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Should we stick to separating the two — or should we have always been joining them at the hip? Before 2015, a 10-step skincare routine — in the Westernized approach to skin health — was unheard of. Now, the market size for K-Beauty — which some would argue is the dominant beauty force right now — is expected to reach $13.9 billion in 2027. How and why did the conversation around skincare in relation to makeup begin? How did the two become conflated, especially when talking about the ever-haunting glass skin trend? Sheet masks; eye patches; the use of spatulas to apply thin layers of foundation — all new, popular, and steadfast skincare tools credited to Korean beauty. South Korean soap operas, food, musical groups, and overall aesthetics have been at the forefront in challenging, varying aspects of makeup culture: from the fun, playful design of makeup products (see: TONYMOLY) to ideals of masculinity and the rise of men wearing makeup and seeking a softer look (see: BTS’ styling). This wave of Korean cultural ascendancy — called “Hallyu” — is, above all, innovative, unique, and effective. In contrast to what the U.S. market has had to offer across the 2010s, Korean cosmetics are often functional and eco-friendly, rejecting animal testing and artificial ingredients. With diffusion additives ranging from green tea, to food extracts, to even snail mucin, cosmetic lines are embracing the beauty of the natural world — and making people look towards a different cultural proposal. But back to skincare and beauty. Should we stick to separating the two — or should we have always been joining them at the hip? K-beauty has set a standard for new trends and their evolution within the beauty realm. We see this in the skin rituals, ingredients, and the overall care given to this part of a person’s daily routine. It makes sense that skincare and makeup have become synonymous with beauty as a whole. At the same time, healthier habits have become the priority when the results speak for themselves. So far, this has meant this evolution seems like it’s here to stay. When looking at makeup products of today, it could be argued that most upsell skincare functions in their products, like Glossier — and they have a clear purpose to enhance features and create a natural look. Foundations are suddenly now serum-infused lip treatments, oils, and scrubs also have SPF coverage; tinted moisturizers and sunscreens promise extra hydration support; and that doesn’t even include the use of various steps before actually putting makeup on. While we’ve moved past the full-coverage look of the early 2010s, this doesn’t eliminate the negative side effects that come along with any beauty ideal. Even if the K-Beauty wave is one we follow now, there are certain repercussions we have yet to fully grasp — especially in how they could continue to change our standards of biophysical appearance. Cosmetic surgeries and invasive procedures have become widespread and aspirational in some countries. This, in hand with the idolization of whiter, paler skin in South Korea, gives us a different perspective of this beauty movement — one that gives us the power to break down many pre-conceived, Western notions of beauty and aesthetics, but could also bring a slew of more serious topics onto the already complicated panorama of harmful standards. We are always at risk of falling into the perfectionism trap — especially with the never-ending search for the best natural, “no-makeup makeup” look. The involvement of skincare in the majority of makeup products should, ideally, highlight people’s innate, most beautiful features, but it’s not so simple. The lines are blurred, now, and it’s highly unlikely they’ll ever be separated again. But that doesn’t mean every makeup product is inherently skincare or even “healthy” — or that the full coverage look will never return. I can see the risks and the benefits of these skincare habits in how they relate to using makeup daily; I’ve been influenced to try the 10-step skincare routine and it hasn’t worked for me (however, I have kept the diligence of wearing sunscreen daily). That’s the key — keeping what works for you is the only way this skin-like effect will look its best. So: experiment, play, and draw your own conclusions. 🌀

On deconstruction, Kristeva, and Margiela. The allure of elegance on the runway — graced by simplicity, models sashaying in slow two-step — might sound fashionable and enticing, but it’s often intentionally misleading. This tactic is often twofold: the clothing, or lack thereof, is making a statement; the designer convinces us of its importance by taking it away. The deconstruction of these pieces also implies an innate godliness about the designs and their creator: out of nothing is born a beautiful collection, the clothes becoming secondary to the notion of “creativity” that precedes them down the runway. Just as awe-inspiring and magical as its initial production can its destruction be. Perhaps laziness is being confused for minimalism; perhaps brands want to exhibit their consciousness about the materialism of the fashion world and are executing it in the wrong manner. In many ways, this practice is a case of soft-core rebellion; presenting beautiful garments that nobody in the audience can feel or access. As mentioned previously, there is an innate godliness about design. The process of ideating a piece and then bringing it to life is a certain illusive birth; born out of nothing is a new, creative production, designed in the hopes to live on and be worn forever. The degradation and dissolution of a runway look, in turn revealing less than what was originally presented, conflicts with the notion of a new collection. Why allow audiences to view the material if it is going to be taken away in front of their eyes? Perhaps ego is of considerable importance; in order to avoid ego death, the designer instead simulates a clothing funeral on the runway. Conflict with the object world comes when one has a preoccupation with the self — there is a mistake in dismissing the importance of timelessness when evaluating elegant and classic collections of decades past that have remained relevant. John Galliano spearheaded Dior as creative director from 1996 until 2011 and produced many controversial yet classic collections to be remembered for years to come. Take Dior’s F/W 2000 show, for example: an avant-garde interpretation of royal opulence, complete with the ghost of Marie Antoinette headed down the runway. Galliano combined fetish and faith whilst maintaining the integrity of the fashion house’s claim to fame; structured evening gowns were complemented by an overabundance of religion and Renaissance references. The collection’s cohesive yet shocking homage to Rococo regality delivered both entertainment and fashion — reason enough as to why it has been preserved in modern memory for over twenty years. Taking scissors to a pair of denim jeans that are headed down the runway results in messy craftsmanship and illuminates a spotlight on the person holding the bottoms of the newly-hemmed shorts. Similarly, an unfinished piece that is presented to an audience as such suggests a carelessness and egoism about the designer and their brand. It would seem as though there is little consideration for what contributes towards the preservation of a thing in today’s culture of immediacy; legacy should not be granted to someone or something merely because they obtain the power to threaten taking something away. Julia Kristeva discusses the perverse in opposition to art in Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, a theme that fittingly coincides with the idea that the destruction of fashion is often not uniquely creative in nature: “The abject is perverse because it neither gives up nor assumes a prohibition, a rule, or a law; but turns them aside, misleads, corrupts; uses them, takes advantage of them, the better to deny them. It kills in the name of life- a progressive despot it lives at the behest of death- an operator in genetic experimentations; it curbs the other’s suffering for its own profit- a cynic (and a psychoanalyst); it establishes narcissistic power while pretending to reveal the abyss- an artist who practices his art as a ‘business’. Corruption is its most common, most obvious appearance.” While clothing does not contain elements of morality, it is certainly capable of being destroyed in experimentation; pieces are “kill[ed] in the name of life” and absolved of any artistic integrity in order to present something anew. But if the newly destroyed piece is devoid of material, is it providing new life to an idea? Or is it the death of what once existed and no longer does that matters more? Regardless of the answer, we see the corruption of creativity before our very eyes — designers and creative directors exhibiting power and establishing modernity. In the autumn of 1989, Maison Margiela publicly showcased a collection on the runway that shifted the attitude toward fashion exhibitions. Margiela’s intertwining of creation and experience resulted in an engaging show for its audience, who gathered in Paris’ 20th arrondissement, a North African neighborhood. The designer considered the setting and the culture, sending children running ahead of the models, who tripped down the uneven so-called catwalk built upon a dirtied street. Descent from anticipated values of order and cleanliness resulted in a new, undone nature. Dresses fell down the backs of models, who smoked cigarettes, had rollers in their hair, and were blinded by ski masks. Margiela’s S/S 1989 collection is one of intentional chaos and disarray, with the clothes’ undone nature contributing to the overall bedlam tone of the show. This collection has been remembered as a successful iteration of deconstruction — because it marked the beginning of a new era of minimalistic fashion during the 1990s. Another use of degradation to reveal a runway collection occurred during 2016, when designer Hussein Chalayan utilized natural elements to erode his presentation. Water cascaded down the garments, taking with it the soluble material that disguised his designs. Chalayan created a cohesive and immersive experience, relating the designs to the destruction that preceded them. In that, dissection for the sake of artistic integrity actually adds to a showcase in pursuit of revelation. The subversion of this preoccupation with ego, however, can be seen in Coperni’s instantly-viral S/S 2023 show, in which a team of spray painters created a dress on Bella Hadid’s body as she walked the runway. Instead of destruction, the show emphasized creation. A religious experience was created for the audience, who witnessed nothing — just vapor — slowly turn into a piece of clothing, molded fittingly to Hadid’s body and ready for consumption. Through these demonstrations over the years, critics and audiences alike have seen the exaltation of designer and the decay of design’s integrity. There is no orthodox form of fashion philosophy, but any deviation from what is expected should deliver more, not less — not to be confused with minimalism. A fashion house’s inability to distance themselves from the perception of the idea of art will prohibit them from being able to actually create art that is interesting and hopeful. Clothing is an articulation of the unconscious through demonstration, or “energy that is transformed into meaning,” as Freud might attempt to explain the importance of externalizing thought. Physicality is essential to making someone else believe in your idea, — providing proof of existence and giving body to an idea that can live on forever. It is the only way runway performance can continue to innovate. 🌀 Erica DeMatos is a writer, editor, and student based in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Find her on social media at @erica_dematos.

