Search Results

Their logoless, retro-inspired, 100% cotton basics are designed for the conscious athlete. Tennis whites in New Rochelle and East Hampton. Loose linen pants designed for 10 AM yoga and 11 AM brunch at Sant Ambroeus. White-trimmed, pristine basketball shorts paired with beat-up sneakers, or, for the contrast obsessive, patent leather ballet flats. For the past year, athleisure has oscillated into old-but-make-it-new territory: comfortable, simple garments, made from premium fabrics, built for your body to breathe, move, and live in, free of plastic and pretense.  The brand doing it the best, naturally, is H-O-R-S-E , the brainchild of Herbs for Relaxation  founder Sue Williamson . Made in California, the über-soft brand harkens back to midcentury athletic wear with vintage silhouettes to boot — I was first introduced to H-O-R-S-E when I spied the perfect popped collar polo sweatshirt  on a woman in my Pilates class. “We were active outside. We moved our bodies with the simple goal of wellbeing,” writes Williamson. “And we wore loose-fitting clothes made from natural fibers — not plastic.”  This interview has been edited for length and clarity. SAVANNAH EDEN BRADLEY: You've had a rich career in fashion editorial. What inspired the leap into creating your own athleticwear line, and how have your past experiences shaped H-O-R-S-E? SUE WILLIAMSON:  I have always dreamed of having my own line — I actually started out in fashion school at Pratt — but it was never the right idea at the right time. I really started H-O-R-S-E out of a personal need. I was cleaning up my diet and home cleaning supplies and realized a lot of my clothing, especially workout clothing, was made of synthetic materials that have been linked to PFAS and other things that are not so great for our health. I started searching for cool, loose, but not sloppy activewear made out of natural materials, and couldn’t find anything that suited my style or specifications. My past experience has been so key for H-O-R-S-E. I learned so much in my time as an editor, getting up close and personal with designers and clothes. And as a brand consultant, I've gotten to learn the do's and don'ts of business that I could not have learned anywhere else. Even my internship knowledge has come in handy from my days in magazine fashion closets! I learned very quickly to have a "no job is too small" attitude and that comes in handy every day.  SEB: On a more specific note: how has your time at Herbs for Relaxation informed the founding and launch of H-O-R-S-E? SW: Herbs for Relaxation is still such a special project for me and something that’s taught me so much! The biggest lesson I learned from Herbs has been that if you make something you really believe in, you’ll find a community who believes in it, too. It gave me the confidence to think big with H-O-R-S-E and take it from something I was making just for myself and my boyfriend and turn it into a real brand.  SEB: I love that the brand's designs nod to P.E. uniforms and vintage sportswear. What eras, touchstones, and personal memories have influenced the brand's aesthetic? How is your own style reflected in the work that you’re doing? SW: Thank you! The earliest inspirations were actual P.E. uniforms I sourced on eBay and some old gym clothes of my dad’s from the ‘70s. He had these old cotton basketball shorts — very tiny! — from his college, Florida State, and my sister and I were always stealing them. I love old '70s basketball style, I love the look of a short short with a Converse High-Top, I love simple colors and ringer tees. The look is just very classic and cool — never too done. I love old public service videos, old P.E. videos, and old Richard Simmons videos. My personal style definitely influenced these pieces. I was trying to make something I wanted to wear but couldn’t find. I just want to feel comfortable and put together, which is a hard combination to hit. I wanted to make something beautiful and classic that you could throw on and just know you’re going to look and feel good. Basically, I wanted to make no-brainer clothes that didn’t feel thoughtless. SEB:  In an era dominated by synthetic activewear, what challenges and benefits have you encountered by choosing 100% cotton and natural materials? SW: The biggest challenge in making clothes from cotton is, by far, the price. Oh my gosh, once I saw the price of 100% cotton fabrics and making the clothes in America, I understood why so few people do it. It’s definitely more expensive than the alternative, but to me, it’s worth it.  There are so many benefits, including softness and quality. The fabrics are SO soft. Another benefit has been being able to rethink what activewear looks like outside of the standard bra-legging sets. H-O-R-S-E pieces are really a marriage of the fabrics and silhouettes that help them shine. The shorts, for example, have a bit of a flare in the legs, so you get optimal airflow through them as you run, work out, do Pilates, whatever. They really work together that way. SEB: Current Kit offerings — shorts, a tee, and a sweatshirt — are radically minimalist and, crucially, logo-less. That's a bold decision in such a brand-centric athleticwear market. What motivated this choice, and how do you believe it impacts the wearer's experience? SW: I got so much pushback on this as I was working on it, but not having a logo was so important to me. First, I really designed these from the customer’s perspective. If you want workout clothing with a logo on it, that already exists. But logoless cotton clothes can be hard to find. Some people don’t want to be a billboard for your brand. I get that, and I also feel that way.  Second: I really wanted the kit to be timeless, classic, and easy to pair back with items you already have. When I was working on them, I didn’t just think: What would make someone buy this piece?  I was thinking: What’s going to make them keep it?  I think logos can make things less versatile, and date the piece, and I don’t want these to end up in landfills just because the logo or font or whatever doesn’t look cool anymore.  SEB: The name H-O-R-S-E evokes nostalgia for a simpler time in physical fitness. How do you see the brand contributing to a broader conversation about the state of wellness today? SW: Like a lot of people, I’ve been on my own journey of trying to figure out what wellness looks like for me. The wellness industry is massive and crowded and complicated, and I’ve truly tried everything, both as an editor and as a consumer. Over the past few years, I’ve found myself veering away from the more commoditized version of wellness and more towards movement of any sort — as much as I can every day. I’m trying to listen to my body and push it using more time-tested movements like running, swimming, lifting, yoga, hiking, et cetera. It’s why I’m so interested in P.E. class, too. Getting outside in a park and doing push-ups, jumping jacks, and jogging is so good for you. Even better with a friend or group of friends! Why do we make it so complicated? I’d love to get more into this concept as the brand grows. SEB: How do you envision H-O-R-S-E evolving in the next five years? Are there specific silhouettes, mediums, or ideas you’re excited to explore in the future? SW: I’m excited to work with wool for the colder months and winter sports, and natural waterproofing that doesn’t involve Teflon. There are so many silhouettes I’m playing with right now, but I definitely want to grow the line slowly and thoughtfully.  SEB:  Lastly: what advice would you give to yourself one year ago? SW: “Prepare for success!” I’m really risk-averse and try to prepare for worst-case scenarios, but I often forget to prepare for things to go really well, which they so often do. 🌀 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 .

Dossier’s dupes have disrupted NYC’s niche fragrance district. In Nolita in early April, a “coming soon” sign popped up in a storefront on Elizabeth Street announcing the opening of a new perfume store. This is not an unusual occurrence in the area, which is colloquially known as “Perfume Alley” due to the concentration of fragrance retailers located there. Le Labo  was the first perfume store to open on Elizabeth Street, back in 2006, followed soon after by Aesop  and Diptyque . Over the years, more retailers moved into the area: Scent Bar , D.S. & Durga , Olfactory NYC , Osswald , Naxos Apothecary , Elorea , and Mizensir . Stéle  opened their second location on Mott Street at the end of 2024; Commodity  opened around the same time, and Granado , a Brazilian outfit, opened on Spring Street a couple of months ago. The neighborhood has grown into a veritable perfume shopping paradise. Typically, the opening of a new store would be a cause for celebration for fragrance enthusiasts, but this one may be controversial. The new store is the first physical location for Dossier , a company that mainly (though not exclusively) sells what are commonly known as fragrance “dupes.”  A dupe is a fragrance meant to replicate the scent of another, a sort of “smell-alike” of a popular (usually expensive) perfume. Dupes are not a new phenomenon. Dossier is the Gen Z successor to earlier brands such as Designer Imposters , a company founded in 1981 whose fragrances come in towering cans labeled with the phrase, "If you like ___,  you'll love ___" (e.g. "If you like Giorgio , you'll love PRIMO" or "If you like Obsession , you'll love CONFESS"). Dupes are a contentious topic in the fragrance community. Some defend them as an affordable way for people to try scents that would otherwise be prohibitively expensive, or just a smart hack for those who want to save money. Others believe they exploit the labor and creativity of people working in the fragrance industry, opportunistically capitalizing on successful works of fragrant art. Since fragrance formulas are not protected by copyright or patent laws, they are uniquely exploitable in the luxury goods market — there is no legal mechanism to stop Dossier or any other company from recreating a particular fragrance and selling their own version of it.  