there. Rather than proudly displaying where their allegiance lies among leagues composed of dozens of teams, this merchandise seems to argue that their gender identity comes before all else. Kristen Gile, a Washington native and lover of the Seattle Seahawks, shared her own woes of being a female sports fan. Coming from a family of brothers and male cousins, she knows the negative commentary that follows young girls watching football with the hopes of catching a glimpse of pop sensation Taylor Swift.  “It was crazy to see the amount of people that I knew that never watched sports, suddenly watching sports,” Gile said. “It’s perfect, honestly. Even if they see part of the game and don’t know anything about it, it’s still a growing interest for that community.” She notes that several of her female relatives got hooked on playing spectator and participating in all the traditions. The repetition that comes with turning on games every week allows these new fans to gain exposure and begin picking up on the ground rules, converting their casual fandom into something more serious.  In April 2023, a survey conducted in the US by Statista  revealed that approximately 65% of women reported being either casual fans or avid fans of sports. More specifically, interest in football is still predominantly shared among men, with 51% of men reporting as “avid football fans” in another survey  — but that’s continuing to change, especially with influences like Taylor Swift generating more female interest. Even the 2021 SSRS Sports Poll reported that women and girls over the age of 8 make up 46% of the football fan demographic, which approximates to 84 million people. But despite this surge in sports interest amongst women, the merchandise options still haven’t grown enough to accommodate them.  “I remember one of the first pieces I ever bought from the NFL was a women’s shirt,” said Camryn Jansky, an MBA Business Analytics student at the University of Houston. “When I got it, the V-cut was super low and it was so form-fitting. It’s just kind of already sexualizing a woman’s body and I was only 12 years old.”  Stemming from her analytical background, Jansky emphasized the importance of receiving feedback from target audiences, particularly the significance of women’s feelings about their apparel. In a time where posting outfits on social media is a cultural norm, it’s vital to create pieces that are marketable and intentional.  “It’s important that these teams and companies have women on the design and production teams,” said Jansky. “If you’re looking to sell products to women, you have to market them better, especially since more women are entering the sports industry.”  We’ve seen numerous sports motifs within the fashion industry as well, from Alexander McQueen’s  Spring 2005 Ready-to-Wear collection to Tom Ford’s  Ready-to-Wear line in Fall 2014. And while it was particularly thrilling to see helmets and exaggerated shoulder pads make their way off the field and onto the runway, the male gaze could not be more apparent. McQueen’s looks had helmets paired with teeny tiny skirts and Ford’s lineup sported bedazzled, form-fitting dresses. They seem to scream “Girl’s Night Out” and not a party that’s leading to the stadium.  Fortunately, not all hope is lost for women’s merchandise, at least in the football world. Kristin Juszczyk , the fashion designer behind Taylor Swift’s viral #87 puffer jacket, recently signed a deal  with the NFL that allows her to use their branding on her designs. Swift is the highest-profile client Juszczyk has had so far, but she has also designed original pieces for Brittany Mahomes, businesswoman and wife of Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes, Olympic gymnast Simone Biles, and actor Taylor Lautner.  “I’ve been at this for a few years now, and I’ve been told ‘no’ many times or that we just don’t have the space for that,” J uszczyk told PEOPLE Magazine  in an exclusive interview. “This is something that I’ve been so passionate about. I feel like there’s a huge gap in the market, and I have so many designs that I know women want.”  To effect meaningful change, industry stakeholders must prioritize inclusivity and representation. Gender bias notwithstanding, it also opens several doors to marketing opportunities not just for larger corporations like the NFL Shop and Fanatics, but smaller, women-owned businesses on platforms like Etsy and Depop. This entails incorporating diverse perspectives in design and production practices, like Jansky argued for. The fashion industry offers glimpses of potential, with designers like J uszczyk bridging the gap between fashion and sports, crafting designs that convey the message that women should express their femininity in ways they deem fit.  There’s no one-size-fits-all solution to sports merchandising; it will certainly be an ongoing journey, one that demands collaboration, innovation, and a commitment to celebrating fandom in all of its forms. As female sports enthusiasts continue to assert their presence and influence, the merchandising landscape must evolve to reflect their diverse identities and passions. Only then can sports apparel truly become a symbol of unity and inclusivity for fans of all genders. 🌀 Kea Humilde is a Chargers-obsessed, fashion-forward and self-proclaimed NYC It Girl with a penchant for all things pink. A San Diego girl at heart, she’s making waves as the Deputy Series Editor at The New School Free Press and as a national writer for Her Campus. Picture Sabrina Carpenter, but 2 inches taller, brunette, and just as fierce. You can keep things short n’ sweet by following her @fashionablykea.

