Search Results

On Altuzarra, show notes, and getting lost in translation. I thought that working at an independent bookstore in Soho would at least prove to be some idyllic, intellectual pursuit that would allow me to talk about the literature I loved with customers — but, in reality, in the winter I worked there, most days the building had no heat, my manager rightly said I talked too much, and the customers were extremely varied. One was delayed picking up her online order because she got shot while on vacation and another told me he was too much of an empath to read Toni Morrison. Not all were bad. A certain celebrity mother-daughter duo would come in and pick out their next book to read together and I once helped a well-known actress find a beginner’s acting manual (“for a friend”). And a handful of times, Joseph Altuzarra’s mother, Karen, would come in. On the last occasion I saw her, I rang up her purchases and kindly said that I didn’t mean to bother her but I used to work in the fashion industry. I had attended her son’s SS20 show in Paris before and recognized her from the audience. We began talking, albeit briefly, as she stood in the checkout line (I had already been given my warning about talking) about literature and different forms of communication. All of this to say, she recommended to me her favorite novel: A Heart So White by Javier Marías. I took the book home that night and, upon first read, found the prose surprisingly complex and difficult in a way that I had not struggled to encounter since the classroom. The novel places two professional language translators shortly after their wedding but flashes forward and backward throughout the narrator’s life. In order to come to terms with his family, old and new, the narrator must grapple with the intricacies and limitations of human language while his expressive revelations remain bound by the alphabets and dialects that the world communally understands. After I finished the novel I couldn’t put it down. I found myself still digesting these sentences I had read months prior and began applying these intricacies to the language of fashion. Marías’ narrator observes that his greatest translation tensions were not from an imminent crisis, or in our case a runway stunt, they were from a lack of receptiveness or available language on the part of the communicator. Over the course of the novel, the narrator must come to grips with the blending of families and generational differences in communication — as his wife and father begin to establish a secret language between the two of them that allows him to learn more about his father, and family writ large, via second-hand language than he ever could have by miscommunicating head-on. Every time Altuzarra’s videos pop up on my feed, I see him beaming about his daughters and the pieces that he sets aside for them from each collection as a wordless time capsule of affection, and once again I am drawn back to the confines of language that lies beside limitless other forms of expression. In fashion, we critique and we complain and we praise and we comment. We observe a runway show and hope that the artistry has not gotten lost in our own translations. As a writer, I constantly attempt to digest a designer’s intention long after the show, much like I still think about Marías’s prose today. As a brand, designers must ask themselves: how do we tell a story, and tell it well enough to sell? Over the past year, fashion’s storytelling has become increasingly habitual, and styling gestures transform from awe on the runway to residual ideas and images in our minds. It’s not too dissimilar from the slow-turning, ballet-like walks we see during couture, albeit a little more commercial. Whether we identify with Bottega Veneta’s woven baskets filled with newspapers and button-downs from seasons past or Miu Miu’s model’s Band-Aid-laden toes after a long day in heels, designers are using their clothing to communicate the language of lived experience. A mannequin represents ambiguity but the runway’s movement allows us to recognize these gestures as ideas that already live inside of us, even if the idea is as simply relatable as sore feet. Prada’s generally the master of this, inviting us into an organic yet incredibly informed runway of experience — such as this season, which blended corporate austerity with organic matter that thrives in the absence of human interaction. Models in swim caps and skinny suits walked down and around the corporate setting as nature peered into humanity’s terrarium — and, as I thought, Will we ever set them free? Loewe folded layer upon layer of communication through the point of view of different digital diasporas. While Anderson canonized his it-boy ambassadors, I unintentionally saw my memories reflected back at me witnessing button-downs tucked into trackies tucked into mid-calf socks. The runway launched me ten years backward into my prep-school dining hall where I watched boys shuffle around the dinner line in — what I thought of then as — the most ridiculous styling pairing I had ever seen. Sweaters; polos; jeans; flannels sewn intentionally amuck under large overcoats zig-zagged our eyes from look to look as if we were darting from phone to computer screen to TV. It’s chaos and yet extremely communicative — each undone belt buckle or tucked trouser leg reveals another layer until we finally reach the bare-chested commentator sitting behind the screen. Martine Rose used quickness and deft design to accelerate her own dialogue. The show was a surprise, announced only the night before, and its wrapped coats and knotted leather trenches somehow looked like the way that listening to “Blue Monday” by New Order feels. But in a flash, as quick as the runway came, it’s gone and the stage goes dark. As the screen sizzles, I blink and am left with the dizzying imprints of the models’ turns. The outlines of camouflage button-downs paired with mohair striped suits, and the lingering orange from crushed velvet pants stick on the back of my eyelids to be reinterpreted in my wardrobe for another day. Sometimes the best we can bear is witness as the story unfolds on the runway before us — before we begin to create our own second-hand interpretations that we nurture closely within ourselves. Eventually, we come to understand something similar to the narrator’s conclusion. Listening to his wife’s feminine hum, he knows, it “...isn’t sung in order to be heard, still less interpreted or translated, that insignificant song, with neither aim nor audience, which one hears and learns and never forgets,” is sung despite everything else. 🌀 Alexandra Hildreth is a 26-year-old freelance fashion writer, brand consultant, and fiction enthusiast based in NYC. Hildreth, who previously worked as a producer, is particularly interested in fashion’s intersection with the “real world” and in her free time remains a competitive Goodreads user. You can find her on Instagram at @Alexandra.Hildreth and TikTok @guyfieri.superfan.

And how Mirror Palais became the sweet dessert of mass sensationalism. Surely, you've ever been scrolling through your Twitter or TikTok feed and found yourself immersed in the beauty of a dress and the femininity in its composition. Scrolling through your Twitter or TikTok feed, something stops you in your tracks: a dress. You are immersed in the beauty of a dress and the femininity in its composition. You excitedly search for its name, finding an elegant set of words hard to forget: Mirror Palais. Founded in 2019 by Marcelo Gaia, a New York-based designer who started by distributing ’80s-inspired swimsuits and revealing tops — and now dresses celebrities like Lana Del Rey and Kylie Jenner — the brand is described, according to Gaia, as "a mix of Edwardian and Victorian fashion, but also with the minimalism and clean lines of the nineties." Captivating millions through social media, he has successfully sold out his collections within hours. His coveted Fairy Dress, for instance, sold out in minutes after it dropped for preorder. But, if we look beyond the success of Mirror Palais, we scratch our heads wondering: where does this irremediable attraction to Gaia's designs come from, seemingly overnight? And why have we all longed to be a Palais Girl? GENESIS Let's start at the Via Crucis: the year 2020. The personal crisis and the desire to reinvent oneself during lockdown increased impulse purchases by 46.3%, causing microtrends to boom through mass sales platforms such as AliExpress or SHEIN. However, cow prints and saturated filters — which now feel passé — were no match for Mirror Palais’ enduring staying power. Amidst the one-note trends, Gaia stayed true to his vision: pulling back on bright colors, sporty outfits, and irregular tops, and instead playing with neutral colors, interesting textures, and streamlined silhouettes. He found a new approach to selling feminine clothing without stepping outside the classical canons. Gaia’s vision — revolutionarily simple, memorable, enlivening our more romantic fashion fantasies — brought back the use of fashion as a hedonistic and illusory movement. REVELATIONS It's no surprise that Gaia's garments have been a hit, and even less so when you take into account what he always kept hidden in his hat: Mirror Palais’ visual direction. There’s a good chance you've already come across a Mirror Palais garment on social media — but the brand’s social strategy took years to