Fragrance has been used to indicate class status for hundreds (and even thousands) of years. Perfumes made with costly, imported materials were an important status indicator for European aristocrats. Following advancements in chemistry and manufacturing, personal fragrances were made commercially available to people outside of the nobility. “Taste” and “appropriateness,” shaped by the values of the dominant classes, emerged as standards for judging a fragrance’s aesthetic value. Fragrance continues to be an indicator of cultural capital to this day, signaling that one understands what to purchase in order to convey good taste, trendiness, and status. In an era when perfume consumption has absolutely exploded , good taste is more socially important than ever, with an unending array of options to choose from — and the ability to edit and curate has an even greater importance than in the past. As a dupe company, Dossier essentially operates as a curator of the wider fragrance industry. The fragrances they choose to dupe have already been “pre-vetted” for popularity and wide appeal, winnowing down consumer options to the scents that already have a degree of approval from Gen Z tastemakers. Thus, Dossier presents an array of smells to the consumer that mimic fashionable tastes while circumventing the actual material investment required to purchase a particular luxury fragrance (you can buy Dossier’s Floral Marshmallow  and smell the same as someone wearing Kilian’s Love Don’t Be Shy  for about $200 less, for example). Essentially, we’re looking at one facet of taste: authenticity. When considering authenticity as a sign of taste, a name-brand product is typically considered distinct; a knock-off or generic product is considered vulgar. This is as true for breakfast cereal as it is for fragrance. However, the brilliance of Dossier from a branding perspective is that they have managed to sidle up to authentic, brand-name luxury while also repudiating it, thus sidestepping this accusation of vulgarity. They justify their business model with an appeal to equity couched in the language of social justice, rejecting the luxury fragrance industry as a system that exploits consumers, proclaiming: “We believe that access to premium fragrances shouldn’t be a privilege for just the 1%, but the norm for all.” Dossier describes their fragrances as fair-priced, claiming that they offer lower prices because they don’t add the unjustified markup that designer and niche brands use to generate massive profits. The extent to which this is true is, of course, up for debate. The retail price of a luxury fragrance can be many times the cost of its ingredients, but there are other costs incurred to bring a fragrance to market aside from the materials used to make it. By copying existing fragrances, Dossier profits from the creative labor of the perfumers whose fragrance formulas they copy and the work that others in the industry put into marketing and building a customer base for their fragrances, thereby avoiding incurring those costs themselves.  Blending moral signaling into their marketing language positions Dossier as an ethical disruptor. Their value prop to customers is that Dossier’s products are high quality and desirable, just like the luxury niche brands’ — and they smell the same, so buying them is a smart, cool choice: you have good taste, understand luxury, and you’re maybe a little subversive, too. This opens up a pathway to a new consumer relationship with the concept of authenticity, where finding the perfect replica of an expensive fragrance becomes a status symbol rivaling owning the real thing. Parallels exist elsewhere in high-end fashion, for example: “superfake” handbags mimicking luxury designs with exacting precision have become a status symbol in their own right, a sign that one is familiar enough with the markers of the original to know what will convince even the most discerning audience that it is  the original. Dossier also integrates the language and character of the fragrance community into their products. The Dossier customer is presumed to have some knowledge of fragrance that a casual buyer may not. The company promotes the fact that their fragrances are produced in Grasse, France, the epicenter of luxury fragrance production — a fact that would be apparent to a fraghead but not necessarily to someone only casually interested in fragrance. Dossier’s naming convention for their fragrances repurposes the jargon used to describe fragrances, accords, or notes, “Ambery Saffron”  or “Woody Sandalwood,” for example. For the fraghead who is immersed in the world of perfume, these descriptive names will immediately click and provide a very basic understanding of how the fragrance will smell (if they are not already familiar with the original version Dossier is duping), essentially operating as a sort of shorthand for someone literate in the language of fragrance notes. For the uninitiated, the descriptive name serves as an educational tool — one will learn over time what “ambery” smells like from repeated exposure (presuming the customer buys more than one Dossier fragrance of that type). The descriptive names also position each of Dossier’s fragrances as a type  of perfume, part of a continuum or an aggregation of similar fragrances, subtly deemphasizing that it is a copy of a specific product. And Dossier is correct to point out that numerous “ambery saffron” fragrances are very close to the scent of Maison Francis Kurkdjian’s Baccarat Rouge 540  — essentially, the distinction between other fragrances that capture this scent profile and theirs is that Dossier explicitly calls out that their Ambery Saffron smells like Baccarat Rouge 540. Dossier also co-opts the minimalist luxury styling conventions of trendy niche brands like Byredo  with their packaging — each fragrance is housed in rounded glass and labeled with an attractive sans-serif font, ideal for posting on Instagram. Dossier’s decision to open their first physical store in the specific location they chose feels very intentional. It is located next to Scent Bar, where many of the original fragrances they copy can be purchased. There are, of course, purely economic reasons for Dossier to open here (it’s likely to have a high concentration of people who want to buy perfume because of the cluster of existing fragrance stores, so presumably they have a ready-made customer base). However, and perhaps more importantly, their location is socially tactful, as Nolita is the center of the local perfume hobbyist scene in New York — a place where people interested in perfume meet, socialize, and network. Many of the stores there serve as third spaces for the fragrance community, and it’s not uncommon to see sales associates and others in the industry socializing off-duty at an event in another shop. Choosing this area to open their first store is an attempt to further embed Dossier’s brand within fraghead culture. Previously, dupe brands were typically sold in humble locations — the bottom shelf at a drugstore or in a big box outlet like Walmart. Opening an independent boutique in Nolita distances Dossier from the downmarket status of past dupe brands. Dossier’s move to Elizabeth Street allows it to profit from the area’s cachet without contributing to it. In the same way they mine the creativity and business acumen of other companies by copying their products, they’ve wormed their way into their physical realm to further eat away at their business (“Why buy the $300 fragrance at Scent Bar when you can come to us right next door  and get the same scent for $50?”). The existing businesses worked to build the area into the destination that it is today, and now Dossier is coming in to capitalize on it.  It may be easy to suggest that Dossier moving into Perfume Alley is a sign that fragrance culture has reached its saturation point and is cooked. The ever-burgeoning industry has been copying itself for decades now and growing into a model where the primary directive is hyperconsumerism, so why not throw a dupe store right next to the biggest multi-brand niche retailer in the area? After all, trend cycles have always existed in fragrance. Angel by Mugler , released in 1992, started a trend for “fruitchouli” scents — characterized by floral and fruity notes atop an earthy, mossy base. The trend gained steam throughout the 2000s and became a dominant style for women’s fragrances for over a decade. Luxury brands such as Chanel , Dior , and Viktor&Rolf  all launched their own versions of the fruitchouli fragrance. The trend eventually trickled down from the luxury fragrance market to affordable brands such as Britney Spears , saturating the market at all price points. Perhaps today’s dupes are just an extension of this phenomenon. Dossier presents a version of fragrance artistry that is prepackaged — the "important" scents have been curated for easy consumption. But the shops in the fragrance district can offer endless options to experience fragrance beyond what does numbers on TikTok, hidden gems from independent and niche artisans that a fellow fraghead or studied sales associate can uncover for you. In the fragrance community, niche fragrances signify a particular type of cachet — an awareness of lesser-known brands and artisans that indicates seriousness and expertise similar to how knowledge of obscure bands functions for record collectors or awareness of unknown authors operates for people in literary scenes. This expertise extends into knowledge of the perfumers behind the fragrances and the history and evolution of the fragrance industry. It is a type of embodied cultural capital that can only be obtained through study and time. It’s not surprising that the people I’m acquainted with who know the most about fragrance and have the best-curated collections are highly educated museum and arts professionals — the same skills that are required to understand and “consume” a work of visual art are transferable to analyzing a perfume as a work of olfactory art. Recently, Stéle, a fragrance shop located a few blocks away from the new Dossier store, hosted an exhibit in partnership with the fragrance manufacturing company Givaudan , where visitors could smell and select raw materials used in perfumery alongside fragrances specifically created for the event composed with those materials, none of which were for sale. Jake, the co-founder of Stéle, noted that the people gathered together weren’t there to buy anything — he quickly added the caveat that of course he wants and needs people to buy fragrances from the store, but sales are not the primary motivator for Stéle’s events — they’re truly for supporting a community of people with a common interest in fragrance, who appreciate it as an art form. Although fragrance collecting is typically a hobby focused on consumption, it doesn’t have to be — having physical spaces to gather and smell things without the necessity of making a purchase is one of the ways this can be facilitated. Essentially, Stéle’s space operates as the locus of the fragrance community, which is composed not just of consumers but of perfumers, industry professionals, creators, and writers. As someone who lives and socializes in proximity to Perfume Alley, I tend to assume that, because the shops in this area serve as third spaces for me and people like me, we are the primary denizens of this place. The first time I walked by the Dossier store, I thought, “That’s for tourists.” Maybe Dossier will hold events and become part of the local fragrance community (I’m sure they’ll at least have some sort of influencer-focused “activation” when they finally open), and maybe they won’t. Maybe they will become a highlight of the grand tour of the perfume district — a must-stop location for tourists and locals alike. While Dossier’s move into Nolita may signal that the saturation and “fast fashion-ification” of the wider fragrance industry has hit the local market, the NYC community will continue to come together to champion fragrance as an art form. 🌀 Quinn MacRorie lives and works in New York City. She writes about olfactory aesthetics and culture on her Substack, SMELL WORLD .

