Search Results

And meet the designers fighting its fetishization. L-R: Jean Paul Gaultier FW96; Three Chinese women featured in Life Magazine (1937); Xiuniang Li Wei SS15 “Oftentimes, it's the intention behind the designs that makes a difference. If I am incorporating elements from the traditional outfits, the idea is to appreciate its beauty but never to create a 'better' version of it,” Danica Zheng, the creator of Danz , tells  NYLON. Zheng joins a new generation of designers working with staples of Chinese fashion — a task that involves history and modernity in equal measure. The cheongsam (also known as the qipao) is one such staple. Dating back to the Qing dynasty  (1644–1912), the cheongsam began as a long, loose-fitting silk gown. Although its exact history is disputed, it’s believed ruling class women wore early cheongsams with a slit on either side of the gown for horseback riding , often with pants underneath.  Today, the cheongsam is identifiable through embroidered silk, high collars, and a straight silhouette. At its peak, the cheongsam was featured over twenty times  in Wong Kar Wai’s In the Mood for Love . The film’s success cemented cheongsams as an essential part of Chinese culture, and one of the most internationally recognizable symbols of Chinese fashion.  Popularity is not without its drawbacks, however. As one of China’s most iconic images, the cheongsam has also been misrepresented in its replications. Ruohan Song, a Chinese fashion influencer and collector, tells  ELLE: “‘When we [consider] the qipao in the U.S., people often think of a dress with a high slit that reveals thighs and buttocks with a cut-out in the front, which is drastically different from the traditional dress.”  Part of this is the inevitable association of clothing with stereotypes that already exist about Chinese women: one of hypersexuality, whether it be through subservience or promiscuity. In 1875, the U.S. effectively banned Chinese women from entering the country, largely over fears sex work would erode traditional family values. From the New York Times ’ coverage of the Page Act : “...discrimination against Chinese women specifically centered on their perceived sexuality. Americans often assumed that all Chinese immigrant women were prostitutes.” And while the cheongsam itself has never been historically linked to sex, the dress has still found itself locked as a sort of collateral. If Asian women are seen as objects, their clothing is subject to appear objectifying.  Appropriations of the cheongsam, promoted by brands like PrettyLittleThing , Zara, ASOS, and countless others, are dangerous because they strengthen such false equivalencies. Sexualizing cultural clothing both reaffirms the image of a stereotypical “Chinese woman,” and homogenizes the cultural details of that image as suggestive in turn. This association of Chinese and Asian women with sexuality has had devastating consequences in the past, most recently seen in the 2021 Atlanta spa shootings .  Disagreements over the cheongsam and its role as a conduit of sexuality exist in China as well. In 2023, the Shanghai-based tea brand Auntea Jenny sparked debate  on Chinese social media apps over its redesigned logo, featuring two women in cheongsams, one of which had a high slit. For some, it was an innocuous design choice; for others, it was historically inaccurate and unnecessarily provocative.  Understanding the cheongsam’s controversy requires understanding its history — its distinctly feminist history. Throughout the 1920s and ‘60s, cheongsams grew in popularity amongst the upper classes of Shanghai and Hong Kong . This golden age of cheongsams coincided with feminist movements , in which women fought for education, careers, and greater freedom of self-expression. To urban women, the cheongsam was a symbol  of the feminist movement, worn by political figures like Soong Ching Ling , a leader during the Republic of China’s revolution.  The cheongsam became an opportunity to modernize an antiquated design , increasingly seen as restrictive. Cheongsams represented a way for young women to show their bodies, and reflect newfound freedom. As women fought restrictive Confucius social norms, cheongsams evolved  into a sheath silhouette embracing Western flapper styles.  Thus, features of the modern cheongsam came directly from women who consciously chose to step into their sexuality and designers who transformed the dress accordingly. It’s this choice that characterizes cheongsams’ evolution as an authentic manifestation of power and sensuality — regardless of the misappropriations that may have occurred on the way.  L-R: Snow Xue Gao's Qipao collection; Samuel Guì Yang SS25; Refuse Club FW19 The cheongsam itself is not inherently sexual, nor is doomed to be sexualized. And today, nuance in portrayals  and understandings of Chinese women is growing. Yes, cheongsams still face assumptions, as do Chinese and Asian women. But as its history proves, the cheongsam is defined by its ability to adapt — to serve as a tool of subversion by women of the time. In this way, deconstructing what a cheongsam can be is as simple as tracing its history.  “Cheongsam, for me, is a signature dress from Chinese culture. My grandmother always wears a new cheongsam on the Lunar New Year, and it has been tradition to guess what color… she will wear,” Snow Xue Gao, designer of her self-titled label , shares  with NYLON.  Of course, several artisans uphold the practice of making traditional cheongsams. Jin Yuxia , 86, has made traditional cheongsams in her workshop for over 50 years. In Hong Kong, Yan Kar-man  is one of the city’s master tailors. At 88, he stands among an estimated 10 remaining artisans who use the traditional techniques of dress-making and has vowed to retire soon. While historical methods of making cheongsams, and even traditional cheongsams themselves, may no longer be in vogue, a new generation of designers is poised to steer the dress through its next evolution. Samuel Gui Yang of SAMUEL GUÌ YANG  sees recreating traditional clothing as a window into the knowledge  of skilled crafts like fabric weaving, embroidery, and printing — traditions Yang draws on while infusing Western influences  into Chinese references. Designer Betty Liu joined photographer Jess Brohier to create the photo series “ Eating the Other ,” challenging how traditional Chinese clothing has been appropriated through Liu’s surrealistic designs. Yuner Shao and Puzhen “Stef” Zhou of Refuse Club  push traditional designs further, reimagining  elements of the cheongsam’s traditional silhouette while directly referencing feminist movements  in China. In 2024, Hu Sheguang  launched a haute couture show in Beijing featuring 100 cheongsams  with themes like French-style elegance, Rock ‘n’ Roll, and Neo-Chinese Style.  On drawing from Chinese traditions, Siying Qu and Haoran Li  of Private Policy note , “[...] the key is to truly understand each garment’s details and its historical and cultural origin. Then, we interpret and present the elements with respect and innovation.” This is perhaps what is most beautiful about cheongsams: their legacy speaks for itself.  Since their origin, cheongsams’ history is one of agency — the agency of designers who transfigured it over time, and the agency of women choosing to express themselves, of which the cheongsam was just one part.  For today’s designers, the cheongsam represents a possibility, both to reflect the multi-faceted history of Chinese women and to clothe them as they continue making it. As designer Ranee Kok shares , discussing her own collection, “[...] cheongsams are part of our heritage… What I am most interested in is how to bring history into people’s lifestyle today.” 🌀 Chinon Norteman  is a writer, researcher, and strawberry shortcake enthusiast based in Hong Kong. Her interests include femininity, feminism, geopolitics, and their intersection.

Thoughts on Vaquera, the Walmart Birkin, and a super-secret sale on frayed-hem camisoles. 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, our thoughts (and, apparently, the thoughts of many beloved brands) are with those affected by the fires in Los Angeles, the Walmart Birkin wreaks socioeconomic havoc (or not?), Gaultier and Vaquera play chicken and egg, the Puppets and Puppets cookie bag is on sale, and more. The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. As those who have built robust platforms on TikTok reconfigure their lives and livelihoods ahead of the seemingly inevitable ban, video creators like Remy Solomon increasingly flock to Substack — Solomon recently published, via her newsletter Immaculate Taste,  a comprehensive, but not doomer-y, guide on “ How to Prepare for Disaster ,” proving that even the creation of a go-bag can adhere to one’s standards of style (function is a given). Given the devastating fires in Los Angeles this week, not to mention the ongoing climate crisis and myriad genocides, wars, and natural disasters that define our era, expect many more such pieces on chic survival gear in the coming months.  It seems our first HALO Report’s  positive forecast on the bright color front is a sentiment shared by the New York Times , where Sarah Bahr writes that with “‘ Wicked’ Green, ‘Room Next Door’ Red and ‘Substance’ Yellow: It’s a Bold Season .” Funnily, Viv Chen, the color-coordination whiz cited in our Playmobil-core blurb, also wrote a piece on the bold costuming in The Substance  late last year.  As a notoriously clumsy person who is just as notorious for hating clothing stains, Vogue’s “ How to Get Ink Stains Out of Clothes ” by Christina Pérez provides timely advice for those of us who may have washed the nifty new pen ( these really are great ) we got for the holidays in a load of laundry that included most of our favorite garments.  The Substack Links I would GChat You if We Were Friends published a sprawling list of “ Your favorite newsletter’s favorite newsletters ,” for which writer Caitlin Dewey asked her favorite newsletters’ writers to recommend a few of their favorite newsletters, and so on, and so on. The list is comprehensive, devoid of the usual strains of nepotism and brown-nosing that such round-ups often elicit due to its diffuse nature, and contains many suggestions for fashion-oriented reads among a slew of publications focusing on everything from the Rhode Island food scene to gaming culture.  “ The Walmart Birkin: Fashion’s Ultimate Status Symbol Undone? ” by Maximilian Migowski for Highsnobiety explores the implications of the “Wirkin,” an $80 dupe of the typically-over-$30k purse, wondering what it says about our culture that accessibility is seen as a threat to value and, ultimately, doubting that the Wirkin will affect much lasting change in our fetishistic herd mentality. What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. We send our support to all those affected by the past week’s fires in Los Angeles, as do brands like Kule, Belle the Label, Mr. Larkin, Collina Strada, and many other fashion and beauty brands who have donated, offered special deals, or sent out free clothing to those impacted by the tragedy. Fashionista has compiled a short list  of some of these labels, but Instagram has been the premier resource for brands looking to assist Angelinos in need.  On the liturgical side of fashion, The Episcopal Mission in Sunnyside, Queens apparently listened to an episode of the fashion history podcast by Avery Trufelman, Articles of Interest , on the style of clergy and used it as a jumping-off point  from which to design their new chausables. Religion has often reverberated into secular fashion — think of crucifix jewelry, cardinal red, and most obviously, 2018’s “Heavenly Bodies” Met Gala  — but now it seems the influence flows both ways.  Gimaguas’ latest arrivals  showcase the beachy brand’s cheeky takes on sporty style — unlike athleisure, the stripe-sided trousers and capris with cashmere “knee pads” are defiantly designed in service of aesthetics, not function.  Beloved (and always-experimental) Oakland boutique Two Two  will host a Lunar New Year art pop-up  with cybernetic artist Jeremy Leung from January 23-25, in which the artist will give live demonstrations, speak on his work, and as per the invite, “demonstrate his approach to making the invisible visible.” Despite this mysterious wording, knowing Two Two, it’s sure to be an inspiring time.  