In the digital age, a sense of smell affirms our sense of self. The air is starting to smell like smoking someone else’s cigarettes on someone else’s balcony wearing someone else’s coat you found on someone else’s bedroom floor. It’s not just the dead leaves signaling a new era –– something else is hanging in the cold, late fall air. While it beckons us back into old habits, it also ushers in Margiela Jazz Club, Le Labo Santal 33, and Diptyque Tam Dao. Retired are notes of bergamot and fresh linen. Reinstated are notes of cardamom and cedar. Seasons come, seasons go. As the leaves turn to snow and we begin to analyze the ebb and flow of the past year’s cultural trends, a certain phenomenon seems to have truly permeated our spaces. 2023 has been marked by a fragrance frenzy. Suddenly, our online platforms have become saturated with fragrance content, from scentfluencers to #SOTD Fragrantica screenshots. Everyone has been talking and writing about perfume lately — but why? Well, something else has cemented its place in our lives this year. Something that cannot be contained by seasonal trend cycles or a 2ml sample vial. No hashtag is needed to know that the year has also been marked by an intense influx of artificial intelligence and technological developments. Try as we might to go against the current, it’s been inescapable in media, conversations, and job descriptions. It feels like every tech advancement thus far has culminated in 2023. Yet so has pushback against it. AI was a central issue in the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, and remains one for many whose professions are threatened to be devalued by ChatGPT and image generator tools. But as algorithms and language models slowly chip away at our sense of self, it’s only natural that we seek to reaffirm our individuality outside of digital spaces. In 2023, we seem to be getting this fulfillment from fragrance –– the final frontier left mostly untouched by online optimization. This year’s perfume obsession is our way of coping with a technology takeover. Participating in this obsession means more than simply wearing perfume. It’s an immersive practice. With all of our interactions becoming increasingly digitized, it’s special to be able to engage with something that can truly only be experienced in the flesh. You can imagine what a perfume smells like through its Fragrantica notes, but you’ll never really know until you live through it lingering on a lover’s pillow, recognize it as you enter your best friend’s apartment, or catch a whiff as you put on that coat found on the bedroom floor of some party. Just as the scent you’re wearing says something about your identity, knowing scents on others defines you as someone making a conscious effort to be terminally alive rather than terminally online. And for a plethora of creatives who spent the year wondering whether their jobs will be replaced by AI, being able to detect the scent of Baccarat Rouge or Byredo Bibliotheque or something-by -Tom-Ford-but-you-forget-the-name-again affirms something slowly being taken away from us. It’s an indicator of skill and status. The status of a human, alive and engaging with the real world. The skill still yet to be taught to technology (as far as I know). Picking up or passing judgment on these scents –– as they breeze past on the street, as they fill an office elevator, as they mingle with every other odor in a crowded bar –– can affirm as much for the detector as the wearer. Even though we are mostly witnessing this fragrance frenzy unfold online, the gratification of being in-the-know can only come IRL. Just as the scent you’re wearing says something about your identity, knowing scents on others defines you as someone making a conscious effort to be terminally alive rather than terminally online. So what does your fragrance of choice say about you? There is plenty of TikTok content that will try to tell you. But no matter what you choose to wear as your signature scent or scent of the day, one thing seems especially important during this perfume renaissance: not smelling like anyone else. Maybe you pair something earthy and animalistic with attending a DIY noise show. Maybe you pair metallic and mineral notes with showing up late to your friend’s vernissage and missing the free wine. Maybe, alone in your room, you put on a delicate floral perfume that was just released last week while looking it up on Fragrantica. In the community of those preoccupied with perfume, niche scents act as proof of individuality, further proving how closely we cling to fragrance as a marker of identity. Oh, what would we do without those square tiles of stock images representing top, middle, and bottom notes? A perfectly sliced lime. A bright blue crashing wave representing sea notes. A line of brown smoke against a white background representing incense. Often, posters of Fragrantica screenshots won’t even include the name of the fragrance, just the note tiles. You could think of it as gatekeep-y. But really, in a world where every text message, purchase, and location is mined for data, there’s something rebellious about only defining yourself with an outdated website’s impression of aromas. It’s organic. It’s self-preservation. It’s mysterious. Isn’t the allure of fragrance, after all, the way it captures the ineffable? The perfume renaissance has brought together those who think so. Some of us, though, go a step further in our quest to counteract the issue of identity in the digital age, with scents explicitly inspired by decades past. Plus, if an interest in fragrance does indicate a nostalgic longing for life before iPhones and SEO, then indie perfumers are definitely on the scent. Known for a collection of perfume that captures Los Angeles in the ‘60s and ‘70s, Thin Wild Mercury has built an entire brand identity inspired by the era’s bohemian bliss. The perfumes are aptly named for vessels of cultural iconography, like the Chateau Marmont or Laurel Canyon –– where wearers probably imagine themselves residing in a past life. They just released a second fragrance collection, this time evoking the vintage vagabonds of New York City, from the Beat Generation to Edie Sedgwick. With notes so carefully crafted to invoke generations gone by, their “fine fragrances steeped in nostalgia” allow the wearer –– and anyone who crosses their path –– to see an LED-lit world through sepia-toned sunglasses. Meanwhile, NYC-based perfumer Marissa Zappas creates nostalgic yet avant-garde perfumes that aim to blur the line between fantasy and modern reality. Look no further than her latest perfume, Maggie the Cat is Alive, I’m Alive! inspired by Elizabeth Taylor in the 1958 film Cat on a Hot Tin Roof — a personality worth channeling. This fall, Marissa hosted an event that combined literary readings with perfumes of the past. “An Evening of Scented Readings” featured a host of writers who read pieces inspired by a vintage fragrance as a blotter of the scent was passed around the room. Fitting, as she believes that “perfume –– both creating and wearing it –– conjures our past, present, and future selves.” Her poetically evocative scents go to show that you don’t have to long for another era…you can just summon it, if you so choose to. In a world divided by the digital and the tangible, scent is neither. It transcends both and leaves us with a way to define ourselves that cannot truly be captured, not in the physical realm nor by Location Services. It can only exist in fleeting moments, in shared memories, in the things we can’t put into words. Some leave behind the sillage of their token Margiela perfume, others, the latest indie darling of #PerfumeTok. Either way, the converging trends of heightened artificial intelligence and perfume obsession in 2023 cannot be a coincidence. There is no cache –– fragrance sets us free. In June, SSENSE announced the launch of an AI-based personal styling chatbot. Six months later, it seems to have disappeared from their site. Let us remain optimistic, earthly daydreamers. Perhaps disdain for artificial intelligence is catching on quicker than we thought — we who know the value of human-generated content, human interaction, and a unique signature scent. 🌀 Reilly Tuesday is a writer, translator, and earthly daydreamer from Prince Edward Island, Canada. Her writing has appeared in The Drunken Canal, Hobart Pulp, and Delude Magazine. She can be found meandering in Montreal or as @reilliz on Instagram, and @haunted_cereal on Twitter.