The limited edition collection made in collaboration with the Red Roses is the UK’s first wearable report. The past year has been transformative for the England women’s rugby team, otherwise known as the Red Roses. Since the Lionesses’ historic victory against Germany at the Euro’s in 2022, the landscape for women in British team sport has quickly evolved, with opportunities beginning to flood in. However, the euphoric multiple successes of the English women’s football team have received much larger praise than their rugby counterparts.  The current world number ones, the Red Roses proved their merit earlier this year at the Guinness Women’s Six Nations, where 8.1 million viewers tuned in to watch the girls bring home the coveted silverware. “People want to watch some good rugby, and they know that they're going to get that with this Red Roses team,” Red Roses fullback and Olympian Ellie Kildunne  told HALOSCOPE.  As they secured their sixth consecutive Six Nations victory, it was clear to Kildunne that the tides were starting to turn. “To run out and have that many people there,” she said, “It made me feel like it's something that we're gonna have to start getting used to.” This England side holds the longest winning streak by any team, men’s or women’s, in the tournament's history, and yet their popularity amongst the general public is not reflective of their achievements — even if attendance is increasing.  The Rugby Football Union, Women’s Sports Trust, and O2 have come together to deliver a fresh report  as part of a long-term study into the visibility of the Red Roses. This new vital data has formed the basis of a new fashion collection: the UK’s first-ever wearable report designed by 5022 , the creative platform of Kildunne. Featuring key findings from the report, the collection is designed to both hero the achievements of women in rugby and tackle the gender awareness gap in the sport.  “I don't think people are actually fully aware of the statistics and the kind of issues around tackling that gender awareness gap, particularly in what's been a male-dominated sport for years and years and years,” said Sarah Bern , who has an impressive 61 caps for her national team.  The statistics are a clear indication of where women’s rugby is currently standing. “63% of rugby union fans couldn't name one of the England women's players,” Lark Atkin-Davis , who began playing rugby at the age of ten, added, saying, “That's something that obviously you want to see growth in.” Atkin-Davis, Bern, and Kildunne all agree that the latest data should be seen by as many as possible and it is the innate visual aspect of fashion that has made this such an interesting project for them. “People are going to be able to see those sorts of statistics on the clothing and hopefully it will really be a way of educating people,” said Atkin-Davis.  Inspired by the different elements of the report, the limited-edition pieces feature embroidered symbols, abstract visualisations, and, of course, the beloved classic rugby jersey. While some of the tops represent the delineation of rugby and showcase the growth and change that is currently in motion, others shine a light on the presence of women’s rugby in the media and the progress being made to close the gender awareness gap. What they all have in common, however, are the Red Roses’ achievements.  “I'm quite a creative person, anyway, and to have an outlook that is slightly different to rugby, but is also tied in, has been something that's definitely helped me keep ticking,” Kildunne said, having worked on the collection for several months, including during the Six Nations and the Paris Olympics. The conscious decision by O2, the Rugby Football Union, and Women’s Sports Trust to work with Kildunne and the wider team was praised by Bern, who said, “They could have gone to any designer, but they actually chose to go with the Red Roses to help uplift our profile, which will hopefully help grow us as individuals and as a team.” Kildunne agrees and believes this sort of partnership is the way forward for player involvement, saying that brands should, “Do something a bit off-piste, do something that they haven't done before and take that leap.”  Gareth Griffith, Director of Partnerships and Sponsorships at Virgin Media O2, concurs, saying in a statement: “We want to help drive positive change in the sport, and gender parity is at the top of our priority list. Sometimes you have to make a statement to be heard and that’s exactly what this fashion collection does.” He added, “We will never stop calling on fans to join us in stepping up for the Red Roses.”  For Kildunne, this will not be her only foray into the creative sphere. “I very much enjoyed it and I know I want to do something like this again and it's definitely got my brain ticking on what else I can do to close that gap off the pitch.” The future is bright for this Red Roses squad, who will see the Women’s Rugby World Cup come to their home country in the summer of 2025. “We're definitely looking for a WXV title again. We're looking to get another Six Nations title if we can. It's definitely quite inspirational for those goals, but they’re targets that I think we can achieve if we work hard together,” Bern said of the work that lies ahead. Off the pitch, the aim is to continue growing their brand in hopes of greater support. “When we do get to that World Cup, it's not just Oh, I didn't know they were playing , it's, Oh, I've been waiting for this. I really enjoy them in the Six Nations and I'm gonna go and watch those games. And actually, I'm also gonna go watch South Africa versus Scotland or something .” In Bern’s eyes, it’s not just for the Red Roses, “It's for the whole of women's rugby.”  O2 and Virgin Media broadband customers can get their hands on the exclusive collection via Priority from O2  from Monday, 9th September, 2024. 🌀 Molly Elizabeth  is a freelance fashion writer and commentator based in London.