develop. In early Instagram posts, we only see pictures of bikinis, tops, and a few other products that were scarcely offered. These images didn't urge us to add them to wishlists or add them to our moodboards. They were just... bikinis and cute tops. After expanding his catalog with silks and lace, and hiring models that look like the fruit of a Mediterranean dream — like Daniela Garza and ThreeMillion — Gaia began imagining his garments differently, taking both photos and videos in which the models seem to be the protagonists of a summer movie. From hanging up clothes to walking through interesting cobblestone streets, Gaia captured the essence of his designs and the covetable contexts in which they could be worn. In this way, the consumer can imagine going out for a glass of wine in a Ballet dress or strolling along the beach in a Maria dress. Suddenly, models were not the main character — the consumers were. Naturally, a beautiful vision always incites its consumption: you see a dress, you fall in love with it, you imagine yourself being a beautiful girl who would attract the eyes of everyone who passes by, and then, you see the price and the questionable quality of the garments. But that doesn't stop some from dreaming of being a Palais Girl and playing with reality and attitude through fashion — even if the use of polyester and rayon has raised some skeptical looks on social media. JUDGMENT Picture this: stylists run from one side to the other spilling their steps on the parquet floor. Influencers and models prepare to be photographed in a corner — delicately decorated with a piano, flowers, broken chandeliers — to capture Gaia's new collection. The smell of hot hair and hairspray obstructs any sense of smell. That particular week is unlike any other: it is New York Fashion Week SS24. Five years after its creation and countless controversies over plagiarism and product pricing, Mirror Palais manages to join the most anticipated event of the year. The tension is perceptible even to the designer himself. Guests, mostly influencers, eagerly watch the re-interpretations of traditional garments that point to different eras of Western history, such as the silhouettes of the 17th century, or the simplicity and chic of the 21st. Beautiful, translucent fabrics, veils, corsets, and ruffles attract the eyes of those present. However, the star look was the white Victorian-style dress worn by influencer Cindy Kimberly. Everyone in the room just had to lay their eyes on that garment. Graceful, fresh, classic — and with bare arms — the dress teaches us that the key to being acclaimed is to not mess with the classics. However, this collection also received criticism — mainly about the lack of inclusivity in Gaia’s designs. The detonator was a look that consisted of a bow-printed baby tee and a simple pink skirt, a gesture of bad taste considering that the outfit broke with the theme of the collection and was featured on one of the few plus-size models hired. People did not hesitate to express their opinions on the internet, pointing out the lack of work he had put into creating garments for bigger sizes. Gaia commented in an interview with Hypebae the previous year, after his SS23 collection: "It never occurred to me to not include any type of person from being able to enjoy Mirror Palais. As a person in my life, I've always connected with all types of people, especially when I felt like an outcast." Will the future collections captivate us with a new size-inclusive era for Mirror Palais or is his statement — seemingly forgotten ahead of his SS24 collection —just mere verbiage? Despite the bitter touches of his controversies, Marcelo Gaia has managed to sweeten the palates of the public with his new — and size-inclusive — Valentine's Day collection Forever Yours, an appetizing feast of reds and pale pinks that brings us back to that attraction we experienced in our first contact with the brand. Today, small brands like Moorea Vintage now design or promote following Gaia's modus operandi, birthing a new movement I like to call “Palaisan hedonism.” With other designers following the new rules Gaia has birthed, it’s a sign of something new — an augury that tells us that there is still a long way to go before Mirror Palais becomes another obsolete brand. 🌀 Alejandra Rubio is a 23-year-old writer, programmer, and ancient soul who often analyzes and embellishes her surroundings through opalescent forms of self-expression. You can find her curating her visions everywhere online @glitched__girl.

Yasmin Bahrami, founder of Moonkissed Collective, sits down with HALOSCOPE Editor-in-Chief Savannah Eden Bradley to talk t-shirts, trendsetting, and taking young women seriously. THIS IS ME YOU'RE HURTING. Last year, a crinkly .png of a baby deer glossed on the front of a T-shirt became one of the most liked, bookmarked, reposted, and even reblogged pieces of clothing across my social feeds. While thousands of young women flocked to the rest of the brand's offerings — from the equally viral It's no use, Jo! top to the Addison Rae-approved Romantic Material shorts — there seemed to be a different growth imperative hidden under the success. Based between California and New York, Moonkissed Collective — led by 23-year-old founder and Creative Director Yasmin Bahrami — knows that imperative well. Unlike other apparel brands, Moonkissed places a genuine premium on community-building, and markets itself as both a brand and a multi-media platform that "...mirrors & highlights the perspectives of young women as they come of age." Collaborating with female designers and female-led non-profits, Moonkissed has had unprecedented growth across the past few years — including a 4700% sales boost from 2021 to 2022 — after exploding in popularity on Instagram. Young women tag UGC with #kissedmedia; they luxuriate in the comments, talking with the brand like any other friend; they moodboard Moonkissed's offerings and tuck them away for digital safekeeping. It's the kind of success many brand owners dream of, and Bahrami and her team were able to accomplish it posthaste — because they intuitively understand what it means to be a girl. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. SAVANNAH BRADLEY: Give me an abbreviated history of the brand. What drew you to starting Moonkissed, in this present moment? YASMIN BAHRAMI: Even when I was a little girl, I always knew I wanted to have my own thing — I never saw [myself] working for anyone. Like, every few years I’d have a new thing that I’d boast about pursuing. I wanted to own hotels, I wanted to make movies, I wanted to be Taylor Swift. As I got older and social media became a part of all our lives, I quickly realized I had a vehicle of communication and self-expression at my fingertips and I didn’t have to wait. I had a Wattpad. A Tumblr blog. A WeHeartIt. A Twitter. Afanpage Instagram. Which all weirdly grew to have a presence online... I think it created sort of a reward system in my brain that when I shared my ideas, people responded, and people listened. [...] And working different creative jobs, I grew an affinity for working with creative women. What you see at that end of that equation is Moonkissed today. In my opinion, I think beauty is the ultimate medium for communication. At the forefront is our clothing brand — what catches the eye, carries the messaging, and financially supports the brand so we can keep doing what we do. The collaborative line has been my route to seek out and work with other women who are visual artists. We also have a charity line, with items going up to 100% profit donated to female-led and female-driven nonprofits. But day-to-day, I find my sense of purpose in working with the girls that I do. SB: And who's all on the team? YB: We have five girls on the team, split between Operations and Social. I have Kristen, who I’ve known since pre-school, who does everything Operations for the company. The best way to describe the dynamic is that I’m often stuck in reading between the lines, getting lost in subjectivity. Kristen is the lines and the bones behind everything. Joanna, who is Kristen’s roommate, has experience working with independent artists and creative enterprises, so she’s helped create systems, brainstorm ideas, and overall lend a helping hand when things get too crazy. Our beautiful website is all because of our beautiful graphic designer, Elsa. As far as socials, we recently hired Emma Rocherolle, who you might recognize for her stunning photography and styling platform on TikTok and Instagram. This past quarter, we brought on Sumner as an intern for graphic design and loved her work so much that we offered her a formal position to continue with us in the future. [...] It’s one big brain of women, all with different perspectives and an affinity for the brand’s voice of romanticization, which innately makes the experience positive and bleeds into life outside of work. SB: You’ve spoken about Moonkissed Collective’s clothing serving as an “aesthetic vehicle for communication” — and that two-way, symbiotic relationship between your brand and your audience online is very evident. Can you elaborate on that? How do you think social media has impacted your brand growth? YB: I think beauty is the ultimate medium for communication. I mean — think of it as literally as watching a Vogue Beauty Secrets video. If a beautiful girl tells me to buy a beautiful thing, I’m going to do