The coolest girls we know are wearing garters outside FYI. My first piece of advice for anyone looking to venture into Vintage Clothing is always: Wear the Beautiful Thing. Just Wear the Beautiful Thing — no matter what anybody else says. Don’t feel embarrassed by how much you’ll “stand out.” Don’t feel pressured to “modernize” your look by pairing it with jeans and a white T-shirt. Don’t succumb to the choir of parents, peers, and perfect strangers all telling you: “No! You can’t wear your nightgowns outside!” I’m here to tell you that yes, you can. You can wear them outside. Life is too short to let your beautiful, showstopping garments rot away in the closet. Wear the Beautiful Thing! Now that we got that out of the way, let’s get on to some practical styling advice. The first thing you want to consider is comfort. As much as we can delude ourselves into thinking that we’re these tough Glamour Warriors who can wear any garment no matter how restrictive, no matter how itchy, no matter how scratchy — the truth is, if it’s not comfortable, you’re not going to reach for it. My tried-and-true favorite brand of Vintage Nightgown is Olga Bodysilk. They’re mostly from the ‘70s and ‘80s (the Spandex Golden Years), so they’re stretchy and comfy and oh-so-gorgeous. You can wear these on their own or with a peignoir (which is just a fancy robe). Sometimes you can buy the nightgowns in a set with a matching peignoir — but I love to mix and match with one from a more fluffy, chiffon era like the ‘50s or ‘60s. I got this mint green chiffon set from an eBay auction (a lot of 10 dresses for $100, you really can’t beat it). It’s from the 1960s and fulfills all of my Priscilla by Sofia Coppola fantasies. You can always tone down the fluffiness of your nightgown with a fur coat. Mine is a Grandella Faux Fur from the ‘60s. I got it on Goodwill Auctions — which, if you haven’t heard of this treasure trove of a website yet, you gotta check it out. It is the place to go for Vintage finds. I got this coat for only $14! Goodwill Auctions is also an incredible place to find accessories! They have a whole section devoted to Brooches and Pins that I have bookmarked straight to my computer browser because I visit it so often. Brooches are the true secret to Vintage Nightgown versatility. Sure, you can pin them to your lapel for a little added flair, but you can also bustle up the hem of your dress and pin it to your hip — changing the silhouette dramatically. Or you can drape a sweater over your shoulders and pin the sleeves together in the front and suddenly, boom, the neckline is more modest. Now you can wear it to work! This next piece of advice is for the more Daring among us — but I think one of the great joys of Vintage Nightgown Dressing is playing with sheerness. If you’re a lingerie lover like me, then you know the struggle of trying to find a tasteful opportunity to showcase your sets. Vintage Nightgowns, especially ones from the ‘30s and ‘40s, have this delicious level of sheerness that isn’t quite replicable in modern garments. It’s a combination of a dress that was initially made to be quite opaque, that has then been worn down over decades into a gown with just a hint of translucency. That’s a really tough line to walk — because you don’t want to be walking around town with your panties hangin’ out — but maybe seeing a whisper of your garter set won’t hurt anybody! My favorite lingerie sets to wear are from Dita Von Teese. They are just the perfect, 1940s-inspired shape and are made out of such fine fabric. It feels like a true luxury to wear them. I buy my stockings from Playful Promises, as they are one of the only brands that make genuine Plus Size Hosiery (it’s tough out here for us Thick Thighed Ladies!) and I get all my Longline Bullet Bras from Rago. What you wear underneath your Nightgown is critical to the final look. We want to be elevating the Nightgown, cherishing the specialness of vintage craftsmanship. We don’t want to look like we threw on our Cookie Monster pajama pants for a Walmart run — so don’t skimp on the underpinnings. Above all else: don’t be afraid to dress differently from the crowd. I know there can be a real pressure to conform and even a slight fear of being seen as a “spectacle” while you’re just walking around living your daily life — hell, it’s the reason I haven’t been able to fully get into wearing hats! I just feel too goofy! But ultimately, they’re just clothes. Wear what you like. Wear what makes you feel good. Wear what feels authentic to you. To hell with what everyone else thinks. 🌀 Kaitlin Owens is a vintage fashion writer, movie buff, lover of good eats, and a women’s size 7.5 (if any shoe brands are reading). She is the Editor-in-Chief of Dilettante Magazine. You can find her on socials @magdilettante.

Rocha’s work inspires a new question: are past moments in time all that we — designers and audiences alike — can be inspired by? A collection set in the juxtaposition of femininity and utilitarianism, Simone Rocha S/S 2024 at London Fashion Week offered, in the designer’s own words, “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something baby blue.” Even though the clear manifestation of this romantic ideal is breathtaking, the face decoration in Rocha’s work constantly caught my eye. Whether it be a subtly bejeweled face, long satin bows that mimic tears, painted flowers, or even face covers, the Rocha Effect is nostalgic enough — but intriguing every time. The storyline when it comes to face details has remained cohesive for Rocha. The Spring/Summer 2024 collection featured a collaboration with Crocs, and the signature style can’t be missed: jewels are present in all forms of the shoe. Where does the inspiration come from? The whimsical use of face accessories in the most purposeful way speaks to my storyteller soul —however, it teeters on the line of being too predictable. We’ve heard of the bow tax and the lack of fresh takes that Fashion Week so desperately needs. Nostalgia tends to be heavily favored, since it relies on concepts that previously had definitive success — a key example being Sandy Liang taking inspiration from Sofia Coppola films. But this creates a new struggle: what else is up Liang’s sleeve? Are past moments in time all that we — designers and audience alike — can be inspired by? In any case, the question is not necessarily negative. Maybe the next answer we should be looking for is how beauty on the runway will influence the soft-girl zeitgeist. The particular sweetness of Rocha’s details (as well as Liang’s) always leaves a mark. Ribbons and other feminine accessories are present and loved. Embracing girlhood has not only become a trend, but a welcome cultural shift on all platforms. So this signature romanticism is harmless, fun, easy enough to adopt, and it makes girls feel good about being girls. Ribbons and jewels have always been a part of that; however, the line is still in the sand. If these runway looks become too on the nose or too predictable, it could all be over pretty soon, and the pendulum could swing back towards a more stoic, maybe even androgynous look — one that deeply defined the early 2010s. Although I truly enjoy the feminine use of accessories, I hope we can skip the end of girlhood, because if not, it would mean the trend would “grow up” and be judged as a woman’s whim. Meaning, the short life cycle of the idolization of this trend could inevitably mean its downfall is very, very close. 🌀

