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My best friend Charlotte was spending her summer in Valencia, shadowing a surgeon as part of her medical school’s global health program. The perfect excuse for a little Spanish escape.

I packed for ten days (four in Valencia, three in Mallorca, and three in Ibiza) in a tiny carry-on suitcase. Minimal room for souvenirs, as if that could stop me. Charlotte, like me, is a shopper. When we’re together, nothing vintage or one-of-a-kind (or on the Zara sale rack) is safe from the pluck of our fashionable and financially-irresponsible fingers. Our third musketeer, Molly, isn’t much better. So I figured we’d do a little damage in Valencia, and then I was prepared to dedicate 100% of my days to the beach and 150% of my nights to €30 vodka sodas and house music.

The plan shifted when we landed in Ibiza at 7 a.m. with seven hours to kill until our hotel let us check in. With so much day ahead of us, and about three hours of sleep, we weren’t too keen on getting sandy. So we hit the boutiques.

Our journey started the only appropriate way: following Jonathan Anderson’s Ibiza guide via Condé Nast Traveller. Of course we skipped down to the shopping section, which led us to Dalt Vila (Old Town), a neighborhood of quintessential cobblestone side streets bustling with a seemingly impossible number of tiny storefronts.

A quick look into my brain as we walked from Platja d’en Bossa (Vegas Strip), through Ses Figueretes (Fort Lauderdale) to Dalt Vila (Heaven).

Umm. Hm. Okay. This is um … nice.

Oh, okay!

OHHHH BITCHHHHHHHHHHH!

The first thing I noticed were the souvenir shops. Every street had at least one Ibiza emporium filled with paper fans, lighters, magnets, and keychains galore. But what set them apart from the I-Heart-NY stalls I’m used to was the clothes. Amongst the usual suspects — custom baby-tees and jerseys — were actually cute beach cover-ups and club dresses. Now, would I recommend you do the bulk of your shopping here? Definitely not. Did I go into every single shop we passed? Yes of course.

I realized we weren’t fucking around when we popped into World Family Ibiza, a family-run boutique that specializes in hand-made accessories and garments inspired by their badass hippie background and world-wide travels. Inside, you’ll find colorful leather bags — many embroidered with flowers and geometric patterns and adorned with studs and fringe — and boots (I nearly choked when I saw this aqua pair). If, like me, you’re sitting on your computer or phone, wishing you were on a small island in the Mediterranean, take a minute to read about the brand’s history. And then start taking those no-spend days seriously.

As we ventured deeper into the neighborhood, I was struck by the sheer amount of storefronts. Each with their own unique siren song of mannequins and accessory displays, welcoming you to come experience whatever it is they have to offer. As someone who literally has recurring dreams about stores that don’t exist, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Where to begin!

Let’s start at Hanamer Ibiza, which had me contemplating a ring light and a tripod because the only way I’ll ever be able to afford any of their designs is if I become the next Acquired Style. Because of my salary, I treated the space like an interactive museum exhibit, which wasn’t all that strange because the clothes were truly wearable art pieces. However, I could have worked harder to contain my audible gasps.

The store, founded by Shiran Dascal, features a collection of independent designers who practice slow and sustainable fashion. But what really got me were the dresses. I’m no art critic, but the most accurate way I can describe the rows of silk and chiffon pieces is like a collection of individual watercolor paintings. Perhaps if I were a successful art critic, I’d have been able to take one home, transported back to New York in one of my many checked suitcases.

Okay, enough jokes about my salary. Instead, let’s talk about My Uncle Sunglasses, where Molly and I spent close to an hour trying on every single pair of shades in the store — and I’m not even exaggerating a little bit. If you’re looking for a pair of unique sunnies, and you happen to be in Ibiza or Mallorca, this is the spot. Once you pick a pair, you have to wear them to a Calvin Harris evening set at Ushuaïa, and you have to look as cool as Molly. I don’t make the rules.

If I was going on Love Island (UK — I would NEVER go on U.S.A.), I’d get my walk-out dress at Islae, a multi-brand boutique that specializes in all forms of decorated dresses and sets. We’re talking beaded, bedazzled, fringed, crocheted, sequined. If it hadn’t been 100 degrees outside, I would have tried them all on and practiced my Love Island intro.

I’m Julia, I’m 24, and I’m a copywriter from London (I’m british in this fantasy). I love an emotionally unavailable man and I’m totally comfortable with being in a bikini on national television!

For this next spot, I have to give credit to and . The fashion duo (one of my personal favorites) was in Ibiza right before I was, and posted a haul from De Mil Amores. While I stumbled upon this spot on my own, I immediately recognized it from their video.

Here, you’ll find motifs that I noticed throughout most of the neighborhood boutiques: peace signs, geometric prints a la Coachella 2014, feathers, beaded statement necklaces, and embroidery. It felt like stepping into a portal where everything I loved at thirteen-years-old never went out of style.

The key takeaway? Ibiza is just pure fun. It’s where you go to dance, drink, tan, kiss, swim in the ocean, leave the real world behind. And the fashion represents exactly that. So on an afternoon following a long night at the club, put your phone away (your club DFMO isn’t going to text you) and get lost in the whimsy of Dalt Vila. Whether you buy, try, or simply just look, it’s worth the day off from the beach.