Jean Paul Gaultier’s SS25  has arrived in its e-shop. Haters may note that the plethora of leather sailor hats and ultra-cropped denim jackets on offer eerily resemble the past few seasons’ showings by much younger brand Vaquera , but to be fair, JPG has been riding the nautical wave since at least the ‘90s  (though the ribbed leather does feel a bit on-the-nose).   Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  Romance is nowhere near dead when it comes to Ludovic de Saint Sernin — even its sale section  is chock full of deep-V organdy blouses embellished with subtle florals, slinky velvet tanks, and leather halters studded with erotic eyelets, all discounted up to 40% and all proudly gender-agnostic.  While Puppets and Puppets decides its next step after leaving the NYC scene last year, a small but mighty selection of its infamous purses is on sale  for 30% off — even a few of its iconic cookie totes, though the newer hobo bags featuring smashed segments of pipe as handles are potentially even more compelling.  Beloved Toronto boutique 100% Silk offers 30% off  pieces from its clever curation of indie labels — here, you’ll find J.Kim , Mozhdeh Matin, Julia Heuer, and five more pages of fan favorites.  In a rare sale, under-the-radar brand Edward Cuming  discounts even the top-selling pieces from its past seasons: frayed-hem camisoles, well-heeled boots, tweed totes, and piecemeal belts, plus many more “greatest hits,” are up for grabs.  Both the womenswear  and menswear sections of the Studio Nicholson sale  brim with up to 50% off the high-quality casual wear that made the brand blow up in the past three years.  If your winter gear hasn’t been up to snuff this season, Stutterheim offers 50% off  a bevy of water-resistant, insulated, and always sleek coats, boots, bags, and more for a mid-season restock. For those who would rather focus on the aspirationally summery dresses that live under the dutiful layers, Sea NY takes up to half off  the lace and ruffles that will emerge from under our overcoats in just a few short months.   🌀

Thoughts on No Buy 2025, the Turkish ready-to-wear brand we're loving, and a sale at Clyde. 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, there seems to have been a universal memo on tops with built-in shawls (and at least two are on sale!), we are officially on ruffle watch for 2025, a smart voice challenges the dominance of the “No Buy” narrative, the rich and famous have gone full Junji Ito, and more. The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. Big Undies’ Corrine Fay wonders “ Is Everyone Doing No Buy 2025? ” in an opinion piece that challenges this season’s reactionary minimalism fueled by the likes of Emma Chamberlain . Her experience as a fat person informs her skepticism of the impulse towards asceticism that largely privileges thinness and wealth, and Fay interrogates the language of shame that seems to permeate the “No Buy” imperative — all the while exploring the modifications of the “No Buy” that have popped up this year and seem more conducive to a healthy relationship with one’s closet than the more stringent original. At the pinnacle of the copious New Year’s trend roundups stands “ 12 Trends That Will Be Everywhere In 2025, According To Fashion Creators ” by Ebony-Renee Baker for Refinery 29, a list that includes ruffles as provoked by Chemena Kamali’s past year at Chloé; the peep-toe shoes championed by one of the most creative stylists online, Anna Golka-Yepez ; and going out sans purse, though a couple of the phenomena mentioned seem a bit too omnipresent to be considered “trends” — loafers? For spring? Groundbreaking. In the cool-down from the calendar’s turnover, style guru Liana Satenstein argues “ If You Make One Resolution This Year, Take Care of Your Hands ,” her thesis being that even if other aspects of your life have gone awry, to have your hangnails under wraps is a healthy way to control a simple factor in your life that will provide returns in the form of persistent feelings of self-defined sexiness. Emily Kirkpatrick, creator of I <3 Mess , the only tabloid that matters in 2025, has consistently predicted the most off-the-wall trends of the 2020s, from chain mail to butt cleavage, and now she bids us “​​ Welcome to the Build-A-Body Era ” in an investigation as to why it seems the runways have been awash with conical bras, massive panniers, and other near-Cronenbergian faux body modifications of late — what is it about 2025 that has the rich and famous vying to look like a panel in a fashion mag illustrated by Junji Ito? Though it’s not an article, this TikTok  by perfumer Surya of SunScent breaks down, with both scientific accuracy and total accessibility, the process of creating the accords (or groupings of materials and notes that “smell like something” not necessarily found as an essence in nature — as Surya notes, if a perfume has a “biscuit” accord, that doesn’t mean there’s a biscuit essential oil) that comprise the artful, niche perfumes dominating everyone’s wishlists these days. What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. Though this week’s best fashion moment flew largely under the radar, Vogue ’s Hannah Jackson notes that “ Viola Davis Rewears This Black Sequined Dress to the 2025 Golden Globes ” — specifically, a splendid Gucci V-neck gown she last wore to the 2024 LACMA Gala in November. The more noise we make to encourage this kind of thoughtful (and ineffably glamorous) sustainability, the better!   Always on the cutting edge of our sartorial desires, British indie brand HADES  releases what could very well be the definitive garment of 2025 — a 100% lambswool cardigan , handcrafted in Spain with silver buttons that spell out “FUCK.”  Though it unveiled its first collection late last year, Literary Sport  epitomizes the energy we’ve seen permeate the fashion world as we roll into 2025 — sensitive, smart activewear one could imagine Rimbaud, or at least Willem Dafoe, wearing, hewn in heavenly-soft technical fabrics and sporting Lemaire-ish details like subtly curved hems and finely cut pockets. The Rimbaud reference wasn’t just  a name drop — co-founded by a poet, each piece is named after a literary figure like Adrienne Rich or Frank O’Hara. The young brand Siedrés, known for its game sense of humor paired with an undeniable refinement, unveils a new brick-and-mortar store  right on Istanbul’s coast, meaning the label’s Resort 2025 collection  of butter-colored knits and spangled warm-weather gowns can be tried on in-person if you happen to be in the Turkish neck of the woods.   Vaquera and Marc Jacobs release one final run of the unexpected pair’s collaboration: the “ Little Stam ” bag, a muppet-ish mop of fur on a thick, industrial chain and pinned with a faux dollar bill boasting Jacobs’ refined mug graffiti-d with a red heart. Of course Addison Rae was the spokesperson for this fever dream of a mashup. Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  Ingenious knitwear brand Rus offers up to 40% off  a healthy selection of its thoughtful and thought-provoking pieces — think contemporary neckerchiefs, cardigans with built-in shawls , and modular vests that work just as well as skirts. Beloved accessories purveyor Clyde takes 30% off  pages and pages of hats, gloves, bags, and more, all ranging from cozy to breezy and primed for any given season or climate. Caron Callahan’s winter sale  features another top with a built-in shawl  (was there a memo we missed?), this one a button-down in crisp poplin, plus tons more pieces that can skew glamorous, academic, or sweet depending on the needs of a given day. As unhinged as ever, Collina Strada’s winter sale  presents steep discounts on trousers that sprout the ruffles  Refinery 29 advised us to watch for above alongside eight more pages of the brand’s always-romantic, always-bizarre, surprisingly-wearable gems. Though it may seem a bit hypebeast-y at first blush, SCRT  is an under-the-radar trove of well-designed merch honoring cult classic films like Fallen Angels by Wong Kar-wai (my personal favorite!), Ghost in the Shell , and Donnie Darko.  Take an extra 10% off the already-well-discounted sale  with SALE2025.  Reliquary takes up to 20% off  a swath of pieces by down-to-earth brands known for their simple, well-made pieces like Black Crane and Studio Nicholson. In one of the most unique sale sections you’ll find on the internet, Thierry Colson discounts  its richly colored, expertly embroidered, vintage-inspired matching sets by up to 50%.   🌀

A brand-new weekly news digest — from buzzings to good links to upcoming sales. 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 begin the new year with a fresh craving for color, a transition from farmyard to fisherman’s wharf, neo-pagan menorahs, and countless knits on sale to tide you over ‘til warmth returns (or, for our friends in the Southern Hemisphere, as next winter’s contingency plan!).  The latest long-ish reads from the brightest minds in fashion. In the latest edition of Jalil Johnson’s widespread series on style that filters nascent trends through his astute personal proclivities, “ Consider Yourself A Shopper #37: What comes after the barn jacket? ,” Johnson posits that the farmyard-favoring masses will next take to the sea, citing a Pinterest trend report  suggesting “fisherman style” is on deck, so to speak, for early 2025.  Anna Cafolla smartly notes that “ 2024 Was a Ravenous Year for Restaurant Merch ” in a Vogue piece that calls out collabs such as Lisa Says Gah x Fishwife  and Baggu x Russ & Daughters , in addition to iconic food-vendor fashion fodder that’s popped up everywhere from NYC delis (I myself own a Zabar’s baseball cap ) to London wine bars and beyond, becoming especially prevalent in the past 365 days. Following her wedding feature in Vogue , Mandy Lee’s down-to-the-details report “ my nyc wedding was featured in Vogue, here's how much it cost ” offers a refreshingly realistic perspective on the priorities and privileges of wedding planning, plus juicy details as to Lee’s strategic shopping ahead of the event, including tons of tips on tracking down special pieces (the new bride favors archival Simone Rocha).  Though demure, Carolyn Bessette-esque neutrals have dominated the past year’s style sensibilities from SSENSE’s many tabs to the controversial Pantone shade of 2025 , Eleanor Kriseman, Viv Chen, and Em Seely-Katz (n.b. that’s me!) have all declared within the past few weeks that a shift toward color is incoming, respectively citing “ Playmobil-core ,” “ Jelly Belly colors ,” and Kenzo’s prescient late-70s color blocking  as feeling current as we replace our calendars. In “ From Temporary to Transformative: Exploring the Future of Fashion and Beauty Pop-ups ,” Hypebae’s Navi Ahluwalia tracks the hyperlocal trend from Jacquemus’ London storefront to Rhode’s TikTok-serving photo booths and beyond, citing the fashion set’s ravenous appetite for novelty as a sign that the pop-up frenzy is anything but past its peak.  What to keep in mind — and look forward to — in the past and coming weeks. &Daughter’s new collection “Modern Heirlooms”  offers chunky-knit sweaters in 100% lambswool designed for wear, tear, and to be passed down at some point in the distant future. If Jalil Johnson’s fisherman style prediction above whet your appetite for a hardy Irish crew neck, this might be your stop. Artisan Lola Dement Myers releases a collection of sterling silver stud earrings  that look like old-fashioned toy jacks mashed up with neo-pagan glyphs alongside a line of die-cut aluminum menorahs  featuring the same distinct shapes, as if the designer is creating a new pictorial alphabet with her hyper-focused metalworking.  Full of serpentine motifs, delicately sculpted gold, and different shades of crimson, Chloé’s Lunar New Year capsule  features high-end clothing and accessories designed to honor the year of the snake with a heavy dose of nu-boho influence from the brand’s esteemed Creative Director of the past year, Chemena Kamali.  JW Anderson returns to Uniqlo  for the umpteenth time with a collection due out January 9th and featuring smartly-cut, straight-legged jeans; slouchy, unisex rugby tops; preppy striped ties and socks, and more offerings that ostensibly mirror what Anderson himself has in his closet.  The Ritz embarks on its second fashion collaboration of the year with Frame  (its first was with Late Checkout ) — though the above Anna Cafolla story on restaurant collabs feels a wee bit more accessible given the state of the economy, perhaps hotel merch will see a rise in popularity, for better or worse; after all, an alleged hotel magnate is about to retake political office.   Less about impulse buys — and more about tracking discounts on the pieces already on your wishlist.  Another route to acquiring the perfect fisherman (or harlequin, or cardigan) sweater is via Babaà’s winter sale , taking 20% off a rainbow slew of styles ranging from chunky turtlenecks to thin summer knits.  Select seasonal colors of Maya Meyer’s handmade, ren-faire-meets-Reformation dresses and tops are up to 32% off in her tight (but mighty!) edit of a winter sale . Take up to 40% off thigh-high neoprene boots, circle-knit sweaters, and other off-kilter but somehow compulsively wearable pieces in the Kiko Kostadinov seasonal sale . With an extra 20% off at checkout, Christopher Esber’s sale selection  is a great place to search for cut-out dresses, mesh tops, and jelly flats to prep for the advent of spring (soon!). Shaina Mote’s winter sale  offers 20% off cropped sweaters, chore coats, and more “soft utilitarian” goods that will serve you for the chilly seasons to come.   🌀