TikTokification continues to stifle creativity and siphon the joy out of experiencing makeup.    You’re all clones. Before you get mad at me, I’ll go ahead and attribute the quote to a New York City-based content creator known as Sasha . In 2024, she took to TikTok to lament that the eponymous app has “ruined the vibe.” She denounced the slicked-back buns and sunglasses setting up camp in whatever restaurant TikTok told them was cool. I have noticed that modern beauty trends are following a similar, overtrodden path. Everyone has the same fluffy brows, lifted concealer, overlined lips, and ultradewy skin, all achieved through the same products and same placement on the face.  I would place the onus on the post-COVID rise of “Clean Girl” beauty, which has been written about ad nauseam. The rules are at once transparent and discreet. Never wear blue eyeshadow. If you must do a red lip, keep the rest of the face bare. Ditch the skinny jeans. Stick to neutral tones and textures. Don’t text back too quickly. Don’t be too much . Makeup has devolved from a form of art and self-expression into yet another performance in nonchalance. The subtext is obvious: be hot, but don’t give a shit. Its more ominous undertones carry whispers of wealth, status, and an obsession with the idealized female form — in other words, youth and Whiteness, or proximity to youth and Whiteness. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so long as the beholder idolizes Hailey Bieber and/or takes a keen but ambiguous interest in Japan.  Modern beauty trends feel uninspiring because people are uninspired. I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup until I was in high school. My everyday look consisted solely of a natural peach or ruddy brown lipstick pilfered from my mother’s vanity and smudged on under the fluorescent overhead lighting of my middle school lavatory. As a teenager, I studied my favorite films and rifled through magazines (yes, physical magazines) like Seventeen  and Teen Vogue  for ideas. I experimented with editorialized looks like “windswept cheeks” (which really just translated to clown blush in the unsure hands of my 15-year-old self) and embraced Cara Delevingne’s signature brows with gleeful enthusiasm. Some of my favorite finds I sourced simply through wandering the aisles at my local Ulta and Sephora.  L-R: Farrah Fawcett, Shelley Duvall, Bianca Jagger But it would appear that no one reads magazines anymore, or goes to the movies (and even if they did it would make no difference, since everyone on screen looks the same — ever heard of Instagram face ?), or even browses the inventory of their favorite beauty retailers. If you visit the Sephora website, you can select a “Help Me Choose” feature that stratifies your search by categories such as super-natural sculpting, clean makeup guide, and no-makeup makeup . TikTokification continues to stifle creativity and siphon the joy out of experiencing makeup.    When working optimally — that is, when the products work cohesively and in tandem with the skincare beneath — makeup produces characteristic visual effects like improved volume or definition in certain areas of the face by increasing the overall contrast in your complexion. Learning to work with your features, understanding what complements your skin tone, figuring out what colors or textures appeal to you most — these are skills that require curiosity, effort, and patience like any art or science. The best part of being an adult is that no one can tell you what to do. The worst part of being an adult is that no one can tell you what to do. I understand how experimenting can feel like a chore as we get older and busier. Autonomy is exhausting, which may explain why so many people have collectively outsourced the creative process and discovery to influencers who use thousands of dollars worth of professional lighting, film equipment, and filters only to churn out the same “snatched,” “glowy,” altogether slightly sweaty look.  If a black crop top and low-rise baggy jeans is the TikTok uniform, then this clean beauty, no-makeup makeup aesthetic is its corresponding ultra-normie face chart template. The last thing a makeup trend should be is forgettable. That an act as innately expressive as literally painting your face could mass produce such tepid results is an indication that something in the beauty world has gone terribly astray.  None of this is to suggest that trends are inherently bad or good; beauty trends have always been around. In the 1960s, we had cut creases and pastel shadows a la Twiggy and Sharon Tate. The ‘70s favored both a bronzey, goddess-of-the-earth look as well as rock-and-roll flair thanks to stars like Farrah Fawcett, Shelley Duvall, and Bianca Jagger. The ‘80s ushered in big brows, bigger hair, and bold colors on the eyes, cheeks, and lips, all of which the '90s pared down to a look that was decidedly powdered and plucked. Frosted shadows and lamentable concealer mouth reigned in the 2000s, followed closely by the ultraglam, heavily saturated “Instagram makeup” of the 2010s.  Each decade can be linked to a distinctive beauty aesthetic with its own specific color palettes, textures, and techniques. The makeup looks popularized in years past remain memorable because they were both visually interesting and culturally significant. My hope is for the arrival of a new vanguard in the cosmetic industry, one that encourages more joy and expression in its patrons. Can we just make makeup fun again? 🌀 Neha Ogale  is a doctoral student in clinical psychology, a relapsed coat hoarder, and an indie film lover based in New York City. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @urbangremlin .

Thoughts on American Love Story, the culotte renaissance, and a sale at A.W.A.K.E. Mode. Welcome to The HALO Report — HALOSCOPE’s new weekly digest, an of-the-moment mix of news items, opinion pieces, and sale announcements designed to keep you posted on the nitty-gritty of the fashion world and all of its tangents without having to keep a constant eye on your feed.  This week, we will not let Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy rest (apparently), big movements on the bedding front, Morticia Addams beachwear, and the ultimate summer bloomers are on sale, and more. The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. “ Elements of Style: Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy ” by Vogue ’s Hannah Jackson is a great read for anyone befuddled as to why the sneak peeks of Ryan Murphy’s new CBK-focused series are drawing such ire for their flimsy sartorial showings, and a solid primer on the impacts the woman herself continues to have on the quiet luxury side of the fashion world, for better or worse.  Brain Matter ’s Gabriella Karefa-Johnson weighs in with “ The Bessette-Kennedy Betrayal ,” offering even more specific insight as to why the show’s wardrobe has disappointed viewers months before its official release.  On the other hand, Brynn Wallner from The Dimepiece Dispatch  has much to say about how “ Timex and I revived a watch from the '90s ,” JFK Jr.’s to be exact — an interesting look at the kind of granular detail that goes into making a tribute outfit brimming with je ne sais quoi as opposed to a paltry cosplay.  Unsurprisingly, following the capri resurgence, Vogue  proclaims “ Culottes Are Back! 5 Modern Ways to Wear the Nostalgic Trend ” in an article by Cortne Bonilla. Somehow, seersucker enters the chat.  The Vogue mastermind Laia Garcia-Furtado answers an age-old quandary with “ Addressed: How to Dress When It’s Hot Outside and Freezing in Your Office .” Hint: Look to the ‘80s for inspiration.  What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. Tigra Tigra breaks into home ware with a new collection  of delightfully dotty quilts and shams, all characteristically quirky as per the brand’s clothing ethos and all hewn in its signature silk mashroo.  Also on the home front, Tekla shakes up its skater-surfer-sleeper formula with more feminine broderie anglaise bedding  featuring delicate eyelet and ruffle detailing.  Extreme Cashmere has come to Maimoun , serving up prime summer knits in the form of tiny tops with huge statement hems and sumptuous skirts that gather at the hips.   Baserange gives us a peek into the coming seasons with its new autumn collection , featuring plaid poplin, silky cheetah print, cornflower blue satin, and more in forms ranging from underwear to formalwear.  A teensy collab between Palorosa x Pura Utz  results in what could be named the carabiners of the season, delicately woven and beaded by hand.    Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  Find high heels that look like flotation devices, strapless tops hewn from torn-up football jerseys, trompe l’oeil T-shirts, and more from under-the-radar brands like Fey Fey Worldwide and Renata Brenha, all for deep discounts, in the Two Two summer sale.  The A.W.A.K.E. Mode summer sale  is potentially the best place on the internet to pick up a last-minute wedding guest dress at a discount, if you’re freaky enough to pick a drapey chartreuse number or a Morticia Addams-goes-to-the-beach-type crocheted gown. There are even a few white dresses that would make incredible elopement or City Hall bridalwear for sub-$400.  Use LUTZSUMMERSALES25 to access the sitewide Lutz Huelle 40% off summer sale , offering batty businesswear and gently bizarre going-out tops alike.  Grab a summer’s worth of cotton bloomers and other cutesy Copenhagen-based loungewear in the Odd Existence archive sale.  On the more masculine side of things, the A-COLD-WALL* seasonal sale  offers deconstructed athleisure, techy outerwear, and perfectly androgynous (and sporty) tote/purse hybrids at a discount. 🌀 Em Seely-Katz is the creator of the fashion blog Esque, the News Editor of HALOSCOPE, and a writer, stylist, and anime-watcher about town. You can usually find them writing copy for niche perfume houses or making awful collages at @that.esque on Instagram.