it. But, you know, it stretches so much further than that, if you think about it. Watching a beautiful film — we all know what it feels like to have that rush of inspiration after finishing a movie. Or reading a beautiful book or poem, what a dressed-up word can do to you. You might’ve not heard it right otherwise. So, beautiful clothes. I knew people cared about clothes. I care about clothes! Online shopping is a genuine category of how I spend time in my life. So when I had a vision of working with women and being involved with different artists, clothing was the first thing that came to mind. I went to school for marketing and they always teach you to come out with the product or service and then the mission statement. For me, it was the other way around. I was just talking with Elsa, our Interface Developer, who joked to me how she sees the most adorable usernames pop up in our Instagram notifications. Like, stuff like @bambi_princess or @sweetangelgirl111, all of that. These girls, all under this hyper-feminine archetype of expression, they all gravitate towards Moonkissed because of algorithms. Like, it’s their echo chamber. Without social media, I don’t think an actual storefront would reach the corners of this community like it has. I didn’t expect it, honestly, but it’s found its people that resonate. I love that. SB: The past three years have seen an influx of brands — Praying, Online Ceramics, Hollywood Gifts — embracing a somewhat maximalist approach to text on clothing, with a whole lot of copycats. How do you feel Moonkissed is differentiating? YB: It’s funny, because like, when you mention a brand like Praying, I think of them as bold — but I don’t think of Moonkissed as “bold.” I mean, inherently, wearing a T-shirt that says “The kind of girlfriend God gives you young, so you’ll know loss the rest of your life” is definitely a statement.. but I think the difference between Moonkissed and other brands alike is its inherent softness. I see the pieces as different character archetypes that [can] be tried on. Like, maybe today, you’re the girl who’s still in love with her ex, and you’re wearing the Lousy Tee. Or tomorrow, you’re over it and you’re wearing the All Good On My End Pants. It’s a really literal way of expressing yourself through clothing. And still, I’d say for the most part, the wearer is someone who isn’t necessarily trying to be loud in that statement. It’s like the way that I’ve used my social media platforms — always a subliminal message, something I’m referring to, but not quite clear. It’s funny how that’s translated into the designs I make. SB: What do you think is the Moonkissed Collective ethos? YB: I wanted to create a space online where people felt like something understood them. I know that’s broad, but in a way, I’m glad I let the algorithm do its thing. I just put forth the messaging I related to, honestly, and other sensitive, romantic people gathered around it. And now that we have this community — to me, it’s all about introducing projects with more voice, more to say, more to comfort, guide, or just provide a haven. We have a group of women who have a reverence for meaning and magic in between all things. I want to help people like that use that side of themselves to build a life they want and not feel alone in doing it. That’s ultimately what I needed growing up — and I really believe all of our purposes come from being what you needed at some point. SB: What or who inspires your work? YB: I would say I get most of my inspiration from characters from books and movies. You know when you read or watch something, and you kinda start meshing with whoever you’re drawn to most in the plot? That really happens to me, it’s so funny. It’s like I find an edge of myself that fits into that character’s puzzle, and it can really blend into my personality or way of thinking for [the] time being. So, as a result, what I make comes from that place. Everyone knows of course how much I love Sofia Coppola and her work — it’s a mode I get into, a lens I see through. And then, you see, I’ve started printing different flowers on the crotch of white dresses. Like, that sensual girliness that is so Coppola-coded. I don’t know how much I’m influenced until I look back, but it’s funny. SB: What’s been the most popular piece so far? YB: The Love Letter pieces, a design I made with Hetty Godmon, that actually put us on the map is still our most popular. That, and most recently, the Little Women Tee. We have a group of women who have a reverence for meaning and magic in between all things. I want to help people like that use that side of themselves to build a life they want and not feel alone in doing it. SB: What’s your thinking as far as growth? Do you want the brand to be big? Do you want it to stay small? Do you just want to ride whatever wave happens? YB: Ultimately, my goal when I start anything is to scale it to work on its own. As in — I don’t see Moonkissed being my only venture, and I actually believe that it will do better when my hands can be more off of it in an operational sense. I want the clothing brand to be self-sustaining enough so that I can focus on more complex projects — building the blog, creating a lingerie line, maybe even a podcast. My idea with anything I start is to grow it enough to sustain without micro-management, because I really am better at being a big-picture person. SB: Now… for the lightning round. I’m going to give you some of Moonkissed’s iconic designs, and you tell me your dream It Girl you’d love to see it on: the Love Letter Tank, Lousy Tee, Romantic Material Unitard, All Good On My End, Suffer Better Tank, and World’s Most Esoteric Girl mug. YB: For the Love Letter Tank — Phoebe Tonkin. I love her style and I feel like she’s such a girl’s girl on the internet. And whenever I see a picture of her she has the perfect red lip. For the Lousy Tee... Lana Rhoades! I’m obsessed with her vibe. The Romantic Material Unitard — pretty sure we gifted Addison Rae this piece, so I’d love to see her wearing it around someday. Suffer Better, Chloë Sevigny would look cute in that. The All Good On My End Pants — Julia Fox, please. And the World’s Most Esoteric Girl Mug — when I think of mugs, I think of that look of like, Taylor Swift and Zooey Deschanel with Instagram filters in 2012. So either of them would be a dream. SB: The last (and obviously most important) question I have is, as a longtime July Forever stan: give me your top three Lana songs of all time. YB: I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, but if I have to choose… Chemtrails Over the Country Club How to Disappear JFK (Unreleased). 🌀 You can connect with Moonkissed here and explore their offerings on their website. Savannah Eden Bradley a writer, fashion editor, gallerina, Gnostic scholar, reformed it girl, and future beautiful ghost from the Carolina coast. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the fashion magazine HALOSCOPE. You can stalk her everywhere online @savbrads.

Agar Olfactory's eschatological fragrances, reviewed. There are at least two base impulses that set humanity apart from other living beings. The first might be called an aspiration to create: the urge to make art, construct temples, and build relationships, all in service of something greater than oneself. The second is undoubtedly the urge to burn it all down. The prevalence of humanity’s masochistic fascination with its own demise is as central to the human condition as an innate lust for life. Whether through the cosmic dance of Shiva; the Alpha and the Omega’s last judgment, or the outbreak of another global pandemic, people cannot stop themselves from foreseeing an eventual end to life as they know it. Enter the work of Chicago-based perfumer agustine zegers*. The stated nature of their project Agar Olfactory is “speculative olfaction that imagines climate disaster, apocalyptic scenarios, and the smellscapes that would exist within them.” Placed firmly at the intersection of individual creativity and collective political action, Agar Olfactory’s fragrances are unsettling, distinctive, and still somehow serene. I am reminded primarily of references to new generations of science fiction: where terms like “solarpunk” and Emily St. John Mandel’s brutal and quietly hopeful novel Station Eleven gesture towards a form of cosmic hope contained in humanity’s capability to either adapt to immediate environmental imperatives towards degrowth, or else destroy itself and rid Earth of its most damaging parasite. In many ways, the lens of climate apocalypse shifts the imperative away from humanity at large, proving our fascination with our end-all-be-all extinction reifies the very same human-centered priority system that enables corporate greed at the cost of damaging the homes and environments of many other different kinds of life. Perhaps humanity will not outlast the next few millennia, but subtly joyful work like that of Agar Olfactory reminds me that with or without us around, life – uh – finds a way. The first time the world ends is in 1999. The Y2K bug looms inside all the world’s computer systems, and as the ball drops and the year changes over, it all comes grinding to a halt. Cero, perhaps the most abstract of zegers’ creations, envisions the smell of ‘90s technological collapse. The most immediate impression when first sprayed is chemical heat, like burning yourself with hot printer ink. Perhaps you wince, but as Cero