From Jouissance to Maison Margiela, and everything in between. I could talk for ages about my love for holiday traditions. However you choose to celebrate the season, there is undoubtedly a beauty to marking the cyclical passage of time with repeated ritual and comforting familiarity. Be it putting up a tree, stringing lights, or going to midnight mass, we all have our own ways of making this cold dark wintertime feel a little more warm. This is why, just like I did last year and hope to do again the next, I have come to dutifully deliver you gift-wrapped and tinsel-clad a list of my favorite perfume releases of the year — and to toss a bonus stocking of coal to the biggest disappointments. Indeed, this year marked the tentative mainstream debut of niche fragrance girl culture, with big box retailers like Sephora and designer perfume houses starting to take notice of their younger clientele’s tastes becoming weirder and weirder. I hope I am, in part, responsible for this change. As we will see, its effects on both the popular and niche fragrance markets have very much been a mixed bag. The Year’s Biggest Triumphs Jouissance Parfums, Les Cahiers Secrets I want to start with a release I feel productively channels the growing synthesis between niche esotericism and popular accessibility. I’ve written at large about Cherry Cheng’s Joussiance Parfums  for HALOSCOPE before, but since spending time with my bottle of what I believe to be the standout from her collection, Les Cahiers Secrets , I’ve developed a greater appreciation for how Cheng’s work  sells conventions often regarded as undesirable by younger women right back at them with a smile. It’s delicate territory, and one I tread quite often – when girls call powdery fragrances “grandma perfume,” they do a disservice not only to their grandmothers but to their senses of smell. That said, I love not only how unabashedly powdery Cahiers is but also how sweaty it is. The fragrance is primarily cumin and lily, two notes often associated with underarms and funeral homes, yet in the right hands, can be some of the most gorgeous. Its drydown yields a sort of expired body powder tang that reminds me of Diptyque’s Fleur de Peau , and is outright addictive to someone like me. I’ve found myself reaching for this on days when I just don’t know what to wear and want something to cover me like a second skin or gauze of thinly veiled fabrics. Pearfat Parfum, Up North A limited summer release from hometown hero Alie Kiral’s Pearfat Parfums , Up North  is an unexpected and wholly unique take on the summer freshie. Where most houses opt to convey that sweet summer feeling with bright fruit, creamy white florals, or tropical coconut, Up North does what Kiral does best, and captures the idiosyncratic Midwestern reality of summer along Lake Michigan. There is a sort of nostalgia, here, but it is nothing like the fantastic dolce vita  vacations of Tom Ford’s Soleil Blanc  or  Diptyque’s Ilio . This is a summer fragrance for kids whose parents couldn’t afford to take them out of the country, and who had the time of their life splashing around crowded beaches in coastal Michigan nonetheless. Up North is crazy subtle, so much so that it took me weeks of owning a sample to wear it one day and realize, “ait, this is actually genius.” Its most charming point is an instantly recognizable powdered lemonade accord, like taking a standard cola note and drowning it in watery Lemonheads. Behind it lies the familiar ghost of gentle, almost-rotted florals, deemed willow and white trillium. Deeply aquatic, fleeting, and skin-like, it’s hard not to smile after spraying. Even in the thick of my long-awaited Christmas festivities, smelling Up North makes me yearn for Chicago in June. Needless to say, I hope it will make a triumphant return next summer, to comfort us gentle winter-minded folk who find little to romanticize about the thick summer heat without creatives like Kiral taking the reins. Parfum d'Empire, Un Bel Amour D’été Another hot-weather beauty: Un Bel Amour D’été  (trans. a beautiful summer love ) smells like Goutal’s Songes  on stimulants. Take all the creamy, thick, fleshy, and divine aspects of gardenia, champaca, and ylang-ylang and throw them into one giant sexpot. What you get is a viscerally solar, effortlessly feminine floral organza to rival the perennial reign of Ropion’s  Carnal Flower . I think those two perfumes do very different things, but I do think the women who flock to spend increased Estée Lauder money on the crown jewel of tuberoses might also find it in their hearts to shell out $150 USD for this equally luscious blend. The vanilla supporting note really brings out the summertime feeling in this fragrance and moves it closer to sweet bubblegum banana coconut florals like Guerlain’s Terracotta . An absolute delight to wear, and something I will find myself craving like Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters when the weather starts to warm up again. Hiram Green, Philtre I had the honor of speaking with Hiram  at the launch and limited world tour associated with this fragrance — and found myself taken not just by the beauty of this particular fragrance but by the singular passion that drives his exploration of natural materials in all releases from his house. I generally find quote-unquote “natural perfumery” to be more of a tagline for marketing than a coherent genre of smell, but here, Green’s creations not only speak to the paired-down absolutes that constitute a fragrance oil but also the photorealistic essences of delights from the natural world. I have been a longtime devotee of classics from his line, like the narcotic honey tobacco Slowdive , and the snarling leather birch tar creature Hyde  — but Philtre  surprised me in a way I was not expecting a Hiram Green to be able to do. This is Green’s most dated composition, in a way that feels delightfully thrilling. Centered around the lusty and romantic historical associations of the carnation flower, this perfume spotlights a smell you would be hard-pressed to find in many contemporary releases. I am personally most familiar with carnation in vintage-inspired Oriza L. Legrand’s Oeillet Louis XV : a prim and proper sheer powder recognizing the historic brand’s past as perfumers to the royal court. To modern audiences, carnation is not a smell typically associated with lust, but in the twentieth century, this was downright salacious. Powdery and peppery, silky and spicy, it embodies many contrasts and speaks most recognizably to ‘70s spicebombs and the note it is most often paired alongside: clove. Green follows suit, but the clove here is not overwhelmingly sweaty but rather far more green and stemmy. It is as if a late-century Austin Powers-type groovy conversation den had been transplanted into a countryside meadow. I think of carnations’ history in the Belle Époque‚ the fad-like frenzy around donning them on lapels and over the nose, and Oscar Wilde’s own affinity for the pin-like bloom. This is a decisively old-fashioned perfume but one that does not apologize for its timeless sensibilities. To the untrained nose, a blend of sticky resins, autumnal cinnamon, and vague florals is enough to charm a hapless witness over to the side of true glamour and flamboyance. Jorum Studio, Monolith Another release that is undoubtedly not for everyone, but in its raw, unabashed dirt and smoke, is definitely for me. A rework of an earlier entry into their Psychoterratica  series, Monolith  is defined by an overdose of peat, a material used in the production of certain malt whiskies. Dirty, smoky, and grimy, the opening is pure and intense — like licking the bottom of an outdoor grill. Heady castoreum supplements the initial censing, adding an animalic undertone that almost knocks the breath out of you. Intentionally provocative, I was surprised by how quickly this initial assault wears off, and how easily it yields into quite a handsome aged earthen vetiver. Euan McCall  reportedly spotlighted a vintage vetiver oil in high concentrations in this limited composition, and I think it truly shines in the drydown. I would almost go so far as to say the gorgeous, bloody Firewater  is more of a scary composition than this one — yes, the opening of Monolith is fierce, but what’s under the mask is kindhearted and reasonable. Try to source this for the man or nominally insane woman in your life who wore Imaginary Authors City on Fire  and thought it wasn’t hardcore enough. Lush, Vegan Leather Jacket Speaking of smoky scents — who knew a perfume from modern Lush  with such a stupid name would actually be amazing? Back in their day, Lush’s Gorilla Perfume label put out some truly amazing heavy hitters. But over the last ten years, it’s seemed as if they’ve eschewed niche experimentalism in favor of remaking three of their popular shower gel scents over and over again in different forms. I see cause for hope in the new line of perfumes they released this year. Some, like The Dew on Their Hems , were standard niche fare, a pretty aquatic reminiscent of something you might find at Jo Malone. Others, like the fun Leonard Cohen sendup No Way To Say Goodbye , were interestingly hyper-saccharine to the point of obscurity. I can quite easily imagine this perfume, which smells somewhere between children’s toothpaste and nightcore bath bomb blackcurrant, fitting in mixed with ironic cigarette smoke on some disaffected twenty-something girl’s jean jacket. The clear standout from the collection, however, was Vegan Leather Jacket , which perhaps is trying to appeal to a tongue-in-cheek sense of postured edginess. I honestly don’t care, because this smells reminiscent of something Jorum Studios would make, and can be bought at a strip mall. There is no leather, here, only a heavy-handed trio of cloves, cade oil, and vetiver. Tart, supple, and gorgeously smoky, this opens with a blast of animalics, not unlike Monolith, and then settles into a flaming spice medley that lasts on skin for a neat couple of hours. People online seem to compare it to Estée Lauder’s creamy ‘70s spicebomb Cinnabar , but I only really agree inasmuch as the drydown occasionally drifts toward dark orange Opium  territory. To me, this is really just a fine one-trick pony to scratch the arsonists itch in your wretched little heart without breaking the bank. I love to see mainstream perfume retailers cater to niche markets like this — and know that in their refusal to pander down to a younger consumer base, they will eventually be rewarded. Maksim Perfume, Oud Indochine Another recent example of questionable name, great perfume. A collaboration between experienced perfumers Maksim Bortnikov and Rajesh Balkrishnan , Oud Indochine  is animalic oud at its most camphoric and green. Containing three different oud tinctures — Kinam, South Thai, and Hindi — the nuances in these raw materials would be enough to compel me on their own, but are most notably accented with spices like cardamom, saffron, and cocoa. Orientalist fantasies hardly do this blend justice; it smells like a barnyard was converted into a Hermès boutique, with its windows left open in the summertime. Think waxy-sweet, herbaceous, and astringent. Powerful performance, continually evolving — this fragrance demands to be worn seductively on the wrists of an impeccably dressed man of ambiguous national origin at an outdoor benefit gala. Phronema Perfumes, Desert Water I was absolutely taken by the work of