Dispatches from Clue Perfumery's debut. I understand the bias implicit in making this claim, but I truly do think there is something special about the creative landscape of Chicago. Be it the liminal nature of the flyover states, or the implicit disregard it receives from the creative class attending their art schools that treats it as their stepping stool to the bohemian cookie jar only found by doubling their rent and moving to New York, one gets the sense that those who have made Chicago their home for an extended period do so out of love. For this reason, I feel uniquely called to support and uplift what jewels rise from the community of winter-hardened aesthetes and perfume collectors I have happily made my home among. And following the trail of one of the season’s most talked-about thé dansants, that most recent debutante is Clue Perfumery, the collaborative effort of perfumer Laura Oberwetter, designer Caleb Vanden Boom, and too many other Midwestern creatives to name sufficiently. Even as I currently write in exile from the scented catacombs of South Carolina’s candle boutiques, what seemed to be at least six different groups of my friends had united at this opening party, around the larger-than-life-size replica sculpture of their perfume bottle, to witness the debut of three scents: Warm Bulb, Morel Map, and With the Candlestick. And what sort of perfume critic, nay Chicagoan, would I be if I were to not help you dear reader discern between them? In all seriousness, I think what I have seen and smelled so far from Clue, both in a strictly olfactory sense and in the degree of warmth with which the city has received these delicately scented clouds, proves this debut will be one to remember. Between the scented drink pairings, the astoundingly consistent branding, and the curated internet presence, Clue feels less like the myopic voice of a burgeoning auteur and more like a combined theoretical exercise in whimsy, curiosity, nostalgia, sculpture, graphic design, and community. It is amusingly ironic to me that the eponymous game of Clue is an excuse to ask the question “Who did it?” and the house of Clue is an exercise in proving that no one and everyone did at the same time. Warm Bulb, or: White Light/White Heat Perhaps the most generalized and duplicitous scent from their collection, Warm Bulb is an effort to conjure the scent of heat. Beginning with an opening of bitter black pepper somewhat characteristic of all three scents in the collection, it shortly gives way to a piquant sort of tobacco, tempered with herbal immortelle. This scent never quite seemed to settle on my skin, continually evolving from spicy to warm to dry. It is predominantly a strange sort of experimental vanilla. I am reminded of attempts to transcribe the oft-coveted scent of old books, which often arrives at a similar withered sort of vanillic sweetness. To my nose, the distinct and short-lived life stages of this perfume start at stuffy pepper, pass through an effervescent sort of immortelle soda, and then settle into a mix of mellow tobacco, yielding to the final creamy echoes of sandalwood and a fuzzy sort of amber and vanilla accord common to many crowd-pleasing perfumes. In general, I find — with one key exception — that Clue’s most abstract and provocative accords are top notes, so the wearer gets to experience an element of experimentalism at the moment of application, followed by a more wearable experience into the drydown. Regardless, Warm Bulb emits a fuzzy sort of radiance and is sure to please recreational bibliophiles and lapsed academics alike. Morel Map, or: Spilling a bottle of Charlie Blue on the Cold Wet Soil Somewhere Between Milwaukee and Madison Townships If Warm Bulb is Clue’s most abstract scent, gesturing more towards ideas of heat and vague sensations of comfort, Morel Map is its foil — speaking directly to the land and one’s present environment. Inspired by the hunt for morel mushrooms, an alien sort of veined fungi common to the perfumer’s native Wisconsin, Oberwetter describes the perfume as an “olfactory guide.” In this sense, I see the purpose of Morel Map to conjure not the mushrooms themselves, but the situation upon which they were recalled in memory. In character, Morel Map opens peppery, bitter, and almost culinarily green. Birch leaf and currant conjure a similar juicy-green effect to tomato leaf. References might be Diptyque’s Venise, which combines the greenery of L’ombre Dans L’eau with a vibrant Italian basil. Into the drydown, however, Morel turns moister, developing into an earthen heart of galbanum and a vague sort of mushroom accord. In my experiments in perfumery, I have found violet leaf to be an extremely delicate material to employ in composition — it is deceiving how such delicate and powdery flowers yield such a commanding and rank essence. Used in Morel, however, it lends robustness to galbanum, which can often run powdery and almost cosmetic when used on its own. The mushroom accord itself is one that acts subtly, rather than taking center stage. It feels more savory than anything, lending to the overall feeling I get from Morel Map: of sustenance. The largest transformation here happens as the drydown concludes, where a far more classical oakmoss clings to the skin for hours, evoking the likes of 70s pharmacy classics like Charlie Blue and similar homages such as Marissa Zappas’ newest, Maggie the Cat is Alive! I'm Alive! In all, Morel Map traverses a landscape from green to dirty to refined. Perfect for wearing your best opera gown to run through the forest barefoot, dragging forest debris and precious little mushrooms in your wake. With the Candlestick, or: Drawn to the Blood It was no surprise that of Clue’s three debut scents, With the Candlestick was my favorite. As a professed fan of smoky fragrances, churchy olfactory aesthetics, and incense, I felt immediately drawn towards the perfume’s copy, even before smelling. Oberwetter describes this as a perfume about communion. Mixing a tongue-in-cheek sense of dramatics, Clue utilizes one of the most common phrases from its namesake game and turns it into a declarative statement without a subject. There is now only action — a bold array of intense smells that mirror a child’s hyperbolic vision. Oberwetter writes on Instagram: While working on Candlestick, I was thinking a lot about how taking communion feels to a child. How that eerie overwhelm is heightened by language about "drinking the blood and eating the body.” By isolating and amplifying these religious traditions out of context, we get a distorted sensory portrait that feels closer to what a child would see or what a film would show. The predominant players here are sticky-sweet cherry wine, frankincense, cinnamon, and an extinguished candle accord that into the drydown becomes so photorealistic it genuinely makes me jealous of Oberwetter’s skill as a nose. Candlestick is perhaps the most linear of the triad, but still manages to stick to my skin for a number of hours. Balancing smoky and sweet, this perfume is Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry if the girl who spent far too much money to wear it actually went to Latin Mass instead of just pretending on Twitter — a smoky, sweet, and ceremonial delight to wear. 🌀 Clue Perfumery’s fragrances can be purchased at multiple stockists in Chicago and at www.clueperfumery.com.