settles onto skin, it turns into a more mellow, rounded plastic accord, described in copy as “Mac carcass.” I see references here to Comme des Garçon’s 2011, but where 2011 smells like a wilting flower with a Macbook self-immolating in the next room over, Cero is the open casket funeral for the iMac G3. The elephant in the room here is that this perfume is perhaps the first-ever olfactory reference point for the vaporwave aesthetic. If I had to pick one fragrance to wear to a rep theater showing of Daniel Lopatin’s early YouTube-core video art, this would surely be it. Into the drydown, Cero quickly turns from shiny plastic to tart, almost herbal sort of mustiness. Zegers writes of a mousepad note, and this is where I smell it most prominently. Like many Agar Olfactory releases, Cero evolves at an almost blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, with top notes likely far outnumbering any added fixatives. That said, Cero lingers neatly on your wrist for an hour or two. That’s just enough time to make it out of a cozy movie date with a self-described xenofeminist you met on Twitter who wanted to watch Assayas’ Demonlover — and make it back home in enough time to stare slack-jawed at your computer screen, long enough that your lain-core internet femcel besties won’t grow suspicious you broke hikikomori honor code. The next time the world ends is in 2021. A little virus by the name of COVID-19 has stopped the world in its tracks, and you, dear reader, a high-rise dwelling urbanite, are forced to subscribe to a delivery service wherein semi-fresh vegetables are delivered by an underpaid contract worker to your empty lobby. You take the bag up to your criminally small kitchen, and you eat the complete antithesis of the Smiling Woman Tampon Commercial Salad, all while longing for the verdant comforts of kimchi from your currently closed local Asian Fusion open-concept restaurant-slash-microbrewery. Bitbit, perhaps tied with Cero for my favorite perfume from Agar Olfactory, is first and foremost the pungent smell of spoiled chard. Bitter, green, and somewhat powdery, this overabundance of vegetal notes is supplemented by herbal mugwort, wormwood, and astringent valerian. Often showing this perfume to my friends causes them to recoil in disbelief, and yet I truly do find this smell strangely comforting. Something about how it tickles the back of my nose, the sharpness almost replicating the camphoric nature of tiger balm, makes it feel like a harsh, ancient medicinal treatment for spiritual maladies. This is something the village elder in Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind rubs onto your broken leg to give you quickness in battling airships. Wear this to fight for the ancient nobility of the Ohmu, or just to binge-watch ecopunk anime alone in your room during the next inevitable quarantine. The next time the world ends is in 2050. Large groups of insect species are at risk of extinction due to harmful policymaking and irresponsible farming practices. Enter Bicho, a tool designed to court what few pollinating bugs remain. Wearing this feels like slipping into bee lingerie. The predominant notes are those of crushed leaves and a scratchy, pollen-laden fig. Indeed the process of creating a fig, which is not a fruit but the stem of an inflorescence, necessitates the coevolutionary relationship of a wasp fertilizing the fig, sometimes at the cost of its life: clipping its wings and becoming crucial nourishment for the tree as it grows to maturity. It is a masochistic but beautiful dynamic — that most figs contain the traces of a wasp who gave its life to fulfill its evolutionary destiny. Bicho smells like what you would wear to the wasp’s wake if you were planning on liaising with a recently-widowed male wasp and wanted to appear tantalizing-yet-respectful. There is such an effect of powdery pollen into the drydown that one almost feels seasonal allergies manifest. There are undertones of jasmine and lavender here, but ultimately neither stands out above the other. This is almost exactly what I would imagine Erika Thompson, the hot girl Texan beekeeper who handles entire hives with her bare hands, would smell like after a hard day’s work. With perhaps the largest sillage of Agar Olfactory’s offerings, wear this to smell like the hottest snapdragon in the meadow. The last time the world ends is in 3030. Now, it is quiet. Humankind is long since gone, and what remains has flourished in our absence. They use our abandoned structures – houses, office complexes, theaters – as new homes. Damp, a delicate and simple soli-molecule a la molecule 01, captures the smell of soil bacteria feasting upon our ruins. This is among the quietest perfumes I have ever smelled — you will not be able to smell it at all on paper. But tested on skin, you catch traces of the reassurance that the world will end not with a bang, but with a whisper. I pick up on strong connections to Demeter’s Dirt — but where Dirt leans shovel full of potting soil, Damp feels more like an overgrown forest floor after rain. There is a unique, watery character here that might almost be described as petrichor, the distinct smell of rain falling on dry soil. Composed of the Ancient Greek πέτρα (pétra) rock, or πέτρος (pétros) stone, and ἰχώρ (ikhṓr), the ethereal fluid that flows through the veins of the Gods in Greek mythology, this smell is often sought after in perfumery. I do truly feel, however, that the blast of geosmin in Damp, unfettered by an excess of additives, hits this smell on the head. There is a quiet sort of poetry to Damp — a meditative minimalism that draws the attention inward. There is also the insistence, in all of Agar Olfactory’s work, really, that the Anthropocene is both arbiter and record of our destruction. No matter how badly we mess things up here on Earth, the marks we make on the enduring surface of the world will persist, in some way, shape, or form, long after we turn out the lights. 🌀 The perfumes of Agar Olfactory can be purchased in both full bottles and sample-sized quantities, on zegers’ website. *zegers’ name is intentionally left in lowercase. 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.

From Didion's Play It As It Lays to Carol. When you wake up on an icy morning and the last thing you want to do is get out from under the covers, it can be hard to imagine changing out of your warm nightwear and slipping into something a little less comfortable. We’ve rounded up ten winter films with classic looks to reference all throughout the snowy season to keep you warm and stylish. VALLEY OF THE DOLLS (1967, dir. Mark Robson) If you want to honor classic Old Hollywood silhouettes and colorways this winter, look no further than Mark Robson’s Valley of the Dolls (1967). The movie warns of grandiose glitz and glamour, apparent in the film’s fashions. Sharon Tate’s Jennifer North wears an icy blue buttoned coat and accessorizes with a buttery brown scarf, gloves, and knee-high boots during her walk through Central Park. THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG (1964, dir. Jacques Demy) Forever a fashion icon, Catherine Deneuve’s character, Geneviève, uses fashion as a means of self-expression during wartime. Costume designer Jacqueline Moreau famously used bright colors and pastel shades to honor the beauty of Cherbourg. Geneviève’s monochromatic knee-length coats and oversized hair bows are perfect for a modern Sandy Liang girl looking to dress up this holiday season. PLAY IT AS IT LAYS (1972, dir. Frank Perry) Play It As It Lays depicts a warmer winter season, set between Hollywood, Las Vegas, and the Mojave Desert. Maria (Tuesday Weld) dresses for the weather in thick knitwear — typical California wear for the December month. Maria is a fan of a turtleneck and her ultra-60s wavy hair complements her casual Los Angeles attire. THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (2001, dir. Wes Anderson) We all recognize Gwyneth Paltrow’s infamous look as Margot in her oversized fur coat and smudged black eyeliner in The Royal Tenenbaums. Gucci even had a Fall 2015 show where you can see a modernized, simplified take on Margot’s ensemble. Channel Paltrow this winter by throwing on your best fur and strutting down the street to Nico’s “These Days.” BLACK SWAN (2010, dir. Darren Aronofsky) Darren Aronofsky’s 2010 film Black Swan does not stray from classic ballet aesthetics, with Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) making sure she incorporates the perfect shade of ballerina pink in her wardrobe at all times. Complete with a feathered scarf and slouchy Uggs, these looks are sure to keep you warm, fashionable, and perpetually innocent. THE SHINING (1980, dir. Stanley Kubrick) The only thing scarier than Jack Torrence is itchy wool sweaters. Shelley Duvall plays Wendy in The Shining, who keeps herself warm during the cold Colorado offseason by wearing layers. Wendy’s turtleneck-flannel-overalls combination is a cute yet rustic take on bundling up for the snow. (We recommend accessorizing with a baseball bat to achieve this look!) LITTLE WOMEN (2019, dir. Greta Gerwig) Though the March girls could not afford to care much about fashion, Oscar-winning costume designer Jacqueline Durran made the outfits interesting by playing with cozy layers, full-toned colors, and diametrical patterns. I particularly like Meg’s (Emma Watson) ensemble in this scene, with contrasting shades of green and purple and clashing patterns of plaid and gingham. EDWARD SCISSORHANDS (1990, dir. Tim Burton) Yes, this Tim Burton classic is very much a Halloween movie, but my yearly rewatch makes it a Christmas tradition in my heart. Kim’s (Winona Ryder)  all-white, off-the-shoulder outfit is reminiscent of snowfall, making her look like an angel with blonde, ringlet curls and pink-blushed cheeks. EYES WIDE SHUT (1999, dir. Stanley Kubrick) Transparent lace overlays and voluminous updos are referential of ‘60s fashion, a big trend for 2024 alongside this year’s release of Sophia Coppola’s Priscilla. If you have a glamorous holiday party to attend this month and you want to be the mysteriously sexy girl in the corner, Eyes Wide Shut is a must-watch for some dress inspo. CAROL (2015, dir. Todd Haynes) Not unlike the frigid temperatures of the winter season, Carol is a picture of fleeting moments of unexpected warmth despite the cold. Rich reds and tartan; headbands and berets; fur and Louis Vuitton: opulence and rebellion born from years of obeying traditional gendered structures all meet timid demure in a 1950s New York City department store. 🌀