Weston Adam under the moniker of Phronema Perfumes  late in the year. His work is very visibly marked by his deep faith as an Orthodox Christian, but also takes cues from miscellaneous works of theory, manga, and pop culture. His many rough and ragged scents are made with abundant homemade tinctures, and given names after holy prophets and Continental philosophers alike. My favorite he’s released this year (and, indeed, I have tried many favorites he won’t be releasing until next year) is the austere potion called Desert Water . Immediately, you can tell the color of the liquid is pitch-black, and will obviously leave stains on anything not equally dark in color. This formulation functions less like an eau de parfum and more like an ointment. Centered around crystal clear distillations of fir and frankincense, it smells like the ancient Greek predecessor to Slumberhouse’s Norne  or my beloved Fille en Aiguilles . Cracking branches of spruce between your fingers, this smells like pine sap was made into a resin and censed. Spraying this on for the first time, my face lit up at something that might make lesser perfume enthusiasts recoil — this liquid is literally sticky like tree sap. I love moments when perfume can call attention to the nature of its ingredients, and herein the raw tinctures used in its creation feel so unrefined they barely even squeeze themselves out of the bottle. This would certainly be problematic to wear on clothes, but the easy solution is to simply wear this perfume completely naked and run without abandon through the winter woods. Taking its name from the storied life of Father Anthony the Great, arguably the first Monastic, this perfume is requisitely hardcore — but like the monastic life, it yields its beautiful fruit to faithful adherents quietly and gently by the abundant graces of God. Clue Perfumery, The Point I know I have a clear bias towards wunderkinds Laura Oberwetter and Caleb Vanden Boom of Chicago-based Clue Perfumery , but to be fair, I truly do think the degree of intention they put into their scents — not even just with respect to Oberwetter’s perfumery and Vanden Boom’s design — exceeds the output of “trying too hard to be down-to-earth and cool” recent venture capital buyouts like D.S. & Durga, and with a fraction of the budget of my occupationally betrothed Manzanita Capital. The first scent to be released following the brand’s three-scent debut, The Point answers the evocative and site-informed original perfumes of their launch with something far more abstract and referential. The scent profile is inspired by a psychedelic scene from the eponymous animated children’s film soundtracked by Harry Nilsson and voiced by Ringo Starr. Having attended the launch, where the perfume was smelled at the exact moment of this particular scene where jasmine tea pours from ornate cups and whale carcasses slowly melt into the bottom of the ocean, I can attest that the atmosphere of the fragrance feels perfectly suited to the cartoonish-yet-unsettling tone of the filmic referent. Oberwetter, in a strange sense, draws quite literally from this scene: the principal note is what she calls “jasmine tea brewed with ocean water” — here, the previously referenced overly dominant 2000s-esque calone vibe is nowhere to be found. When Oberwetter does conjure the ocean, it is less sea salt and more a musky sort of ambergris wax. It is this note that fuses to a sweet Pez-dispenser jasmine to form the principal accord. Underneath, however, is the intriguing one-two abstract mineral punch of a dry sand note and a chalky porcelain scent. Combined, The Point is perhaps Clue’s easiest and most accessible wear, yet a fragrance that decisively does not falter on the brand’s proven mission to render the experimental approachable and fun. Wear The Point to question the meaning of life by the poolside, or simply to rejoice in the hallucinogenic aromas of childhood. Marissa Zappas, Carnival of Souls Zappas ’ newest not only reiterates her knack for cross-cultural New York artistic collaboration and event planning but cements her current status as the queen of adapting art house movies into niche perfumes. In dialogue with the elusive and atmospheric 1962 horror movie Carnival of Souls , this eponymous perfume is shockingly subtle and delicious. Like whipped cream at the end of the world, it presents a lactonic sort of saline coconut, almost like the fetal embryonic fluid of Secretions Magnifique. I don't get much of the stated incense or spice, but rather, the plasticine, warm, spicy delicacy of perfumer's saffron mixed among various dessert sundries and powdery yellow florals. A very delicate and gorgeous use of mimosa, as if emerging from a harsh winter's frost with hope and perseverance. If this is horrifying, as its textual referent might suggest, it is only so through an abundance of sweetness — like Mary Henry's illusory nightmares, a spoonful of hallucinogenic sugar makes your visions of a ghoulish, pale-faced figure go down. Adi Ale Van, The White Hero — Potion of a Lifetime I discovered Romanian indie perfumer Adi Ale Van  this month, and the awkwardly named White Hero  is without a doubt my favorite thing he made this year. Defined by an overdose of olibanum and mushroom tinctures, this is primarily a dirty and pastoral sort of frankincense perfume bounded with wax and dusty patchouli. Like hastily blown-out candles, pooling beeswax, and sealed envelopes: secrets kept between the two of us in the dark. Feel it dripping, dripping, dripping down your wrist — out the window and down onto the Sodom below. Jumping from your second-floor bedroom window and landing in freshly tilled soil. Think the toxic mushroom omelet from Phantom Thread , a wooden country chapel down the road. It's dark outside now, brisk but not too cold. Wild sage growing along the side of a dirt road. Elopement, digging graves, wreaths of Spanish moss, and mushroom rigor mortis  kisses. This perfume is something of a haunting, something of a curse. Chris Rusak, Caji I saved my favorite for last. Chris Rusak  has been long established in the world of niche and indie perfumery for making tincture-based DIY experimental powerhouses. I’ve loved his animalic pepper Beast Mode , for a while, and he’s surely reached notorious renown with the enigmatic and dirty AEOOJ(LMB) . With Caji , however, I truly think he’s done something special. A unique take on the Foin Coupé (freshly mown hay) genre of French perfumery, this is at once rustic and alien. Technically a release squeezed into the last few weeks of 2023, I’m including it here because it really was the perfume that most wowed me this year. Upon first spraying it, you’re met with an incredibly puckering sour blast of cucumber, purple florals, and fatty carrot seed. This alone smells like nothing else in niche fragrance and is worth the price of admission, but into the drydown, the powdery aspects reach their fleshy, flushed fulfillment, accompanied by a waxy sort of vanilla that just barely evokes the likes of my forever favorite Lipstick On . The hay is just barely discernible past this chaos but is very much a stringy setting for the main action of the perfume. Civet is also present here, but I can’t even bring myself to describe the timing at which it appears or the effect it has on the greater aroma of this perfume, other than to say it really makes it smell sexy. If I had to make a comparison to any other existing fragrance, I would grasp towards the outlier of Marlou’s extreme but terse ouvré, Corpalium , inasmuch as barnyard orris root is portrayed among an extremely evocative set of secondary players. Composed of 80% natural materials and intended to maturate gracefully throughout a many-yeared lifetime, I cannot recommend snagging a bottle of this seemingly limited artisan release enough. The Year’s Biggest Disappointments I won’t spend too long, here. Both because I don’t love speaking ill of others, especially independent perfumers, and also because, to be honest, there wasn’t that much in the world of niche perfumery I felt overtly scandalized by this year. That said, there are several wider releases I feel I have to speak out against, for your own wellbeing. Prada, Prada Paradoxe Virtual Flower The original version of this perfume, entitled Paradoxe, was maddeningly simple and a reduction of everything that white floral perfumes could and should stand for. This year, the fine men and women at Prada  have decided to release a version that’s basically the same, Paradoxe Virtual Flower , except it uses fifteen more buzzwords and tries to incorporate Chat-GPT in the most gimmicky way possible. The scent itself is just vaguely clean ISO-E super musk designed to appeal to women who want to smell unobtrusively pleasant to other women and nothing else. I get it — it’s easy for me to punch down on designer perfume. And, generally, during the rest of the year, I try not to say much about it, because it obviously isn’t really for someone with as repugnant and hyper-specific tastes as me. That said, I call out atrocious marketing when I see it, and this should truly not have been made. I see people comparing this scent to MFK’s 724 , which is somehow a hopeful compliment to me — and I didn’t even like that perfume. Maison Margiela, Afternoon Delight Did they try and make this a vague Proust reference? This isn’t even the first time a perfumer has tried to do this bit , and back then, it was actually a creative concept. Honestly, I’m going to alienate myself from most people reading this and say I actually enjoyed the now-discontinued Whispers in the Library  and much prefer that to what seems to be its successor in the disaffected vanilla slot in Margiela ’s designer-does-niche lineup. Afternoon Delight  smells pretty much exactly like Philosophy’s original Fresh Cream  fragrance, a pungent, untamed stale vanilla that overpowers any attempt at a lactonic accord. There is a reason its layered sequel,  Fresh Cream Warm Cashmere , sells by the crateful. You can’t do vanilla on its own if you’re not prepared to go hard on the quality of ingredients. I think a fruity note like pear or peach more or less smells the same at all levels of extraction, but there is an obvious difference between  a really good vanilla solinote  and the lowest common denominator. It honestly doesn’t even end up smelling like food. The whole idea of sweet gourmands has been done so many times that your average consumer now has a baseline scent memory to compare things against, and blends all low-quality vanillas together into vague Bath and Body Works nicety. And to be honest, I have a professed soft spot  for Vanilla Bean Noel , because at least it doesn’t pretend to be anything it isn’t. Needless to say, this perfume literally does not register as anything to my brain, and when all is said and done, that’s worse than making a scent so awful it’s at least worth remembering. Maison Francis Kurkdjian, APOM Francis , for goodness’ sake! You’ve made countless  masterpiece perfumes  at all price points, and now your latest self-branded release is getting compared to late-term Killian? You either die a niche auteur or live to see yourself cater to Fragrance-Tok YA literature women who think By the Fireplace  smells like mezcal. This perfume smells like if Rihanna wore Love Don’t Be Shy  to the gynecologist. It claims to be a genderless fusion of two prototype fragrances I have not smelled, but I would be shocked to find a virile male Baccarat Rouge  consumer who wants to wear something this mindlessly saccharine. The fact this claims to be a fougère is an insult to Jicky’s  legacy. This updated fragrance now smells like a magazine perfume tester strip version of musky orange blossom and vanilla. I honestly think the legacy of 21st-century musk-forward florals on designer perfume has corrupted what could easily be a pretty and naturalistic flowery scent into something that smells like Justice (2010s clothing store for teens) and early onset body dysmorphia. I can’t really fault perfumers with day jobs that smell like your average American woman’s fantasy of a fancy hotel lobby, but, at its best, designer perfume can subtly challenge the tastes of its consumers, and both nourish and style their scent predilections for the better. Alas, for now, I will have to hope TikTok also influences your average Francophile mother of three to buy a Diptyque sample set. It’s definitely possible — we just have to believe. 🌀 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.