How Amy and Sidonie Roberts, costume designers for The Crown, brought the late Princess of Wales back to life. For Elizabeth Debicki, portraying arguably the most famous and heartbreaking royal story of the 20th century was inevitably going to be a daunting career challenge. How can one ever do her justice? Should one even agree to place her heavily-publicised story into the social consciousness yet again? Even with such weight on her shoulders, in the latest, and concluding chapter, of Netflix’s The Crown, Debicki masterfully metamorphosizes into the complex Diana of the Summer of 1997 — a Diana the world has never forgotten. Grappling with her position outside of the royal family following her arduous divorce, her developing relationship with Dodi Fayed, and a flashy fleet of exuberant yachts, perhaps Debicki’s greatest tool — in fact, the greatest tool to The Crown, in all — was Diana’s eminent dress. Catapulted onto the world stage as a shy teenager, 19-year-old Lady Diana Spencer’s style was a far cry from the ‘90s sartorial icon she was destined to become. A typical Sloane Ranger, Diana dressed in the style adopted by many upper-middle and upper-class young ladies of the late 1970s and early 1980s, although the young soon-to-be Princess’ global popularity would place this trend for easy chic, country-gone-city, put together in a distinctly not put-together vein. Emma Corrin’s sweet, sincere, and inexperienced Diana was brought to life through the domineering work of costume designer Amy Roberts, who has described Diana as someone “You felt you could reach out and touch.” In The Crown, a naive, childlike Diana Spencer is first introduced to us in costume. Perhaps a tad on the nose, the visual of Diana playing dress-up is undeniably a metaphor for the life she would soon lead. For those behind-the-palace-walls moments without specific contemporary outfit details, Roberts drew upon looks in which Diana had been publically photographed. It’s due to this thinking that a teenager who favoured textured knit cardigans, pale yellow denim dungarees, floral midi skirts, and well-loved jumpers with youthful Peter Pan collars was formed upon our television screens. So, too, were real-life fashion items recreated, including a pink Peruvian sweater and the white-and-royal blue two-piece worn in her infamous engagement interview, purchased off-the-rack in Harrods. This gentle introduction to her character via costume allowed for her following ensembles to show a greater, perhaps forced out of character, growth. The turning point across all seasons for Diana’s style was always going to be the enormous (and promptly recognisable) ivory silk taffeta, 25-foot train wedding gown designed by Elizabeth and David Emanuel. The crumpled, crinoline behemoth represented the prominent moment when a quiet young lady was, under the watchful eyes of God and 750 million strangers, transmuted into a venerable Princess of the world’s love, affection, and hubristic greed. Understanding the power of this moment, The Crown’s Peter Morgan opted to not show the nuptials which took place within the walls of St Paul’s Cathedral. Instead, we were simply offered a glimpse of this Diana standing alone in a gilded palace room in her gown. The dress took on the storytelling responsibility. Recreated with permission from the Emanuel’s, Roberts and her team took a whopping ten weeks and five fittings to achieve perfection. Dressing Diana, now a regular public persona, becomes an easier feat once she is sent out as a political and philanthropic figure. After all, if she was seen then, one has the images to reference her dress. The 1983 tour of Australia, with little Prince William in tow, was the subject of an entire Season 4 episode. Considered a turning point in the marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales, both literally and in The Crown’s fictional sphere, this tour would prove the juncture at which she blossomed into a woman — and a woman who clearly enjoyed clothing. Reportedly, real-life Diana brought over 200 looks with her to the southern hemisphere. Thankfully for Roberts, she only had to manufacture 17! The sophisticated evening gowns and reserved day ensembles show a woman growing in confidence. A woman stepping into her position, a woman the world recognises as Diana at the height of her marriage. A 1980s Diana. The end of Season 4 sets the scene for Diana most readily in the public memory. As Roberts so succinctly points out, nearing the end of her marriage, Diana is “beginning to really get some kind of strength from her clothes.” While no one could ever suggest her style of the earlier ‘80s was anything less than out there, Diana often succumbed to looking slightly like a doll whose child owner was shoving garments onto willy-nilly. Still somewhat out there, through the breakup of her marriage, Diana reached for the bold, the brilliant, and the glittering. Her penchant for a plaid two-piece suit began to emerge, as her shoulder pads seemed less like floatation armbands for support and more the strength of a woman in power of herself. This change, this growth, is catapulted towards us at great speed, with many looks worn earlier in fiction than in reality. The world came, and it came at Diana without cause for slowing down. Finally, Diana wears the clothes. They do not wear her. With a new and final set of Crown seasons comes a new Diana, a new actress — but, happily for us, Amy Roberts remained. Speaking on Season 5, Roberts described the switch into the scandal of the ‘90s: “I do think each season has a different tone, [a] different flavor.” Certainly, this ‘90s Diana would be a whole new visual feat. Debicki’s Diana holds herself with an air of self-assurance, which allows her costumes to glide on and off from scene to scene. Unlike in Season 4, these ensembles can often go unnoticed by the viewer. Not an insult to the designer — this is, in many ways, the greatest possible compliment. Debicki moves as one with the items. We are witness to a new marriage. While some looks were recreated with intense detail, such as the black revenge dress, every outfit worn feels as though we’ve seen it before — even if it was entirely pulled together by the costume team, relying on video graphics and photographic references. ‘‘Did [Diana] wear it?’ becomes less the important question, but rather, ‘Do I believe that our Diana would wear that?’ associate costume designer and head buyer Sidonie Roberts explained. The Diana who often reached for bold prints and sharp silhouettes makes way for the Diana who prefers block colours, oversized branded crewneck sweaters, and denim jeans. This Diana does not hide behind what she wears; she shines through it. Forever a fan-favourite, the costume team brought to life the famous Virgin Atlantic sweater and even had Harvard remake the original ‘90s sweatshirt purely for use in the show. To put it plainly, this is a confident, maturing Princess that all can recognise (and the wigs certainly do their fair share to help). Season 6, Part 1, has finally commenced streaming — following the final two months of Diana’s all too short life. More of a Diana biopic than a show following the Royal family as a whole, Amy and Sidonie Roberts pull together a heartfelt tribute to the late Princess. Covering such a sensitive topic, clothing had to blend into the plot seamlessly, allowing for raw emotion to take the lead. For the pair, recreating the clothing worn by Diana and Dodi Fayed in their last hours was to be a task taken with the utmost care and respect, with Amy summing up: “Over the course of the four seasons that we’ve done, I felt the most duty-bound to do that accurately.” Without dwelling on that horrific moment too long, it’s fair to say the costume team succeeded in their goal. Debicki and Khalid Abdalla, playing Fayed, strike an eerie resemblance. Taking place over the course of the Summer of 1997, Season 6 is packed full of swimsuits, coverups, and casual outfits. Whether she’s playing 5-a-side with the Prime Minister or walking around Kensington Palace in a men’s Ralph Lauren shirt, there is zero stylistic pretence. While she may often be called a ‘90s fashion icon, this was not the story being broadcast, with Sidonie stating: “I’m keen to say that she was wanting to find her role rather than make a fashion statement.” Young, uncomfortable characters seek out the armour of clothing; unstable, turbulent ones seek out fashion statements.; grounded, assured characters look further ahead. Unfortunately, we were never witness to what “ahead” would mean for Diana. No one is in the dark as to where Diana’s story ends. One spends the entirety of Part 1 desperately wishing the inevitable would not happen. Of course, it does. A carefully constructed army of grey suits, ocean-blue one-pieces, baseball caps, Lady Dior handbags, and statement gold earrings only make that soul-crushing instance so much more heartbreaking. Amy and Sidonie Roberts did as much as Debicki did to bring Diana back to life. 🌀

