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The aesthetic has dominated our lives — and feeds — for the past four years. But what lies beyond it? Can you still be a “Clean Girl” if you have sleeve tattoos? What if you have a septum and eyebrow piercings? The Clean Girl aesthetic has dominated Pinterest boards and Instagram pages for years, first popularized during the early days of the pandemic. Characterized by gelled eyebrows, blushed lips, and dewy, clear skin, Clean Girl makeup is our generation’s signature look — and a complete 180 from the full glam of the 2010s. It’s minimal, seemingly low-effort, and the face of maintaining a “quiet luxury” lifestyle. The display shelves of Sephora and Ulta reflect this trend, as products are proudly branded with the “clean” label and lined with dozens of various clear brow gels and neutral eyeshadow palettes. With the beauty industry only growing bigger and bigger, it may seem like our makeup options are increasing, but in fact, it’s the opposite. The makeup trends of this decade are sorely lacking in color and full expression of creativity. Clean Girl makeup consists of a nude blush and lips (or pink if you’re feeling adventurous), neutral eyes, and light mascara. Naturally, not everyone enjoys bright and bold colors, nor has the time to sit down for a full-glam face, but something about mainstream makeup trends and products feels uninspired. Lauren Bliss, a former MAC counter artist and beauty industry insider turned beauty influencer, believes that social media has inhibited our imaginations when it comes to makeup. “I think people are afraid to be creative with makeup because they’re not willing to let it look like makeup or to look ‘imperfect’," said Bliss. “They want it to look like how professional makeup artists do it, or like influencers who use thousands of dollars' worth of lighting equipment and beauty filters.” Indeed, seeing beauty trends through a fixed, filtered lens has distorted our collective imaginations of the endless possibilities of makeup. And while the makeup that Bliss did on clients from 2011 to 2013 at MAC was bolder and fuller-coverage, perceived “imperfections” weren’t completely erased through a filter. Back then, makeup was allowed to look like makeup, skin texture and all. Isamaya Ffrench, an internationally renowned makeup artist behind the faces of many runway shows, from Junya Wantanabe to Collina Strada, said in an interview with Harper’s Bazaar that pervasive “Instagram Face '' makeup looks are misleading and misrepresentative. “We don’t all look a certain way, so how can this be real and sustainable? For me, there is nothing more beautiful than self-expression,” she said. Bliss also yearns to go back to a time when makeup allowed more space for artistry, remembering long before social media that it was magazines and beauty counter artists that were the go-to source for inspiration and tips. And while social media has democratized access to this information, it has also twisted the whole purpose of makeup: to express yourself. Whether that be a natural no-makeup makeup look, a dramatic winged cat eye, or a play with unconventional colors, makeup has no right or wrong. “Prior to social media, brands would launch a product and invest in a huge shoot for a magazine ad, almost guaranteeing viewership from readers. Now, if a brand launches a product, both your ads and organic content are going to get more traction if they fall under some sort of trend like ‘glass skin’ or ‘sunset blush.’ So, in a way, brands are sort of in a chokehold by the algorithms and what aesthetic or trend is taking over TikTok at the moment,” said Bliss. That is why Clean Girl makeup is aspirational and deceptively inclusive. There are countless tutorials, videos, and affiliate lists that tout only a handful of products to achieve the look. What Clean Girl makeup and the aesthetic itself lack is originality, with extremely rigid criteria for being a “Clean Girl." Its simplicity is aided by the fact that the icons of Clean Girl makeup already have perfect skin and the desired Eurocentric beauty standards that are a built-in requirement to be a “Clean Girl." Of course, people without these features can still participate in the trend, but it’s no mistake that celebrities and influencers like Hailey Bieber and Leah Halton are the poster girls of the Clean Girl aesthetic. Clean makeup implies there is dirty makeup — whether that means products that use unfavorable preservatives in products or break the Clean Girl-approved color palette. Makeup lovers and consumers shouldn’t have to feel like they’re limited to one type of aesthetic or product. Makeup is a sandbox of play — you can use eyeshadow to create liner, mascara to fill in your eyebrows, or lipstick on any part of your face. The possibilities are endless. Thankfully, there are brands out there where creativity is at the core of their image. Half Magic, a makeup brand created by Euphoria’s makeup artist Donni Davey, features intense shades of pinks, blacks, blues, and glitters in their lip glosses, lipsticks, and cushiony soft blushes. Terra Moons Cosmetics is the master of cruelty-free eyeshadow pigments that come in every multichrome, duochrome, and matte shade that you can think of. Even international brands like the German Lethal Cosmetics roll out fabulously curated franchised collabs that are more than just another champagne highlight and a brown neutral palette. As such, not everyone wants to be playful with their makeup. Some may need it out of pure functionality, which is more than fine. Makeup is meant to serve different purposes. As for Bliss, she just wants a world with no rules or expectations. “My goal with my content is to share my personal journey of being creative with makeup again so that my followers, who might have similar thoughts on the industry, are inspired to be creative with it again as well. There is no right or wrong way to do makeup,” Bliss said. 🌀 Niya Doyle is a forever East Coast-based writer, beauty buff, and cat lover. She is a freelance journalist for HALOSCOPE covering beauty. You can follow her makeup and skincare journey on TikTok.

And that’s a mixed blessing. I remember the texture most of all. No matter what you did, how you moved, how thin you tried to apply it, the sunscreen of my childhood beach trips was inescapably, defiantly oily. I liked the pink bottle with the little girl and the dog, although the other one had a name that made me smile — Banana Boat. But whatever brand you were using, sunscreen was, at the end of the day, a necessary evil; from a family with a history of severe burns and even skin cancer, you didn't have to tell me twice that sun protection was important from a health perspective, and that a "healthy tan" was often anything but, and so we slathered on the sunscreen. But sunscreen as something desirable? Glamorous, even? Never, I thought. Oh, how wrong I have been. Sunscreen is, apparently, the beauty world's hottest item this summer. With the rise of high-end skincare, and subs like r/skincareaddiction preaching the gospel of SPF, it shouldn't come as a surprise that sun protection has become hip, trendy, and even aspirational. SPF-tinted lip balms are nothing new, but the girlies of r/skincareaddiction will have posts outlining their "holy grail sunscreen," or even a post, with over 300 comments on it, dedicated to "Rating. Every. Sunscreen." There are brands across the world that are getting in on the sunscreen game — from South Korea, where the concepts of "SPF+" and "PA++++" originated, to Australia, where high skin cancer rates mean sunscreen is medically and cosmetically important. It should perhaps not come as a surprise that Kiehl's has been one of the standard-bearers for the luxury sunscreen market. Their apothecary-themed line of practical skincare and beauty products has always presented themselves as vaguely medical; sunscreen is a logical next step. Australian brand Ultra Violette has adopted the opposite strategy, with minimalist, candy-colored packaging and pop-up launches. As a lifelong sunscreen user, on the one hand, I'm delighted. Not only are the new options significantly nicer than the thick, oil-slick sunscreens of yore (the rose-scented SPF 50 from Ultra Violette is luscious), but the idea of using sunscreen as a cool, glamorous thing is only a positive. Previous generations had to contend with the opposite — sunscreen was vaguely geeky, while tanning, sometimes with the use of tanning oils or artificial tanning beds, was the definition of cool. Of course, we all know that tanning beds can cause gruesome health mishaps worthy of a tabloid cover. And tanning oils have mercifully gone the way of mile-high hairspray and other ill-conceived beauty strategies. Although the world of high-end sunscreen can be a little tricky to navigate, with its different sunscreens for face and body, and the sunscreens that match your skin type, where once there was just, well, a tube of goop, it's also a surprisingly wholesome and inclusive corner of the beauty world. After all, sunscreen is for everyone. There's no color to it, aside from the occasional white cast, which newer sunscreens are increasingly less likely to have as a side effect. You don't need a certain "look," or even a certain skin type beyond the physical presence of skin, to "pull it off." And best of all, it's healthy. Not only is it "not actively dangerous" (making it a major improvement over tanning beds right there!), but it's also good for you. It keeps your skin safe from painful burns and even potential future skin cancer. Sunscreen is beautiful! But as wonderful as all of this marvelous sunscreen and the people who glamorize it may be, there's something here to give pause. Go on any skincare forum, and you'll see people, often very young women, worried that they should wear sunscreen indoors; while asleep; in Scandinavia in January; or some similarly implausible scenario. You'll see others encouraging them — not to avoid sunburn, but as a "preventative" measure against wrinkles and other signs of aging — and outlining an application and reapplication routine that one Reddit user described as "mentally exhausting," and another claimed was "ruining [her] life." The "mental exhaustion" is as new as the concept of "luxury sunscreen." While much of the exhaustion may be simple decision fatigue, there are other elements as well – in particular, financial concerns, and the pressure factor. Luxury sunscreens can cost up to four times as much as their drugstore counterparts – and are they worth the difference? Further, is "the difference" just in sun protection, or also in how we're perceived? Just as a pair of jeans from Costco might serve the same function as those from Ralph Lauren, but how you feel about yourself and how others think of you can change depending on which you're wearing, the same may be holding true for sunscreens. And that's another stress, and another expensive budget consideration, in an already fraught landscape. If a 22-year-old wants to worry about future wrinkles, we really can't stop her. And there are certainly more harmful steps a person can take (hello, retinols) than being overly enthusiastic with sunscreen. There are also far worse ways to spend money than on a healthy luxury skincare product. And yet… there's something about it all that's a little sad. Wanting to keep your skin healthy and attractive is one thing; treating any sign of aging like a symptom of the Bubonic Plague, or worrying that the "wrong" sunscreen will harm you physically or socially, is very much another. Our skin is our largest organ; it deserves to be kept healthy, but also, to be shown grace. Moreover, an enthusiastic embrace of sunscreen shouldn't mean a shunning of warmth and light on your skin. Quite the opposite; it's there to protect you so you can enjoy the outdoors without concern. So go out and find your "Holy Grail of sunscreen," and apply it generously — and then step outside to enjoy the sun. It's waiting. 🌀 Dr. Ellery Gillian Weil is a writer, historian, cute-animal-video enthusiast, and antique jewelry aficionado. She hails from the suburbs of Washington, D.C., but currently resides in London, England, where, in 2023, she earned her PhD in History from University College London. You can find her on Instagram on @elleryw72.