On the perfume of Sofia Coppola’s The Virgin Suicides . Do you ever spray the bathroom with Febreze to cover up the horrifying scent you left behind? In Sofia Coppola’s 1999 film The Virgin Suicides , Cecilia Lisbon uses Dana’s Heaven Sent Eau de Parfum  as an air freshener to mask the fact that her life is a burning heap of garbage. If you’ve ever been a 13-year-old girl, you know that your beauty products and knick-knacks become an extension of your physical body, a tangible safety net to cradle your fall into pre-pubescent despair. I recently got my hands on the 2001 version of Heaven Sent from FragranceNet — however, in the film, the bottle that Cecilia (Hanna R. Hall) has is a vintage bottle by Helena Rubinstein, originally launched in 1941. Both the modern and original bottles look almost identical, highlighting Coppola’s intense eye for authenticity. (This was confirmed by World Wide Aura, an awesome digital archive  of beauty products in TV and film.) On Cecilia’s vanity, designed by Coppola and production designer Jasna Stefanovich, beside Heaven Sent lies a bottle of Jovan Musk cologne from 1972, among other delicate girly accessories — Cecilia has good taste.  Sociologist Erving Goffman’s dramaturgical theory of impression management  provides a useful lens to peer at Cecilia through. In his 1956 book The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, Goffman theorizes that we have a “backstage” and “frontstage" self, and we perform them differently according to each circumstance we find ourselves in. Putting the ubiquity of curating a persona nowadays (like with social media) aside, real-life intimate social micro-interactions are where observing impression management can be useful. This goes much deeper than simply being “real” or “fake.” It is often more instinctual, dare I say, primitive — we want our tribe to accept us so we can hunt together and not die of starvation. Humans have learned we can attempt to manage how other people perceive us, and in the modern era, consumerism makes it incredibly easy to control that external perception. You can order a new persona on Amazon and have it at your doorstep in 24 hours. In the film, Cecilia uses Heaven Sent as a prop in the tragedy that is her life. Maybe she purchased it herself; maybe it was a gift from her evil mother (Kathleen Turner) — we don’t know. Regardless, it’s really quite meta: Coppola uses the perfume as a prop to tell the story in her movie, while Cecilia uses it as an instrument to embellish her short fictional life. People use fragrance as camouflage all the time — like most commodities, this is what makes buying things fun (for example, I wear Angel by Mugler at times when I feel like a goblin). If you take an introductory acting class, the teacher will most likely ask you Stanislavskian questions about your character, such as:  “Who are you?” “Where were you born?” “What does this character do in their spare time?”  Every speck of detail is paramount to building a robust narrative. Similarly, knowing what a movie character smells like, or what personal products they use can enhance the story’s reality and texture through olfactory exploration. The Lisbon sisters’ accouterments strewn about their home, art on their walls, and more stuffed animals than books on their shelves is an unforgettable vignette for most tweenage females —  as biological and psychological emotional turmoil ensues, like the shock of reconciling with not being girl nor woman, but rather an excruciating third thing, the only way to survive it is by retreating to your bedroom dwelling. The bedroom and its contents are the safety mats placed for your first gym class cartwheel; if it’s not just right, the fall will hurt. Hanna R. Hall has the perfect face for melancholy. She effortlessly evokes the boredom, dissatisfaction, and indifference that is mandatory to feel like a Lisbon sister. Her permanent half-smile suggests she spiritually passed away years ago, and her physical body is staying awhile just to mess around — but she is looking forward to leaving this dimension entirely. The peak of Cecilia’s palpable discomfort can be pinpointed to the birthday party scene, when she has a front-seat view of the forced theatrics her mother and father (James Woods) orchestrate for her party. The gathering, prescribed by a therapist who thinks Cecilia just needs to socialize with males her age, is quite literally the nail in her coffin. After the teen boy with Down syndrome is brought into the party and cruelly paraded around like a circus clown by the other boys and girls, Cecilia excuses herself to her bedroom and attempts suicide once again, finally with success. In that brief scene, her empty glare sends a very clear message — this life is a joke. She longed to be heard by her mother, for her to express genuine interest in her life — endangered animal species, for example — but yet her mother is incapable of that connection. She is gone, leaving a cloud of honeyed flowers dipped in powder behind. Each sublime element in Heaven Sent plays a crucial role in this tragedy, from the exposition to the denouement. Let’s dive into a breakdown of the composition of this fragrance, as listed on the box: TOP Apple blossom, bergamot, mandarin, lily of the valley (muguet) MIDDLE Iris (orris), jasmine, heliotrope, rose BASE Amber, musk, oakmoss, patchouli, sandalwood It’s violet petals crushed into a powdery elixir dripping with desire — the desire to be loved, accepted by parents and peers, or just to get through grade school in the suburbs before your excruciating Catholic home life drives you to kill yourself. It follows the precise formula for a chypre, down to the subtle oakmoss bottom note. As it dries down, it is pure baby powder thanks to the orris and heliotrope blend, bearing striking similarities to Heliotrope Milkbath  by Universal Flowering. Add a splash of almond milk, and it will be difficult to make out which is which. This baby powder is so saccharine it borders on gourmand — and has me wishing for a Pixy Stick full of it.  Heaven Sent serves as a tool to mask Cecilia’s angst as the youngest sibling and is a piece of the desperate bridge extended to her mother in longing for emotional presence. Heaven Sent is pure powdery innocence, made with the tears of angels, a protection spell against all evil —  which ultimately contrasts with her miserable life. The ornate bottle is a direct pathway from the Earth to the clouds, a holy grail that ushers her toward mortality. There is something Rumpelstiltskin eqsue to it; an imp-like deity surely weaved this perfume out of gold just for her. In all seriousness, please don’t make Cecilia your role model — get help if you need it. But do yourself a favor and buy a bottle   — not only to honor the inner Lisbon sister in all of us but to reconcile with our desire for a scent both feminine and prurient. 🌀 Lauren Lexa Brown is a Canadian writer, cyber-anthropologist, hardcore perfume enjoyer, and admirer of any and all vintage ephemera. She can be found adding things to her cart and singing to her pet guinea pigs. You can find more of her work on her Substack .

A lost-and-found editorial by Rachel Anne Bartz. Click the right arrow to view the full photoset. Photographer: Rachel Anne Bartz ( @rachelannebartz ) Model: Jessica ( @hotelfantasysuite ) Photo Assistant: Leah Wendzinski ( @leahwendzinski ) Nails: Nim ( @fruityynails ) Film Processing: Chicago's Pro Film Lab ( @cswfilmchicago ) Scanning: Bellows Film Lab ( @bellowsfilmlab )

And the olfactory ethics of nostalgia. Politically speaking, cultural nostalgia rears its ugly head perennially like a proverbial hydra — cut one head, and a new one appears more hideous. Nostalgia has been utilised as a political tool most pertinently by figureheads of the right. In the UK, this nostalgia appears in many different forms, but one seen most potently is in the figures themselves. Politicians like Jacob Rees-Mogg don’t simply just talk about the cultural values of a more draconian era, they embody them . His ghostly Edwardian style and clipped RP accent figures as an emblem of a Britishness long gone, a swirling mirage almost phantasmic enough to make you forget about him moving City Firm, the investment fund he founded, to Ireland  before his well-flogged Brexit flop unleashed its inertia onto the UK. This connection, between cultural nostalgia and right-wing politics, is not a new one, especially in European scholarly circles focusing on the tenets of 20th-century Italian Fascism, which is making another striking comeback . Particularly, the connection between right-wing and fascist politics to nostalgia is attributed to a certain logic of conservative thinking which constantly looks back to a past, history, or geography — whether these be real or imaginary.  But the fascism of the past is not the fascism of the present. The conditions that allowed for the blossoming of fascism in the 20th century are not the conditions of the present, what would have been considered outlandish — and ultra-right political discourse has made its way to represent the “average” concerns of the “average” citizen. No longer do governments incite paramilitaries to unleash violence upon populations backed by economic decline  and rupturing social order; instead, networked civic populations bolstered by online footprints aim to rupture existing “liberal” social orders by inciting culture wars prevalent in the UK and the United States. The inchoate nature of the current age of right-wing tyranny poses a new threat to understanding how tools of nostalgia function in contemporary cultural discourse and production.  But I’ve seen this sentiment spreading beyond specifically political discourse. The exact phrasing of “nostalgia is a tool for promoting fascism” can be seen on joke tweets recounting lovers lost. It’s been applied to the media cycle, constantly re-hashing bits and pieces from past decades, recounting the hits of the ‘80s or ‘90s, devoid of any crumb of criticality. And it’s found its way into fashion discourse, too. Nostalgia, in the original medical term coined in the 17th century, was devised as a specific pathological current in which an individual was “obsessively” looking back to a distant homeland long gone. The term has, as we know, expanded much beyond that initial medicalism. But it’s important to understand how the concept has shifted, from a diagnosis of a spatial homesickness to one distinctly temporal. Instead of only connoting a longing for a distant homeland, nostalgia as a concept has morphed into a longing for a time   itself since gone.  But what about when the whole concept   of something — the very structural and conceptual corpus of a product — is, in itself, entirely rooted in nostalgia? This is seen most expressly in beauty products, which compel us to yoke ourselves to the past. Perfume, specifically, is nostalgia. It couldn’t function as an object without it. It is an inherent and eternal ligament — the nerves that animate the body.  Perfume is a facade or simulation — one that enacts sensuality into the forefront of its function, yes, but a simulation all the same. Some of my favourite scents from my favourite perfumers are entirely rooted in cultural nostalgia. Take the perfume house Arquiste . Founded by  Carlos Huber , a Mexican architect and building conservationist, the perfume house constantly utilises cultural nostalgia and historicism as a core design philosophy. Venice Rococo takes us back to a 17th-century Venetian parlour room; Anima Dulcis takes the wearer to a 16th-century Mexican church; Nanban transports the wearer to the underbelly of a 17th-century Japanese trade galleon filled to the brim with spices and treasures. The entirety of Arquiste’s production marries historical moments to narratives, expressed in the perfume’s beautiful, artful, and dainty construction. It’s no surprise that Arquiste has claimed some of the most prestigious awards for perfumery in recent years, including winning the Perfume Foundation’s Indie Perfume of the Year for L’or de Louis in 2024 and earlier in 2021 for Misfit , as well as three of their perfumes claiming finalist positions in other iterations of the award cycle.  Huber’s history as an architect is not just hinted at, it exists in almost every perfume available in the catalogue. The built environment and its history rest as the eternal touchstone for the house, an endless source of creative inspiration. As such perfumes touch upon historical artifice, the creation of the perfumes themselves often mimics historic practices of perfumery melded with contemporary methods, breathing an olfactory life into history. For instance, with the fragrance pair “Él” and “Ella,” the perfumer aimed to mimic the disco scene of 1970s Mexico, adding sultry contemporary overtones to more classical imprints of Mexican perfume culture — blending classical herbal concoctions to scent profiles that match that of the Mexican dance floor. It is this blend of historical intrigue and contemporary techniques which sets Arquiste apart from other perfume houses that aim to utilise cultural nostalgia and cultural history in crafting their exquisite perfume stock. Huber’s status as an architect and building conservationist also provides a unique angle that manages to elide some of the othering qualities inherent in the perfume trade. By rooting perfumes in not only the context of history but in the specificity of place   and the built environment, generalised nods to “exotic lands” are replaced with a keen interest in evoking the actuality of place and time—  rather than an assemblage of generalised evocations of place.  