"It only takes one video or post catching the right eye to turn this hobby into something you do full-time — like it did with me." Every Stitch is a new interview series asking fashion’s new creative class how they manage their closets, lives, and careers. Kayli Sandoval is a Creative Director & Editor based in New York and L.A. Her bright, frenetic, sharp-as-candy work — which mixes print media with the video textures of the '80s and '90s — has amassed over 12 million likes on TikTok and is changing the way artists are interacting with the platform itself. Here’s how Kayli picks up every stitch. The self-appointed work uniform: My go-to work attire consists of absolutely anything comfy — typically a hoodie and some loose shorts. As a creative professional, I often work irregular hours, frequently extending into the middle of the night. For this reason, I predominantly work and grind from the comfort of my own room. However, on the days I get out of the house to work from a cute cafe in the city, you can almost always find me in thrifted baggy denim, layered tops, and tons of accessories. The journey to becoming a creative director: After graduating high school, I pursued higher education with the idea of becoming a professional journalist and focusing full-time on my writing. Suddenly, COVID-19 hit the second semester of my first year. I moved back into my family home, attended school online, and tackled my first existential crisis (of many) in adulthood. This ultimately led me to download TikTok, reigniting my inherent creative spark and motivating me to consistently post my work online. After quickly achieving some online success, I pivoted the direction of my career and worked tirelessly to finish school to dedicate myself fully to my creative projects. By networking with other creatives and building a community online, I was able to build a foundation for the career I am now so grateful to have. The hardest project she's ever worked on: I cannot pinpoint one project that was more challenging than the others; however, I can certainly admit that any passion project of mine is typically where I place the most pressure on myself. It is also these personal projects that often lead me to disregard a normal sleep schedule (work/life balance is def something I am still working to improve). With the aim of constantly leveling up and surpassing expectations, I am frequently more critical of myself than I probably should be. The way she gets her creative juices flowing: Since the beginning of my career in the creative industry, I have consistently sought inspiration from movies and music.  Some musicians who have significantly influenced and inspired me include A$AP Rocky, Tyler, the Creator, and Pharrell. Additionally, one of the most influential movies in my creative work has to be Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023). The art of risk-taking: I take risks with every new project I undertake. I fear creating art that is mundane and foreseeable — and I strive to avoid producing work that closely resembles anything I’ve already done. Nevertheless, I am always open to experimenting with new styles, unfamiliar tools, and innovative methods of achieving a desired look (i.e., the use of artificial intelligence) and adapting it into my own! The idea of "making it": As grateful and utterly happy as I am in the place I stand in the creative industry, I think there is much more I must accomplish before feeling as though I’ve truly “made it.” As a second-generation Mexican-American, the values of hard work and persistence have been deeply ingrained in me by preceding generations. I want to inspire the masses, take care of my family, and truly make meaningful art in this world. I’m taking my career step-by-step, day-by-day, and allowing myself to learn new things constantly. I love where I am — and I’m even more excited for where I will be. The discarding of the rulebook: In the act of creating, I genuinely do not think there is a set of rules to adhere to.  As the Internet can significantly influence the success of emerging creatives, there is often an emphasis on the concept of “niching down.” HOT TAKE: I disagree. Be your authentic self, make stuff that resonates with YOU, share your passions with the world, and that community you desire will naturally follow. The advice she'd give burgeoning creatives: The best advice I can give burgeoning creatives is to (1) teach yourself to not give a f*** about the way others perceive you and your work, and (2) use the Internet to your advantage!!!! It is genuinely unfathomable the way we have hundreds of thousands of eyes accessible at the tip of our fingers. Post, post, post! The world deserves to see your art, and it only takes one video or post catching the right eye to turn this hobby into something you do full-time — like it did with me.  🌀

Founded by Montreal-based textile artist Hayley Mortin, Dazy Chains seeks to untangle and explore the lineages of textile production and computational technology. If you’ve ever tried crochet, one of the first foundational stitches you learn is the “chain.” The simple act of looping yarn, when multiplied, creates a soft textile network, capable of forming images, textures, and shapes –– or (if you’re not careful) “‘glitches” through dropped stitches that leave unraveled gaps in the weaving. “Daisy-chaining” further describes a process of interconnection, whereby electronic devices are wired together to create a woven system capable of transmitting signals from one node to the next.  Hayley Mortin is a Montreal-based textile artist and the creative force behind Dazy Chains , a knitting project that seeks to untangle and explore these lineages of textile production and computational technology . Amidst the cozy fuzz of brushed-out mohair and the vibrant hues of dyed yarns, Mortin’s knitwear designs capture ephemeral moments of digital activity (think: CAPTCHA , dialogue from mobile game ads , or images from AI learning how to see ) and incorporates them into IRL wearables and tapestries. Mortin also recently created and published Needlebound , a collection of essays, interviews, and project photography by textile artists shared through the common thread of a passion for making.  Hayley and I hopped on Zoom to talk about rendering the virtual through knitting, developing her first book project, and how she’s found online communities of fellow fiber artists in the age of social media. Eleonor Botoman: How did you come into knitting as a creative practice?  