“I wasted two whole days on our vacation pursuing this bag that I probably never was gonna get in the first place.” “The Hermès game is literally so embarrassing,” says influencer Hannah Chody  in  a TikTok video during a trip to Paris.  “I just walked into a boutique for, like, the sixth time in three days asking them to take my money. I am literally begging them, at this point.”  Six months later, now with an etoupe Birkin 25 in hand, Chody sat down to divulge all the details of how she finally scored her dream bag in Milan to her 200K followers. “That's the tea,” she says with a smile. “What should I put on my wishlist next, guys?”  Chody isn’t the only creator pulling back the curtain on shopping at Hermès, the French luxury brand well-known for making its customers jump through hoops to spend tens of thousands of dollars. In another video  with over 7 million views, influencer Audrey Peters  documents what it’s like to be offered a Hermès Kelly, recording inside a private room while the bag, a vert criquet Kelly 25, is unboxed by a gloved sales associate. “Wait so you just can’t walk into a store and buy something?” writes one commenter. “Sorry I’m poor haha.”  40 years since the Birkin’s debut and close to 100 since the Kelly’s, these purses have evolved from mere handbags into the ultimate status signifiers, signaling that the person wearing them has achieved the ultimate prize (and seemingly spent a large amount of money and time at Hermès in pursuit of it). They’ve stopped by boutiques to chat with their sales associate, bought copious amounts of Oran sandals and enamel bangles and even a piece of Ready-to-Wear or two, all of which finally amounted to the offer. Because you can’t just walk into a boutique and buy a Birkin or a Kelly – they have to be offered to you.  While this exclusivity has always been a mainstay of the bag's appeal, TikTok has now transformed the once elusive purchasing process into a famed game — one that everyone wants to know how to win. Because, as Syracuse University Assistant Professor Faren Karimkhan  says, “Hermès specifically used to be if-you-know-you-know type products. But now they are everywhere, and everybody knows about them, whether you can afford one or not.”  As the story goes, the original Hermès Birkin was created for – and named after – British actress and model Jane Birkin in 1984 after telling then-Hermès director Jean-Louis Dumas that she couldn’t find a bag big enough for daily use. But it wasn’t until the late ‘90s that the bag evolved into the prestige marker we know it as today (The often-referenced Sex and the City   Birkin episode , “Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda,” aired in 2001).  On the other hand, the Kelly was first introduced as the Sac à Dépêches in the 1930s by Robert Dumas. Infamous for maintaining control over everything from their manufacturing to their design to their distribution model, Hermès notoriously restricts how many Birkins and Kellys (otherwise known as quota bags) are produced each year in order to maintain their value. “There is, in fact, a limited supply of product,” explains Professor Thomaï Serdari . Because of this, the clients who are the most devoted to — and have spent the most money with — the brand are often the ones prioritized for bag offers.  L-R: Jane Birkin with her eponymous bags. Subsequently, brand devotees and casual shoppers alike have taken to the Internet to learn – and document – how to play what has become known as the Hermès game, or the rules to follow to achieve the elusive bag offer. This includes maintaining a 1:1 spend ratio on “Birkin bait” and only shopping with one specific sales associate at one specific store (preferably, a less competitive one; Dublin is apparently a good option, if you want to hop overseas). Even within the hierarchy there are hierarchies; purchasing Ready-to-Wear gets you to the top of the list quicker than home goods would, allegedly.  Now, all of this information and more can be found in seconds with a TikTok search or a quick scroll through Reddit. “In a pre-social media time period, you would just show up at the store and someone would explain to you, ‘No, sorry, this [Birkin] is here only for show, we have a long list,” says Serdari. “It was very well known in the industry that it was the same challenge for someone to get their hands on that particular type of bag, but it wasn't [known on] social media.” Now, creators are the ones doing the explaining, bringing along their followers for every meticulously documented trip, disappointing offer, post-leather appointment storytime, and highly anticipated unboxing. Self-proclaimed “Birkin woman” Tania Antonenkova  (who believes the game is “one thousand percent real”) has even built a following from teaching Hermès strategy to those willing to purchase her $49 guidebooks, which promise to help people spend less money and time on scoring a bag. “When I was starting to shop [Hermès], nobody was really talking online about how to buy bags,” says Antonenkova. “I mean, there were hints and jokes, but there was no ‘You need to do X, Y, and Z'.” For prospective bag owners not wanting to shell out for advice, there is a near-endless supply of free options online to build up your Hermès knowledge; just search the brand on any social platform. Hermès content often performs extremely well, even amongst scrollers not in the market for a Birkin. Vogue  fashion writer Christian Allaire even penned an entire piece  about his love of watching strangers buy the bags for the site. Of course, there is the simple joy that comes from someone else spending their money (“Now, can I afford a luxurious Hermès Birkin? [...] Absolutely not,” writes Allaire), coupled with the visual appeal and known exclusivity of the product. Personally, TikTok is the closest I’m getting to a quota bag anytime soon, which is why I’m often intrigued when I see the iconic orange box.  And as fun as these videos are to watch, Karimkhan explains that this exposure often increases viewers' desire to create that lifestyle for themselves, “...which often happens through consumption.” As one user on  r/TheHermesGame  writes, “For me, [social media] certainly made Hermès seem a bit more within reach. Prior to all the content creators posting about it, I had the impression Hermès bags were really truly unattainable and only within reach for the ultra wealthy.” Another user writes, “Social media has also made shopping at Hermes a little miserable, in my opinion. Every store is ‘competitive’ because of ‘unprecedented demand.’ It did not used to be like this.” While there is some truth to these rules, Serdari doesn’t believe Hermès has any true gaming intentions. Rather, people’s obsession with mastering them – and their accessibility – has shifted the online idea of who the brand’s clientele truly is. Because while anyone can learn the rules to play the game, only Hermès has the final say, meaning you could spend thousands for nothing. “There is some truth to all of this,” explains Serdari, “But it's not a rule… there is no law that says you have to spend $10,000 here with this associate.” She also points out that these sought-after quota bags are not even the brand’s most expensive item; on the Hermès website, one could take their pick from a $13,500 coat, a $13,200 suitcase, a $25,100 watch, and $40,100 earrings. “Imagine someone who is buying a watch for himself and a watch for his wife and the jackets every winter,” says Serdari. “These are easily hundreds of thousands of dollars. How, then, can the young woman [complain] on TikTok that she's buying this and this and the other and she's still not on the list?” But those clients are not the ones posting their luxury hauls on TikTok or teaching others how they got a Birkin, because they are not playing any game — they are simply shopping.  That’s exactly why Lucy Jones , the Head of Operations at an influencer marketing company in Los Angeles, removed herself from the Hermès game. After being bitten by the luxury bug and learning about the Hermès rules on Reddit threads, blogs, and TikTok, she began purchasing sandals, homeware, and scarves in pursuit of her dream bag: a mini Kelly. “It was almost like a personal accomplishment for me to be able to have one of those bags and not just buy it off the retail market, but to be offered one from a sales associate,” says Jones. And while she was following all the supposed rules, rude treatment in stores and a “painfully unsuccessful” last-ditch effort in France this past summer made her decide the game wasn’t worth playing anymore.  “I truly spent probably two full days just trying to play the Hermès game in Paris, and afterwards on the plane home, I was like, I need to look inward,” says Jones. “I wasted two whole days on our vacation pursuing this bag that I probably never was gonna get in the first place.”  🌀 Payton Turkeltaub is a freelance writer and current graduate student at Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. Previously, she has written for Screenshot Media, V Magazine, and Bedford + Bowery.

Thoughts on NBA tunnel style, why not all LGBTQ merch is created equal, and a sale at Carhartt. Welcome to The HALO Report — HALOSCOPE’s new weekly digest, an of-the-moment mix of news items, opinion pieces, and sale announcements designed to keep you posted on the nitty-gritty of the fashion world and all of its tangents without having to keep a constant eye on your feed.  This week, Cole Escola’s chest hair won the Tonys, spring dressing is about bikini tops and tartan skirts, a Seattle-based upcycling workshop to punctuate your weekend, freaky-but-appropriate wedding guest dresses, heavy-hitting sales on legendary designers’ work, and more. The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. Vogue’s “ Tony Awards 2025 Red Carpet Fashion: See Every Outfit Here ” highlights the many moving looks that graced the Broadway award show’s red carpet this past week, most notably nonbinary icon Cole Escola, whose waist-snatching Wiederhoeft gown paid homage to an iconic Bernadette Peters costume she happened to be wearing when she won her own Tony in 1999. Escola’s artfully arranged chest hairs and eerily realistic curly wig clinched them the top spot on the night’s Best Dressed list. People who ravaged their Met Gala look are sounding reaaaaaaal quiet this week.  “ tunnel fit finals ” by Rabbit Fur Coat ’s Eleanor applauds the stylings of NBA players such as Tyrese Haliburton, whose Prada Buckle bag rewearing makes him a candidate for MVP of the fashion set, not just the Pacers. I love analyses of men’s streetwear, and the crossover of the sports and style worlds is fertile soil for fit inspiration, no matter your gender.  Christian Allaire writes “ Why Is It So Hard to Find Good (Non Cash-Grab) Pride Merch? ” for Vogue , a much-needed follow-up to the Connor Ives “Protect the Dolls” T-shirt bonanza to remind us that not all LGBTQ merch is created equal.  Not to toot my own horn, but I’m proud of the recommendations I make on my own blog, and I know they’re good because of instances like Big Undies’ Corinne Fay testing out and approving of the FoxFibre socks that changed my feet forever in this week’s “ What I Bought in May ,” alongside tons of other recs that though I can’t personally vouch for, I trust Corinne’s savvy enough to add to my wish list.  “ Deliciously Chaotic Outfits You Can Only Wear Right Now ” by Yeehawt ’s MacKinley Jade is an easy-to-implement ode to spring dressing, extolling the virtues of wearing bikini tops in water-free scenarios, employing wool tartan outside of the winter months, and more ingenious sartorial strategies.  What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. If you’re in Seattle, WA, join the JRAT Wiggle Room Workshops  this weekend to donate clothing and scraps you no longer have use for, learn how to weave them into gorgeous new fabrics, and learn more about the transformative potential of garment reuse.   A drawing of the tarot card “The Lovers” was the jumping off point for the Gabriela Hearst Resort ‘26 collection, now available for preorder in a Moda Operandi trunk show . Deep blue and hazy pink suede collide with whisper-thin pointelle and romantic chain embellishments in a wardrobe that could easily serve past the summer season (though the prices are wildly inaccessible—it’s a good source of inspiration, at least!).  On June 11, beachy brand Éliou links up with Euro-casual label Ciao Lucia  for a capsule of summer accessories like necklaces adorned with glass fish, plus crocheted beachwear and more.  The latest J. Kim offerings for SS25  contain both some of the label’s most sculptural pieces (think a bustier with an illusion of a woven basket built in, spilling out fabric flowers) and some of its most compulsively wearable, including a few excellent options for freaky-but-appropriate wedding guest dresses to consider this season.  Pardo Hats teams up with Antik Batik  to create an accessory capsule using the latter’s richly printed fabrics and the former’s sharp, summer-y sensibilities to make belts hung heavy with starfish and stones, sun-proof hats and coy, shady hoods, and more.  Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  JW Anderson offers up to 50% off in its seasonal sale , with sailor-style jackets, the brand’s famed bumper bags, sequinned minidresses, and more taking the cut. Now’s a great time to invest in a Jonathan Anderson piece—who knows what will happen to the label as the designer transitions to his new role as Creative Director of Dior? JUNE20LG gets you 20% off the already-on-sale pieces at La Garconne , with brands available ranging from classics like Yohji Yamamoto to super-contemporary newcomers such as Camiel Fortgens.  Take up to 50% off in the Proenza Schouler summer sale , offering everything from potential It bags to walking shoes to officewear to warm-weather formals.  Both the men’s and womenswear sections of Kiko Kostadinov are 40% off  with EARLY40, a discount especially welcome for the past seasons’ brilliant footwear innovations.  Padded vests, well-cut overalls, and hardy sweatshirts are among the basics to stock up on at 50% off in the Carhartt WIP sale  with FIRST50. 🌀 Em Seely-Katz is the creator of the fashion blog Esque, the News Editor of HALOSCOPE, and a writer, stylist, and anime-watcher about town. You can usually find them writing copy for niche perfume houses or making awful collages at @that.esque on Instagram.