To contrast, let’s move to the other side of the world — England — to perhaps one of the most famous perfume houses in the world. Penhaligon’s  was founded by William Penhaligon in 1870, beginning as a barber shop on Westminster’s Jermyn Street. Barber shops in the late 19th century were not just places to get one’s haircut, but rather vital social hubs built specifically for men. Distinct from other social hubs, like bars or pubs, the barber shop enabled cross-cultural and cross-class interaction between individuals. Similar to many Victorian enterprises, the barber shop was often plush, ornate, and extravagant. Many modern barber shops emulate these historic aesthetics and practices today — walk past any barber shop in London, and you’re likely to see groups of people chatting and laughing; a curated aesthetic; and all types of people inside. It was soon after founding his flagship barber’s in 1870 that Penhaligon’s first official fragrance was born. But one might expect — owing to Penhaligon’s current copy and marketing strategy — that the perfumery of Penhaligon’s origins contained some sort of “quintessential” Britishness, perhaps a homage to royalty and aristocracy, but you’d be wrong. The first-ever perfume created by William Penhaligon in 1872 was Hammam Bouquet . The scent was inspired not by the upper echelons of British culture but by a nearby Turkish bath — called The London Hammam — at which Penhaligon was a resident barber. In the fragrance, we have exuberant, citrusy bergamot dancing over rose and iris root, a powdery blast of hypnotic florals and resinous ambers. During the mid-to-late Victorian era in England, several hundred of these Turkish baths had taken up business, owing, in large part, to the London & Provincial Turkish Bath Company. While the first documented “true” wave of Turkish immigration to the UK occurred over 100 years later, in the 1970s, the 19th-century Turkis baths were actually spearheaded by a Scotsman: the politician David Urquhart. The diplomat’s first introduction to Turkish culture was in 1826 when he travelled to the Levantine region to fight in the Greek War of Independence (on the encouragement of his mentor Jeremy Bentham,  who theorised the panopticon). After being wounded, Urquhart was then sent on a diplomatic tour to Constantinople, where he changed his allegiance to Turkey. It’s here where Urquhart developed a deep devotion to Turkish culture,  which he expressed throughout his life and career, publishing works such as The Spirit of the Eas t in 1838. He brought the Islamic cultural tradition of the Hammam — or the Turkish Bath — back to England, and championed its use for both medicinal and healing properties. To quote a contemporary who often wrote in the same magazines as Urquhart — Karl Marx — he was a “maniac,” utterly entrenched in conspiratorial political schemes, convinced that Tsarist Russia was threatening a global takeover.  Strange aligning histories aside, the introduction of Hammams into British culture coincided quite neatly with the all-encompassing trend in cultural objects — art, literature, plays — to emulate and sustain Orientalist tropes. The East was treated with a constant tilt of fascination in Victorian Britain, and these tropes found their way into almost every major novelist and artist of the period, from Dante Gabriel Rossetti to the Brontë sisters to the essays of Thomas Carlyle. Orientalism in this period looked to the East as a treasure trove of exotic cultural objects, and it was indeed fashionable to own ornaments and possessions from such places. To have travelled to distant corners of the world was a marker of one’s class, intelligence, and aesthetic training. The East was positioned as wholly Other, and a fixture to project one’s own sensibilities onto. This came alongside a marked shift in the Victorian-era sensibilities surrounding perfume, with a tendency towards heavily perfumed bodies, clothes, and homes functioning as both a status symbol and a method to mask the potentiality for unwanted bodily odour. Hammam Bouquet was an unmitigated smash hit, propelling William Penhaligon to considerable fame. By 1902, when the business was inherited by his son William Penhaligon Jr., the company was commissioned to create a perfume for the 9th Duke of Marlborough. Here is where that association of Penhaligon’s with aristocracy and royalty begins.  Perfume is nostalgia, yes — relying on the powers of the olfactory sense to provoke elegiac or nostalgic feelings in the wearer. But there’s another element revealed in the powers of nostalgia afforded by perfumery, a form that traces the initial diagnostic weapon as it was conceived in the 17th century. Perfume enacts the nostalgic power of not only temporal reasoning but also geographical and spatial   reasoning. How is it that the English bourgeoisie were drawn to the scents and spices of a region they very likely had never set foot on nor had any personal connection to? With the 19th century seeing the ravages of colonialism expand into ever-far-reaching corners of the globe, suddenly, to the wealthier class of Britain, the world blossomed. The spices of the Levant began appearing in London’s barber shops and parlours, an expression of the endlessly consumable nature of the world available to their wealthy patrons. Another example, from the world of art: the shift towards an Orientalist aesthetic and sensibility seen in the curation of home decoration by artists like Dante Gabriel Rossetti and even Oscar Wilde. Britishness, once held in the confines of aristocracy and the gentry, now became something that could be altered and heightened by engagement with the Other. Perfumery can do this in a deeply specific way. Perfumery completely transcends the need for direct   personal experience. Instead of travelling to Turkey, or anywhere in the Levant and the Middle East, one can bring the treasures   of the world into one’s own dressing room.  This method of nostalgia has barely changed since the 19th century. Nearly every perfume house you can think of has some sort of oud in their catalogue, whether the house be based in the US or the UK; nearly every perfume house expresses Orientalist tropes in their copywriting; nearly every perfume house has a scent in their range denoting a specific place and space in time. Yet, in most cases, it seems dubious that each niche perfumer has such intimate knowledge of the area.  Perfume is nostalgia, yes, but it is almost always posited in the language of “discovery” — a method of uncovering that which was previously shrouded in mystery. The entire legacy of Penhaligon’s boils down to one magnetic fulcrum that keeps the entirety of the perfume industry locked into place: simulated desire. Without getting too deep into Baudrillard or Barthes, here, it is markedly interesting that the legacy of such a historic house is rooted in a facsimile of a replica of a real object. Because, at the heart of it all, perfume is a facade or simulation — one that enacts sensuality into the forefront of its function, yes, but a simulation all the same. It pulls the wearer into an olfactory representation   of a certain place, time, or theme. Nanban  by Arquiste is an exquisite fragrance — saffron, black tea, black pepper, grounds of bitter coffee, leather, Chinese osmanthus, myrrh, and juniper dance around each other in a hypnotic clash of objects. But these are all precious items of cargo, key pieces that enabled the dirge of global enterprise to wreak havoc on the world. Arquiste’s copy describes it as “the intoxicating spirit of a singular, extraordinary voyage of discovery.” But the copy goes one step further. Instead of washing the narrative behind the fragrance in a simplified or vague expression of the period or place, the brand bolds the opening phrase: “January 1618, a Japanese galleon, the Pacific Ocean.” Perfume is one of the few contemporary luxury enterprises where global inspiration is a given, with houses bottling precious materials and selling them to those who most likely have no direct experience with such places, materials, and times. Wearing such perfumes invites the wearer to engage in a simulated experience   of the place and time. In perfumery, the idea   of a place can be communicated by simply mixing certain ingredients and writing complementary copy.  Perfume as a cultural object is an important litmus test for understanding the shifting sands and wobbling tectonics of the cultural ground it exists upon. In Mandy Aftel’s introduction to her book Essence and Alchemy, Aftel notions towards this by proclaiming that “the world was discovered in perfume’s wake.” We can gather much from this one deceptively oblique sentence. Perfume was one of the oldest high-value goods to be cross-globally traded for the mere presence of its perceived value, and so, this notion highlights how geographically the trade of perfume allowed for the “discovery” of distant corners of the globe. But also, in this vein, perfume’s experience allows the wearer to discover   and involve   themselves in distant cultures and lands without necessitating actual travel. Perfume is nostalgia, yes, but it is almost always posited in the language of “discovery” — a method of uncovering that which was previously shrouded in mystery. Penhaligon’s most famous oud, Halfeti , inspired by the souks of the Levant, is visually described with the imagery of a distant voyage: a ship’s rope dangles above a  sepia-drenched globe beneath pencilled drawings of twee hot-air balloons. Even Arquiste uses this language of exotic discovery in the copy of Nanban. For something to be “discovered,” it implies that it was not known before — but how can we say that the spices of the Middle East are to be “discovered” when that region of the world had been producing precious perfume materials for thousands of years? Here is the marked tension present in almost all perfumery, through both its construction and how it is marketed. Perfume must simultaneously be something imbued with nostalgic power, but at the same time represent the unmasking of some new sensation or experience or place. Discovery is represented as an idealised and individualised experience — an individual uncovering an idea or place or time, which in turn is evaluated by the discerning wearer, who translates their interests in the other and the undiscovered into a markable metric of their own tastes and desires.  But that’s part of the unusual and hypnotic power of perfumery. Perfumers can take materials and create something new, and, in turn, hope to represent the deepest jungle or the furthest reaches in time. Perfume is nostalgia in the way that it crosses both temporal and spatial categories in its production, in the hope of drawing the wearer into an exoticised other. Perfume is nostalgic, yes, but nostalgia is a personal endeavour. What’s nostalgic to me will simply not have the same emotional effect as it will on you. One of my favourite perfume notes is violet leaf because I used to be obsessed with eating Parma Violets as a child; whenever I smell lilies, I think of my aunt in Ireland who only wore Anais Anais ; the smell of cigarette smoke reminds me of my childhood babysitter, who drew pencil-thin brows on her leathery brown skin, aged by tobacco and sun. But these things don’t have the same emotional power to you as they do me. No perfume house can create a nostalgic perfume that fully aligns with each individual emotional backdrop, for each memory and sensation experienced. And so, to combat this ineffectual turn, perfume houses turn to the imaginary “other,” Perfume simulates experience, desires, places, and times, and creates something new from the tyranny of the past. 🌀 M.P.S is a writer, zine-maker, part-time urban researcher, full-time perfume over-thinker, maximalist fashion enjoyer,   and creature from East London. You can find her looking gorgeous on Instagram as @_femmedetta  or giving unsolicited opinions as  @cyberyamauba  on X.

The best picks across fashion, beauty, and living, hand-selected by our editors. Listen: we know you're inundated with holiday gift guides right now, whether they be from Glossier or Vogue or that Substack newsletter you forgot to unsubscribe to. Instead of telling you who to shop for, we've hand-picked the best presents to gift yourself this holiday season — from Loro Piana phone purses to bespoke rings made from human teeth (more on that later). And most importantly — none of this is sponsored! Just our genuine picks, starting with... ESPRESSO NAPPA DEMI FLATS ($196) Selected by... Savannah Eden Bradley, Editor-in-Chief AKA the perfect transitional Fall-Spring shoe, handmade in Spain. I’m partial to the Espresso-colored leather — like peeking inside of a chocolate box. Swoon. From Margaux . You can buy it here . BALE PHONE CASE BAG ($950) Selected by... Olivia Linnea Rogers, Fashion Editor Never understood the appeal of a phone bag before this one. Perfect if you really want to treat the most chronically online person you know. Also good for city-dwellers with phone theft trauma (me). From Loro Piana . You can buy it here . PLAITED TINSEL KNIT HOOD CARDIGAN ($750) Selected by... Bella Vega, Runway Writer Simone Rocha is undoubtedly the connoisseur of a femininity that is both delicate and subconsciously violent. This piece from her FW24 collection brings a bit of holiday sparkle to your wardrobe — a burgundy knit cardigan with a darling hood. Wearing this to your next function is sure to honor your inner child while feeling sexy and rebirthed. You can buy it here . SELVEDGE DENIM BAKERS JACKET ($538) Selected by... Galaxia Wu, Web Director Because it’ll just as well suit your uncle who lives on a farm in Ontario as your trendy New Yorker cousin and your old money aunt once removed.  From Universal Works . You can buy it here . FOLIE SILK SET ($230) Selected by... Savannah Eden Bradley, Editor-in-Chief This is more of a “gift yourself” kind of thing, but do what you want. This caramel-colored set from Lorette — made from 100% silk chiffon — wears like a dream. You can buy it here . CHERUB’S HAIR SHORT-SLEEVED BUTTON-DOWN ($275) Selected by... Bella Vega, Runway Writer I am not aware of a more whimsical and cheeky brand than Pleasing — from their latest balloon-inspired collaboration with JW Anderson to this piece inspired by Disney's Fantasia . I'm a big button-down girl, and seeing the cherub motif looking so homey and faded on this shirt invokes a longing to step into my next work party and show the delicate beauty and desperate fun of my soul. You can buy it here . PILE ROOM SOCKS ($41) Selected by... Galaxia Wu, Web Director Socks for Christmas forever! From ROTOTO . You can buy it here . MAEVE FUZZY PLATFORM SLIPPERS ($48) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer Cozy & chic, these slippers are everything the fashionistas in your life need to maximize their at-home style. Plus, their feet will be warm all winter long. From Anthropologie . You can buy it here . AMANCE CARDIGAN ($145) Selected by...  