Hayley Mortin:  I started knitting over the lockdown. I taught myself through YouTube tutorials. When I was really young, my grandma tried to teach me how to knit but I never had the patience for it. But I think when there was so little else to do, it forced me to get into the headspace to actually get the hang of it. So I started with crochet and then I realized that knitting is a better approach for colorwork and doing things that are a little bit more figurative for the stuff that I wanted to make. Yeah, and a lot of YouTube tutorials. A lot of Eastern European women that are over the age of 70 had really good knitting tutorials that you have to put auto-translate on for [laughs]  so I feel like those are the OGs. That’s when I started, so probably like 2-3 years ago now. EB: I know that your practice at the moment is a mix of hand knitting and then you also have a knitting machine. How did you end up doing machine knitting?  HM:  I started using a Silver Reed LK150 probably a year after I was doing handknitting. It’s a really basic machine. It has the same visual aesthetic as an Easy-Bake Oven. Like, it’s really plastic-y and pink and it’s kind of dinky, but it’s a really good beginner knitting machine.  What I really like about it is if I’m making a sweater and I don’t want to spend a whole lot of time making, like, the back panel — which, with handknitting, could take me a whole week — with a knitting machine that could take me a day. I feel like it helps me get through the more monotonous parts of the knitting. But because it’s also this kind of dinky machine, [there are] no colorwork attachments. Like, I know there’s all these misconceptions. You hear “knitting machine”’ and you’re like Oh, it’s this thing that’s electronic and it plugs into your laptop and whatever , but I do all of the colorwork by hand. Every stitch is hand-manipulated on the machine. It almost feels a little bit more like weaving. It’s still faster than handknitting but it’s still way slower than if I had a machine with a lot more bells and whistles. I always find it really hard to describe the amount of work and time that goes into each piece because, yes, it’s faster than handknitting but it’s also super manual. EB: How did you end up getting the knitting machine? How did you find it?  HM: I found a lot of other Instagram knitting folks. They’re very generous with sharing tips and tricks, and the machine knitting community is also super tiny. Other folks on Instagram that were using knitting machines were really generous in answering my questions about it and then there’s a really good machine knitting Reddit  and a ton of Facebook groups. [There are] so many different people from no specific geographic region and they all just convene and they’re all super friendly and easy to talk to because there’s not a lot of resources on it. So that was really helpful in getting started.  EB: Yeah, it’s like the digital knitting circle. Something that I find compelling in your practice is this entanglement of technology and textile-making. Could you talk about some media histories or iconographies of digital culture that are sparking your curiosity at the moment? HM: When I first got interested in those entangled histories, it was right after I had read Zeroes + Ones  by Sadie Plant. I think I had read that before I even started knitting. She uses weaving as a metaphor  in a lot of her work to describe the relationship between people and technology and I thought that was really interesting. Plant also talks a lot about Ada Lovelace and how she was also a really big contributor to early computation. Her work in the field of computer science and its influence on some of the earliest knitting machines — which could also effectively be considered some of the first computers — blew my mind. All of these things were so entangled and kind of impossible to parse apart. Like, they were all coming to fruition at the same time, which I thought was really cool. Tons of rabbit holes expanded from just that alone.  EB: One of the first pieces that I ever engaged with from your work was the  leg warmers  from your CAPTCHA  series. You’ve also made sweaters  and bags  over the years. Do you see knitting as an act of translation?  HM: I think it’s a way of engaging or reclaiming this relationship with something that feels really fleeting and intangible. A lot of artists that I really love like to play with the idea of the tangibility of the Internet or the infrastructure of the Internet as being something very real. But we use metaphors like the cloud and digital space, which makes it seem like it’s like vapor.  I’ve always been obsessed with materializing things that are tactile and how to engage with things that are usually hidden. So something as fleeting as CAPTCHA — which you engage with for like 0.5 seconds — you’re not there to really engage with it. You’re there to log into some site or whatever and it's a weird pause. To freeze it into something like knitting which is so, so, so  slow and tangible, it’s such a contrast to the actual act of what it means to do a CAPTCHA so I feel like that’s something that I think about when I’m doing that.  EB: I’m also thinking about other pieces you’ve made recently that focus on AI or on computer vision. I feel like there’s also something there about glitching or (re)generation and how that pertains to the process of knitting.  HM:  For a while, I’ve been collecting images from computer vision and machine learning research papers  because I think that some of the things you get in those papers are so poignant and weird. People don’t look at a machine learning paper for the imagery. They want the data and the results and they want to use it for their own research. And these things are so invisible. They get hidden in these computer science archives and websites and whatever, but they’re really important in constructing how computers see. People forget that’s a process that’s still mediated by humans. So I’m taking that and then deeply physicalizing it in knit as something tangible to me.  EB: Another motif that also comes up in your work is butterflies. I’d be curious where that fascination came from.  HM: I think in the beginning it was just really easy to knit. Then I used that as a way to narrow down other source material. So I’ve been using computer vision papers that have butterflies in [them] and there was a piece that I did on the flight paths of butterflies  where I transcribed these scientific diagrams of how a butterfly travels in space. Because the body of work in these scientific spaces is so vast, I’m trying to narrow it down with one attribute. I also like that it’s a “feminine” motif and contrasting that with the cold, traditionally masculine science and then reintegrating that into something like knitting, which is also usually coded as feminine. There’s definitely a gender thing going on there, too. It originally was a really easy thing for me to learn how to knit when I was learning colorwork, and then eventually I’m like, O h, I like the butterfly, let me push it further . So yeah, that’s where that comes from.  