From Raffia bags to ponchos, Latin American fashion is everywhere — but rarely considered. Some surnames have been omitted for anonymity. In the fashion world, there's much discussion about representation, inclusion, and diversity. But little is done. As discouraging news hits the headlines — for example, BoF recently shared that Loro Piana's $9,000 sweaters rely on unpaid farmers in Peru — important Latin American fashion stories are not even covered by other major fashion publications. For instance, after the Qatar World Cup, where Brazil and its soccer shirts became an overnight TikTok phenomenon, little writing was done on the trend — especially without even considering their national cultural significance. Now, Latinx fashionistas wonder if there is truly a place for Latin American fashion in the industry. With their cultures often overlooked and stereotyped, Latin American fashion enthusiasts can feel frustrated and unrecognized in the fashion world. For the Argentinian user Iara Garcia, from the sub-community known as High Fashion Twitter, “Latin American fashion has no recognition in the industry." Paris, Milan, London, and New York are often on the tips of everyone's tongues. Celebrities and journalists go to the top four fashion capitals to bask in the spotlight or cover their talents, respectively. And yet it's impressive how little is said about Latin American fashion weeks — such as São Paulo, Mexico, Chile, and Buenos Aires Fashion Week — or about designers from the region. "There's so much talent, but it's not explored," added Juan, a Colombian fashion enthusiast. But some argue that the region's fashion is appropriately represented. When Dior creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri presented the Cruise 2024 collection in Mexico, at the former Mexican Jesuit seminary Colegio de San Ildefonso, inspired by Frida Kahlo and her feminist essence and crafted in collaboration with several local artisans, it was seen by some as a noble gesture. But it was little to no time until controversy arose. The Internet murmur began, with some netizens pointing out the constant cultural references to Frida Kahlo instead of other Mexican artists who have also made history; the absence of Mexican models; and the appropriation of the song "Canción sin miedo," which has become a symbolic anthem of feminist resistance in the search for thousands of missing women in the country. "Femicide in Mexico is a deep wound that we live with every day in this country, Indigenous women are violated and discriminated against every day. How shocking and annoying to see that foreigners come to make a fashion show out of this tragic reality," declared Paulette González Muñoz on X regarding the use of the feminist hymn. Other audience members pointed out that the cross-cultural fashion shows were done in an uninspiring way, where everything was just for exhibition and profit. Although some consider that — despite the controversies of the show — the results were rather positive for giving more exposure to the country's craftsmanship and culture, the question of why a European designer should be the voice of Latin American fashion rather than a Latinx artist has been raised significantly. Yes, the cliché of giving a voice to the voiceless is a point regularly made and defended by many. But isn't it better to listen to those who have been systematically silenced? While some view the inclusion of different cultural, ethnic, sexual, and social groups in artistic projects as a means of promoting diversity and representation, others assert that this presence serves as a vehicle for imposing an ideological or political agenda that ignores value and coherence. In the current context, there's a fine line between sincere and calculated representation, particularly in an industry where countries like Mexico, Argentina, and Brazil have long gone unnoticed on the world map. Whether well-intentioned or not, the discussion of authenticity and purpose remains uncertain and controversial. But the fashion industry is full of controversies — especially involving Latin American designers. At the beginning of May 2023, when celebrities, insiders, professionals, and fashion enthusiasts only had eyes on the Karl Lagerfeld-themed Met Gala, the Argentine brand Nana Studioz was not credited for its designs that appeared in the February 2023 issue of Schön! Magazine. After the Latin American designer was dismissed and the credit was given to Swiss brand Ottolinger, Sofia Abadi, owner and creative director at Nana Studioz, shared the incident on her X (formerly Twitter) account. "At first I thought I was being ripped off, but then I realized it was exactly the knitwear I made. I know them all by heart," Abadi said. While the subject was hardly commented on by the mainstream media, much buzz was generated by the designer’s mutuals on X. After Abadi's friends, followers, and peers started advocating for her name in the pages of the magazine, the creator finally received due recognition. While globalization and technology are great allies in helping illustrate these issues, social media is also where these communities reveal and unmask their experiences. For Dominican blogger Gabby, Latin America's fashion heritage is more than just textile export. This perspective is not exclusive. Likewise, Iara pointed out that the world sees Latin Americans as producers of raw materials and not as trendsetters. Trendsetters we are — all that's been missing is the recognition. From Raffia bags to ponchos, Latin American fashion is everywhere. Whether at national or luxury brands, fashion trends inspired by Latin American cultures are seen everywhere; all you have to do to confirm it is quickly open a few runway apps or labels’ websites. When confronted with saddle bags from the likes of Ganni, Dior, or Valentino, the answer is "Carriel"— a term that stems from original Colombian coffee bags, which have since become a fashion phenomenon due to their practicality. If the bags aren’t familiar, consider cowboy boots from "La Vacanza"-era Versace and Dua Lipa’s Resort 2023 collaboration. The cowboy boot, a popular footwear silhouette that originated in the Argentinian Gaucho style and has since found international traction across the past 200 years — and among celebrities such as model Bella Hadid, actress Lily-Rose Depp, and singer Miley Cyrus — has a long history of serving practical purposes in everyday life. With purposeful garments deeply linked to functionality and nature, Latin American fashion is unique. Juliana Borobio, an Argentinian member of the digital community, states that the region's "complex mix of identities" also contributes to its individualism. Historically, Latin America’s abundant culture includes a combination of Indigenous, African, and European influences, shaping the aesthetic into something diversely rich and purely original. Not only claiming that the entire continent is a melting pot of diversity, Juliana also adds that "...there are fashions inspired by the mountains or the Amazonas but also the cities, the colonial roots, the Indigenous culture… there is so much talent here driven by everything we went through," a statement that enhances the multiculturalism of Latin America's culture, transported to a variety of fields, including fashion. Translating this tradition into clothing, specific attributes such as patterns, colors, cut-outs, and certain materials completely embody our antiquity — antiquity that fashion often communicates. Consider Raffia palms, a species of approximately 20 distinct plants native to Central and South America, which emerged as the latest It bag during the summer. From Loewe to Saint Laurent, the accessory swiftly became a runway and street-style trend. As a common material in Latin American countries, artisans from various Indigenous communities developed their interpretation of the bag, resulting in a diverse range of models across different countries. The combination of craftsmanship and nature has the potential to yield exceptional results, indeed. For Gabby, the manipulation of minerals is one of her latest obsessions. And Dominican designer Jenny Polanco emerges, too, as she makes jewelry with Dominican amber, sometimes even "shaped into different things like leaves and shells," as Jasmine, another enthusiast, shares. Fashionista Juan Sebastián additionally pointed out "...how past Indigenous groups manipulated gold to create such beautiful figures and jewelry," as a source of inspiration. But this creative stimulus isn't limited to jewelry. Last season in São Paulo, Maurício Duarte reaffirmed the need for Indigenous representation in the fashion landscape. Ever since his debut in 2022, he has left a lasting impression on the Brazilian fashion scene, be it through the casting of diverse models or the incorporation of Indigenous Kaixana elements in his designs. In his latest collection, presented in SPFW N57, he used raw fibers, native materials, and a lot of fluidity, drawing inspiration from the pirarucu, a species of fish found in the Amazon rivers, to create mermaid-like gowns made of fishing nets adorned with scales. Ponchos are another example, brought up by Juliana. Defining it as the most traditional Argentinian garment, she shared that it originated from Indigenous people in the Andes, after developing a significant meaning during independent and revolutionary periods. While briefly explaining its history, the content maker clarified that "the name poncho comes from the Mapuches and, along with the decorations in the weaving, has lots of cultural meaning." Nowadays, each Argentinian province has its own model, with specific decoration and materials. It's not just a garment, it's history, and it's the symbol of Juliana's — and Argentina's — national heroes. And, as she says, the poncho "should be celebrated on a wider scale." Speaking about cultural celebration, Jasmine mentions two Dominican Republic fashion legends, Oscar de la Renta and Farah Cabrera, who put a smile on her face. After leaving his home country to pursue his aspirations, Oscar de La Renta arrived in Madrid with a bang. In 1956, after designing a dress for the daughter of the Spanish ambassador that was then featured on the cover of Life magazine, he secured a position as Cristóbal Balenciaga's assistant. The designer later moved to Paris to work alongside Antonio Castillo at Lanvin, where he gained immense experience in haute couture. Seeking a more independent role, the designer drew several gowns for Elizabeth Arden, established more connections, and eventually launched his first women's ready-to-wear collection for his eponymous label, Oscar de la Renta, in 1965. Since then, the label's