The 22-year-old designer talks her new project, Omnibus. One of the very best parts of my job is exploring, archiving, and talking to Cool People Making Cool Projects, especially across the fashion editorial landscape. A few weeks ago, I came across Martina Dorgan's viral thesis on Editorial Design, Omnibus — 1/2 a throwback to the era of glossy magazines, 1/2 a new experiment in editorial archaeology. I sat down with Dorgan, a 22-year-old design student in Argentina, to talk all about Omnibus, Byung-Chul Han, and the future of physical media. SB: What drew you to exploring the landscape of editorial design as a fully-fledged thesis? MD: Choosing a thesis topic in Graphic Design [wasn't] a walk in the park. It's a field so diverse, ranging that picking just one specialty can feel overwhelming. For me, it was a mix of challenge and instinct. Ever since I was little, I've been captivated by the world of magazines and books—the way words and images dance together on the page, creating this beautiful flow. I even created my own travel magazine for my peers in primary school. Therefore, deciding on an editorial project for my Graphic Design thesis was a conscious decision. Today's world doesn't always appreciate tangible things the way it used to, and this shift only ignited my passion further. I wanted to craft something entirely new, something that stands out in a world dominated by technology, yet serves as a reminder of what remains in our hands: time and knowledge. SB: I love that. And with tangibility in mind — how do you see the physicality of a magazine influencing the reader's experience differently than digital platforms? MD: In the words of philosopher Byung-Chul Han from his book Non-things: “A book has a fate insofar as it is a thing, a possession. It carries material marks that give it a history. An e-book is not a thing, but information.” There's a certain destiny intertwined with owning material things —sometimes, it feels like the object chooses you as much as you choose it. Magazines, in my opinion, share this fascinating quality. They're repositories of information and creativity, akin to the digital sphere, yet they possess a tangible quality. When you hold a magazine, it's more than data on a screen; it's something you physically possess. You can touch it, see it, smell it—your senses become part of the experience. Even the texture of the paper under your fingertips adds layers of information, influencing how you perceive the content within. SB: What magazines/titles have had the biggest influence on your personal design sensibilities? MD: Publications like i-D, Interview, and Purple have always been a wellspring of inspiration for me. Yet, what's truly fascinating is how unexpected places often offer the most profound inspiration. As a designer, I believe in the importance of losing oneself in bookstores or magazine kiosks, exploring every editorial gem that catches our eye—yes, even those tiny pamphlets at the counter. Additionally, I can't overlook the impact of publications like Mastermind, Glamcult, Dummy, and The Face. They all hold a special place in my heart and have been immensely influential in shaping my thesis. SB: Were there any unexpected sources of inspiration that played a role in shaping Omnibus? MD: My goal for this project is to give back what the High Fashion Twitter community — a space where I found the freedom to express myself while connecting with incredibly talented individuals. Having been an active part of this community since 2016, I've witnessed an abundance of untapped talent, often overlooked and underappreciated. It became clear that I had to create something meaningful for all of them. While I draw inspiration from various sources, my greatest influencers are undoubtedly my Twitter mutuals and closest internet friends. My dream is to provide them with a platform to exhibit their creative works — a space where their talents can truly shine. SB: The tactile experience of flipping through a magazine is so dear to me. How did you consider the physical interaction readers would have with Omnibus, and what emotions or responses were you aiming to evoke? MD: The challenge lay in crafting a product that embraced these evolving dynamics. I realized that following the traditional magazine format wasn't the route to take. While the resurgence of magazines is fantastic, I sensed the need for an evolution — a bridge between traditional print and the newer generations and technologies. I had to create something compelling yet cost-effective, so I delved into contemporary trends. It became evident that fanzines were experiencing a revival because handmade creations were also on the rise. I wanted something genuine, something that mirrors my thoughts. Omnibus isn't your typical magazine; it's a single large sheet folded sixteen times. My aim? To ignite curiosity in readers about what lies within, what’s tucked inside — and to make each page resemble an art piece, a poster that could hang on any wall. SB: How do you hope this project evolves? MD: Fingers crossed I'll actually graduate first! But realistically, I don't think this project can go beyond the academic scope. I'm focusing on four issues of Omnibus, developing both the magazine's branding and communication strategies for my final project. Due to its nature as part of my college coursework, I won't be able to launch it as a live venture or monetize it. Nonetheless, my genuine hope is that it becomes a source of inspiration for fellow students and creators. SB: We've both spoken online about print magazines being on the crest of a resurgence. What do you hope the future of magazines looks like? MD: While I'm hopeful that magazines will continue to thrive, the truth is we must evolve them to suit this new reality. A prevalent issue in many publications today is the absence of strong editorial design. There's a noticeable absence of visual intrigue and creative exploration. Historically, magazines have served as playgrounds for innovative design. Today, some publications are attempting to convey information without the power of graphic design — a fundamental element. It's time to revisit the roots, study the works of designers like Bea Feitler and David Carson, reexamine the significance of design in storytelling, and explore the endless possibilities within the pages of print. SB: The last (and obviously most important) question I have is: what would your dream magazine look like? MD: In my vision, my dream magazine resembles a bustling kids' classroom, adorned with papers, scribbles, rough sketches, and a multitude of ideas all collated into one vibrant space. It's not just a source of information but the ultimate wellspring of inspiration. 🌀 You can follow Martina's work here.

It Girl items hand-selected by our It Girl editors. Post-Thanksgiving, pre-Christmas — a stretch of time devoted to quick Notes App gift ideas; politely RSVP'ing no to holiday garage shows; and trying to keep track of who and who isn't OOO in St. Barts. Here, our beautiful editors have hand-picked the presents we want to give and receive this season, from niche fragrances to rare Jeff Buckley vinyl to our favorite vintage Prada bags. And most importantly — none of this is sponsored! Just our genuine picks, starting with... VINTAGE TESSUTO SHOULDER BAG ($295) Selected by... Erica DeMatos, Fashion Writer This Prada purse is the educated, well-traveled cousin of the Baggu nylon crescent bag. My favorite feature is the metal shoulder strap that modernizes a boring work tote. You can buy it here. FADED BOOTCUT JEAN ($360) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Raimundo Langlois is somewhat of a natural Abercrombie & Fitch successor, but early A&F — sexy, controversial, and made with hot people in mind. Right now, the brand is mostly focused on menswear, but there's something about these jeans that really could convince people you stole them from your boyfriend's closet. You can buy it here. POWER TO THE PARKS SHROOMS BEANIE ($47) Selected by... Galaxia Wu, Web Director Cute, unisex, seasonal, and benefits national park conservation! From the Parks Project. You can buy it here. AMY BOW ($78) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief It's a giant bow! I don't know. But to be fair, I've been trying to find an oversized organza hair ribbon in this specific shade of soft-burgundy-bordering-on-mauve and I can't find it, so — Lelet New York it is. You can buy it here. MARY JANE POINTE IN BALLET SATIN ($550) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Yes, these Sandy Liang flats are $550, so I'm really wishing for the idea of these more than anything else. Comfy, sweet, fairytalesque — I have a pair in black from TheRealReal (⁠♡) but these baby pink are divine. Flats are back, baby! You can buy it here. COUCOU BONNET ($115) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Popularized by my favorite Fräulein influencer darlings, accessories and textures reminiscent of slow life are back on the table — including dressing like a glamorous Babushka. Paloma Wool is not only one of my favorite new brands, but I really want to find a way to wear this deep into summer. I think I can, tbh. You can buy it here. DREAM GIRL CREWNECK ($60) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer For the Swiftie in your life, skip the official merch and go to this independent Taylor Swift-inspired shop. Even though I love Taylor, her merch is... mid. And expensive. Scratch the itch of your fashionable Swiftie friend with a cozy-cute crewneck inspired by their favorite song lyric. I currently have my eye on the Dream Girl design, but there are options from each era. You can buy it here. THE FLOWER SCRUNCHIE ($62) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Another divine accessory from über-cozy Korean accessories brand Love Me Monster. Wear it to look like you're playing Juliet in a community theatre production of Baz Luhrmann's (important distinction) Romeo + Juliet. You can buy it here. ALMOST LIPSTICK LIP BALM - BLACK HONEY ($24) Selected by... Regina Cantú Navarro, Fashion Writer I have yet to meet a person who does not look good in Black Honey. A classic for a reason — I wear it daily and would love to gift this to my friends who have yet to try it, as it's almost guaranteed they'll fall in love with it. You can buy it here. RESURRECTION AROMATIQUE HAND BALM ($33) Selected by... Galaxia Wu, Web Director Maybe