Starting with Yves Saint Laurent F/W 1992 Couture, obviously. Stay warm, look chic —  that's the lemma of fur hats. As a practical winter staple, fur hats are a fun alternative for such a frosty season, useful and stylish with that hint of frivolity that all fashionistas adore. Associated by some with Audrey Hepburn's black fur hat moment in the snow and by others with '90s British funk and acid-jazz band Jamiroquai, this warm little extra has recently experienced a prominent revival. Seen on celebrities from Brazilian model Adriana Lima to actress Angelina Jolie in Phillip Noyce's film Salt, prestigious designers like the late Yves Saint Laurent have always cherished the accessory — and nowadays, things are no different. Spotted in the latest F/W collections from renowned brands like Burberry, Jean Paul Gaultier, Dsquared2, and Fendi, it’s undeniable that fur hats are more popular than ever. Captivating everyone with its nonchalance, obviously in winter there's no cooler accessory to stick to. If you're looking to incorporate a cozy and stylish fur hat into your looks, take a look at our 10 most iconic fur hat moments in fashion below. 🌀 Model Karen Mulder graces the Yves Saint Laurent Fall/Winter 1992 Couture runway with an all-black look, including a black fur hat. (1992) Model Kate Moss wears a white fur hat with black details backstage at the Anna Sui Fall/Winter 1994 show. (1994) One of the original supermodels, Christy Turlington, walks in the Chanel Fall 1994 Ready-To-Wear collection wearing a black and white fuzzy hat with a matching coat over a black dress. (1994) Actress Pamela Anderson attends the 1999 VMAs wearing a fuzzy pink hat by Ivy Supersonic. (1999) Iconic Victoria's Secret Angel Candice Swanepoel walks in the 2007 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show wearing a white fur hat, white puffy coat, and baby blue lingerie — with accessories such as an ID badge and some brooches. (2007) From attending Cheltenham Races in March 2006 to Sunday services at church in 2017 and 2018, Kate Middleton has relied on fur hats for over a decade. The Princess of Wales' accessory collection, showcasing a diverse range of shapes, colors, and styles, captures the timeless appeal of the iconic fur hat. (2006) Model Bella Hadid covers W Magazine’s 50th Anniversary wearing Melitta Baumeister Fall/Winter 2022. (2022) The Jean Paul Gaultier Fall/Winter 2023 Couture collection by Julien Dossena, creative director of Paco Rabanne, features an all-animal print look with a matching leopard neck warmer and hat. (2023) Model, actress, and writer Emily Ratajkowski poses in a beige fur hat and red velvet swimsuit on the Instagram of her bikini label, Inamorata. (2021) Pop icon Rihanna walks the streets of Los Angeles wearing Alaïa with a matching brown fur bag and hat. (2023)

AKA our sartorial predictions for 2024, determined by transits and the Tarot. 2024 promises to dawn a new era, thanks to our girls Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. Astrologers believe that these three planets may cause significant shifts in our society and systems, aided by Jupiter’s good graces in her path through Pisces and Gemini. With no Venus Retrograde in 2024, the year promises to bring some sweetness — if only in all things beautiful and stylish. If the stars are helping us build a new reality, what will this mean for our wardrobes? We consulted the big astrological markings of the year (and the Tarot!) to hopefully answer this question. Read on... DECEMBER 21, 2023 to JANUARY 20, 2024 CARD DRAWN: XVII — THE STAR Capricorn season will welcome us with Mercury stationing direct on January 1st, 2024. While this is bound to bring release to our communications, if you’re an astrology fan, you will know that stationing direct does not mean an immediate green-light-go situation. It takes a little while post-retrograde for things to start moving forward at the speed we want. The tarot card we drew for this season is The Star — an excellent symbol for poets, artists, and lovers of silky textures and see-through fabrics. With Mercury in its post-retrograde shadow and the good omen of The Star, Capricorn season will likely be dominated by: Slow fashion, or wearing and loving what we already own Poetic tailoring, artful layering, and deeply serious texture play Metallics styled unexpectedly JANUARY 20 to FEBRUARY 19 CARD DRAWN: XX — THE LAST JUDGEMENT Aquarius is a sign known for its originality and its obsession with social causes — the rebel sign. At least when looking at the big picture, Aquarius season seems pretty quiet in the sky. It will likely give us space to highlight our individuality, which ironically may increase micro-trends as brands attempt to cater to as many people as possible. The tarot card we drew for this season is The Last Judgement, which sounds scary, but actually suggests forward growth: it represents an awakening, an opportunity to recognize personal triumphs, and a chance to reveal your true purpose in life. Aquarius season trends, therefore, have not come to play. We predict: An emphasis on quality over quantity Structured silhouettes, sharp lines, interesting proportions Detail-oriented styling, looking for that one unique item, individualizing something everyone owns FEBRUARY 19 to MARCH 20 CARD DRAWN: FIVE OF SWORDS Pisces season usually brings a lot of feelings — and 2024 will be no stranger to that. With Saturn, the giant of the rules, still transiting the sign of the watercolors and waterworks, things may be a bit more serious this year than in prior Pisces seasons. The Five of Swords is a card that represents unexpected defeat and unfair situations. It is a warning to stand up against adversity. In stylistic terms, we may respond to tougher circumstances by adorning ourselves and embracing our wardrobes as armor. Trends will likely include: Aggressive bows, unexpected cutouts Metallics and satins in outerwear Ginormous bags to carry our Kleenex boxes MARCH 20 to APRIL 19 CARD DRAWN: KING OF WANDS In 2024, Aries season is also Eclipse season, which means that the usually impulsive and unpredictable nature of the season will be heightened. The Lunar Eclipse in Libra will highlight relationship issues (more on that later) and the Solar Eclipse in Aries will highlight issues with ourselves. It promises to be volatile and chaotic, bringing endings to cycles that began in 2023 — and also bringing us new beginnings. Mercury will retrograde for most of April, adding to the chaos that Aries season promises. We drew the King of Wands for this season: a masculine symbol of passion, intelligence, agility, and loyalty. Some trends Aries season may bring are: An emphasis on  menswear, finding inspiration in garments traditionally designed for men but worn in unexpected ways Popped polo collars Warm tones and preference for gold over silver APRIL 19 to MAY 20 CARD DRAWN: KING OF SWORDS Taurus season will be marked by Mercury stationing direct and Venus entering Taurus. With the planet of femmes and everything beautiful in one of its home signs, opulent aesthetic pursuits will flourish. With Uranus — the planet of change and upheaval — also in Taurus, we may find ourselves finding new ways of relating to nature; new forms of production; and alternative relationships to what comes from the ground, what we eat, and what we wear. We drew the King of Swords for this season, which represents male authority, strategy, rationality, and leadership — but also holding grudges, disruptive power, and barbarity. Sartorially, we believe this will manifest in: Browns as our favorite neutrals, earthy tones '80s power suits complete with briefcases Experimentation with materials, biologically-rendered plastics, alternative leathers, the marriage between fashion and science MAY 20 to JUNE 20 CARD DRAWN: NINE OF WANDS In 2024, Gemini season will be blessed by the presence and generosity of Jupiter as it transits through the sign of communication, gossip, multitasking, and social butterflying. With the promise of expansion and exposure to new concepts and ideas, Gemini season will have us asking: what even is fashion? Why are some things considered wearable and others not? The Nine of Wands is the tarot card for this season, promising potential adversities, but also the courage and strength to