clever ability to combine vibrant colors with elegant silhouettes has made it one of the most mainstream and celebrated brands of all time — remember Miranda Priestly's Cerulean monologue and how she mentions "...that, in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean dresses"? Exactly. But this level of renown was not only for his innovative ideas but for his deep relationships with celebrities. "Oscar became more famous after dressing Jacqueline Kennedy," Jasmine adds. After designing a state visit gown for Kennedy, things really took off, eventually leading De La Renta to dress all of the First Ladies of the United States, as well as many celebrities, including Beyoncé, Emma Watson, and Sarah Jessica Parker. As for Farah Cabrera, who devoured fashion books from an early age and began designing clothes at 10, she revolutionized Dominican fashion as the pioneer of the boutique concept in the country. Later, Jasmine explains how "two people with different backgrounds and different clothes can make a huge impact," revealing a factor that contributed to her affinity for fashion and the role her cultural heritage played in it. But the Dominican blogger isn't the only one with fond memories of fashion and culture walking side by side. For Juliana, it is history that made her fall even more in love with fashion — like how Eva Perón, the first lady of Argentina from June 1946 until her passing in July 1952, made political use of fashion. When speaking about the Evita Museum in Buenos Aires, dedicated to Perón, she said that the exhibition, which includes some of the '40s dresses and suits worn by the politician, who was first a model and actress, was one of the ways to see her culture represented in fashion. The moving sensation of seeing yourself in fashion is also a frequent experience throughout Gabriela Hearst's career. For instance, in Spring/Summer 2024, which was her last collection for Chloé after three years at the label, Hearst closed the runway held in Port de la Bourdonnais with a grand finale. After models in motorcycle jackets, Gaucho boots, flowy floral and embroidery white dresses, draped suede pieces, and spiral ruffles walked for the last time, Mangueira, a legendary 20-piece Brazilian band, joined the designer and models on stage to create a joyful atmosphere. Whether in New York or Paris, giving space to artisans or musical crews, Hearst brought (and continues to bring with her eponymous label) Latin American visibility in this competitive industry. And her eponymous label has been a vehicle for this visibility since its foundation. In an interview with Harper's Bazaar, Hearst shared that she had honored her family's heritage by launching her label in the fall of 2015, after taking over the operations of her father's ranch in Uruguay. Following the establishment of her label in 2015, Gabriela Hearst was compared to the likes of Hermès for its meticulous craftsmanship and quality. In 2017, Hearst demonstrated her ability to innovate, releasing fabrics with unique effects. These included an anti-radiation fabric that protects from the radiation emitted by phones, presented in the Resort 2017 collection as padding for pockets, and microfine merino wool and aloe-treated cloth in Resort 2018. Since then, the label has become renowned for its careful attention to environmental and sustainability concerns. "I wanted to create a brand that reflects a slower pace and process: where things are made with care and detail, where tradition is more important than trend, where there is a purpose to every piece," the designer added. In the same interview, Narciso Rodriguez states that his Latin roots are the core of who he is as a person and designer. From his Resort 2012 collaboration with Cuban-American artist Carmen Herrera to his Fall/Winter 2013 collection influenced by Brazilian sculptress and painter Lygia Clark's exhibition at the São Paulo Biennial, these roots are clear. Infusing his elegant, sharp lines with a touch of Latin flair, the designer has transcended minimalism while drawing inspiration from his Cuban heritage, the natural allure of his country, and the brave and charming Latinas he grew up with. Such a rare creative philosophy has pushed his brand globally, dressing the likes of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, Michelle Obama, Jessica Alba, and Kate Winslet. As Latin American production techniques, textiles, patterns, and elements have gained momentum in recent years for their activism, sustainability, and tradition, with names like Narciso Rodriguez, Carolina Herrera, Oscar de la Renta, and Gabriela Hearst rising to prominence in such an exclusive industry, the construction of a more diverse global fashion landscape has begun. But their rise has not been without obstacles — be it internal or external. As the Peruvian fashionista Valeria observed, fashion isn't valued in her country. She noted that this lack of interest extends to designers too, with the tourism industry and the government showing no interest in promoting national fashion, suggesting that the indifference of some countries towards their own fashion is a significant component in its non-evolution and low influence on global fashion ramifications. It's not just Valeria who has commented on this aspect. Alan Smith, a Panamanian fashion-lover, has spoken out about the lack of originality in his country's clothing. He claims that there aren't many cool and innovative designers, and while most fashion events are small, they try to "mix and match" with concepts from Paris, London, Milan, and New York, which makes them even more distant from local rarities. With Latin American countries looking to the current trends of European and American countries for inspiration, our fashion underestimates how beautiful and rich it already is. But Alan believes there are some Latin American countries showing commitment to developing the region's position in the fashion industry, such as Argentina, Brazil, Colombia, Chile, and Mexico. From maximalist patterns, artisanal work, and dresses with a dancing silhouette at Bogotá Fashion Week to classic fabrics made by native artisans, traditional gestures, and tributes to the beauty of nature at Mexico Fashion Week, some countries are indeed investing in raising the visibility of their own fashion, establishing partnerships and resorting to international platforms to cover events. Other internal considerations, however, do not facilitate this process. For Berenice Buendía, Mexican web editor for DNA Magazine, the devaluation of the fashion and art industries is a consequence of the countries' economic and social structures. The prevalence of low salaries, frequent social inequalities, and high taxes lead individuals to prioritize their daily needs over investing in fashion — and they can't be blamed. "Who has the money and energy to think about fashion when the minimum wage, at least in Mexico, is $11.88 dollars [sic] a day?" Buendía asks. When it comes to external issues, the list gets even longer. From stereotypes to cultural appropriation, even supposed celebrations of Latin American fashion find trouble. In 2021, when Elle magazine announced its September issue, which featured singer Selena Gomez and was the magazine's first Latinx issue, many Latin American fashionistas expressed opposing views. "From what I know, there is only one single story in the entire issue dedicated to Latinx talent. If this is the case then it's not an entire issue dedicated to the Latinx community so why call it that?" José Criales-Unzueta, a Bolivian writer for Vogue Runway, said on his Instagram in 2021. The journalist, who often covers talents like Willy Chavarria and Luar's Raul Lopez, adds, "this ... could have been a celebration of Latine stories, and most importantly an open dialogue about the nuances of the Latin identity that are so often misconstrued/overlooked." Besides the absence of Latinx professionals on the project, the following comments pointed out that the exclusive coverage of Latinx stories in mid-September and October may be seen as a marketing program. "You don't see Latine designers, critics or influencers getting opportunities when it's not Latino Heritage Month," Thatiana Diaz, editor-in-chief of Remezcla, a global media company that focuses on a Latinx audience, told Fashionista. The project also didn't resonate with Danielle Alvarez, founder and CEO of Latinx public relations agency The Bonita Project. "Nothing about the Elle cover spoke to our roots," Alvarez told the publication. In Elle’s issue, Gomez is not styled by any of the Latinx designers featured in the edition. She wore Chanel on the cover, as well as other labels like Moschino, Louis Vuitton, Prabal Gurung, and Brandon Maxwell. "Instead, the look had her resembling a platinum blonde Marilyn Monroe, dressed in European designers. It was a huge missed opportunity," Alvarez added. But opportunities also arrive. Recently, at Italian luxury label Moschino, Argentinian Adrian Appiolaza was appointed as creative director. Born in Buenos Aires, his youth was shaped by music; from music, he went to architecture. And, after graduating, Appiolaza left at the age of 21 for the UK. Through the clubs and the friends he made in London, his love for fashion began; and when he learned he could study it at Central Saint Martins, Appiolaza knew what to do. He invested in a course specializing in portfolio-building and got in. At the same time, Alexander McQueen was recruiting for a junior assistant designer, and Appiolaza got the position. While juggling studies with work for McQueen and as a barman, he was getting burned out and subsequently left McQueen to focus on his studies. When Sebastian Pons, McQueen's first assistant, introduced him to Miguel Adrover, following summers found Appiolaza working for Adrover in New York. In 2002, after completing his studies and winning the Best Womenswear Collection award for his Argentine-inspired graduation collection, he became Phoebe Philio's right-hand man at Chloé; worked with Miuccia Prada at Miu Miu; with Marc Jacobs during his Louis Vuitton era; and, more recently, Jonathan Anderson at Loewe. Now, he is in charge of continuing Moschino's legacy while pushing even more boundaries. "We must keep pushing limits," Maria, a Brazilian fashionista stated. But how to do it? With the evolution of technology and media, the truth is that there are multiple success pathways. As Juan declared, "...creating spaces where Latin American talent can show their craft to the world and it could reach new opportunities or a job at a fashion house or magazine" has proven to be an effective method. Before joining Vogue Runway, José Criales-Unzueta would take