an obvious choice, but for good reason… especially in the dry winter months, nearly anybody can find a use for a nice hand cream from Aēsop. You can buy it here. RELIQUE D'AMOUR SOAP ($18) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor The soap incarnation of an oft-coveted gothic perfume by once-perfumers to the French Royal Court Oriza L. Legrand. With notes of incense and white lily, now is the perfect time of year to make your showers smell like a dilapidated medieval church. You can buy it here. DEATH OF A LADIES MAN 15ML ($62) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor It-girl perfumer Universal Flowering's newest, Death of a Ladies Man, is a perfumed tribute to the poetic life and loves of Leonard Cohen. A gorgeous composition structured around a crunchy and vegetal use of basil, green galbanum, and powdery sugared violet, smelling like everyone's perennial old-enough-to-be-your-dad songwriter crush has never been so chic. You can buy it here. BREAD + ROSES 15ML ($45) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor Initially an overwhelmingly popular holiday release, now made year-round, Bread + Roses is less like the traditional vanilla cake gourmands you smell in malls across America, and more like the yeasty, grainy, toasted smell of baking a fresh loaf of sourdough. Wear it to smell like the love interest in a Hallmark movie, working at a picturesque little hometown bakery, ready to teach the world-weary protagonist the true meaning of Christmas, and of love. You can buy it here. GINGERBREAD 1OZ ($20) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor What more is there to say? I love sweet festive baking smells as much as anyone else, and when Demeter hits, it really hits. This is adorable: Jo Malone's Ginger Biscuit but with better performance and a fifth of the price tag. You can buy it here. THE SOFT LAWN 50ML ($105) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor New England preparatory school in a bottle. The essence of Daisy Buchanan's thoroughbred WASP-y charm: a strikingly realistic tennis ball accord paired alongside ivy and linden blossom. This is what David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest would smell like if it was only the parts set in The Enfield Tennis Academy. You can buy it here. JO MALONE LIME BASIL & MANDARIN COLOGNE ($165) Selected by... Maren Beverly, Fashion Editor My mom wore this fragrance when I was growing up, so it will always evoke an air of nostalgia — a feeling perfect to embrace during the holiday season. I love gifting fragrance because it's personal and cozy (especially when paired with a cashmere sweater). Jo Malone's colognes are great-though-luxurious scents to begin building your or your loved ones' fragrance wardrobe. You can buy it here. WOOD CABIN CANDLE ($54) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer This candle is the perfect combination of cozy and lux. Keap candles are hand-poured in Kingston, NY, and this candle burning in the bathroom of Vinegar Hill House in Brooklyn was my favorite part of the dining experience (and the food was incredible!) You can buy it here. SILVER DAILY HUGGIE HOOPS ($48) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer A pair of chunky-flat silver hoops is truly the perfect earring. They add the simplest chic touch to everyday outfits. I've had a similar pair for years and they're easily my most-worn accessory. Highly recommend these ones from Mejuri. You can buy it here. STAR BUNNY GOLD NECKLACE ($20) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Express your love for HALOSCOPE to the world with this Star Bunny necklace that I absolutely will wear every day of my life from here on out. I first found PixieeeShop when they went viral for their endlessly adorable Baby Snoopy illustrations (which I also highly recommend), and while the bunny and the star are truly a coincidence, they also feel kismet this season. You can buy it here. ALL THIS COULD BE DIFFERENT ($18) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer If you're gifting a book, gift this one. It's a beautiful debut, the most poetic and heartbreaking prose I have read in years, and an incredibly relatable coming-of-age story by Sarah Thankam Mathews. You can buy it here. ANNA: THE BIOGRAPHY ($17) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief This came out last year, but if you didn't get it already, this is your chance. Writer Amy Odell is part of our HALOSCOPE All-Star Dream Team Hall of Fame (something I just came up with) and I come back often to this book — not only because of Odell's beautiful writing but because it's the first time the legendary Vogue Editor-in-Chief feels complex, exacting, singular, real. You can buy it here. I LOVE DICK ($15) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief All the cool girls are reading metafiction again. Chris Kraus' seminal text — about an unsuccessful artist who sleeps (and becomes obsessed) with a rogue academic — feels just as invigorating and new as it was in 1997. Highly recommend to anyone who loves the faildaughter stories of Emma Cline or is thinking about rewatching Sex and the City again. You can buy it here. SKETCHES FOR MY SWEETHEART THE DRUNK ($47) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Spooky, serene, sensual, I love Jeff Buckley dearly — he's someone I keep on heavy rotation while I'm working on HALOSCOPE stuff. This record in particular, comprised post-death of Grace's alternative mixes and demos, is also fantastic for dinner parties (SKIP THE SAD ONES). You can buy it here. MIFFY WITH SCARF ($58) Selected by... Savannah Bradley, Editor-in-Chief I can't stop thinking about Miffy with this damn American Apparel 2011 scarf. She looks so good. You can buy it here. Happy shopping! 🌀

We are in a new era of cake, according to Bella Castillo. You heard it here first: all the cool girls are baking. A plated slice of cream cheese pound cake or a glut of frosting on the fingertip has overtaken what used to be pictures of boots, newly-threaded brows, or Canal Street Birkins. Surprisingly, this hasn't been a pandemic impulse, but rather one that's come quite recently — over the past few months, I've watched former style influencers put down Depop ripoffs and pick up rolling pins. Is it a tradwife RETVRN thing? The end result of young influencers moving into domestic adulthood? Or simply just a cute moment in culture? Whatever the answer may be, you are already late, because we have entered a NEW CAKE ERA: Naturally, I had to talk to New Cake Era theorist Bella Castillo — a 27-year-old social media coordinator out of Austin and the creator of the best cake recipe of all time. SB: First off — let’s talk your theory. Ugliness in response to twee has always been an aesthetic impulse, but I find it interesting that baking seems to be embracing both, now, with that stuffy-cute idea you talk about. Olive oil cake piled with a mountain of chantilly cream, something antiquated and romantic. Do you think people miss that kind of decadence? BC: I do! I think, culturally, there's this craving for this old-world sense of romance and luxury. Italian summer, aperitivo hour, silver dessert cups, white lace, tinned fish and caviar, etc. To Americans, especially, I think this sort of European motif has a "simple fancy" appeal. I also think stylistically there's been this big return to classic femininity, the whole "girl economy thing," coquette, Sandy Liang-core, [and] these things get mirrored in the food world, too. SB: When do you think baking styles hit their saturation point? Was there a certain trend or vibe you can pinpoint? BC: I think baking trends are like any other. When it gets to a point where you're seeing new bakers with near-identical styles popping up left and right, it's clear we've hit a point where something that began as original has become completely reductive. That's what prompted my tweet, was just seeing these squiggly flower cakes everywhere from people who didn't even bake in that way or have that sort of aesthetic before. It feels transparent to me when people are baking a cake, or designing a dress, or creating branding in a way they think they should be creating it and not in a way that comes from any sort of personal place. SB: Can you give some insight into the evolution of your personal style in and out of the test kitchen? BC: I think my style bleeds into all areas of my life. My ceramics, my illustrations, my cooking, my outfits, even my movements, it's all characterized by a sort of soft, delicate precision. I couldn't get away from it if I tried. SB: Do you have a certain baking/decoration style you follow, or is it based on instinct? Do you have any specific muses or sources of inspiration that consistently influence your work? BC: It's largely based on instinct, but I'm just as impressionable as anybody else! Certainly it's referential, though I don't usually try to recreate or emulate anyone else's style in particular. My most consistent inspiration is Paris Starn. I love the frivolity of her plating combined with her sort of playful approach to flavors. SB: Another thing that’s been incredibly pressing is baking as a kind of accessory — something that poxes people’s Twitter and IG feeds in lieu of what used to be fashion. There’s a fashionable element, there, to baking. Why do you think it’s become such a phenomenon? BC: I agree there's a big fashion crossover with baking! I think there's this newer concept of an it-girl cook/baker. People like @tenderherbs, @gabbriette, @paris.starn, @sophia_roe, @imogenkwok, @stolzes, @suea, they're chefs and bakers of skill, certainly, but they also lead these fashionable lives, catering parties for Chanel, doubling as models, running advice columns. I think social media has made this sort of visibility and branding possible, and I also think we're in this moment of re-girlifying the kitchen. For a long time, the most visible "serious" chefs were men with tattoos or [they had] a science-y angle on cooking, but as I mentioned, this sort of trad-feminine cultural moment has allowed these women to create their own unique niche that's half-chef, half-girlbloggeresque. SB: Beyond the visual, how do you hope bakers explore and incorporate sensory elements like taste and scent into the stuffy-cute era? BC: I'm hopeful that if this is the direction things go, it will lead to more thoughtful baking! I actually find it deeply frustrating when baking serves more of an aesthetic purpose than a sensory one. Food should taste good, and where we're at with the current hyper-decorated style, I think many of these "bakers" are more interested in decorating than in making something delicious. And while there's certainly a market of people who want a cake to decorate their table more than anything else, I really just like to eat a good dessert. 🌀