Savannah Eden Bradley, Editor-in-Chief Love somebody enough to get them pure mohair. People can be fastidious about clothing-as-gifts — but I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who wouldn’t ooh and aah over a hand-picked Sézane sweater. Or you can just buy it for yourself. You can buy it here . SWAN ROMANCE SWEATER ($55) Selected by...  Bella Vega, Runway Writer Barcelona-based label Favorite Child Collective makes apparel for the Literary It Girl in all of us. Inspired by Black Swan , this pink knit sweater is sure to be a staple of any coquette wardrobe. You can buy it here . NIGHTCAP PERFUME ($35-100) Selected by... Micaela Jarlstam, Design Lead A warm and spicy perfume with hints of ginger, cardamom, and vanilla, this fragrance from Bella Hadid's Orebella captures the true essence of being an It Girl on a night out. You can buy it here . SCALP MASSAGER ($80) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer Any at-home spa is immediately elevated with the Amalfi Scalp Massager, which will make you feel like you’re on a sandy beach bathing in the Mediterranean sun. (It also helps promote hair growth.) You can buy it here . TOBACCO VANILLE PERFUME ($300) Selected by... Sydney Yeager, Fashion Writer This rich Tom Ford scent is well known for being a unisex perfume, but in my world, it’s truly the perfect scent for an It Girl. The dynamic aroma is perfect for cologne, but the sweet scent of vanilla pulls the scent into a more feminine sphere. It’s so easy to imagine Chloë Sevigny or Kate Moss spritzing themselves with this scent before leaving their homes. You can buy it here . LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL BODY SPRAY ($40) Selected by... Micaela Jarlstam, Design Lead A unisex Lush scent that has been making the rounds on TikTok — but is truly worth all the praise. With notes of popcorn and caramel, this body spray is for you if you’re into gourmand or pastry-type scents, or, if you’re like me, you just love being complimented on the scent you’re wearing. You can buy it here . SWAN MILAGRO NECKLACE ($130-525) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor Julyssa’s sterling silver or 10k, 14k, and 18k gold milagro necklaces are not only timeless feminine accessories but tell a story of cultural tradition, perseverance, and healing. I wholeheartedly recommend pretty much anything she makes, but the Swan Milagro necklace holds a special place in my heart. Perfect for the post-coquette girl who thinks she has it all, this necklace adds a little spiritual devotion to even the most austere of outfits. You can buy it here . CUSTOM WISDOM TOOTH RING ($190) Selected by... Olivia Linnea Rogers, Fashion Editor Got some spare teeth lying around? — I am seriously counting down the days till I can have my wisdom teeth removed and do this. KettleBlackSilver also does silver casting jewellery if you’re a bit squeamish but like the look. #FreakWeek You can buy it here . ORCHID EARRINGS ($34) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer From Olivia Cheng’s New York studio, a set of orchid earrings preserved in tree resin feels like wearing a piece of art. Since the earrings are made with real flowers, none look exactly the same, adding to the charm of owning something literally no one else has. Add two to your cart to get a pair. Other fruit and flower options are available on the Dauphinette website. You can buy it here . CUSTOM SEASHELL SIGNET RING ($415) Selected by... Savannah Eden Bradley, Editor-in-Chief IMO, a signet ring is a more understated — and therefore chicer — version of Carrie’s infamous nameplate necklace. Emma Krafft ’s flourish work is just divine; if you aren’t into the nautical touchstones here, consider her signet rings with Victorian flowers or Art Deco engravings. You can buy it here . MINI COCOTTE WITH HEART KNOB ($32) Selected by... Laura Rocha, Fashion Writer An adorable addition to anyone’s kitchen, the Mini Cocotte is perfect for making desserts for one — or even to keep on the counter as decor. We all love Le Creuset , and who could resist the heart knob detail? You can buy it here . SERVING FRIENDS ($40) Selected by... Galaxia Wu, Web Director Hosting is the chicest thing to do right now — make it that much more chic with these cute wooden spoons. From Selena Liu for Areaware . You can buy it here . TAPER CANDLE (IN FEU DE BOIS) ($32) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor I am, of course, biased in saying this, as I do nothing but sell these, but this is truly a great deal. I’ve done the math and everything: these gorgeous tapers only offered for the holiday season are about as much wax as our small-size classic Diptyque candles and sell for half the price. The smoke-laden cedar Feu de Bois is my winter scent of choice, as sadly, corporate doesn’t offer taper candles in Myrrhe or Bois Ciré. You can buy it here . TOWEL WARMER ($80) Selected by... Kaitlin Owens, Archive Editor Don’t we all want to live a little bit more like Gwyneth Paltrow? Throw in your robe and towel before your nightly bath and step out into a world of comfort — yoni egg not included. From SereneLife . You can buy it here . IMABARI WAFFLE TOWELS ($124) Selected by... Galaxia Wu, Web Director For the person that has everything: the most perfect, absorbent towel made in a family-run mill that has spent 100 years perfecting the art of towel making. From Imabari Towel . You can buy it here . JAPANESE WHETSTONE KNIFE SHARPENING KIT ($25) Selected by... Kaitlin Owens, Archive Editor When is the last time you sharpened your knives? Have you ever sharpened your knives? Trust me, you need this. From KERYE. You can buy it here . HINOKI WOOD TIN CANDLE ($6) Selected by... Olivia Linnea Rogers, Fashion Editor The perfect winter scent from everyone’s favourite Japanese everything-store Muji . Capable of transporting you to mystical and comforting woodlands from even the most metropolitan of city flats. You can buy it here . BAD TASTE: OR THE POLITICS OF UGLINESS ($15) Selected by... Olivia Linnea Rogers, Fashion Writer A must-read by Nathalie Olah for anyone interested in how taste intertwines with culture and politics. What is  “good” or “bad” taste? Olah tackles Donald Trump, The Sopranos , Pamela Anderson, Peter Thiel, “normcore,” and a plethora of other harbingers of “good” and “bad” taste in this appropriately leopard-clad hardback. You can buy it here . CUSTOM EYE PORTRAITS ($50) Selected by... Ella Gray, Newsletter Editor The Lover's Eye cameo was an especially romantic style of sentimental miniature portrait popularized in the Georgian era. These beautiful custom eye paintings by Liv Hickman come in the perfect size to grace a trinket shelf, wallet, or picture frame ornament. A set of eyes makes a fantastic gift for a couple, a friend group, siblings, you name it! You can buy it here . PLUSH-LINED MICROFIBER SPA ROBE ($98) Selected by... Kaitlin Owens, Archive Editor Last month, I spent a week attending multiple resort spas in Las Vegas (tough life, I know). The one thing all of them have in common: deliciously comfortable complimentary robes, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They’re plush-lined with a smooth outer shell, long sleeves, deep pockets, and the perfect weighted feel. If you’re looking to upgrade your life in 2025... this is the perfect place to start. From Monarch . You can buy it here . AFGHAN RUG MOUSEPAD ($15) Selected by... Olivia Linnea Rogers, Fashion Editor Self-explanatory. You can buy it here . EVERYTHING STORE GIFT CARD ($25-100) Selected by... Audrey Robinovitz, Fragrance Editor I have trusted Em, KC, and the team at Chicago-based alt-fashion retailers Everything to dress me for the last three-some-odd years, and I have never regretted it in the slightest. The curated antique/vintage, local contemporary fashion, and consigned designer clothes they stock have garnered me endless compliments and truly brought me that much closer to the sustainable slow fashion wardrobe of my dreams. You can buy it here . Happy shopping! 🌀

Emmalea Russo’s debut novel, Vivienne, is a fashion lover’s dream. Did Vivienne Volker kill Wilma Lang? That’s the question on everybody’s lips throughout Emmalea Russo’s debut novel, Vivienne. Published through Arcade in September 2024, it follows a week in the life of the infamous surrealist artist Vivienne Volker as she deals with the consequences of her murderous controversy.  Vivienne is equally as spine-chilling as it is tantalizing —he perfect novel for lovers of the macabre. Russo seamlessly weaves images of surrealist art and otherworldly fashion with the starkly modern concept of an artist’s public perception on the Internet.  Russo does not shy away from artistic references, creating an almost cinematically rich world for the reader. Martin Margiela, Rick Owens, and even Carolyn Bessette Kennedy all had a hand in fleshing out the novel’s deliciously fashionable world. I had the pleasure of catching up with Emmalea Russo to talk all about her inspirations for Vivienne  and her favorite things in the art and fashion world. This interview has been edited for content and clarity. Kaitlin Owens: Vivienne Volker's work seems to be part surrealist sculpture, part mixed media painting/fashion/video. Is there any artist in particular that served as inspiration for her career? Emmalea Russo:  From the jump, the character [of] Vivienne Volker had her own peculiar energy — singular and quirky. A manic and controversial portrait of Vivienne is formed, in the beginning of the novel, from public perception: comments on YouTube videos and responses to her work getting cancelled from a high-profile exhibition called “Forgotten Women Surrealists.” The Internet chatter also paints a portrait of her style before we ever meet the “real” Vivienne.  Before she stopped participating in the art world, Vivienne was most well-known for her controversial “Dressing the Doll” sculptures back in the 1970s (which then made a resurgence in the present-day world of the novel). I was envisioning strange garments made for large, disfigured dolls and constructed from scrap fabrics and detritus. After leaving the art world, she works as a seamstress.  While I didn’t have a particular inspiration for Vivienne’s life and work, I did pour over comments on YouTube videos of iconic and controversial women, from Carolyn Bessette Kennedy to Camille Paglia. I was also thinking of my own grandmother, who was the most glamorous person in her small town, and my great-grandmother, who worked as a seamstress in New York City’s garment district after coming over from Italy. KO: There seem to be references to garments made by both Rick Owens and Elena Velez in your novel (and obviously the Vivienne Westwood connection). Work by the former two designers is often described as dystopian and otherworldly, whereas Westwood errs on the more glamorous side of deconstruction. Were these purposeful choices in outlining the emotional undercurrent of  Vivienne? ER:  Definitely. While writing, I looked at so much surreal artwork and vintage clothing. Like the characters in the book, I was swimming in digital images. I wanted Vivienne  to feel cinematic, haunted, absurd, alive, and vivid. More than the deconstructive and glamorous dystopias of Rick Owens, Elena Velez, and Vivienne Westwood, I was looking at footage from Margiela’s Fall/Winter 1995 show in Paris. Both the clothes and the atmosphere of that show inspired the emotional energy of Vivienne .  [Margiela’s FW95 show] happened under a circus tent as a deranging waltz played. The models wore Margiela’s signature masks — faces covered, and the fabrics were black, navy blue, hot pink, red. Grimy and dystopian, but also light, playful, carnivalesque. Like a lot of ‘90s Margiela, the show achieves this mix of seriousness and silliness that I was going for in Vivienne.  There are velvet dresses with puff sleeves, layered deconstructed looks, and mechanics’ jumpsuits. In the book, one of the commenters describes having seen Vivienne at that show. Martin Margiela’s own mysterious anonymity and vision were also inspiring. Like Vivienne Volker, he quit. At the end of that circus show, the models take their masks off and flit around with balloons as “A Girl Like You” plays. The only footage you can find online is damaged, crackly, and homemade — which gives the event an aura and texture of surreal memory. It happened, and it was a magical moment, and now it’s gone.  While there is a very dark and dystopian thread running through Vivienne , it’s also a love letter to art and a farewell to art. What can art be and do — separate from cults of personality, fame, affirmation, consensus? What are the risks and sacrifices required to stay true to a vision? When to compromise? When to quit?    KO: More broadly, what were your inspirations for the novel? ER:  Glimpses of how things could  be: both dystopian futures where artists are instruments of the state and vessels for messaging, and rule-breaking moments of utopian worlds alongside the world of art as we know it. Paradoxical and ambiguous possibilities that burst through everyday dreariness. In terms of clothing in the novel — I was inspired by utilitarian and familiar uniforms constantly occupied by the wearer (Lou’s work jumpsuit, Velour’s white robe, Vivienne’s long black coat)  and  garments as unfamiliar, ghostly, vacant. There is something haunting, uncanny, exciting about an article of clothing on the floor, or even displayed on a mannequin. Empty [garments] as both aftermath and possibility. KO: Who are your favorite designers and artists — personally, separate from the novel? ER:  Artists and designers I always return to include Mike Kelley, Tony Oursler, Dorothea Tanning, Louise Bourgeois, Margiela, Yohji Yamamoto, Remedios Varo, Rei Kawakubo, Rita Ackermann, Andrew Wyeth, and Puppets and Puppets. KO: What do you hope readers take away from  Vivienne? ER:  I think novels are emotional, bodily experiences. So: stomach drops, weird sensations, possibilities for rebirth and spiritualization from decay, death, decline. No clear messages, lessons, or takeaways, but a sense of exhilaration. 🌀 Vivienne is now available in hardcover and as an ebook. For more information about Emmalea Russo and how to purchase the book, please visit her website , or her Substack newsletter, Cosmic Edges . Kaitlin Owens  is the Archival Fashion Editor for HALOSCOPE and the Editor-in-Chief of Dilettante . For a closer look at her work, please visit her website .