The young designer's work is a refreshing take on tactile design — inspired by growing up in Nebraska, traditional Vietnamese design, and a stint at Proenza Schouler. We’ve all felt the thrill of chasing the latest trends on social media. One day, it’s shopping for nostalgic Y2K layered necklaces; the next, it’s picking statement charms for a vintage Coach or Fendi baguette; the next, it’s browsing maxi skirts for the perfect summer casual wear. Gen Z’s digital fluency fuels a constant style evolution that fashion brands are racing to decode.  Unlike past generations, their path to purchase  is more relational and largely takes place online. According to Archrival, 56% of Zoomers  seek new style inspo weekly, with many relying on social media and algorithms  to do it. Despite the eventual trend burnout, Zoomers readily join style crazes as they appear — giving them a paradoxical reputation among brands trying to decipher their unpredictable buying habits. As Harper Bazaar ’s Ella Sangster wrote , “My generation is a paradox… We adore vintage clothing and are adamant that our clothing be sustainable, but [we] indulge in microtrends and love fast fashion. As we hit adulthood, fashion wants to know how to get our attention. To do that, they have to define us.”  With their diverse fashion tastes, Zoomers are sometimes considered trendsetters and other times trend followers . A recent New York Post  article   covered the viral backlash from Millennials and Gen Xers over a TikTok video showing a group of twenty-somethings all wearing the same minimalist look. “They’ve got copy paste taste,” wrote reporter Asia Grace. “Rather than being seen as fashionably unique, they’ve all conformed to the overdone ‘Gen Z uniform’.” The post,  shared by Manhattan content creator Christian Zubidi, quickly amassed 1.3M views and drew comments calling the outfits “boring” or “the Zara parade”. Even Zubidi himself remarked on how many of the girls were wearing nearly identical outfits. It raises the question of public opinion: Have Zoomers lost their curiosity to the all-powerful FYP? Are they lacking intentionality? One Gen Z designer, Cindy Vo, thinks not.  Based in New York, Vo’s work is a refreshing take on tactile design, utilizing meticulously chosen fabrics to craft movement and blur the boundaries between form and fit. This is partly achieved through her technical expertise, which she refined while interning at Proenza Schouler. During her time there, she contributed to the Spring 2025 Ready-to-Wear collection  — most notably on looks 29 and 47 — where she reimagined bust seam lines on pleated fabric and layered fringe elements for dynamic skirt construction. She also assisted with pattern mockups, fabric sourcing, garment construction, and pre-show preparations.  Vo’s desire to use design as a way of exploring the layered intersections of cultural identity, influence, and memory is integral to her work. That interest, in many ways, traces back to her earliest experiences.  Raised in Nebraska, Vo found inspiration in the unexpected contrast between her surroundings and her heritage. The soft, rolling hills of the Midwest sharpened her attention to subtlety, while at home, the ornate textiles and ceremonial elegance of traditional Vietnamese garments like the áo dài  developed her appreciation for fashion’s ability to communicate culture and history.  “Growing up, I was fascinated by how clothing can transform not just appearances, but also identity,” she said. “My experiences and heritage have taught me the importance of inclusivity and storytelling in fashion design. I want my collections to reflect a multicultural narrative that innovates while still honoring traditions.” Vo’s cross-cultural lens is central to her latest collection, Eternal Merge . A study in precision and restraint, the collection serves as a “quiet rebellion” against the assumptions that Gen Z is unfocused or even monolithic by focusing on touch as a centering, almost meditative force.  “ Eternal Merge  feels like a quiet rebellion against the overstimulation Gen Z is often associated with. While we’re known for maximalism and digital fluency, there’s also a growing desire among many of us for intentionality—less noise, more substance,” she said. “The collection taps into a craving for grounding, for pieces that hold presence without shouting. There’s still self-expression, but it’s quieter, more precise. The tailored silhouettes echo a sense of maturity, while the minimalism reflects a deeper understanding of design and restraint.” The collection is defined by tailored suit jackets that harmonize sharp lapels and transparent, flowing sleeves; billowing blouses that shapeshift into slim silhouettes via form-defining buttons and waist ties. These chameleon styles create a gentle visual tension that reimagines what’s possible through intentional, tactile design. To achieve this, Vo utilized advanced pattern-making techniques to merge structure and fluidity. She also used a unique fabric board composed of wool, Lycra, and polyester chiffon variations to develop custom patterns for asymmetric draping, layered cutouts, and extended silhouettes.  "Many looks started with flat patterns, which I then manipulated on the form — adding darts, pivoting seams, or slashing and spreading to create organic shapes. I also integrated built-in understructures to support sheer outer layers, ensuring they moved freely while maintaining form,” she said. “I really wanted to incorporate both tailoring and drapery into my collection. Peter Do’s Spring/Summer 2023 collection was a key inspiration here.” In addition to an inspired fabric board, Eternal Merge  features a cool, minimalist color palette to enhance each outfit’s visual structure and lightness. Bold bursts of blue draw the eye along crisp hemlines, inviting audiences to investigate further, emphasizing Vo’s tactile focus as a powerful design tool.  “With Eternal Merge , I’m not rejecting Gen Z fashion—I’m reframing it,” Vo says. “The collection doesn’t rely on irony, excess, or fast novelty. Instead, it invites stillness, touch, and emotional weight. Where many collections speak loudly, mine whispers. It challenges the assumption that Gen Z fashion must be performative or hyper-online by offering something sensory and inward.” What distinguishes Eternal Merge , even from designers Vo admires, like Peter Do, is its commitment to identity as an ongoing negotiation. “The collection visualizes the merging of self: cultural, emotional, and physical,” she said. “Through layered transparencies, exposed seams, and hybrid construction, the garments express what words can’t. I use fabric not just as a material, but as a memory-keeper.” Shifting to mindful stillness isn’t unfamiliar to Gen Z, but it’s rare to see it performed with such poetic insight as in Eternal Merge . Vo is in tune with the zeitgeist, as emphasizing stillness is becoming a new way for major brands to connect with a generation fatigued by digital noise. Coach’s “On Your Own Time” Spring 2025 campaign   champions the idea of “setting your own pace,” featuring Elle Fanning and Nazha meandering through slow-motion city scenes after realizing their independence with their tasteful Coach bags and confident smiles. There’s also Kate Spade’s Spring/Summer 2025 campaign   “To the Ones Who Carry Us”   that similarly positions slow moments and personal connection as aspirational, casting Ice Spice and Charli D’Amelio in celebrated vignettes of friendship, quiet glamour, and communal pause. As Kate Spade’s CEO and Brand President, Eva Erdmann put it , “In a world where digital interactions often overshadow genuine connections, the profound bond of friendship becomes, more than ever, an indispensable anchor.” Vo’s Eternal Merge  taps into this budding cultural shift that values sincerity over spectacle. It embraces Gen Z’s aesthetic duality not as a contradiction but as a necessary lens for exploring identity, especially for young people, in an ever-evolving world. In other words: it’s OK to do your own thing. “Eternal Merge feels like a quiet rebellion against the overstimulation Gen Z is often reduced to,” Vo said. “This collection recognizes that we’re not a monolith. We can live in dualities. It inspires others to slow down, to feel more deeply, to see beauty in raw, unfinished edges. It’s about honoring the in-between moments, the parts of ourselves that are still evolving. It reminds people that fashion can be an archive of feeling, identity, and connection — not just an aesthetic choice.” Since graduating from Moore College of Art and Design in May, Vo has been focused on deepening her technical expertise — sharpening her skills in sewing and purposeful design. She plans to work for another high-end fashion brand like Proenza Schouler in New York City, where she can grow as a designer and continue to develop her artistry.  “I’m looking to deepen my skills in construction, patternmaking, and development while contributing to a team that values innovation and craftsmanship,” she said. “Long term, I want to create work that blends emotional storytelling with refined techniques — designs that feel both conceptually rich and beautifully executed.” As with Eternal Merge , Vo hopes to continue to challenge expectations, reminding audiences how styling, craft, and touch can build communal belonging. Regardless of trend cycles, public opinions, or the latest marketing ad, the most important style is the one that fosters growth, community, and celebrates feeling. In this ever-changing world, it’s something worth remembering. 🌀 Amara Johnson  is a writer based in Philadelphia, PA. When she’s not writing, she’s reading or scrolling through Pinterest for style inspo. She loves finding the story in everything.