prints of collections and review them in his stories. Now, he's in the spotlight of the Vogue team, covering stories, reviewing collections, and still keeping his humorous tone on social media. Another recently-established creative project is bringing Latinx talent worldwide. Founded by the Cuban-Nicaraguense designer Silvia Argüello and Argentinian fashion entrepreneur Constanza Etro, the Latin American Fashion Awards is an unprecedented global platform created to celebrate the most distinguished Latin American talents and honor the region's rich heritage. The first ceremony was held on November 4, 2023, in the Dominican Republic. It was a milestone for Latinx talent worldwide, as it was the first time that the fashion industry came together to reward them. The second edition will take place once again in the Caribbean hot spot of the Dominican Republic in November 2025, and will again bring together "...celebrities, top fashion industry leaders, international jury members, influencers, international press, and creatives from around the world to support [the] Latin American talent that is revolutionizing the global fashion industry." With this newly conquered space, changes are beginning to emerge. But for Juliana, it's still important to keep having conversations and discussions about representation and Latinx visibility, all to analyze what we can do as fashion consumers. While some in the Latin American fashion audience point out that many boundaries still need to be pushed, Katherine, an American-Colombian fashion-lover, says that things don't have to be done artificially. "I wasn’t looking for Carolina Herrera or a name to represent Latin American fashion. But I recognized at that moment that representation was important," she claimed. When I saw a photo of Beyoncé wearing a sparkly PatBO body piece for the Vancouver leg of the Renaissance tour, I understood this. Latinx representation matters — to comprehend where we come from, who we are, and to know that, despite obstacles, we still have a seat at the fashion table. "[Representation is] important to me because I don't need an agenda to be pushed. I want representation to be there because the art of it is loud," Katherine adds. Want something loud? Look directly at our commemorative seasons. Juan mentions La Feria de Cali, citing "the several parades where the costumes are so colorful and beautiful," which turns the experience into something completely glowing. In Brazil, there is Carnaval, and the floats, feathery garments, shiny sets, and great energy all paired together turn all the Samba parades into truly a fashion show. It's about the intensity. It’s about the vividness. It's what makes the event unique — and so does our fashion. As Juan states, our "passion and wanting to be heard, collided with the rich history that all the region has..." sets the region's fashion apart from others. For many, representation is already blooming. Whether it's through the presence of journalists like Unzueta, photographers like Rafael Pavarotti, designers like Lopez, Appiolaza, and Chavarria, or editors like Diaz at Remezcla, Ana Cólon at Fashionista and Erik Maza at Town & Country. Now, the power to be seen has passed to the public. "I know our representation is evolving," affirmed Katherine while chatting with me about our inclusion. Among the conversations regarding the evolution of representation, Katherine mentions one occurrence that clicked in her mind. Surprisingly, it was at the Met Gala. "I felt that recently seeing the music artist Bad Bunny walking at the Met Gala wearing Jacquemus... the designer has been inspired." Indeed, it’s been a while since the French designer has presented Latin American references in his brand. Already captivated by Raffia in Spring/Summer 2023, the designer fell in love with Rio’s magical New Year's Eve celebration in 2022. Deciding to come back to Brazil to shoot one project in some of the most popular spots of the Carioca capital, Jacquemus’ team went from Copacabana to Pão de Açúcar illustrating typical places that seemed taken from those city's souvenir cards. In addition to Simon Porte Jacquemus, Brazilian-American Marcelo Gaia, founder and designer of Mirror Palais, is another figure drawing attention to the country. Due to his family's relocation from Rio de Janeiro to New York City at an early age, Gaia shares that he always longed for a deeper connection to his culture. While his mother spoke Portuguese at home, prepared churrasco, a traditional Brazilian barbecue, and played music from legendary artists such as Chico Buarque and Rita Lee, he didn't visit it due to financial constraints. “Thanks to her I've always been surrounded by the culture of my home country,” he writes on his Instagram. After the founding of Mirror Palais in 2019, the designer began to spend more time in his mother's country and reconnect with his family. "Despite the many problems currently, it really is one of the most beautiful and inspiring places with the most beautiful people in the world," Gaia adds. Establishing closer relations with the region seems to be a promising move. For Maria, that's the beauty of multiculturalism. "I believe that by taking the appropriate actions and ensuring visibility and awareness to discuss and identify issues, Latin America’s fashion will grow," she states. Fashion’s growth can help us reach other achievements, too, such as challenging stereotypes; creating new economic opportunities for native artisans; promoting sustainability in fashion and cultural exchange, and, overall, creating a more inclusive fashion environment that moves us to the so-wanted fairer industry many talk about and few look forward to. 🌀 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.

That’s what every coquette-adjacent brand is asking, at least. Deer do not make much sound. Their most memorable features are their huge adorable eyes, fragile freckled bodies, and tendency to freeze in front of your car, usually on your way to something important. When Audrey Hepburn got a deer, it was a marker of her public, almost Disney Princess image, as well as an off-color pet choice. She became evermore whimsical. Deers are skittish. When a group of friends and I came across one, we patted ourselves on the back for being of such a pure joyous aura that the deer did run away as we approached. Deers have appeared on printed clothing more and more frequently in the last five years. Like many other animals, they have a history of artistic significance, enough for our cultural scene to connect them to our sartorial identities. Deer are prey animals. They are, in our current culture, connected to fear and vulnerability — think Bambi. In European folklore, they are most commonly associated with the fairy world. In both Lakota and Hindu mythology, deers have a shape-shifting association. Some Lakota stories describe the deer turning into a young woman to test men’s honor.  Leave The World Behind director Sam Esmail stated in an interview for Cosmopolitan that the deer in the film create an “ominous” energy that complicates their usual peaceful associations. In Princess Mononoke, the all-powerful spirit of the forest is a deer — a huge deer, in fact, with even larger antlers. A hugely successful implementation of the beauty, victimhood, and feminine association with deer is in Yellowjackets’ “Antler Queen.” The usage of the antlers and the deer motif suggests violence and cultish rituals, adding to the ominously feminine tone of the series. Most of the aesthetic deer photos found on Pinterest boards don't usually fall into this category — but these traditional associations are a part of the off-putting energy that has followed our human interpretations of deer as a cosmic, esoteric symbol. Deer have been branded one of the mascots of the coquette label for years, now. There are 10,000 blurry images of baby deer with the caption “This is me who you are hurting” being sent to your DMs right now. Another 10,000 of them, a whole herd of deer are coming for you, and they are whispering a Radiohead song as they gently jump from subway stop to subway stop. Deer are forming into a symbol of your femininity. Deer have a soft, easily digestible mysticism which makes them perfect to print on a white cotton top. Independent designers Doll Garden and Moth Apparel seem to have the right idea. Many of their designs feature screen-printed images of animals and bugs. Moth Apparel favors placing the does on lacy underwear-made-outerwear, like in one piece where a photorealistic deer is placed on the side of a slip dress. Doll Garden emphasizes the off-putting aspects of the deer motif. An eyelet t-shirt bears a baby deer with two heads, which references “The Two-Headed Calf” by Laura Gilpin, a poem beloved in many Internet circles. The brand also prints antlers and the words doe and deer on shorts, socks, and tank tops. Fashion made in the name of the deer is not just reserved for recent Internet-based interest — it extends through history. Alexander McQueen’s 1996 ready-to-wear collection called Dante featured three deer-themed looks, with models walking down the runway in antlers. In 2006, he would expand on this during The Widows of Culloden. Look 47 from the famed collection has a huge headpiece — a lace veil covering deer antlers. This silhouette appears again in another McQueen look: Lana Del Rey’s antler-like branches, covered in a light brown veil for this year's Met Gala. The deer’s influence is wide-spanning; its lovable but unnerving reputation is constantly being developed. It seems now that there is a connection drawn between the vulnerability and fear young women feel in the world with the plight of the deer. Victimhood and womanhood become one in the symbol of the baby doe. Depending on your particular strain of modern feminism, you may not like this meager symbol being created — but, really, the deer is a well of potential just nascently being dipped into. Creating symbols of femininity that revolve around common experience rather than biology, to me, is a step in the right direction of exploring and expanding the scope of aesthetics of womanhood. Is there a way to re-think the deer and create something that riffs on that girlish whimsical image, similarly to how Sandy Liang reclaimed the girlishness of bows? As the widespread love of the deer continues, we can only hope to see deer’s faces, deer print, and deer motifs appear in more women’s clothing. Maybe this will come with a slew of manifestos professing the deer as a forgotten symbol of feminism and womanhood, which is not as fearful, but rather transformative. 🌀 Mila Grgas is a writer, filmmaker, and New Yorker. Her work often covers feminist mythology.