Shelby Ivey Christie has made waves in the fashion world. Now, the Forbes 30 Under 30 honoree has set her sights on publishing. Shelby Ivey Christie  is a woman with a fashion CV as long as your arm: Vogue , W  Magazine, InStyle , Amazon Fashion, L'Oréal — heck, there are a few major brands out there she hasn’t  worked with. Now, the fashion and costume historian is dipping her toe into the publishing world. Her new publishing house, Haute Heritage Publishing , is dedicated to examining fashion through the lens of race, class, and culture — particularly the many contributions of often overlooked black fashion trailblazers. “Our mission goes beyond creating beautiful books,” says Christie. "We're preserving and celebrating Black fashion history while inspiring the next generation of fashion professionals.” Their first release for young readers, Black Fashion Legends , is a stylishly illustrated and smartly written educational tool that celebrates iconic figures such as June Ambrose (who also wrote the foreword), Dapper Dan, Naomi Campbell, Ruth E. Carter, and Christopher John Rogers. From Anne Lowe to Virgil Abloh, Kwame Brathwaite to Zelda Wynn Valdes, the book takes readers on an inspiring journey from A to Z, introducing the next generation to those who have shaped fashion history. The book arrives at a particularly opportune moment, not only because, as Christie explains, it is coming “...at a time when many books examining race, class, and culture are being banned across the country,” but also because the next Met Gala theme was just announced to be Superfine : Tailoring Black Style.  To me, this seems like the perfect opportunity for stylists to reference their Black Fashion Legends book and flashcard deck. I asked Christie about her feelings on the theme and if there were any references she hoped to see on the carpet that night.  “I'm incredibly excited about this theme,” Christie states. “It's particularly meaningful to see the Met Gala celebrating Black contributions to fashion in such a significant way. I hope to see references to pioneers like Dapper Dan, whose innovative approach to tailoring and luxury redefined street style, and Stephen Burrows, who revolutionized the way we think about color and movement in fashion. It would also be powerful to see homages to Elizabeth Keckley, who was not only Mary Todd Lincoln's dressmaker but a groundbreaking entrepreneur who bought her freedom through her tailoring skills. These figures, all featured in our book, have left an indelible mark on fashion history that deserves to be celebrated on fashion's biggest night. I’d also love to see some regionality represented like Buffs & Furs from Detroit [and] Zoot suits from Harlem & LA.” Come that heavily anticipated first Monday in May, I know we’ll all be watching at home, waiting to see which stylists and celebrities did their homework on the theme. But you, dear reader, don’t need to be caught unaware! Black Fashion Legends is now available for purchase at most major book retailers, Amazon, and on Haute Heritage Publishing’s website . So, study up! 🌀 Kaitlin Owens is the Archival Fashion Editor at HALOSCOPE and the Editor-in-Chief of Dilettante . For a closer look at her work, please visit her website .

On how fashion objects compel, control, and convince us. My surprise isn’t that ginormous Acne Studios multi-check wool scarves continue to dominate both IRL and my TikTok FYP for yet another winter. My surprise is more how much I personally want one. People have written both about the popularity of this particular viral scarf ,  the hashtag of which has more than 4.5 billion views on TikTok, and on TikTok fashion writ large. Trend cycles have probably been around since people began wearing clothes (l liked this recent piece   by Madison Huizinga on “trend journalism”), but something about the Internet makes trends feel particularly hyperreal , especially in the last five years. I am never not a bit unnerved to see my TikTok and Pinterest FYPs jump out of my phone and onto the street, and about my own boundless desire to have this one piece that may look basic on my phone but that I know I could pull off if only I had the means; the algorithm is working. I’ve never been a huge trend follower, but even that statement makes me wonder if that’s really true. The truer statement is, like a lot of people with personal style, I’ve never really had the funds to fully follow trends, and as a result, developed a more personalized look that hinges on what I can afford and thrift rather than what is new or “in” every season. But certain pieces are irresistible, and with this scarf, I’ve felt an undeniable pull.  The influx of eco/slow fashion has made me pull away from trend cycles, even as certain pieces become so unaffordable that the Zara version is the only one within reach (I wouldn’t ever shop Temu though — there’s a line). Still, we’re all familiar with the way certain garments from H&M, Forever 21, and even Zara deteriorate upon first wash, and sometimes paying full price is worth it. $400 for an extremely popular scarf is baffling to me, though; the ubiquity of it even more so. Not only does the scarf cost a quarter of rent, but everyone has it. I feel a similar, unending confusion when I rabbit hole on TikTok and discover influencer girl after influencer girl with 500-900k followers. All of these girl’s faces meld into one amalgam of a TikTok face, with names like “Blake” or “Riley.” Who are these girls, and more importantly, who are their followers? The boundlessness of social media is always astounding to me, and the waste. I love a novelty product as much as anyone, but who could possibly need the amount of products peddled by these same accounts, or even have room for them? I think of how there are probably garbage bags full of sponcon, used once for a video in which the creator made thousands of dollars. The Acne scarf is at least a seemingly high-quality product; the Swedish brand founded in 1996 has long been at the forefront of innovative but wearable luxury fashion, and, in lieu of classic branding, counts celebrities such as Kylie Jenner , Rosalía , and most recently Charli XCX  as its ambassadors. However, the unaffordability and universality of this specific piece is the confusing part, as well as the amount of dupes I see on the daily, people wearing a simulacrum of the original 2019 piece without even knowing it (or perhaps, knowing all too well).  Were trends always this powerful and inescapable? I remember when Adidas Superstars were super popular when I was in high school, and then Adidas Sambas when I was in college, in 2022. I maligned this trend because — not to be that person — I had a pair of baby pink Gazelles in high school and a pair of OG Sambas in college, before they got to be $150 and worn by hordes of sorority girls in the South (sorry to be mean). The immense popularity annoyed me; they genuinely are a great everyday shoe, European and svelte and sporty, equally stylish with a miniskirt or jeans. Now they’re expensive, and not only that, they no longer indicate what I want them to. They’re basic, and if I accidentally wear them with something like Reformation straight-leg jeans, then I’ll look basic, too. This is also why the news that Onitsuka Tiger (a Japanese subsidiary of Asics) wouldn’t have stores or sell in North America  was so crushing to me — Onitsukas were my refuge from the Samba takeover. They were definitely picking up momentum in the influencer market with their yellow Mexico 66s and decided to dip out   (I still have two pairs and will pay the eBay bidding war tax — they’re perfect, I don’t care).  I wonder whether these aforementioned European (mostly Acne; Adidas has been popular since time immemorial) brands care that their beautiful and bespoke products are being bastardized by rando beauty influencers from the Midwest. I know this makes me sound horrifically coastal elite, but it’s not the Midwest that’s the problem — it’s the fact that the girl on TikTok wearing an Acne scarf is wearing it in a way she imagines a quintessential NYC girl would wear it, but Carrie Bradshaw would never be caught dead following a micro or macro-trend. In fact, I (and everyone else in the world) loved Carrie because she set trends, not followed them. It sounds cliché, but her style was completely unique and fearless and beholden to no one but herself — anyone who wears that many hats doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. Imagine if all the Sex and the City girls showed up to brunch in the same fuzzy 8-foot mohair scarf — this would never happen, because they had the originality, and the choice, of the ‘90s. Fashion has become narrow to fit the algorithm, products wearing influencers as opposed to the other way around. Now, when I look around and see thousands of facsimiled outfits copy-pasted from social media, I can’t help wishing people still had the guts to look bad, or at least, different.  I may not have a very large budget, but I only buy an investment piece (read: investment for me, a grad student) if I feel like it will really suit my existing style and wardrobe — which is why I have Repetto ballet flats and a Coperni bag. I want the items I wear to bring out an innate unique quality, which is why I long for a Birkin even though they’ve been gentrified by influencers who scooped it up as a status symbol gift from their sugar daddy. I’ve watched too many 1960s French movies to watch Jessica on TikTok with a decontextualized Birkin paired with skinny jeans and a fall bootie. If I had an endless fashion budget that could afford such purchases, I would be scooping up archive runway like this Raf Simons Rothko sweater   I’ve been thinking about for ten years (it’s so sold out it’s scary), not statement pieces from my phone’s robotically generated neverending grid (plus, I have grown-out bangs… let me have a Birkin). A Birkin would actually be immensely more useful and meaningful to me now, because it is so classic, timeless, and everyday, whereas if I had a Birkin bank account I probably would care less about the daily wearability of a bag. The Birkin is an extreme example, but it speaks to how fashion lines and pieces have been unpaired from their context in order to become more marketable, and more universal, which is how we got Aliexpress Tabis   or Dossier , a perfume website that sells $40 dupes of iconic and pricey scents like Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry  or Jo Malone’s Wood Sage & Salt.  Maybe some of my trend hostility is bitterness — it’s true I’ve spent a lot of my fashion budget on having a durable car and an advanced degree and can’t afford many of the trendy pieces I genuinely love (goodbye, Bottega bag). But if I had more resources and time, I would build the closet of my niche and hyper-specific dreams — hello Marc Jacobs dress worn on the set of Gossip Girl . Maybe I have a little bit of that leftover middle school resentment toward the girl who always fits in effortlessly or has access to dad’s plastic. It would be simple to wear a uniform made up of the SSENSE trending page every season rather than budget out, re-wear, and try to style affordable basics like Brandy Melville (sorry) and L.A. Apparel, paired with some designer pieces in a way that feels me . But deep down, I know I would wear that Scandinavian balaclava scarf better than any of the auto-generated looks delivered via my algorithm, which pains me. Sometimes trends actually hit, and their oversaturation means I have to surrender another genuinely cute piece like my beloved OG sambas, which I’ve sacrificed at the altar of being basic.  I guess we’ll see if a comically oversized, multi-checked neckpiece stands the test of time, or if, like skinny jeans, it will get abandoned, relegated to millennial “cringe,” and then rediscovered by niche, specific LA/NY music scenes   riffing off 3OH!3. Until then, I’ll be wearing my thrift store, hand-crocheted skinny scarf that reminds me of something Carrie Brownstein would wear in a Portlandia  episode. But I probably won’t be posting about it. 🌀 Fiona Deane-Grundman  is a writer, film scholar, and library student from Northern California who lives in Montréal, Québec. When she is not experiencing punishment in graduate school you can find her writing in various publications, in her diary, on her Substack, and on Twitter @pacino_girl .