Thoughts on dressing sexy, Pride Month, Jonathan Anderson at Dior, and a sale at LN-CC. Welcome to The HALO Report — HALOSCOPE’s new weekly digest, an of-the-moment mix of news items, opinion pieces, and sale announcements designed to keep you posted on the nitty-gritty of the fashion world and all of its tangents without having to keep a constant eye on your feed.  This week, a big happy Pride to all our queer readers, a momentous changing of the guards at Dior, Labubu nation is more fashionable than we might have thought, The Met’s renaissance paintings birth a new line of fine jewelry, sales on everything from elevated boat and totes to greek goddess dresses abound, and more. The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. Though she was largely dismissed for a run that didn’t feel radical, “ Vogue Editors Discuss Maria Grazia Chiuri’s Dior Tenure ” by Laia Garcia-Furtado for Vogue  is a welcome reminder that Chiuri’s feminist sensibilities and elegant execution will go down as an important chapter in the fabled brand’s history.  “ And They Call It Plushie Love: Fashionable People on Their Labubu Obsession ” by Lara Johnson-Wheeler for Vogue  is a refreshing look at the Labubu craze that reframes the tchotchkes as genuine accessories, not out of place on the bags of the likes of fashion writer Ruby Redstone or i-D editor Alex Kessler.  “Legacy” substack Blackbird Spyplane ’s latest post is “ The real you ,” inspiring me to pair a suit with sandals sometime this summer.  True Style ’s Lakyn Carlton “ Make It Sexy ” is a smart meditation on how personal “sexiness” is and how to think about it when getting dressed—not a one-size-fits-all situation.  For new parents, “ What to Wear Postpartum: Outfits To Embrace Your Body After Baby ” by Marina Khorosh for Vogue  is a pragmatic but supremely stylish primer for dressing a fluctuating body. What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. After much speculation, Jonathan Anderson is in as Creative Director at Dior  for both its men’s and women’s lines (the first time the two sides of the coin have been under united leadership since Christian Dior himself). This is the best possible move for the struggling, stuffy brand, but we have to hope that Anderson won’t lose any of his trademark spark in the fray of the LVMH machine.  Happy Pride! As a nonbinary person myself, I dedicate this week’s news to all my queer fashion kinfolk. Brands are celebrating with sales, like Carne Bollente  (a notoriously cheeky, sex-positive, overtly queer brand you need to check out) taking 25% off its entire site this week with CARNEPRIDE25, and special giveaways, like Hereu (random!) offering limited edition postcards  with all June orders. Get early access to Mr. Larkin’s High Summer capsule , featuring some crisp cotton separates and several lacy white statement pieces that would work perfectly as a summer bride’s bachelorette or rehearsal togs.  J. Hannah partners once again with The Met  on “Petals of Fortune,” a collection of opulent baubles centering around the quatrefoil , a four-leaf-clover design prominent in Gothic and Renaissance architecture. Inspired by specific paintings housed at The Met, J. Hannah’s always-beautiful work garners depth and historicity with this collaboration.  My beloved Pardo Hats partners with Moda Operandi  on an exclusive headwear capsule including a chic jersey turban, crocheted skullcaps, and more inspired summer chapeaus.  Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  Cawley Studio offers 30% off its ready-to-ship pieces  for newsletter subscribers with SUMMERSALE at checkout—plenty of quirked-up boat and tote-style bags, airy cotton shorts, and more sweet summer statement pieces are still up for grabs.  Take 40% off a preview of the minimalist gems in Toteme’s summer sale  with TOTEMEPRIVATESALE. Christopher Esber’s surrealist Greek goddess dresses and sets are on sale  for up to 30% off, just in time for peak swimsuit cover-up season.  The elegant but erudite BDSM ballerina collection by Ludovic de Saint Sernin is still on private sale  with hundreds of dollars taken off laced-up leather dresses, cleavage-contoured mermaid gowns, and more timeless but contemporary formal freakwear.  Brands like Diesel, Chloé, and Dries van Noten take up to 50% off their wares in the expansive LN-CC private sale .  🌀 Em Seely-Katz is the creator of the fashion blog Esque, the News Editor of HALOSCOPE, and a writer, stylist, and anime-watcher about town. You can usually find them writing copy for niche perfume houses or making awful collages at @that.esque on Instagram.

That is if you want to stay on trend. As we scroll through runways, sit front row IRL, and deep-dive through the latest Instagram posts from fashion It Girls (and It Boys), we can’t help but do an involuntary shiver of excitement: spring 2025 shoes are good . Like, “Make you want to actually leave the house” good. While mainstream fashion has gotten increasingly conservative , personal style is still stomping down runways with a wink and a lot of personality. Sure, our feeds may have us convinced we’re all being pulled into the gravitational force of  Ibiza Summer/Halley Kate-core  (translation: shoes with flowers on them — if you’re not chronically on TikTok, congrats). But don’t let the florals fool you: this season’s footwear doesn’t require you to sacrifice style for comfort. The ever-loved '70s clog makes a strong showing alongside some truly unbothered granny loafers that look like they walked straight out of an eccentric heiress’ estate sale. Sneakers had their moment too — think slim soles, thoughtful details, less "dad at Disney" and more "Celine at school drop-off." And then there were the shoes that felt like wearable art — detailed, sculptural, the ones we dreamed about as little girls. The kind you stare at in a shop window, then stare at some more in your closet before finally deciding you will  wear them to dinner and be the best-dressed person ordering fries and a burger. See? Something for everyone. At least the runway’s still inclusive. Sneaking Around  Sneakers are never truly out — they’re the perennial go-to for fashion girls everywhere. The versatile staple can be dressed up, down, and sideways, depending on your vibe (and how far you’re willing to walk). And when it comes to comfort? No competition. A good sneaker is basically the fashion girl’s emotional support shoe. But this season, it looks like even our favorite shoes have gotten prescribed Ozempic. Gone are the chunky, orthopedic soles of seasons past — and, in their place, slimmer silhouettes with a sleeker, more tailored energy. Just take a look at Dries Van Noten’s refined take, Loewe’s sleek reinterpretations, or Miu Miu’s sport-meets-soft looks. These sneakers aren’t shouting — they’re whispering, and that’s what makes them chic. Consider: These silver Dries Van Noten sneakers ($535) These retro-inspired Loewe sneakers ($790) These pink suede Miu Miu sneakers ($895) Or, as an affordable option, these mint green platform Adidas Sambas ($110) A ‘70s Fantasy Boho is back, but if you’re reading this, you probably already know that. From Daisy Edgar-Jones to Suki Waterhouse, fashion’s reigning it-girls are embracing '70s chic like Daisy Jones & The Six  just dropped on Prime yesterday. On the runways, from Hermès to Ulla Johnson, that means one thing: the wooden clog is officially having a(nother) moment. The chunky silhouette of these shoes is the perfect counterpoint to the slimmed-down sneakers and sophisticated loafers currently flooding your saved folder. And that’s exactly what makes them so delicious. Even after half a century, they still manage to feel playful, powerful, and — dare we say — fresh? Modernized with sleek leathers, fun hardware, and the occasional platform sole, this season’s clogs are less "farmers’ market" and more "fashion-girl fantasy." Consider: These wooden calfskin Hermès clogs ($1,200) These black-and-gold Ulla Johnson clog heels ($575) These black Isabel Marant clog loafers ($490) Or, as an affordable option, these denim Madewall clog heels ($198) The Estate Sale Loafer Once relegated to the closets of elderly aunts and prep school professors, loafers have officially had their fashion redemption arc. Over the past five years, these understated staples have quietly climbed the ranks, and now, they’re the shoes you’re begging to borrow. In the 2010s, loafers felt old and outdated. Now? That’s exactly  the point. Their slim, ladylike silhouette hits the sweet spot of “old money chic,” the kind of shoe that practically whispers, How CBK of you. But don’t get it twisted — these aren’t stiff or stuffy. Today’s loafers come in soft, buttery leathers (the Italians are doing it best, obviously) with just the right amount of polish. For inspo, look no further than Prada and Miu Miu, who’ve styled them with sheer tights, mini skirts, and just the right amount of insouciance. Consider: These classic black patent leather Prada loafers ($1,250) These slouchy black lambskin Miu Miu loafers ($771) These deep burgundy Gabriela Hearst loafers ($990) Or, as an affordable option, these classic black leather Sam Edelman loafers ($90) Detailed Heels Now this  is the Halley Kate-core meets Ibiza Summer trend that’s been dominating your FYP. Think bold, sculptural, unapologetically extra — the kind of shoe that demands a moment (or at least a close-up on Stories). While we’re not talking classic Manolos topped with orchids or roses — no shade, but Manolo, it’s time to trade some of those showroom appointments for a runway show or two — the detailed heels of Spring 2025 are for the maximalists, the bold dressers, the fashion romantics who like their shoes with a side of drama. Dries Van Noten, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton all served up heels that feel like little objets d’art : unexpected shapes, playful embellishments, and statement-making silhouettes that are anything but quiet. And if you still want that flirty, floral nod? Just toss on a flower clip from Amazon and call it DIY couture. Consider: These green asymmetrical Dries Van Noten heels ($770) These platform suede horsebit Gucci heels ($1,420) These white mesh Louis Vuitton slingback heels ($1,150) Or, as an affordable option, these denim L'Agence mule heels ($295) Making It Lacy Balletcore refuses to take a bow. Even as trends come and go, this ultra-feminine aesthetic continues to pirouette through Spring/Summer collections. And this season? It's all about the laces. Laces are everywhere  right now, crisscrossing across ankles and tying the whole look together (literally). Proenza Schouler leaned into the ballet motif with a more minimalist, modernist hand, while Dior and Chloé went full-on center stage , offering corset-inspired, ballerina-adjacent shoes that feel like they belong in a Sofia Coppola daydream. Consider: These patent leather ankle-lace Repetto ballet flats ($470) These black mesh Dior ballet flats ($843) These leather-studded Chloé ballet flats ($595) Or, as an affordable option, these lace, pointed-toe Dr. Martens ($130) If you're looking to stand out, you might just have to tie yourself in. These dainty, delicate styles may look light as air, but their staying power? Solid as a pointe shoe. 🌀 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.