For better or for worse. “…but anyway — if you’re not in the mood to cry, here’s how to get the look with makeup,” says one of TikTok’s most popular beauty trendsetters, Zoe Kim Kenealy. With more than 4.8 million views on her Crying Makeup tutorial, Kenealy goes into detail and points out the desired results: puffy-soft lips, flushed cheeks, and glistening eyes. Even if the name gives a negative connotation, it's still glamorous — the outcome is blurred makeup and a serene glint we seem to only appreciate after a good crying session. As of today, videos under the hashtag #cryingmakeup have 141.7 million views. Kenealy is known for not only giving an overarching vibe to each look but defining them as part of an overarching identity: ‘I’m cold’ makeup, white (and red!) wine looks, 90s icon edition, end-of-the-day makeup, grocery store hottie look, romantic-nostalgia inspired — even doing tutorials on makeup that reflects your Myers-Briggs type (I’m still waiting on ISFJ). Her newest series based on different birthstones already has commenters bursting with requests for Emerald and Opal; some of them add they need the versions for Ruby and Sapphire, when it’s highly likely that before Kenealy began this series, they had never thought of birthstones as inspiration for a look. Makeup artist Bronte-Marie thrives on this approach as well. In her series The Wildly Beautiful, she breaks down ten looks that seem minimal, but all have a common throughline: perfect, effortless ethereality; a smooth, healthy complexion; and a timeless variety of blush and highlight placements. These looks are simple at first glance but contain distinct narratives. Bronte-Marie takes inspiration from modern phenomena, like Jennifer Lawrence’s recent appearances and fictional 70’s it girl Daisy Jones. The Movie Star Lips is another heavily sought-after tutorial — with 2.2 million views! — designing perfectly-kissable, naturally-structured lips usually found in period dramas. “So, you want to look like you popped out of the most ethereal, fairytale portrait. That’s a makeup look! I can help with that,” Bronte-Marie says in another niche tutorial. That’s the essence of Bronte-Marie’s (and other makeup artists in her echelon) appeal: descriptions alone make a deep impact —even before any makeup is applied to the face. The words preceding the tutorial are the selling point. The most important tool in any makeup kit today: energy. Pop culture, books, films, art, and even contemporary imaginary scenarios have always had the power to define beauty looks, and they’ll continue to do so. But as of today, the specificity of context is the biggest influence in how to craft a niche energy that prompts a reimagined look. VS Angel Makeup, Unapproachable Makeup, etc. It’s all in the energy, and naming that energy before doing your face adds a layer of imagined context — and an X factor that is deeply personal. When discussing trends and the names that make them viral, the conversation around lack of individuality is always present. Tying these new inspirations to a piece of identity is not inherently wrong, but the crisis comes when no personal element is added to these recreations. The point is not to copy the look exactly how Kenealy or Bronte-Marie made it but to take that spark of inspiration and attach it to your own personal context. The rage comes when it’s so obvious that some attach themselves to a certain aesthetic while claiming originality. The first niche look I consciously followed was the fertile edible amniotic fluid lip look originated by Nicole Rafiee (@nikkinasty) on TikTok. Even though the name gives me the ick, I loved the way this lip made me feel — and how attainable it was. I can see how these concepts could look flimsy and how this could add to the current online conversations about our collective lack of individuality. But niche makeup trends could also be a harmless evolution of the everyday contexts we know and love: first-date makeup, a look for a concert, fresh off vacation, etc. In a way, these looks are more honest and affirming — here are looks that can be adapted, personalized, and are more subjective to the applicant. When people find their niche, borrow esoteric elements, or modify steadfast beauty concepts, the search for a unique look becomes less daunting. These imaginative looks are actually doing something radical: suddenly, beauty — through the creation of narratives — is available to everyone. A new beauty future could emerge, where people find a niche look to accommodate their personal features, style, and overall essence. Why not make up some context? “There are ways you can do your makeup to make people feel things, like give them serotonin — like a Hallmark movie,” Zoe says in her "I’m Cold" tutorial. Her videos (as well as Bronte-Marie’s) already have comments asking for different, even-more-specific looks —the woman Hozier sings about, makeup to go to the museum, Aperol spritz energy, and looks for every other setting you can think of. Niche looks aren’t a generational lack of originality — they recognize that, in beauty, a story is always being told. 🌀

What came first, the chicken or the egg? Contemporary style or successful digital campaigning? Coco Gauff wore a hot pink Ganni set after winning the US Open. Everyone wants to be Coco Gauff. And everyone wants to be a Ganni Girl. The Danish contemporary ready-to-wear fashion brand best encapsulates the modern age of fashion. An authentic-but-targeted social media presence, a more tasteful influencer strategy, an ethos of sustainability, and clothes people actually want to wear have transformed the brand into an omnipresent force of fashion. Ganni is a genius that utilizes both sides of the fashion brain: the left side powers the social media marketing powerhouse and the right side is the whimsical fashion lover who pairs cowboy boots with peplum-sleeved blouses. In the new world order of fashion, just as many eyes are on Copenhagen as they once were on New York. Ganni has certainly been a force in generating global interest in Scandi Style. Initially founded in 2001 as a cashmere brand by a Copenhagen gallerist, the label we know and love today emerged like a butterfly when the creative husband-wife duo, Ditte and Nicolaj Reffstrup, took over the company in 2009. When the Private Equity Firm L Catterton acquired majority stake in the brand in 2017, the quest for Ganni as a global style superpower had actualized. Balancing ultra-feminine details with sportier, sometimes more masculine silhouettes, Ganni captures the essence of the working woman — or, at least, the working woman who can afford to splurge for luxury fashion. The Ganni Girl works in marketing and only buys secondhand designer bags. The Ganni Girl is training for a marathon and bikes to get her iced matcha latte. The Ganni Girl treats perfume like fine wine and reads what the TikTok girlies tell her to. What came first, the chicken or the egg? Contemporary style or successful digital campaigning? Distinguishing between what we personally find tasteful and what the world (i.e. Instagram and TikTok) finds tasteful is becoming increasingly difficult. Is the Ganni Girl truly an original in her own right, or is she a product of mass social media marketing spoon-feeding her what it means to dress like a cool girl? Ganni’s price point is likely most attainable to Zillennials (anyone born between 1990 and 2000) and those older, in terms of spending power, but the brand is still mostly shaped with Gen-Z in mind. They’re upfront and earnest about their sustainability. They’re young and fresh, a departure from the stodgy world of couture fashion. And they’re fun! Their accessories are reimagined, abstract classics, such as their Chelsea or Western boot, and are as frequently spotted online as they are on the streets of New York. Brands like Ganni feed themselves with the bread and butter of socially discernable products; their brand strategy never leaves them hungry. It only leaves the consumer hungry, and we can’t ever seem too full or sick of Ganni’s flouncy sleeves and statement boots. I’m not proposing that Ganni’s success is only due to their ability to translate fashion from the studio to our fast-paced, digital world — that only explains the wheels behind their success. They have built an efficient machine that produces interesting, wearable, and stimulating objects of style. I don’t doubt that I would gravitate to their designs, even if I stumbled upon their store by chance, even if I had no idea that cool people wore Ganni. Even in the age of infinite fashion options, I’d still choose Ganni. 🌀