overcome them. Struggles may come, but we will be ready for (figurative) battle, perhaps with joyful clothing in tow. Gemini's jubilant, bold spirit may appear in our wardrobes through: Thorny roses and the color red Tiny skirts, tiny dresses, tiny shorts, no pants — and pointy shoes Glitter! JUNE 20 to JULY 22 CARD DRAWN: TEN OF CUPS Cancer season makes us want to nurture and nest, and with Saturn stationing retrograde, we get cosmic permission to slow down, not work as hard, and focus on our relationships and health. Venus in Cancer will sextile Uranus, then enter Leo, promising boldness and maximalist self-expression — but perhaps with each of us redefining our personal definitions of maximalism. The Ten of Cups is traditionally described as a card that features “a well-dressed young couple” and two kids happily dancing beside them. It represents contentment, happiness, love, friendship, and joy. Shaking it up for Cancer season, this time the crying will be Happy Crying™. For this season, we predict: Head-to-toe, playful denim Sculptural, body-hugging garments in buttery fabrics and sweet colors Button-up shirt dresses JULY 22 to AUGUST 22 CARD DRAWN: THREE OF PENTACLES Leo season often brings out the movie stars in all of us, but this year it will be sprinkled with a bit of Mercury Retrograde. As Mercury retrogrades through Virgo and Leo, we'll want to watch what we say, as it may be misinterpreted or seen as overly dramatic. Style mishaps may happen, but in the end, this experimentation will bring us closer to how we actually want to dress. The Three of Pentacles promises craftsmanship, artistic skill, excellent DIY, and careful magical practices. We predict: The drama will be in the details: bold buttons, sleek cutouts, sheer fabrics expertly layered Mesh, fishnets, and mermaidesque textures Art-as-fashion, fashion-as-art, and the craft of personalizing our clothing at home AUGUST 22 to SEPTEMBER 22 CARD DRAWN: XIV — TEMPERANCE When Virgo season strikes, we get the urge to buy school supplies, sharpen our pencils, and get ready to say goodbye to leisurely summer days — even well into adulthood. If we fly too close to the sun in the summer of 2024, Virgo season will be a good time to apply aloe vera and practice good self-care — as Virgo season also brings the start of Eclipse Season no. 2, with a Full Moon Eclipse in Pisces on September 17. This marks the end of a fantasy-filled summer and a climax in the dissolution of structures that began in 2023. Temperance is, therefore, exactly what we will need. This card represents harmony, an internal union of our past and our present, adaptation, self-control, and moderation. This will be reflected  in our wardrobes in the form of: A closet cleanout —  circular fashion, trading clothes with friends, with a focus on practicality Utilitarianism, back-to-school preppy, unforgettable trench coats Ties, skirts layered over pants, outfits that mean business SEPTEMBER 22 to OCTOBER 22 CARD DRAWN: I — THE MAGICIAN With fairness and generosity, Libra season brings some much-needed harmony to the middle of Eclipse Season. This will be disrupted by the Solar Eclipse in Libra on October 2, which will bring out repressed emotions and act as a cleansing regarding our relationship patterns and habits. But if one thing is true about Libra season — it’s that we will crave beautiful things. The Magician brings about positivity, strength of will, decisiveness, and balance. We foresee: Lavender, hazy textures, an emphasis on softness Exaggerated pussybows, 1950s silhouettes Neutrals in fun textures, feathers, polka dots OCTOBER 22 to NOVEMBER 21 CARD DRAWN: VII — THE CHARIOT With the start of spooky season, we always crave all things Scorpio: overlined eyes, black cats, and candlelit nights. With a relatively quiet Scorpio season, we’ll have a proper chance to explore the shadowy parts of ourselves. We drew The Chariot for this season — a card that speaks to triumphant journeys and victory laps, opulence, and dominion. We think Scorpio season will be dominated by: The spirit of punk, grunge, and BDSM aesthetics Leather skirts and spiky shoulders Clothing that casts visual illusions — waist-huggers, sculptural base layers, and more NOVEMBER 21 to DECEMBER 21 CARD DRAWN: TWO OF SWORDS Sagittarius is the season of travel and adventure, but in 2024 it will be joined by (you guessed it!) the last Mercury Retrograde of the year. A good reminder to not rush through it, Mercury will force us to slow down and double-check our plans. The Two of Swords features a woman in a white robe holding two swords with her arms crossed over her chest. It’s an omen of initiation, change, and finding harmony within one’s self. This Sagittarius season we will see: LBDs with sculptural necklines and fun silhouettes Lace, velvet, and textures we want to rub between our fingers Unboring beige (seriously) Start prepping. The cards have spoken. 🔮🌀 Laura Rocha-Rueda is a Colombian fashion and fiction writer based in Brooklyn who holds a Creative Writing MFA from The New School. She is your local Swiftie and will gladly chat about anything glittery and soft, and about why dismissing pop culture as frivolous is misguided and sad.

Perfume expertista Audrey Robinovitz reviews this year's apexes and nadirs in fragrance. As someone uniquely predisposed to both cold-weather romanticism and overspending, December is one of my favorite months. As winter finally settles in, there seems to be an unavoidable urge to not only settle down and bundle up, but to foresee the arrival of the new year with solemn reflection on the events of years past. Needless to say, a lot has happened in perfumery lately. A quickly-changing industry seems at once completely incapable of accommodating the new generation of prosumers and uniquely qualified to metamorphose in new and exciting ways. Whether you’re looking for a holiday indulgence or are merely invested in the state of the industry, it can be hard to skim the cream from the top of the milk, so to speak. Fear not, Dear Reader, for as surely as I will openly sob when any choral interpretation of “Silent Night”  comes on in a grocery store, I am here to provide you with what I feel to have been the most important releases of this year — and my favorite fragrances that made 2023 smell enchanting. Eris Parfums, Delta of Venus Immediate points for naming a bottle of perfume after an Anaïs Nin short story collection. Indeed, Eris Parfums’ Barbara Herman is no stranger to cross-textual allusion in her perfumes, but what she often lacks is subtlety. Given that she has quite literally written the book on provocation in perfume, it makes sense that Eris’ releases are often loud, ostentatious, and sexy. The humid and tropical Delta of Venus, however, marks perhaps both her most naturalistic and her most crowd-pleasing release. This is not to say that it lacks sleaze. The principal accord here is one of juicy, ripened Guava. Touched up with jasmine and bergamot, it wears sticky, wet, and narcotic. I am generally not the biggest fan of both citruses and tropical fragrances, but somehow the combination herein completely won me over. I share a similar sort of affinity for Jorum Studios’ Paradisi — perhaps a sister to Venus in its dirty-fruit bacchanalia. That said, the erotic target here is obvious: given its eponymous Victorian euphemism, something in the steamy indolic undercurrent to Venus smells like pussy. For all Gen Z’s  cringe-worthy attempts at “vabbing” — here is a far classier alternative. To drive him, or most likely her wild, try three sprays of Delta of Venus on the inner knees — and I promise as the High Priestess and Oracle of New Amsterdam hath wrote: that c*nt getting eaten. Filigree & Shadow, Changer Another allusive (and elusive) release, this time to a Stereolab French-language rarity. Sweet and tart in all the right places, Changer was designed to capture the swooning ephemerality of Lætitia Sadier’s voice. It is mainly raspberry, overlaid with a cosmetic rose-violet accord and musk. I confess I am not normally a fan of the exceedingly fruity in perfume, but something sentimentally sweet and somewhat musty in Changer has won me over. To my nose, it smells like cheap raspberry schnapps, teenage escapades by the rec center pool, the gas station perfume of your first girlfriend — all things remembered sweetly. Wear this to bed to lose yourself in dreams of imagined nostalgia, or just to the grocery store to smell like that scene in The Virgin Suicides where they drink under the bleachers at prom. Le Labo, Lavande 31 I know, I know. It brings me little pleasure to admit that Le Labo is still capable of making good perfume. Coming off the tails of major price increases, marketing explosions, and the Santal 33-ification of Iso E Super oil bomb Another 13, the contrarian in me doesn’t want to concede that the newfound hype surrounding the brand hasn’t clouded their ability to crank out substantive releases. But I must remain steadfast to my nose, and I know charming perfume when I smell it. Principally, Le Labo did something with lavender I hadn’t expected from their initial announcement. A part of me had already written it off because I had planned for them to supplement their hyper-consciously nonbinary line of unisex woods with a decisively masculine fougère, to match the feminine florals found in Lys 41 and Jasmin 17. What I had not anticipated, however, was Lavande 31 having more in common with