EB: How has your approach to sourcing materials shifted? HM:  At the beginning, my mom just sent me a bunch of yarn that was in the house because she also crochets and knits. So did my grandma. We had the material and I used what was available to me. As you just get more used to it, you develop your preferences. It evolved from this package of random yarns that I didn’t even know what material it was to then ordering things off Amazon and being like Okay, I’m just going to try this and make a slightly bigger project . That was when I didn’t really know if I was going to stay with knitting, too, because I love to hop between hobbies all the time so I wasn’t going to invest a lot of time and money upfront. But as soon as I realized this was something like Oh, I really love this , that’s when I started to spend more time understanding materials, understanding the sustainability aspect of it. Like what are these life cycles like? What is the dyeing process? What is the spinning process? [There are]  also a lot of great yarn stores in Montreal, too. I luckily live around the corner from one  which is a double-edged sword because I spend a lot of my time and money there. I think just being a little bit more picky over the years and, moreso, working with a couple of trusted brands and farms.  EB: Maybe we’ll segue into talking about Needlebound . What inspired you to make a printed book that was dedicated to the fiber arts? HM:  I love printed matter. I love books. I love a collected little compendium of stories. I didn’t feel like I was seeing [the textile arts community] represented anywhere beyond being completely online, which is cool because that’s where it originates and that’s where it lives.  But for a community that’s so focused on liking tangible things, I feel like it should also have a tangible form of documentation in the form of a book. I think there was a collective groan of like Ugh, the algorithm . Everyone’s only seeing whoever they follow. Or even with people that you follow, you don’t even see them on your feed sometimes, you just get ads or suggested posts. So using that as a way to break through and then collect these voices in a unified place where people aren’t getting bombarded with whatever Mark Zuckerberg’s pushing at the moment, was really the motivation.  And I love a new challenge. I knew I had enough vague project management experience skills from my day job that I could apply to this. I’ve never made a book before but I feel like I could do it. In addition to that, working on the actual development and production with my partner  who I also live with made it a lot easier to collaborate and work on it together. That definitely expedited the process rather than having to hire someone outright who has that skill set. My partner is also interested in doing larger-scale book projects so I think we were both just really aligned on this as a fun thing to do.  EB: I love that it’s also this collection of not only beautiful images, but also this compendium of essays, brief artist statements, and so many different kinds of contributions. Did you always envision Needlebound as an opportunity to put out a call for submissions and invite fiber artists to write about their own practices or to be in conversation with each other?  HM: Yeah, it initially came from a couple of budding friendships that I had on Instagram. I’m like You guys are so cool, I wish there was something that showcased that because I don’t see these stories being told. A lot of the work that I’ve seen with fiber arts books or printed matter is either really cut and dry, like a pattern book or super deep academic texts of already very established artists, and not a lot of these DIY folks that just post on Instagram. These stories are just as worthy of being in print if not, in my opinion, moreso. So I was really eager to have a platform and pull them together [and] to also show the diversity in this community — because I get to see a lot of it on my knitting Instagram from who I follow. I don’t know how many other people are exposed to this. I think it’s fascinating.  EB: Some of these stories and essays were so poignant and intimate. There was almost a vulnerability with people talking about failures in their practice or their attempts or experiments. That is the process of making craft, not just the finished product but also how you get there.  HM: Yeah, that was really important for me to have those stages documented. It came after the fact. I was getting these submissions in real-time and being like Well, I don’t want to only have a focus on the final product . I want to also have a little bit of that process — like what are your thoughts that are going into it along the way, what are those stories about sourcing, and the raw materials aspect of it, too. EB: In the editor’s letter, you say that “...the act of knitting evolves into a communal activity that weaves together social bonds.” And I’ve been thinking about that statement, especially in the context of this moment when we can feel so disconnected from each other and the world around us.  HM:  Yeah, I was having a good time writing that letter — because, [with] all these thoughts that I had been simmering with, I finally was able to put [them] into this cohesive thing. I was thinking about how it’s a really solitary act but also has, historically, a connotation of being really social. Like, knitting circles where people would congregate and put these things together or when knitting was a form of necessity — like we have to knit to make clothes for our family. That was always more of a social activity. After the Industrial Revolution, it became a lot more solitary. Now we’re in this world where you’re knitting in your bedroom but you are also posting it on TikTok or Instagram where potentially hundreds and thousands of people could see. It’s simultaneously solitary and social again in the same way that social media is very much sitting at that crossroads. I think there’s something really special about the fiber arts community, especially because of the lack of resources and documentation. You have to rely on those digital communities to get started with knitting if you don’t know someone [who can] teach you how to do it.  EB: How has your relationship with social media changed as you’ve established Dazy Chains?  HM:  When I first started posting on Instagram, it was initially just on my personal account. It was at a period [when] I was really disillusioned with and so sick of social media. Like, You know what? I’m only going to post the things that I make.  