The industry’s new favorite buzzword might give us insight into its changing tides. We've all heard it — "fast fashion discourse." While it's not uncommon to have a few fast fashion pieces in your wardrobe — the odd H&M purchase here and there — the rise of Shein and Temu, and the online gamification of clothes shopping, have made the truth inescapable: fast fashion is bad. It's bad for the people who make it, it's bad for the planet, and it’s bad for our consciences. Moreover, it's often simply bad clothing. Fabrics are flimsy and fall apart in the wash; the garment you receive bears little resemblance to the picture that inspired you to order it. The price is low enough that the manufacturers count on the consumer to decide it's not worth it to seek a return — and they're often right. Of course, as this becomes ever more common knowledge, people will begin looking for alternatives. And what's the opposite of fast fashion? Well, slow fashion, of course! In theory, slow fashion should mean something highly specific: clothing made carefully, consciously, and to last. While it doesn't have to be generic-looking, it shouldn't play into TikTok-inspired microtrends — and instead should be something that can be repurposed into multiple looks or even across the seasons. A slow fashion garment should be one that you plan on keeping for years or even decades. But in practice, "slow fashion" has become a label to slap on anything that wants to define itself as "not fast fashion." There is no specific definition of "slow fashion," and therefore, no standards to meet. This can have tricky consequences, especially as "fast fashion" and "cheap fashion" have grown to be nearly synonymous. The idea that expensive fashion equals slow fashion means that the recent Wall Street Journal expose — which revealed that four-figure handbags from Dior and Armani are made by workers for as little as €53 ($57 USD) a piece — has thoughtful consumers in a bind. Comparing a Dior handbag to a plastic crop top from Shein is ludicrous on many levels, but you can't say that the latter is "fast fashion" and therefore "bad," while the former is "slow fashion" and therefore "good." Moreover, sustainable fashion doesn't necessarily mean that the clothing is expensive. British brand Yes Friends, which specializes in ethically produced organic cotton basics, has pieces starting at £12 ($15.57 USD), comparable to many inexpensive brands. New Zealand-based Joyya, which specializes in made-to-order pieces sustainably and ethically produced in India, has custom items for under £10 ($12.97 USD) per piece, comparable to some of the most infamous fast fashion labels. Some attempts to set a standard have been made; a look at Good On You, a website dedicated to enabling more ethical and conscious consumption of fashion, will show detailed rankings and explanations for over 1,000 different brands. But Good On You uses what a brand doesn't do, as much as what it does, to define its rankings. Brands lose points if they don't make public disclosures on their efforts to be more sustainable, whether or not they're actually making those efforts, leading to an uncomfortable equating of branding with action. Moreover, the use of "slow fashion" as a branding technique can obscure the most sustainable and ethical option out there: the clothing that already exists. Encouraging customers to buy more clothing because it's ethically or sustainably made implies that the clothing people already own is insufficient, even though the average person owns more garments now than at any other time in history. The idea that "outfit repeater" could be used as an insult would, through most of human history, be as bizarre as the idea that it was tacky to "reuse" your car or refrigerator. Further, the rise in large wardrobes and the trend for disposing of clothing after a single season means that the world is full of used clothing. While reselling platforms like Depop have made thrifting trendy and, in the eyes of some, more difficult and less affordable, the fact remains that, with a bit of patience, finding preowned versions of almost any garment or accessory imaginable at a lower-than-retail price is possible. Perhaps it's that first part, "with a bit of patience," that we should bear in mind when we seek to define slow fashion. The culture of microtrends, next-day shipping, and shopping brands around the world from the comfort of home has created an expectation of speed when it comes to fashion. Fast fashion, like fast food, is not only meant to be consumed quickly — it's meant to be delivered near-instantly. It is, perhaps this expectation that needs to be challenged to create a true culture of slow fashion. Building a wardrobe of quality pieces that suit your personal style takes time, especially if you're on a budget. You may not have as many pieces in it as in a fast-fashion-forward wardrobe, and you may find yourself stalking a particular item for months or even years before acquiring it. No brand will ever promote this, in all likelihood —it's bad for business, pretty much by design. But it's good for the Earth, and for our wallets, so let's take our time. 🌀 Dr. Ellery Gillian Weil is a writer, historian, cute-animal-video enthusiast, and antique jewelry aficionado. She hails from the suburbs of Washington, D.C., but currently resides in London, England, where, in 2023, she earned her PhD in History from University College London. You can find her on Instagram on @elleryw72.

Some thoughts before the issue launches. This time last year, we sat down to imagine what the future of HALOSCOPE could — and should — look like. We stopped asking each other what we wanted and started asking each other what we needed. The lot of us, myself included, grew up on fashion shoots, go-sees, and in the backs of newsrooms. We were paying acute attention to how the industry we loved was sliding into stasis. Then, we realized what we were really yenning for: a new kind of fashion magazine, free of editorial stipulations, designed for a new generation of young people. While we’ve released fabulous print issues in the past, this is our first print issue as HALOSCOPE 2.0, the Digital (and now print!) Fashion Bible — and is numbered as such. Keeping with our longstanding editorial strategy, we’re theming our print issues, too. This is GLOSS. Eccentric. Off-center. Whimsical. There’s a reason we’re attracted to those who operate on fashion’s cultural periphery: from the late Vivienne Westwood to Christian Lacroix to the playful photography of Yuanbo Li. The Gloss Issue explores how we find whimsy, mischief, and possibility in everyday life — from encounters with strangers on 3 A.M. subway rides, the parties that turn into bacchanal delirium, and the fashion fairytales we find ourselves constructing. I am so happy to share Gloss with you and celebrate this moment with the entire team. To everyone who worked on this issue — including the brilliant Gabrielle Vaillancourt, who first pitched me Gloss back in 2021 — from the bottom of my heart: thank you, I love you. Let’s do this. Love, Savannah x You can shop and read Gloss in digital here or print here.