Thoughts on Cannes' nudity ban, summer perfume recs, and a sale at Nanushka. Welcome to The HALO Report — HALOSCOPE’s new weekly digest, an of-the-moment mix of news items, opinion pieces, and sale announcements designed to keep you posted on the nitty-gritty of the fashion world and all of its tangents without having to keep a constant eye on your feed.  This week, a leopard head is worn as a chest piece, neckties go nuts, the perfect summer knit is now available, a Palestinian brand with gorgeously embroidered garments offers a generous sale, and more. The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. Responding to Cannes’ retrograde nudity ban, Vogue ’s Most Dressed at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival  by Hannah Jackson calls out everyone from Kristen Stewart to Isabelle Huppert to South Sudanese model Mitchell Akat Maruko Raan, who wore a realistic leopard head protruding from her chest. Most dressed, indeed.  Rabbit Fur Coat’ s Eleanor argues that “ the perfect beach outfit exists ” and involves pleated shorts, plastic sandals, a Youswim suit, and more specific finds to inspire your sandy sartorial choices.  Call HR! I’m Obsessed With Wacky Work Ties  by Christian Allaire for Vogue  is less of a spotted trend and more of a personal proclivity that I’m glad was shared with the world. Some ties, most by artisans and tiny businesses, are truly breathtaking.  For genuinely interesting summer fragrances, The Dry Down Diaries’ “ Summer Perfume Recs ” by Christina Loff featuring several of her most scent-savvy friends cannot be beat. Clue’s “The Point,” recommended by Loff’s friend Jennifer, is an especially poignant pick.  Kari Koty’s Passage Keeper offers up “ The Vintage Lover’s Handbook: Stains and Smells ,” an invaluable resource for thrifters whose biggest enemies are yellowed armpits and stubborn stenches. What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. Tove’s SS25 collection  has some of the first truly unique beachwear I’ve seen in years, with elegantly shredded slides, lacy balloon-silhouette dresses, and more to outfit a vacation or special event.  The Hades Sabi knit  is perfect for summer with its thin weft and off-kilter asymmetry. Sweaters are underrated companions to swimsuits, and if you’re looking for something unique, this is a beautiful option.  Good Squish will launch a bridal collection  in September, previewing a veil that walks the line between graceful and goofy with aplomb, as do the brand’s other offerings, namely its oversized scrunchies.  Stine Goya x Umbro’s collab is coming soon  with pieces inspired by sportswear and refined through the lens of Copenhagen style, ready to elevate an athleisure-oriented wardrobe this summer.  Another athleisure coup is the Adidas x Wales Bonner sequin sneaker, accessible via the HighSnobiety app  and sure to make the street style rounds within the next month or so.  Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  Palestinian outfitter Nol Collective offers 25% off with SUMMER —plenty of gorgeously embroidered tops, brilliant knits, and hardy accessories are available under the umbrella of this sitewide discount.  Beaufille’s end-of-season sale  takes up to 50% off the brand’s delicate-but-not-precious semi-formals, with going-out tops and wedding guest dresses abounding.  Take 40% off a selection of Nanushka pieces in its seasonal sale , with Eastern European charm meeting down-to-earth, contemporary sensibilities in pieces like day dresses and funky sunglasses.  Studio Nicholson offers up to 30% off last season in its private sale , and you know the drill—tailored-looking minimalist togs with smart design sensibilities.  Hereu’s  30% off sale   makes it hard to ignore the brand’s flawless summer accessories as the season draws ever-nearer.  🌀 Em Seely-Katz is the creator of the fashion blog Esque, the News Editor of HALOSCOPE, and a writer, stylist, and anime-watcher about town. You can usually find them writing copy for niche perfume houses or making awful collages at @that.esque on Instagram.

Sandy Liang and the specter of working motherhood in the trend cycle of women's fashion. I first started to notice counterculture turn on Flushing-raised designer Sandy Liang  at the release of her SS24 collection . Gallery openings boasted fewer and fewer feet clad in distinctive pink satin flats, people started to become weary of cheaply made dupes, and girls’ boyfriends seemed less and less likely to endorse the purchase of a hundred and seventy-dollar bow headband accessory. By September of 2024, when leaked show notes for her SS25 collection  were railed for sounding vapid and poorly edited, with bylines like “being a princess is a job, just like being a spy girl is a job” — it seemed like the women who built up Liang’s countercultural credentials had moved on from trying to dress like schoolgirls, and wanted something with more substance. The issue of course, being, these critics of self-infantilization had a history with the habit that was storied to say the least, and most of their criticism of what was clearly an intentional affectation hinged on the conceit that you could flirt with twirling your hair and saying you’re just a girl in your twenties, but once you hit 30, it’s time to cut that shit out .  As someone who goes hiking in Mary Janes and has been thrifting Catholic school uniform maxi skirts for the better part of my adult life, I consider myself considerably attuned to the ebbs and flows of how terms like “Lolita,” “balletcore,” “ office siren ,” and “ coquette ” influence the world of contemporary fashion, and moreover, I feel qualified to judge the very touchy boundaries between just criticism of intra-female self-infantilization and mutually enforced misogyny. This is to say, I do not think all of Liang’s current detractors just hate to see women aging, and I also do not think all of her biggest fans are doing restorative feminist praxis by upcharging her often phoned-in sponsored collaborations with Beats , Salomon , Target , and BAGGU  on Depop. Like most divisive issues in contemporary fashion, the situation is nuanced. Something I have rarely seen brought up in the frequent and infinitely retweetable discourse about Liang’s pink ribbon empire, however, is that in 2024, she and her husband, Dorian Booth, had a beautiful baby boy named Rainer . To be honest, this changes a lot for me. As the needlepoint of culture slowly creeps past the innate profitability of slapping a bow on something, I’ve found Liang’s continued efforts to raise a family while carving out a niche for herself in women’s Ready-to-Wear more and more endearing. Her designs, clearly drawn from her on-the-ground experience as a bystander and participant in Flushing and NYC’s vast immigrant culture, seem so much more pointed when the basis for them is no longer imaginative. Put plainly, I find the whole coquette schoolgirl maxi skirt schtick far more compelling from someone who is actively raising a child. I was struck by Liang’s lucidity in her recent Interview  conversation with Michelle Zauner of Japanese Breakfast  — another artist I adore, who knows a thing or two about balancing petty girlish sentimentality with out-of-body maturity. MICHELLE ZAUNER: You didn’t have anxiety about your work suffering? My friend, who just got pregnant, is a painter and we were talking about it and she was like, “Are you more worried about not being a good mother or not being a good artist?” Which I thought was such a horrifying question. SANDY LIANG: I think about that stuff under the surface, but I try to not let myself get wrapped up in it because you’re going to live the answer. “What will my career look like once I have a baby?” If I really thought about that question, it might’ve stopped me. I’m at the point in my life where I’m going to do what I want, and if my work suffers a little bit because of that, then that’s just going to be a part of my journey. This answer seems incredibly liberatory to me. I think of someone like Paul McCartney, whose departure from The Beatles and solo career marked the birth of his daughter Heather and trail-blazed the creation of the “dad rock” microgenre in the singer-songwriter tradition. In these retrospective mythologies, men are not only allowed to have children, but can plumb the depths of fatherhood for artistic inspiration. In this sense, their fall from the annals of greatness is not so much a loss but a transition to something new. How wonderful it must feel as a female working artist to fall off and start a family, to let your work grow more austere or less appealing as you funnel your creative energy into cultivating new life — perhaps the greatest act of artistic creation in history. How chic, as a woman, to actually pursue the great summit of “having it all” — while acknowledging that the choice between an artistic career and a family is so rarely expected of your male counterparts. Better yet, to allow your work to reflect this yearning towards the child — retrofitting the oft-touted idea of yearning for some sort of imagined girlhood into the more meaningful practice of nurturing a real childhood future. I don’t care that Liang’s child is a boy, I’m excited to see how she dresses him — the care and motherly devotion she puts into making his little loafers or frilly little button-up shirts. Danish Rijksakademie-trained artist Lise Haller Baggesen ’s book Mothernism  is an endlessly beautiful assertion of the working mother’s place in contemporary art. In it, she grapples through epistolary dispatches to her sister, mother, and daughter with issues like rape culture, phallogocentrism, and the variability of emotion contained within the enterprise of bringing up a real live human being from your body. She responds to Kristeva’s short but incisive essay “ Motherhood Today ,” in which the seminal post-structural feminist theorist, who, like Liang, had one baby boy, asserts: What we lack is a reflection on maternal passion. After Freud and with Lacan, psychoanalysis has largely been preoccupied with the ‘paternal function’ — its need, its failures, its substitutes and so on and so forth. Philosophers and psychoanalysts seem less inspired by the ‘maternal function,’ perhaps because it is not a function but more precisely, a passion. The term ‘a good enough mother’, coined by Winnicott, who took this theme further than Freud, nevertheless runs the risk of playing down the passionate violence of the maternal experience. In this respect, Baggesen argues for not only the recognition of motherhood’s inevitability in the life of the creative, but also its unique and vibrant socio-psychological point of view: Beginning with the old feminist premise of the female as “the second sex,” and lesbianism as a third, I suggest that motherhood is a fourth  … and hell, who knows? Maybe menopause is a fifth and so on  … Because if we can accept motherhood as one sex among many, we can perhaps relieve the inevitable burden of motherhood perceived as a stagnant destination. Perhaps we can instead introduce it into a conversation opened up by queer theory, in which categories of gender are more fluid, moving and bleeding into each other. To have a true plurality of discourse, we need a conversation, not of motherhood as “myth” or “destiny” but as lived reality, inside (as well as outside) the “hallowed halls” of art and academia.” You might think this is a lot to reconcile with a fashion house whose most recent FW25 collection  included a giant first place ribbon dress appliqué, but with looks including a Toys-R-Us baby tee rework of her brand name, paired with a laminated bright pink Frutiger Aero-adjacent calendar skirt seemingly at home plastered on the wall of a takeout restaurant, I don’t think its impossible to connect the dots. If anything, I’ve actually found Liang’s most recent work to bear a certain self-assured maturity to it, collaging together vibrant colors and Polly Pocket-like dollishness into something that feels quite literally marketed to 10-year-olds. I love that. There’s a photoset that Liang posted to her Instagram recently , in which a friend’s child is swimming in her ballet slingbacks. I think this is the best possible future for her brand identity, one that responds to accusations of problematic infantilization from 23-year-old Substack bloggers old enough to be her nieces with a resounding: “Sorry, I have to make it to daycare in Midtown while still looking fab.” At her best, I see Liang as a sort of zillennial Mary Cassatt, posting pictures of her face smushed up against her child’s in a way that asserts she can occupy the social roles of cool girl, creative, and mom at the same time. Making clothes not only for her own inner child, but for her actual children. There is a quote from Sarah Spellings’ Vogue  Runway review  in which, talking about her SS24 collection, she mentioned she is often inspired by groups of women who are matching — intentionally or not. “They don’t realize how beautiful they are when they’re standing together,” she says. Her work to me has always been this one specific image — a fascination with a group of schoolgirls walking home in Queens. It seems like from this one image, imagined or not, an entire brand identity emerges. This harmony is itself a sort of maternal instinct: to have matching mommy-son outfits, to see your child as a beautiful part of a transcendent whole, picking him up at carpool, one minnow in a school of fish. While talking with Zauner, the elephant in the room is raised: how do women artists who want kids reconcile a rigid creative perfectionism with the often overwhelming burdens of motherhood? Is there a middle path between not losing yourself in the role of homemaker and also holding space for the creative energy one will eventually exert and deplete in the cultivation and curation of a child? If anything, this would be my thesis: that this question is only ever asked of women, and that there is a real and true artistic beauty in becoming more inaccessible and even unsuccessful in the name of bringing up a family — not sacrificing your career, but letting it mold to the contours of your holistic identity as both a woman and a mother. Some may not get it, and that’s fine. But love is not something to be afraid of, and it certainly is not something that diminishes the voice of an artist. Motherhood, in all its psychic intermingling of the woman’s identity with her child’s, demands a sort of fiery creative ego death, one that inevitably impacts the nature of one’s work. If I meet the right person in my 30s, fall deeply for them, and find myself at the precipice of starting a family like Zauner and Liang, how terrifying and how lovely it must be to face these questions. It truly brings me to tears imagining it, how sickeningly sweet it must feel to lose part of your audience, and to look in the eyes of my child and see a whole crowd of adoring fans. ZAUNER: [...] I’ve been doing Japanese Breakfast for nine years. This will be my fourth album, and I would say that every single record I’ve made has been more successful than the last, and I live in constant fear and anticipation of, “When will I plateau and when will I begin to decline?” I don’t want to say this in an interview, but I keep thinking this is this one. LIANG: I completely understand. ZAUNER: And I think in some ways, when I arrive at that plateau, it will be both devastating and completely liberating. 🌀 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.