So it was a way of me distancing myself or taking the pressure off myself to perform my life online.  At first, it was really helpful, but then I also realized that narrowing it down to only being about that was an easy way to find like-minded people. So it made me rethink what social media could be if you use it in this more targeted, conscientious way. Like I’m just here to post about knitting. [laughs] This is the knitting app now. So that was actually positive, I would say. [There are] a million and one gripes that you can have and I feel like I might have a different perspective too if I was trying to operationalize. I’ve seen people that have full-blown businesses and it gets tough if the algorithm isn’t behaving the way you want it to and you’re using it to make ends meet. But when you’re using this as just a thing to find like-minded people, it’s been overall really positive. EB: That’s so refreshing to hear. There’s definitely that pressure of feeling compelled to constantly post content or wrestling with the fickleness of the algorithmic changes. That can feel disempowering, but I love your perspective on it, too, as this opportunity [allows you] to also find your niche of people, to find that community.  HM:  Yeah, it definitely takes work. Like it’s not just there for the taking. You have to cultivate it like with any community. It takes time, for sure.  EB: Can you talk about how you’ve navigated trying to find that balance in your own practice between creating wearables or things that you’re selling, while also trying to make time and space for your more experimental projects or exploring new techniques?  HM: At the very beginning, I really just got a kick out of the idea that anyone would [want to] wear anything that I made, so there was something really fun about making hats or smaller pieces that I could do [a] higher volume of in a shorter period of time and actually try to sell them consistently. But I’m also not doing this as a full-time job. I work 40, sometimes 50 hours a week doing my UX stuff, so that doesn’t give me a lot of time to knit. I feel like I have to be really strategic about how I use that time. I actually feel like it is kind of a positive thing to have such a limited amount of time because it forces you to use it to its max. So I’m cognizant of how precious that time is and then I use it in a way that when I’m like, Yeah, this isn’t fueling me anymore , I’m going to switch it up. EB: With a lot of your work too, there’s that research aspect to it. And that’s also time, looking through these archives or looking through these materials.  HM: There’s a benefit, too, to when I’m working because sometimes I come across papers just in my line of work. I do UX research for artificial intelligence products that are normally used in an enterprise-level space. It’s a lot of designing stuff for customer service agents to use, but there’s still a lot of this academic, applied research. A lot of my job is learning about the limitations and how this technology works and then how we communicate that to end users. Then, in consuming all that scientific information, sometimes I’ll come across something that’s interesting or that paper was kind of weird, or this data scientist said something to me that stood out in a way that I’m going to research more about it. That definitely feeds into how I find a lot of the stuff that I end up making.  EB: How do you see collaboration  fitting into your bigger practice?  HM:  It’s super fun. Because [knitting] is a very isolated practice and I also work remotely most of the time, I can feel really atomized in my life. Doing stuff with other people helps me get out of my head or reminds me of new techniques that can be explored or new motifs or ideas that might push what I’m doing a little bit more.  I think that’s really important, especially since I didn’t go to art school. There’s a part of me that wanted that experience of being in a heavily collaborative environment. Well, there's nothing stopping me from going out and asking people. The worst they can say is no. And I know a lot of people probably feel the same way, so I’m always down if someone has an idea or is like  Have you thought about doing this ? I’m like, No, but let’s try and work on it. That sounds fun.  EB: What’s in the future for Dazy Chains as a textile project or even just yourself as a maker?  HM:  I think just a lot more exploration. I’ve been enjoying this machine learning, computer vision stuff right now. I’ve just been trying to push that and see where it goes. A couple of artists that really resonate with me are Trevor Paglen  and Anna Ridler . I’m trying to do a bit more of a deep dive into their practice to gather some nuggets of wisdom from how they approach their work and figure out how I can evolve what I’m doing a little bit more.  I would love to do more wall hanging pieces [and] explore more ways of stretching knit on a canvas — or unconventional stretching material would be fun. I haven’t really thought that much about how knit can exist in space. That’s totally unexplored terrain for me. I’ve focused on it on the body for however long, but I’m like, What is it like to install it somewhere?  But I also still love doing wearables because it’s very fun to do. I also have some friends who are photographers . If you have a vision for a shoot, they can make that come to life really easily. I’ve been collecting these images of really corporate office aesthetics from the early ‘80s and ‘90s. I’m thinking about how these computer vision scientific explorations usually happen in these dull environments and I want to push that and use that to frame the work that I’m doing. So we’re going to explore that in a shoot in a couple of weeks and I’m super excited about it.  And then I still want to do Needlebound Volume 2. It’s a huge endeavor. I bit off more than I could chew at first, so I think it’s a once-a-year situation. I think I’ll try to get funding for it because it was out of pocket and I’m still paying it off. I bet someone could pay to help this happen, but I just don’t know who or what yet. So just trying to navigate the world of grants in the next couple of months.  [laughs]  Yeah, those are the big plans. 🌀 Eleonor Botoman i s a museum worker, environmental art historian, and culture writer based in Brooklyn. They are currently a New City Critics Fellow at the Architectural League of New York and the Urban Design Forum and have a speculative research practice that explores decay, climate resiliency, multisensory and multispecies design collaboration. When they’re not experimenting with perfumery, you can find them curating multimedia wonders for their Substack newsletter, Screenshot Reliquary.