‘90s normcore has never looked so good. So no one told you life was gonna be this way; or that 2024 marks the 30th anniversary of its jaunty ring, as Friends’ celebrates three decades off the air. I was born in 1997, when the show had just entered its fourth season and was enjoying peak popularity, with viewing figures exceeding 20 million per episode. I’m almost 27 now, around the same age as the principal characters were then. In honor of Courteney Cox’s 60th birthday and the throes of quarter life, I thought I’d indulge in a bit of ‘90s nostalgia and pay tribute to the show’s unlikely but true fashion icon: Monica Geller. It could be contested that Monica’s style was the least interesting thing about her. In fact, she has rather unsurprisingly been dubbed as the poster girl for ‘90s normcore. A personality as robust as Monica’s would diminish the aesthetic scholarship of any character’s fashion. She was quickly established as the headstrong, neurotic mother hen of the group, clucking about her kitschy, vaguely Edwardian coop preparing roast dinners, fluffing pillows, and ushering Ross’ feet off her ottoman. Monica was, in many ways, a woman solidly of her time and her class. A Gen-Xer hailing from upper-middle class Long Island suburbia, she was of certifiable good breeding stock that left her lingering at something of a remove from the feminist ideas of that time. Her values bore the last vestiges of traditionalism against a backdrop of modern urban life (this was, let’s remember, Bill Clinton’s America and the now-disgraced Rudy Giuliani’s New York.) The ugly duckling who organized tea parties for her dollies blossomed into a swan that never quite suppressed those nurturing instincts. Monica earnestly — and sometimes desperately — nurtured Doris Day-ish dreams of making a comfortable home in a nice neighborhood, flanked by a hot husband with whom she could sire lots of babies and feed them endless batches of freshly baked treats. This future was her Eden, a Norman Rockwell painting of domestic bliss. Today, the internet would say she’s giving tradwife. Interestingly, the seams of Monica’s traditionalist philosophy ran through neither her lifestyle nor her wardrobe. This aspiring Betty Crocker wifey was a working woman. As a professional chef, she led some of New York’s finest dining establishments and harbored ambitions to open her own restaurant. Practical and ultra-competent, she was, as Jess Cartner-Morley wrote in The Guardian, “the kind of woman who, if you complimented her on her dress in the lift at work, would tell you that she loves it because it has pockets.” Far from living her life in aprons and matronly frocks, she often dressed like the very men she hoped to dote on. An analysis from the popular Instagram page Data But Make it Fashion, founded by computer scientist Madé Lapuerta, reported that Monica opted for turtleneck sweaters around 24% of the time, oversized leather jackets 15% of the time, and sleeveless tops or cardigans with high-waisted mom jeans 26% of the time. She also donned button-downs as crisp as her chef's whites, mid-to-low-rise trousers, and cargo pants — garments that whispered to her authority both in and out of the kitchen. The Cut went as far as to describe her style as “corporate-casual.” In her cheeky knits and washed denim, though, Monica was as much the girl next door (both literally and figuratively) as she was the boss. But by no means was she submissive. She possessed a kind of rare self-assurance where she felt no need to put herself on display, proving in her everyday pieces like canvas sneakers, above-the-knee skirts, and demure, printed slip dresses could be classic and sexy. In the same vein, she was a woman confident in her sexuality, never one to shy away from body-skimming dresses and plunging necklines — which she could no doubt shimmy into right after neatly sliding a plate of chicken francese in front of whatever ill-fated love interest she’s cavorting with. The canvas of Cox’s natural beauty isn’t lost on me, of course. Everything she wore hung so perfectly on her athletic frame that it may well have been bespoke. I can’t speak to the wardrobe department’s budget, but it wouldn’t be implausible for a perfectionist like Monica to invest in expert tailoring. Each article of clothing she owned was cut immaculately from even the simplest of fabrics. The costume designers stuck to a mostly neutral color palette, which lit her peaches-and-cream complexion aglow, throwing in the occasional pop of color against that gorgeous curtain of dark hair. The old adage says “The clothes maketh the man”; with Monica, the woman absolutely maketh the clothes. Fashion has been described as a rather forgettable aspect of Friends by those who were old enough to actually see it on air; no one was watching it for the clothes. The camaraderie and antics of its outrageous characters and the image it projected of an idealized New York City are the qualities that truly conferred icon status upon the show. In Monica Geller, Friends challenged the longstanding belief that funny and fashionable are mutually exclusive for pretty female leads. There’s a reason many of her most iconic looks have withstood the test of time. We’ve all gone for the straight-leg jean, ribbed vest, and white sneaker combo at some point — but Monica will have always done it better. 🌀 Neha Ogale is a twenty-something freelance writer, recovering coat hoarder, and indie film enthusiast based in NYC. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @urbangremlin.

Beni is revolutionizing the secondhand shopping experience. You’ve heard of e-commerce, but what about “re-commerce”? As purse strings continue to tighten, the second-hand clothing market has exploded. Consignment magnate ThredUp reports that “...the U.S. second-hand market grew 11% in 2023, which was seven times faster than the broader U.S. clothing market,” and globally, the second-hand apparel market will reach $350 billion by 2028. This all begs the question: why is it so hard to thrift online these days? Our favorite sites have been flooded with dropshippers, online shopping is notoriously deceptive, and it can be very difficult to “window shop” on thrift sites without knowing exactly what you’re looking for. It’s become impossible to know where to turn. Thankfully, I stumbled upon this tweet from the much-beloved stylist Lakyn Carlton (@OGLakyn): Founded by Kate Sanner, Celine Lightfoot and Sarah Pinner, Beni is a service that is most similar to Gem.app, which is an online aggregate that gathers a bunch of listings from second-hand selling sites (like Poshmark, Depop, eBay, Etsy, etc.) and groups them together in one convenient, searchable place. Where Beni differentiates themselves is that they aren’t just a hub for secondhand listings — their tool actually interacts with other online stores’ websites. It operates in a similar vein to other browser extensions like Honey and Rakuten, although it’s focused on alternative listings, not couponing. This means that, while shopping at regular stores online, you can also browse comparable secondhand options. Let’s say, for instance, that I see the much-buzzed-about Zac Posen Poplin Shirt Dress. I want one, but to my dismay, it’s already sold out on Gap.com. I’m still interested in something that’s a similar style, so I open Beni’s browser extension and it finds me multiple listings at the click of a button. It’s just a bonus that these listings are also at a fraction of the original cost! There are limitations to Beni, however. The software utilizes an AI that hunts for comparable listings based on keywords, not image similarity. So, even though I’m hunting for a white button-down shirt dress, my Beni search results may come up with black or brown or blue dresses — all because they are also described as “poplin” or are originally from Gap.com. Now, this isn’t the end of the world. It’s still an incredibly helpful tool — and one that has the promise to develop into a much more streamlined and visually accurate browser extension. I’m of the opinion that you shouldn’t judge a startup by its infancy, but by the potential it has to change the market — and I am in full support of any shopping aid that aims to trend more toward reselling. Because, truthfully, prioritizing thrifting instead of shopping at another new production store is the real revolution here. Beni’s underlying mission is to encourage users to begin shopping second-hand where they otherwise would’ve purchased a newly manufactured garment. They tout that by using Beni, “...you’re helping to keep garments we’ve spent so many resources to create in their most valuable state for as long as possible and you’re simultaneously reducing demand for new products to be made. By giving a new life to these clothes, you’re keeping items out of the landfill and participating in the circular economy.” Sustainability in fashion has been a hot-button issue for decades now (and it’s one that I have written about many times over the course of my career), but the issue has recently seemed to have reached a fever pitch in reaction to the prevalence of fast-fashion mega-monsters like SHEIN and Temu. Consumers are sick and tired of poor quality, cheaply made, disposable clothes. I spoke with Lakyn Carlton, the stylist who first introduced me to the Beni platform, about her experience with this developing shopping pattern. She said that: “...it really just boils down to being able to access really good clothes. So much of the new clothes that are most accessible are just so cheaply made, even by brands that have historically been better quality like the J. Crews and Gaps of the world… [So,] If you’re willing to wait a bit and search for even a couple minutes, you can get so much high quality stuff — even luxury — at your fingertips.” She continued by saying that, truthfully, “...it’s really never been easier to find what you want, for a good price, ethically and sustainably. And it’ll only get easier as more people start using and promoting tools like Beni or Gem and, ideally, rescuing more clothes from landfills and giving them a second life.” As bleak as the landscape of mass production and consumerism may seem, there is still a flickering flame of hope in the shape of platforms like Beni — lighting our way towards a more responsible and sustainable future. All we have to do is shop. Kaitlin Owens is a vintage fashion writer, movie buff, lover of good eats, and a women’s size 7.5 (if any shoe brands are reading). She is the Editor-in-Chief of Dilettante Magazine. You can find her on socials @magdilettante.

How The RealReal duped everyone with dupes. What would you select if you closed your eyes and picked items for your dream closet? Maybe you’re not pretentious with your style and simply want good basics, but when it comes to the status symbol of a luxury bag, many are desperate to have one dangling from their arms. From Chanels to Fendis to the ever-loved Birkins, it’s easy to get caught up in the glitz and glamour of the fashion world — particularly when these items are plastered all over the Internet. With the aspiration to look wealthy and the growing adoration of dupe culture, the world of designer bags has quickly become filled with more and more frauds. Luxury reseller The RealReal is collaborating with creative company Mythology to combat this by educating consumers in a fun way, rather than blaring police sirens and telling fake purse purchasers that they’re committing a crime. The first step of this process was to create a fake storefront in the capital of designer dupes: Canal Street in New York City. While every corner of the city is filled with people setting up tarps and showing off their mass-produced faux designer items, Canal Street is where designer dupes are often made and sold. The storefront itself is an installation, an illusion of a store — and bags in the window will never be sold for two reasons. The first is obvious: that the store isn’t functional. The second is because each bag displayed is a fake, confiscated during The RealReal’s authentication process. Ted Galpern, a partner and director of retail at Mythology spoke about this storefront in the press release, saying: “Every passerby must do a double-take, questioning the reality of our store, much like they would when judging a handbag’s authenticity. Our message is unequivocal: while others might not know your bag is fake, you do.” The fact you’re aware that your bag is a fake has been the prime argument as to why you shouldn’t purchase one. This was even seen in Sex and the City, when Samantha purchased a fake Fendi in L.A. from the trunk of a car — but later, as she and Carrie drove into the Valley to purchase more, Carrie stared into the trunk of lonely bags knowing that while everyone else would believe hers was a real Fendi, she would know it was a fake. However, the issue with dupe bags isn’t just the fakeness of it all. Designer dupes contain far more harm than simply marking the owner as a poser. Counterfeits are often produced in the same vein as fast fashion, using unethical labor laws and materials that harm the environment. According to The RealReal, some fake items have even been traced back to cartels and other crime syndicates. And who wants a Dior that might be funding illegal firearms, narcotics, or even terrorism? Along with these issues that unveil a seedy underbelly to dupes, it’s the obvious infringement of intellectual property that can make many creatives cringe. Some “dupe” items on the Internet focus on finding similar products for more affordable prices — these purses, however, are carbon copies of the originals and passed off under the same name, which undercuts the work of both designers and artisans. So the next time you get a hankering for the cheaper option of the exact bag you want, consider that fake bags have a real impact on people and the environment. If you happen to be in New York and a dupe bag is staring down at you from your closet right now, turn it in at The RealReal’s Canal Street store to be entered in a raffle and receive the real deal. 🌀 Sydney Yeager is a fashion writer and content creator who explores luxury fashion and trends with the gaze of how it can be accessible to the everyday consumer. As much as she adores avant-garde fashion, elegant and feminine looks will always have her heart, this is seen in both her writing and on her Instagram @sydselegantfinds.