Boy Smells minimalist, androgynous candles and fragrances decorated everyone’s desks, coffee tables, and vanities. Then came the rebrand. Above: Boy Smells' 2025 packaging rebrand. Of the design, Dirt CEO and co-founder Daisy Alioto coined it "... pearlescent Elf Bars for influencers to tap their nails against.” Boy Smells  burst onto the fragrance scene in 2020 with promises of androgyny and subversion. Early reviewers were drawn to the quirky, oblong cap design, the dissonance of the name, and the brand’s Glossier-pink labels. Boy Smells, owned by “real-life and business partners” Matthew Herman and David Kien, was founded as the pair rejected   the “normative ‘genderless’ caption to beauty and wellness products” in the mid-2010s. Boy Smells’ early scents trended towards androgyny, which is different from that “normative ‘genderlessness’” in that it is marked by the presence of dual masculine and feminine signifiers, instead of a lack of any gendered signifiers at all (think blank-slate scents like Byredo’s Blanche). Its popular scents combine floral and leather notes, cardamom and cedarwood, and marijuana and hazelnut. Boy Smells is, as their marketing copy will not let you forget, not genderless, but gender ful . This positioning as a queer-owned niche brand intent on subverting commercialized queerness has come back to bite. In April, the brand rolled out Boy Smells 2.0., a rebrand that included discontinuing old fragrances, releasing a handful of new ones, and changing the packaging design to a smooth bottle with an orb-shaped cap, which went into effect in mid-April. This rebrand came after a period of commercial struggle and was intended to inject the brand with a much-needed capital boost.  When faced with the new basic flourmands and Rhode-esque bottle redesign, fans of the brand took to social media to express their dismay  and disappointment . The brand that built its consumer base on a message of transgression is now selling run-of-the-mill flourmands and sugary lactonics in bottles that look right at home in a Glow House Sephora haul. Words like “ watered-down ” and “ Gen Z-algospeak ” abound. Despite such intense online backlash that the brand sent out an ersatz Notes app apology via email , Boy Smells seems to be doing just fine — more than fine, in fact. A brand representative told Glossy  that the rebrand wrought Boy Smells’ best sales week in four years. This dissonance might stem from the fact that the rebrand’s target audience is not quite of thinkpiece-writing, Twitter-thread-authoring age. The rounded bottle caps and blown-up logo size are trends popular among tweenage Drunk Elephant enthusiasts, as reported by Beauty Independent  and Puck .  The email, however, is littered with language designed to pacify elder Gen Z’s and younger millennials, featuring vocabulary like “self-expression” and “queer-led.” The website copy reads: “Identity isn't static. And neither are we.” The loss of faith, it seems, was among the thinkpiece age group, disappointed with the brand’s abandonment of its androgynous scents like Suede Pony for tooth-rotting marshmallow scents a la Sol de Jainero. The backlash was significant enough to warrant damage control. Beyond complaints about the new scent profiles — the house of Boy Smells has fallen to the great flourmand influx! — the redesigned packaging is a particularly sore spot. Dirt Media  CEO Daisy Alioto called  the new packaging “pearlescent Elf Bars for influencers to tap their nails against.” Artist and perfumehead Daphne Villanueva told HALOSCOPE: “I know the original packaging was fairly controversial in that people hated the oversized cap, but it felt deco-minimalist to me.” Above: Boy Smells' pre-2025 packaging design The Boy Smells packaging redesign situates the brand in what Jane Song describes as the “pebble-dagger” dichotomy. As Song points out, 2020s beauty products and interior design display an inclination towards what she calls the pebble, and what I will here call the blobform. From Rhode’s pocket blushes to EOS chapsticks, the dagger-like shape of preceding lip products and eyeliners has been abandoned in favor of a rounded, non-threatening, blob-like product design. Song writes : “[The] pebble represents a sense of absolution from overconsumption.” What harm could be wrought by a bubblegum pink blob? Notably, as Song and Alioto point out, the cosmetic blobform runs parallel to the design of disposable vapes. A GeekBar, a Rhode blush, a Glossier solid perfume — your hand curls around the blob as if you were a baby instinctively grasping a finger. As suggested by Rhode’s phone case designed to carry its popular lip gloss, the blobform is something you are never meant to put down. The hot pink Flum Pebble is antithetical to the sharp, phallic image of the cigarette. It is addiction — overconsumption — rendered harmless. This design trend is reminiscent of the humanoid blobforms of Corporate Memphis . You’ve probably seen this art style on Facebook’s login page or in the IBM ads that have littered this basketball season. The Corporate Memphis art style is unnerving in its genderlessness, its race-blindness. It is a half-hearted hand wave towards the human body, exhausted by post-Obama cries for inclusivity in advertising. Here , it says dejectedly as it presents the viewer with sexless purple homunculi rendered in scalable vectors. Fine . This regression to an aesthetic means of blobforms neutralizes any potential for aesthetic or political subversion. Song walks this out in her piece, as does Cassidy Bensko in her piece  on Canva’s dilution of radical aesthetics. The blobform humanoid has no ethnic history, no ostensible sexuality. The pebble blush begs you to forget that “tools of glamour contain power and danger conferred to the user.” Corporate Memphis’ genderless simulacra of the human form, the Flum Pebble, Rare Beauty’s concealers — they all represent a commercial harmlessness. Apropos of nothing, Jia Tolentino’s research into the creative style book of Cocomelon revealed that animators are not allowed to include objects with sharp corners. It is a world where every edge is rounded — it’s a world that cannot hurt you. Is the rounded redesign of Boysmell’s packaging so significant? So politically fraught? It’s not like Boy Smells has never pushed the envelope. Last Pride Month,  the brand released a poppers-themed candle, releasing a Zoom screenshot  of the entire marketing team trying poppers as part of its development. In light of the Trump administration’s raids on poppers factories  across the U.S., this is a substantively transgressive act, one that Boy Smells’ consumers loved. The brand fell back on this goodwill in the rebrand apology email: “We’re still the same team that brought you poppers-inspired Citrush .” The brand has been upfront about the commercial motivations for the rebrand while gripping white-knuckled to their philosophy of gendered transgression. The brand told Beauty Independent  that they were acquired by a “group of gay investors” in early 2024 to bolster capital. Puck calls the rebrand  a “Sephora pet-project” in light of Boy Smells strengthening their partnership with the retailer. The apology email and website copy for the rebrand engage in a complicated balancing act between transgression and profit: “The brand had to evolve in order to survive […] All we ask is that you stick with us throughout this next chapter.” The brand is still, self-professedly, “rooted in genderfulness.” I hesitate to throw around fighting words like “rainbow capitalism,” even as the phrase “gay investors” readily invites it. The point of a business is to make money, and it is perhaps misguided to source your gendered transgression from the Sephora fragrance aisle, sandwiched in between $100 anti-aging serums and endless iterations of YSL’s Black Opium. Whether or not the rebrand represents a departure from the brand’s nominally transgressive philosophy, it might not be the philosophical implications that have put people off from the rebrand — the new Boy Smells might just not be very good.  Old is the adage of a decrease in product quality following a new round of investors or a venture capital acquisition. Euphemisms like “capital infusion” and “overhead” do little to obscure the reality that profits are higher when a product is cheaper to make. As Alioto told HALOSCOPE, her qualm with the rebrand “[Wasn’t] that they seemed to stray from their stated values, it just looks bad and cheap… look at influencers showing the bottles, the line in the colorblocking isn't clean.” The blobform, it would seem, is the physicalization of cut corners. 🌀 Caelan Reeves is a writer from Chicago. You can find her fragrance writing in HALOSCOPE and High Country News .