"I think as I’ve delved more into experimental fashion work and ethereal themes in my films, my personal style has transformed to reflect that." Every Stitch is a new interview series asking fashion’s new creative class how they manage their closets, lives, and careers. Sayna Fardaraghi is a filmmaker based in London. Her work, which covers the breadth of short films, fashion films, and music videos, has been seen in Vogue, SHOWstudio, NOWNESS, and more. Her most recent narrative short, Waiting, won the Intel/Movidiam Award for Best Director and was named the Best Experimental Student Film at TIFF. Sayna and I have known each other since the OG iteration of HALOSCOPE, and it's been unbelievably beautiful watching her career skyrocket over the year — especially in light of her debut narrative short, Glint. Here’s how Sayna picks up every stitch. The self-appointed work uniform: I feel like it's always this very specific look I'm wearing to the Burberry office and to my freelance meetings, which is a striped pink blouse, loosely buttoned; an asymmetrical striped brown Morgan skirt; and my trusty Paloma wool Judo boots I'm always wearing. Other times, it's an off-the-shoulder tank sitch with a skirt. I’m not too fussed on the occasion's dress code. I’ll just wear what I feel confident in and feel like the person I want to be for the day! It weirdly impacts my mood even if a tiny detail feels off. I find the way I dress is really an outlet to externally portray my inner self — my personality, my aesthetic, and my mood. When it comes to being on set, I'm normally dressed a little more comfy and practical, like some black yoga pants with a shapely tank top paired with my Z-Coil trainers. You’ll be surprised how hot it can get on set, as well as how many random stains and dust you collect — so black is an easy one to not worry about so much! The journey to becoming a filmmaker: It sort of came out of nowhere, really, I just fell into it! I initially wanted to be a fine artist / graphic designer, but with my intrigue to work with new mediums, I ended up finding and falling in love with film. Specifically fashion films and experimental work through NOWNESS .  From there, I started experimenting. I originally wanted to be more of a DP / cinematographer — but as it turns out, I'm a way better director, as that's what I was consistently praised on and asked to work as. The transition from my university life to the real world was really lucky, I worked a lot on some small fashion film setups with a close friend of mine at SHOWstudio and got paired to work with the lovely Charles Jeffrey, who gave me my first fashion film gig as a director. I went on to direct a few projects for his collections, one being featured in Vogue , at the London Fashion Film Festival, and at SHOWstudio, which was a sweet full-circle moment. From there I got scouted, and here I am about to complete my next short film Glint in a couple weeks! The on-set must-haves: My polaroid camera — I'm a very sentimental person so I need to snap a pic. I still have my polaroid of me and Charles on our first project. Another thing is my personal shot-list with lots of notes printed off to hand. I'm a bit hyper-organized and need it on me at all times.  And snacks... of course. I love Clearspring Salted Seaweed Crisps & strawberry Hello Pandas, they’re so addicting.  The people who help her get it done: My AD (Assistant Director) — any thought I have and it's done! I remember working on a music video for Sony (which was my first real music video job ever, a very high-risk training ground), which included a cast of around 20 people. It ran so smoothly and I couldn’t have done it without my AD & 2nd AD. Love you forever Niomi & Lottie. <3  The art-personal style connection: I think as I’ve delved more into experimental fashion work and ethereal themes in my films, my personal style has transformed to reflect that. I'm wearing lots of softer palettes, detailed with accessories — like silver cuffs, my RKB necklace, a belt, etc. — or pairings of different fabrics to create shape. I love an outfit that sits on me with a flattering structure but also has a flowy element. I’m always looking at and dressed in something Paloma Wool, and going back to images from Chloe SS00 ,  Prada SS99 , and Luca Luca SS03 . The problem with perfectionism: This is hard! I've grown to appreciate my perfectionism at times, as it helps me set goals and expectations for myself to do better, but it can very quickly turn toxic. I think the best way to let go is to try to keep calm, grounded, and stay realistic, knowing that you’ve done the best you can. I often find myself internally setting expectations years beyond my physical work, and to combat that I go back to Day 1, realize how much I've grown and that I'm doing just fine. Sure, I'd love to be doing grander stuff, but I have to be patient! I'm bad at waiting, which is quite literally what one of my films is called and [is] about — I need to take my own advice more often.  The way she shows up for herself on set: I definitely try to decompress the day before, take a bath, even have a therapy session to clear my mind a bit and get all my worries and frustrations out of mind. That way, when I'm on set the following day, I can be the best version of myself to serve my crew — because, at the end of the day, the director is the person setting the tone for the environment. It's crucial for me to put my best foot forward and create a great atmosphere for everyone! When I'm on set, I’m always so excited and just ecstatic to see my little ideas come to life — so I'm full of energy. I just need to remember to eat and drink more, as well as to sit down. I seem to always forget to do that, ha. The advice she'd give burgeoning creatives: Stay true to your vision, always. As you begin to grow and gain clients, there will be more people involved — with that, it can snowball quite easily, with higher-ups swaying your vision and turning it into something else, and that can turn quite soul-killing. I’ve had that happen to me before where I didn't believe in myself enough and let other people change my vision entirely. Not anymore though! Always remember that your vision, your style, and your eye is your strength, that's why you’ve been hired and that’s why you’ve been seen. Don't ever forget that and never let anyone change what makes you you. 🌀