Fashion’s most basic piece is making bold headlines. But what does its second life tell us about dressing itself? As I watched Doja Cat slink down the Met Gala carpet in her revealing Vetements look, my mind spiraled. She’s wearing a T-shirt!!! Is she wearing a T-shirt? Huh, she is wearing a T-shirt. I must be missing something, I thought. Maybe the whole thing is made of ceramic? Or crystals? But no, just an ungodly amount of hair gel. Was it innovative? Too off-theme? Cool? Two months later, I still can’t land on a firm conclusion. What I can say, with absolute confidence, is that Vetements’s creative director Guram Gvasalia made a bold runway choice with what is perhaps the safest garment in fashion. Ask anyone — a stylist, a celebrity, your friend from work, your dad — for their absolute closet must-have and they’ll likely say the same thing: a solid white T-shirt. It’s classic, comfortable, and versatile. In today’s world of the Y2K-obsessed public and the borderline straight-out-of-the-Capital-in-the-Hunger-Games runway realm, the white T-shirt is the great equalizer. It can be $10 or $9,100 — yes, Bottega Veneta actually sells a plain white tee for that much and hurry, there’s only one extra-small left! While the white T-shirt is many things, it is almost never striking or courageous. But recently, it has been appearing on runways outside of its usual parameters; not as a base but as the piece. Doja Cat’s look was bold because it wasn’t bold. She stood out because, in a sea of extravagance, she wore something designed to blend in. And she wasn’t the only one. Charli XCX also appeared at fashion’s biggest event in a white T-shirt dress. From a distance, her custom Marni gown, designed by Francesco Risso, appeared to be a delicate white mermaid dress embellished with sequins and beads. But upon closer inspection, the wispy fabric is a collage of vintage T-shirts, carefully stitched together in an ode to the 360 singer’s punk style. “Francesco and I both liked the idea of taking the most simple item—the white T-shirt—and building something extravagant from it,” Charli told Vogue. Lucie Bouteille, a vintage store owner from Paris, agrees with the singer’s sentiment. “I love when brands rework basics because there’s always a new twist,” she told me. She also emphasized the functionality of rudimentary garments. “You can be stylish and practical and not hurt when you wear it.” Not only did Charli look cool, she looked comfortable. Unlike Tyla, who had to be carried up the carpet stairs, and Kim Kardashian, whose tiny corset gave me second-hand breathing problems, Charli’s look offered a sense of relatability. For those who didn’t tune in on the first Monday in May, it was hard to miss the moment Anne Hathaway broke the internet with her Gap T-shirt dress, designed by Zac Posen. The actress stunned at a Bulgari event in an elevated version of a white button-down, which is itself an elevated version of the white T-shirt. “Designing this custom white shirt dress was an exciting opportunity to reimagine Gap's classic white shirt,” Posen said in a press release. And the public agreed. An almost identical version of the gown, going for only $158, sold out in minutes on the Gap website. So what is it about this timeless garment that’s sparking intrigue? One theory, proposed by my friend Ali, a vintage seller based in East London, is that after two decades of logomania and over-the-top fashion, we crave simplicity. This rings true when we consider 2023’s quiet luxury trend — think Gwyneth Paltrow’s courtroom chic and Succession’s final season — characterized by timeless pieces, neutral colors, and a lack of insignia. From a creativity standpoint, a return to basics can push the boundaries of one’s artistry. To take something as timeless as a solid white T-shirt and reimagine it to represent the zeitgeist is, in some ways, more philosophically inspiring than creating something totally new. “You have all these people working in the fashion industry, trying to be eclectic, forcing it,” Ali told me. And while he wasn’t a fan of Doja Cat’s Met look, believing it was inspired more by her nipples than a desire to reinvent a modern classic, he recognizes why it stood out. It was more relatable to the average person than a gown embellished with 2.8 million beads that took over 13,500 hours to craft. While I admire the intricate craftsmanship of Gigi Hadid’s look, and I adore Thom Browne, it made me conscious of the fact that I was sitting in my friend’s apartment, watching the Vogue livestream on a second-hand television; that only an act of divine intervention would welcome me into the elite world of celebrities and haute-couture. But anyone can rock a white T-shirt. 🌀 Julia Gordon is a budding journalist based in New York, and sometimes Chicago, and sometimes South Florida. She is obsessed with finding the perfect pair of baggy jeans and geeks out over curating hyper-specific Spotify playlists. She covers all things fashion and personal style on her own Substack Wear it Well.

Is it art? Is it marketing? Is it simply the feminine instinct to gather? A townhouse. A bowl of cherries. An autumn forest. A lace bralette. An open book. A mid-century lamp. A green drink. Retro sunglasses. Silver jewellery. A cobblestoned street. A classic film still. Ralph Lauren Fall 1996. Desaturated. Sparkling. Pink or brown-hued. Sometimes I think about how there used to be no images. Or not no images, but very few images. Images were rare. A painting in your home. A tintype photograph of your parents. A single weatherworn postcard. You couldn’t take an image from the internet and place it in your real life. We don’t even really do this now. The images we harbour online still exist in our phones, first and foremost. Even when we lay claim to it – by saving, or screenshotting, or pinning, or re-sharing – the image is never held in real life. It's intangible. We could print them out, but who needs to print something out when it's already in the palm of your hand – forever? It’s not at all a new phenomenon, but in the last few years, there has been a proliferation of online content that essentially boils down to mood-boarding, i.e. gathering these digital images into collages and compositions. The earliest use of the phrase ‘mood board’ is dated to the 1980s by the Oxford Dictionary, but the concept of gathering several images into one is eternal. In “From Ancient to Digital Mood Boards and AI,” Guy Adam Ailion argues that “mood boarding” has been practised since Ancient Egypt. Traditionally mood boards are physical boards, constructed to be hung on a wall, usually with images and words cut out from magazines. A mood board is often used to convey an idea, feeling, or aspiration about a theme or subject: shabby chic weddings, a television show character, “career goals”, a fashion brand ethos, or your dream house on the Oregon coast. As Ailion writes, “...mood boards might be defined as a generalised visual representation or evocation of a thing,” but crucially are not that thing itself. Mood boards can represent “tangible things like a physical product” (a S/S collection, a perfume, a music video), but they can also represent “something more ephemeral, for the purpose of evoking a mood.” Any niche trend you can think of has been distilled into a digital mood board, from mainstream to esoteric to bizarre. The mood boards we see online today are often intangible in theme, or have no decided theme. Increasingly we seem to be mood boarding life itself – but never our own lives; the Tiktok video portraying life in the American West – dusty mornings, jean shorts and vintage cars – set to a Lana Del Rey song; the Instagram feeds of Kate Moss, Basquiat paintings, artfully arranged seafood and niche perfumes; the four-photo tweet with a selfie of Hailey Bieber, workout gear, a bathroom sink and a shopping cart of green and pink pickings. These compositions are devoid of any logic but still contain an interior architecture of desire and idealisation. Pinterest is the mother of online mood boarding. It is an application fully dedicated to the saving and sharing of images that one did not create oneself. It is an arena of identity construction through images completely unrelated to one’s life. Why the hell do we do it? And why do we spend so much time and effort on this activity? Is it simply an extension of the feminine instinct to gather? The creation act involved in mood boarding is not a matter of skill, but taste. It is editorial. It is refining one’s personal taste, in a shareable manner. In a world that is constantly insisting we consume more, more, more, couldn't mood boarding be considered a form of sustainable consumerism? It is normal, and good, to feel an affinity with certain images, it is how we interact with art, but I wonder if the collective aspect of mood boarding devalues our relationship to individual images. I think of a comment I saw on a Tiktok post compiling clips of ‘Washington summer’; “Sometimes I forget this isn’t Pinterest and they continued their conversations after recording this, that jump into the lake was one of many and we only see these few seconds.” Is mood boarding actually then a form of escapism that disillusions us from real life? – even the reality of the lives being idealised, as pointed out about Western America by Rose McMackin and Los Angeles by Paula Luengo. In her 2014 essay ‘Tweens: Youth, Culture and Media,” scholar Renata Tomaz argues that Modernity allowed the individual to “...try new ways of being in the world.” Because there was no longer a set identity, borne of family or place or purpose, the individual was cursed with the freedom of self. Tomaz writes that “[t]he question then is not about who one is, but who one can become and how to become someone.” There is no place for self-actualisation like the Internet. To put on and take off identities, personalities, interests, and styles with no cost at all and by simply lifting a pointer finger. This has generally been considered an advantage of the Internet. I’d argue it is not. It feeds an instinct that has been trained in us from marketing executives. You can create a “self” and a “space” for that self, with none of it being real at all. One can suddenly identify with items, places, and people that do not extend past images. It is an identity that does not exist. You do not own these things, or often