Comme des Garçons’ gorgeous ode to soapmaking Marseille, than to Drakkar Noir. Thanks to the overwhelming presence of neroli and musk, this lavender has been supplemented into a soapy-fresh laundry scent befitting even the most hypochondriac clean girlie. I once heard from a friend of mine that Tubereuse 40, the New York City exclusive, was supposed to evoke steam emitting from city laundromats. Given this insider information, I genuinely wonder if they had not somehow accidentally switched these two perfumes, because where Tubereuse is a grotesquely overpriced and generally disappointing orange blossom outshone by Fleur d'Oranger 27, Lavande 31 actually does smell like soap in an extremely comforting way. There is eventually lavender, into the drydown, but it appears here far more Sleepytime Tea and scented hot pack than in Serge Lutens’ earthen and astringent Encens et Lavande or other exemplars in lavender realism. All things considered, if you’re looking for a solidly performing comforting signature and you have some money to spend, this would definitely be worth a try. Universal Flowering, Poems One Through Twelve Easily one of my favorite perfume names of all time, Poems earns its place among the ranks of Universal Flowering’s best offerings. Primarily spotlighting the interplay between ginger, condensed milk, and vetiver, it immediately evokes a very specific scent association to me of the ginger-coconut hard candy found in pan-Asian grocery stores. The opening is at once spicy and sweet, managing to dodge the repetitive autumnal gourmand associations while also smelling like the perfect thing to wear as the weather gets cold. Vetiver is perhaps one of the notes in perfume that has taken me the longest to truly fall in love with, but thanks to a number of notable vetivers that have captured my attention (Fzotic Vetiverissimo, Marissa Zappas Petrichor, and Jovoy Incident Diplomatique, principally) I have grown to appreciate the smoky, earthy, and borderline savory facets of this precious root. In Poems, this association is reified via the supporting accord of thick, creamy milk. As is the case with many different Universal Flowering releases, this perfume defies stable categorization – there is very little on the market that truly smells like this. Like ginger snaps dunked in milk and then thrown onto the ground, this perfume is best worn on a brisk morning — and testifies to how innovative this year has been for perfume, from the very beginning. Jorum Studios, Spiritcask Another case of a very specific genre of smells reaching its peak: I have yet to smell a whiskey perfume better than this. Sure the association of boozy notes has found great triumphs (I am forever drawn to the cognac in Tears, the metallic cider in Rosé All Daé, the rum in Or du Serail) – but this is straight-up Scottish Lagavulin 16. In fact, when Leslie buys Ron a trip to the distillery on Parks and Recreation, and he wanders the Isle of Islay among tender sheep and rolling Scottish hills, I imagine this is what he smells like. The key player here is malt, which adds a specific character to the delicate vanilla — evoking perhaps the inside of an ice cream shop or the eau de toilette formulation of Diptyque’s Eau Duelle. When combined with general boozy notes and lactones, this becomes a photorealistic depiction of an aged barrel of malt whiskey, haunted by the ghost of a Scottish child who died mysteriously on the grounds of the distillery. Vilhelm Parfumerie, Faces of Francis This one was also a surprise to me. In fact, I believe upon first smelling this — at Merz with a friend and fellow perfume enthusiast — I exclaimed out loud, “Wow! You have to smell this.” And indeed he did. Firstly, as someone who is generally disappointed by Vilhelm’s promises as a brand (the few hits for me are Basilico & Fellini, Room Service, and Darling Nikki), I wasn’t expecting to care about a new release. Secondly, given the profiles of much of their other work fall into easily predictable categories, I wasn’t expecting something so genuinely unique. Francis joins in on the Pistachio trend that has dominated the year between DS & Durga’s taking off, Yum Pistachio Gelato’s debut, and a thousand dupes attempting to capitalize off both these perfumes’ success —  but where they provide a neatly consumable dessert, Francis sets your plate ablaze. Predominantly a plasticky-gourmand oud, saffron, cypriol, and a genius dose of heady aldehydes precede resinous and sweet, almost vanillic oud. Over the last year, another perfumer friend of mine gave me a bag of actual oud wood, and this is perhaps the closest smell I have found to how my purse smells after toting it around all day: smoky, sweet, and pungent. Clue, With the Candlestick I will spare extended musings on this scent already contained within my writeup of Clue Perfumery’s debut, but it is safe to say that with only a month and a half left in 2023, Clue managed to make my year-end list. Candlestick is smoky, fruity, and highly evocative — a potent picture of a child’s first communion. Complete with notes of cherry wine, extinguished candles, and incense, this is a who’s-who list of most of the things I like about perfume, and sure to be a mainstay on my daily roster in the new year. January Scent Project, Chéngmén Another extremely last-minute addition, but one that already has neared the top of my ranking: off-kilter indie mainstays January Scent Project have managed to concoct a serene mad-scientist floral fusion of multiple different types of oud, and the results are truly arresting. Chéngmén (trans. “city gate”) is perfumer John Biebel’s effort to transliterate the cultural fusion of smells from a Chinese apothecary he experienced while living in New York’s Chinatown. Released as part of January Scent Project’s yearly limited-edition sequence, Chéngmén is a nascent masterpiece of the floral-oud genre that manages to communicate perhaps one of the most inaccessible and esoteric types of perfumery in an extremely approachable manner. Calling to mind the compositions of fellow self-taught perfumer Prin Lomros’ label Prissana, the principal three accords in Chéngmén are the already multilayered oud, a balmy and heady red champaca flower accord, and a unique orris-ambergris-olive fusion that adds a fatty, buttery dimension to the mass of wood and flowers. What appears first, among throne-bearers of waxy aldehydes and miscellaneous fruit brought to market, is the champaca. A product of large evergreen magnolia trees bearing deep orange and yellow blooms, champaca releases a euphoric, tea-like floral scent across the Indomalayan region of Asia. Here, it provides an accessible and gorgeous anchor to the general composition, sweetening otherwise bitter and dry notes and boosting the overall powdery and herbal character of the perfume. Its medicinal properties are brought about by assorted botanical players: olive absolute, costus root, spikenard, orris, pepper, flouve absolute, and coleus root. The cumulative effect here is depth and dimension, like sticking your head into a produce bin at your local pan-Asian grocery store. It is only into the drydown that these many forces yield to their conclusion: I found myself so overwhelmed with sweet flowers that I had, until this moment, forgotten this was first and foremost an oud. Biebel sources its Thai, Cambodian, and Vietnamese varieties to make this scent. I have recently, thanks to the well-timed gift of another perfume-obsessive friend, taken to burning actual oud in my home. I have since learned to appreciate the vanillic, hay-like, spiced undertones of this precious wood. I get the sense one is not supposed to be able to distinguish between specific sourcing here — but rather enjoy the cumulative cultural fusion already at the heart of this perfume’s purpose. What oud I do smell, however, is both dry and smooth in texture. This is a far cry from the pungent, jagged Japanese oud in Di Ser’s Jinko, for example. On skin, it wears low and long, with sultry associations to my nose of rum, civet, and unripe fruit. In all, Chéngmén nearly heads my list of the year’s best creations — and is sure to please both cultured oud aficionados and fragrance neophytes looking to dip their toes into the more nuanced areas of perfumery. BONUS SECTION While, generally, I make it a point to never speak down to brands that are actively trying their best to make artful perfume, at the end of this piece I feel it worth noting a few releases I was anticipating that let me down. This is not to say I hate these perfume brands, but that these specific releases just happened to not be for me. With disclaimers out of the way, let’s really bring out the fangs. Nasomatto, Sadonaso I tried so fucking hard to like this one. I smelled it in multiple different states, in multiple different seasons, with multiple different explanations by overly enthusiastic salespersons who claim this smells exaaaactly like outrageous gay sex in a New York club bathroom, and each time I couldn’t bring myself to think anything of it other than this: it does what Diptyque’s already fairly mediocre Eau Papier did, but even worse. I get it, Nasomatto does things a little differently. I am often, in fact, blown away by their ingenuity. I consider Fantomas one of the best perfumes of 2020. China White was gorgeous, and shouldn’t have been discontinued. That said, I was looking forward to provocation, here, and was severely