The niche perfume house — who capture the idiosyncrasies of the animal kingdom — is moving deeper into the reptile world. When it comes to niche perfumes, there are some houses that act as gateways, leading enthusiasts down winding pathways and rabbit holes, while others provide what’s found once one has emerged underground. Zoologist Perfumes  is unique. With 33 scents to choose from, all inspired by different animals and their natural habitats, the brand’s wide breadth becomes an exploratory journey all on its own. Originally recognized for their complex and unconventional approach, the Toronto-based house teeters the line between mass-appealing musks and the absolutely mind-altering.  Zoologist has not received renown for its wearable creations. Even some of their more moderate scents, like Cow , Rabbit , or Harvest Mouse , include notes of hay, carrot, and beer extract. Victor Wong, who founded the company in 2013, wishes for the fragrances to reconnect us with what the natural world has to offer, and curates each perfume with specified inspiration. So while some profiles imbue the wearer with bucolic breaths of freshness, others are more daring in where they wish to transport us.  That’s where King Cobra  comes in. Nearing its full bottle release in the fall, Zoologist’s newest member is expected to be a polarizing addition. Designed by Thai perfumer Prin Lomros , this combination of black tea and vetiver takes the wearer into a landscape of wet soil and cold moss. Described as “driven by danger and a desire to dominate,” the overpoweringly green King Cobra might be a difficult everyday scent, but that doesn’t make it any less wearable for someone committed to its essence. Despite leaning toward the masculine, this unisex fragrance opens with strong top notes of fig leaf, petitgrain, camphor, and ganja. Any sweetness is replaced by the satisfying smell of a waxy nug of weed, underlined with spicy tartness. Once the initial sprays begin to drydown, a complex ecosystem reminiscent of a damp forest floor unravels, with heart notes of black tea, cumin, leather, and soil taking up most of the fragrance’s real estate.  Lomros, a self-taught perfumer who is also the mind behind Zoologist’s Sloth , Rhinoceros , and the 2020 reformulation of Bat , considers perfumes another form of narrative art. Holding a Master’s degree in Filmmaking, Lormos’ process begins with envisioning an active scene, where color, texture, and soundscape inform what the fragrance will eventually be composed of. This holistic approach sets up Lormos’ work in elaborate and multi-dimensional worlds, ones that shift and move in accordance with whatever (or whoever) the star of the story is. He believes that a fragrance belongs to the audience once it hits the shelves, and, much like visual artists and musicians, that a creation ceases attachment to the creative once it comes into contact with a wearer. King Cobra is a fragrance that changes form and shape depending on whose skin it sits on. It’s an experience that refuses to remain straightforward and streamlined. Refusing to follow a predictable pattern, thick temple-dwelling incense can be the winning note for some, while others could be left smelling clean and earthy like green leather. It’s a dry and sultry scent that, after a while, morphs into the embodiment of an herbal sauna. With base notes of incense, amber, moss, patchouli, and vetiver, it’s demanding to be paired with a long night out — one in which you become the sanctioned mystic of the smoking section, worn during your favorite underground band’s warehouse show. It screams urban decay, seducing the wearer into thinking leather pants and a tank top are the only viable outfit options. King Cobra convinces you that night vision is possible — and that everyone looks better with a snake tattoo coiling up their arm. Wong might have gotten his start after falling under the spell of Le Labo’s Rose 31  and Kiehl’s Original Musk , but King Cobra is right up his aesthetic alley. The hobby turned award-winning indie perfume brand has long since consumed his previous career as a video game 3D modeler, all to the market’s benefit. Originally inspired by Camille Saint-Saëns’ The Carnival of the Animals , Wong guessed correctly that more of us wanted to channel the playbook of animals within, even if we hadn’t previously been aware of it. He’s proven himself skilled at finding the perfect match of perfumer and perfume for his brand, unencumbered by the status quo. He trusts those he charges with the animals in his zoo — and believes that the more skilled a perfumer is, the more wearable the designs will be, regardless of how mold-breaking the note combinations may sound. Our tastes are constantly changing, and if there’s something Zoologist Perfumes reminds us to do, it’s to never write the daring off. 🌀 Carlota Gamboa  is a poet and art writer from Los Angeles, CA, who spends most of her time pressing buttons at a Beverly Hills talent agency. You can find her work in Bodega Magazine , Salt Hill Journal,   The Oversound , Whitehot Magazine , and Art & Object . Find her feigning apathy @its_wtvr .