even the images that represent them. Tomaz writes that in the 1980s — the same time in which the phrase “mood board” came about — “the mass media began offering symbolic material for identity construction.” This came with discovering the success of selling a product by way of lifestyle, ahead of the qualities or uses of a product. Fragrance is the perfect example of this. Perfume ads are famously abstract and cinematic, featuring Hot People, with little actual focus on the product. Tomaz says that with the advancement of Modernity and media culture, “Everyone can take ownership of images, attitudes and appearances readily available.” Exactly what a lot of digital moodboarding does is construct an idea of a lifestyle out of products — an Erewhon smoothie, a Diptyque perfume, a soft rock album. In this way, mood boarding can act as a way for the masses to play pretend with mascots of wealth and their belongings. So-called it-girls are commonly featured in digital moodboards: Bella Hadid, Kate Moss, Sharon Tate, Naomi Campbell, Audrey Hepburn, Carrie Bradshaw, Gisele Bundchen, Adriana Lima, or Hailey Bieber. Tomaz writes that “Without traditional references, individuals invest heavily in projects of the inner self. Absent from experiences, they rely on the experts offered by increasingly specialised systems. Thus, experts teach how to live and choose in a world where freedom and autonomy go from privilege to responsibility.” These it-girls become our experts and the projects of the inner self play out through online image coalescence. The area of expertise is not necessarily hair, fashion, beauty, or home anymore, but life itself. Mood boarding is perhaps a sustainable form of consumption, but this consumption is still a temporary pleasure. It fails to bring real meaning to our lives. There is also a gendered aspect to mood boarding. They are most often made by and for women and seek to illustrate an unattainable ideal of person and life — down to the minutiae of how one holds a coffee cup or what toothpaste one uses. Only women are expected, and taught, to pay this much attention to their image in the world. (But that will have to be elaborated on in its own essay!) There is definitely a skill displayed and practised through mood boarding, but it should not be mistaken for creation or real identity building. I’m not saying we need to abandon our Pinterest boards or bookmarked tweets. Mood boards can be instrumental as a starting point for a creative process, and they can work as motivation for building the lives we desire. And, if one is to consider it an art form, it is a very democratic one in that it can be performed by anyone. In the worlds of fashion, art, and architecture mood boards are bread and butter. But the proliferation of digital mood boarding is still symptomatic of our times. The increasing popularity of the practice is not coincidental. It can disillusion us with the reality of others and life itself. Remember there’s always less to the mood board than meets the eye. 🌀 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).

A mini-history of circus chic and campy styling. An early memory of live entertainment for myself and many others is the circus. When the circus came around every year, I had to concentrate on avoiding the clowns and keeping my head down. It wasn’t until I was seated that I felt safe enough to look up and invest in the fantasy environment. My favorites have always been the acrobats — they had the best costumes and the most elegant act. The bling of the leotards and embellishments of the completed look made the acrobats look like punk-inspired ballerinas. When the carnival made its way to America in 1793, it ballooned up throughout the 19th century and became the country’s most popular form of entertainment by the early 1900s. The circus was the runway for popular American consumerist attractions yet to come, like amusement parks and shopping malls. As its mass entertainment appeal grew, so did its dream-logic costuming. Circus costumes can be categorized by their structure, assembly, ornamentation, and fantasy. Carnivalesque design was a deliberate stray away from everyday society at the time — evoking curiosity and pleasure from its audience. French author, designer, and historian Pascal Jacob wrote: “To establish its own visual language, the circus relies on five powerful and synthesized archetypal figures, developed and defined over a little less than a century to date, between 1770 and 1860.” Those archetypal figures are the ringmaster, the clown, the horsewoman, the acrobat, and the tamer. (The leotard and the tutu are two contemporary styling items popularized in these archetypes.) These base figures evolved into other circus characters like the bearded lady, the tightrope walker, the mystic, and so on. The continual rise of the circus-as-cultural-touchstone offered more material for not just circus-based designers — it became a stimulus for creatives all over the world. The diverse collection of designs and the vivid imagery of this attraction were potent inspirational material. The circus made its way to haute couture, too — notably in Elsa Schiaparelli’s 1938 carnival-themed collection, bringing circuswear to the rest of society. Schiaparelli’s collection at the time was pure spectacle: loud, radical, and blinged-out, featuring acrobat buttons, ostrich pendants, and embroidered show animals. The collection of circus motifs was described as the most disorderly and chaotic fashion show that Paris had ever seen at the time. Despite initial shocked reactions, Schiaparelli’s circus collection was picked up by American department stores like Bergdorf Goodman and made accessible to everyday people. While Americans were receptive to carnival attire, Europeans did not have the same affection for the style. The American sartorial character, like many other things in America, is big and extravagant. Not so much extravagant like a ballgown, but extravagant in our ways of consumerism. After World War II, the revival of the economy put materialism into drive and the nation has stayed fast on that road ever since. Post-Schiaparelli shock, circus chic made its way back to the runway some 60 years later in John Galliano’s Spring/Summer 1997 collection for Dior. While other collections made slight allusions to Schiaparelli’s groundbreaking carnival-inspired couture, Galliano took it to the next level. Extravagant feathers, loud colors, and blinding sparkles defined Galliano’s collection, all while being showcased in a big-top setting.  The collection reprised the feelings of Schiaparelli’s decades-old work, bringing it back to life with the wave of a wand. Amy M. Spindler, the style editor of the New York Times at the time, wrote “It seemed a combination of his [Galliano] marriage to the right house and at last getting the knack of bringing into line the troublesome ateliers, beaders, featherers and other razzle-dazzlers needed for a couture show to be a hit. Mr. Galliano's show was a credit to himself, to Mr. Dior, whose name is on the door, and to the future of the art, which is always in question.” Circus chic soon enough slipped off the runway and into popular culture — especially in music. In 2008, Britney Spears made a comeback with her hit song and album Circus, embodying the ringmaster aesthetic. Britney’s take on the ringmaster was traditional, with vibrant red-and-blue coloring, gold embellishments, and a structured-and-tailored ringmistress jacket. Dior’s Spring/Summer 2019 Couture collection is also circus-coded — but modernized and made accessible for modern audiences. This collection featured less color and overall felt less chaotic and overstuffed with motifs. It was a darker side of circus chic, with more of an appeal to everyday, wearable, event-ready fashion. The collection still featured the structure and assembly signature in circus costumes, as well as a combination of different textures and patterns to create a more curious look (accompanied by traditional circus makeup). Just like Britney in 2008, carnivalesque style inspo is still being used today, elevated to new levels. Chappell Roan, specifically, has been featured in many photoshoots in drag-influenced circus chic — like in Polyester Zine’s September 2023 issue or in Paper Magazine’s June 2024 issue. Her style goes back to the original imagery of the circus — funky, radical, and frilly. Roan’s persona follows the path of “freak shows,” with very exaggerated elements across hair, makeup, and outfit. Paired with her stylist Genesis Webb, Chappell has taken influence from drag makeup and performance as well, adding to the campiness of her looks. Gunnar Deatherage and Marie Monique are two designers Chappell and Genesis have worked with to create Chappell’s Jimmy Fallon white swan dress look and her Statue of Liberty Governor’s Ball look. As for the everyday individual (like myself!), I take certain elements of circus costuming into my everyday styling approach — like the mismatch of colors and patterns; clothing items defined by their structure; and unique ornamentation such as tons of ribbons and sewn-on sequins. DIY beaded embroidery is having a huge moment, too. The Damson Madder collared blouse reminds me of distant carnival inspiration. The over-exaggerated structured collars paired with bright and bulky collars are all elements of classic carnivalesque style. Despite its eccentric connotations, circus chic has found popular acceptance online. Popular fashion creator Clara Perlmutter started a YouTube interview series in 2024 called Clarafied. In Episode 001, she interviewed Erika, a nanny by day and professional clown by night. Clara and Erika work together to bring Erika’s circus clown attire into her everyday wear with funky patterns and an assortment of embellishments — like thick belts, furry material, and even suspenders. Whether we recognize it or not, circus chic has been integrated into design for many years. Anyone who takes a risk with outrageous and campy design is paying homage to the circus — and the thousands of artists that came before them who embraced their inner “freak.” My favorite thing about fashion and creating style is that we can pull from anywhere, from the high-swinging acrobats to the creepy clowns that traumatized us as children. 🌀 Macy Berendsen is a writer based in Chicago. She can be found online at @macyberendsen.