let down. Nasomatto purposefully did not release the notes of this perfume, and I genuinely wonder if this choice was made out of embarrassment. It’s so obviously just sesame, vanilla, leather, and a little bit of polycyclic Galaxolide musk. I’m sorry, but if I can guess the entire chemical makeup of your perfume without even looking at a notes sheet, and you’re branding your perfume as mysterious and intimate, you’ve clearly done something wrong. Nice try Alessandro Gualtieri, but back to the drawing board next time. Le Labo, Myrrhe 55 Maybe this was my fault, but I had high hopes for this one. I love the smell of myrrh: its lemony astringency, its balsamic undertones, its fizzy sweetness, its smoky profile. Since this was going to be the Shanghai city exclusive, I thought that it would potentially capture one of these myrrhian aspects in a delicate voice befitting the quiet performance demanded by East Asian markets. I was clearly wrong. This smells exactly like Anne Flipo, Dominique Ropion, and Fanny Bal’s noxious bubblegum tuberose reformulation of L’interdit, and you can buy that perfume for $87 at Ulta. Le Labo is currently charging $515 for 100ml of the exact same thing — with a bit of licorice added and worse performance. I’m sorry, I have worn my free sample and sometimes enjoyed it, but if you genuinely feel it wise to spend your own money on this perfume, you deserve the credit card debt. Boy Smells, Vanilla Era I don’t even want to waste too many of my words on this one. This perfume is where tasteful vanilla fragrances go to die. I hope the middle-aged male sales executive who pitched a perfume basically called “problematic vanilla realness” got to feel ridiculous for a few seconds in front of a room of soulless corporate Yaas Queen capital KW-eer Capitalists content to call a candle “polyamberous” and sell it at Sephora — lord knows it's what he deserves. 🌀

The appeal of pop court fashion. On November 20, 2023, Shakira is photographed exiting the courthouse in Barcelona after attending a hearing for a potential $15 million tax fraud case. She wears a pastel pink blazer with lighter pink trousers and a tight-fitting top. Her hair is long and styled down in flowy waves. Sunglasses with matching pink square frames and dark lenses cover her face. She looks fabulous. Instagram user @unareinadeldrama (“A queen of drama”) shares an illustration of Shakira’s stunning outfit, surrounded by splashy lettering: “Comparte esta Shakira de la suerte para siempre tener plata para pagar tus deudas” (“Share this Good Luck Shakira to always have money to pay your debts”). Naturally, I post it to my story. The Colombian pop-powerhouse reached a settlement with the Spanish tax authorities to pay a debt of €14.5 million and a fine of €438,000 to avoid a  three-year prison sentence. Overwhelmingly, though, the conversation online was centered around how good she looked — and not around the fact that she allegedly committed tax fraud in Spain between 2012 and 2014. Shakira’s case is only the most recent in our culture’s obsession with pop personalities appearing before law enforcement — sometimes proving their innocence but often admitting to their crimes. Last March, Gwyneth Paltrow appeared in a Colorado court for a ski collision civil trial and lookbooks and style guides popped up everywhere. Her outfits were labeled  “rich mom aesthetic” and “quiet luxury.” The clothes were expensive, but without any logos in sight. A mostly-neutral palette of creams and grays, only interrupted by an olive green floor-length coat and stack of gold jewelry, turned Paltrow into an aspirational icon for lux minimalists. Even Anna Delvey, who conned the New York party scene pretending to be a German heiress, got a style story in The Cut while on house arrest in November of 2022. Journalist Tahirah Hairston and photographer Daniel Arnold followed Delvey on her journey via NYC Subway to meet with her parole officer –– in nine-inch Manolos and her ankle monitor styled a la Lindsey Lohan in 2007. Lohan’s iconic ankle-monitor-high-heels-bikini combos even inspired Chanel to accessorize their Spring / Summer 2008 collection with ankle bags. These appearances of stylish women and their run-ins with law enforcement seem to have a ripple effect — like somehow seeing them breaking through the glass of glamour results in cracks in the spell of the rich and famous. Suddenly, they’re closer to us. Actual human beings, whose actions have consequences, and who face those consequences with, if not grace, unapologetically risky looks. It’s the logic behind the good-luck-charm-Shakira: if she can pay her debt and look fabulous doing it, so can we. Whether or not it’s sustainable to take these incidents and these women as aspirational is beside the point. The images they create serve the same purpose as a controversial Vogue Italia editorial shoot from the early 2000s: they provoke us in a way that makes us want to connect with our dark side — and wish that we could be bold and break the rules. In a world where brand campaigns are scrutinized for their ethical and moral implications, having a problematic fave is sometimes the easiest way to interact with the legacy of the risque fashion world of the ‘90s and ‘00s. 🌀 Laura Rocha-Rueda is a Colombian fashion and fiction writer based in Brooklyn who holds a Creative Writing MFA from The New School. She is your local Swiftie and will gladly chat about anything glittery and soft, and about why dismissing pop culture as frivolous is misguided and sad.

You can put down the beige, shapeless shelf bralette. It's OK. It’s a heartbreaking realization that many of us have been forced to come to: A Good Bra Is Hard to Find.  Now, if you have a bust larger than a D cup, a good bra is damn near impossible to find. Add “Vintage Look and Feel” to your criteria, and you might as well start going braless. I’ve scoured second-hand shops, antique malls, eBay, Etsy– even gem.app — hunting for a good vintage brassiere larger than a damn B cup, and all I’ve been left with is the grim understanding that those sizes simply don’t exist anymore (if they even existed at all). It begs the question: were all women pre-1980s card-carrying members of the I.B.T.C (Itty Bitty Titty Committee)? Did Busty Babes simply not exist a century ago? Of course not. I mean, look around, even today you can’t get a bra larger than a D cup at most lingerie stores (and don’t even get me started on Victoria’s Secret’s vanity sizing). Women have always had varying body sizes — and for most of our sartorial history, larger women have struggled to find garments that fit. That was until I hit the scene. Rest assured, I have hunted down every single fuller bust, vintage-style bra that the internet has to offer. I’ve bought them, worn them, assessed their strengths and weaknesses, and now I’ve come back, battle-worn (and quite literally scarred from stray underwires) to give you the skinny on the best bras available for purchase today. The absolute BEST of the best is Rago. They are an incredible brand with a wide variety of bullet bra styles that go up to a 58H. My favorite make and model is the 9603 Front-Closure in Blush. This thing will cinch you up like a Barbie Doll. If you’ve got a dress that you want to look perfect in, this is the thing that’ll make it happen. But please be advised: this bra is NOT comfortable, especially in the armpit region. If you’re looking for a more comfortable, “Daily Driver” type of bra, I would highly recommend the 2202 Expandable Cup. This bra gives you incredible shape. It cinches the waist while still remaining pretty comfortable. It’s the type of bra where you don’t have to be worried about eating a big lunch while wearing it. Carnival also has a Soft-Cup Longline Bra if you’re looking for something at more of a budget-friendly price point. However, I will say that there is a noticeable quality difference between Rago and Carnival. The Carnival one isn’t BAD per se, but you definitely get what you pay for. Now, I know not everyone prefers the Bullet Bra Bust Shape (gasp!). So, if you’re looking for something that has a bit of a vintage flair —while still keeping the modern, rounded bust shape — I would highly recommend Dita Von Teese’s Fuller Bust Line. These are the first bras I have ever bought where I thought: Wow! They didn’t just take the small bra and make it big — this is actually made for me!  They fully repatterned the bra to better accommodate a larger cup size but kept the same design as the straight-size garment. Which is just a breath of fresh air. Far too often, if you have a fuller bust, you’re relegated to the beige sacks at the bottom of the website, so it’s always incredibly appreciated when there’s a special line of fuller bust bras that are companion pieces to the straight-size designs. We get the same look as everyone else — just made in a way that fits us. Hopefully, a decade from now, articles like this won’t be necessary. Every lingerie brand will just start making high-quality, well-crafted, beautifully-designed brassieres for larger sizes. But until then, I’ll keep my day job. 🌀 Kaitlin Owens is a vintage fashion writer, movie buff, lover of good eats, and a women’s size 7.5 (if any shoe brands are reading). She is the Editor-in-Chief of Dilettante Magazine. You can find her on socials @magdilettante.

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

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