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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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