And if you do take anything home, wear it well <3.

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I will also preface this roundup with the warning that I haven’t actually shopped at many of these brands. Additionally, I tried to mostly include brands that practice real sustainability efforts (none of that greenwashing bullshit) and promote craft and care as a cornerstone of the brand.

Here are the brands I’d like to gatekeep but I won’t because I want the Substack fashion girls to know I’m cool too.

Index:

♂: Has Mens

★: B Corp Certified

$$$: Expensive

✰ EVERYDAY ELEVATED ✰

Posse $$$ | Sydney

If you’re looking to achieve that effortlessly of-the-moment look, where you’re somehow both trendy and incredibly timeless, start here. Explore a mix of chic loungewear, vacation sets, and basics elevated with simple patterns and accents like fringe and lace.

Baum Und Pferdgarten | Copenhagen

Think 3-D textures, fun color palettes, and silhouettes that blend sporty and feminine. If you find yourself in Copenhagen, stop by their flagship store. It’s worth it (though you may get stuck for a few hours trying on everything in and drinking champagne).

La Ligne $$$ | New York

Albeit pricey, La Ligne’s elevated basics exude quality. They’re known for having mastered the striped sweater, but also have a fabulous collection of matching sets, dresses, and trousers. (They also have cute matchboxes at their NYC location).

Oddli | Los Angeles

Reconnect with your inner child through Oddli’s collection of stripes, gingham, and whimsical color palettes. This is also a great brand to turn to during gifting season as they offer customizable versions of their tees and tanks.

SCG Collections | Sydney

A curated, small-batch collection of soft, feminine styles that scratch that ballet-core itch in a timeless way (and doesn’t trigger me as a former dancer).

Find Me Now The Label | New York

You may recognize their designs from Isalis if you have a window-shopping problem like me. Find Me Now specializes in trendy styles and super-soft knitwear meant to be worn on the couch and out on the town. Something I love: they’re founded by a mother-daughter duo.

Belle Anna $$$ | Bali

If you’re a Paloma Wool fan, this is another brand to add to your repertoire. Their collection features muted colors and silky, transparent fabrics that just look cool.

Mod Ref ♂ | Los Angeles

A great brand for that in-between phase of wanting to look on trend but also mature. I love that many of these pieces can be styled both for work and going out (and most things in between).

Sonderhaus | Salt Lake City

Where Scandinavian-meets-Midwest (their words). Stripes, plaid, patches and colors that will make you saw aw shucks, that’s sweet.

Designers Remix ★ | Copenhagen

Made entirely from recycled fabrics, Designers Remix offers clothes that blend modern trends with vintage fabrics and styles. And they’re B-Corp certified!

Samsøe Samsøe $$$ ♂ | Copenhagen

What started as a small jewelry brand in the 90s evolved into this fashion house that embodies Scandinavian cool. I got stuck in this store for two hours during my Copenhagen excursion (and sacrificed a castle tour for a few more minutes in the fitting room). (Obviously I didn’t buy anything and regretted it instantly).

✰ FUNKY✰

Nikki Chasin | New York

Calling all lovers of unserious yet wearable clothing! Nikki Chasin is the place for you. What to expect? Patterns and embellishments that feel like a breath of fresh air in a world of quiet-luxury inspired fashion. If that doesn’t sell you, Mya Gelber of Primary School models for them.

Julia Alert $$$ | Moldova

Founded in 2005, the brand celebrates individuality, edge, and sophistication featuring fun geometric accents and striking colors. If I was ever invited to a cool exclusive NYC substack event (please someone, I’m begging) this is where I’d look for my outfit.

Carmen Says | Barcelona

Polka dots and ruffles and clown-core, oh my! When Carmen Says we’re blending vintage inspiration with modern whimsy we say YES MA’AM.

K&R London ♂ | London

A low-waisted denim lover’s dream, K&R London features modern streetwear (but not in a hype-beast way) inspired by the founders’ experience as vintage resellers. Something I love: their clothes are made almost entirely from deadstock and natural fabrics.

Tone Deaf Studios ♂ | New York

This relatively new brand, founded in 2024, is where I imagine all of the men in Williamsburg shop. That being said, they have a curated collection of denim, football (the soccer kind) jackets, and button-downs, all with unique embellishments that add an extra touch of cool.

My Mum Made It | Brisbane

If you’re looking for pieces that resemble a chair you might find in your grandmother’s house — or at least that evoke the same feeling — take a look at My Mum Made It. You’ll find ruffles, pleats, and patterns galore.

✰ NIGHT OUT, OCCASION, & VACATION ✰

Dana Foley $$$ | New York

A hallmark of Lower East Side fashion (in my humble opinion), Dana Foley offers small-batch collections of pieces I dream of wearing to explore New York City’s nightlife. Think messy chic — mini dresses, open backs, silk, and sequins.

Zemeta | New York

I’m a Zemeta fan for multiple reasons, one being that their flagship store is two blocks from my apartment (and they just expanded!) and another being their instant recognizability. Their y2k-inspired pieces always catch me by surprise with a fun pleat, embellishment, rhinestone, or print on every hanger. PLUS: this is the best place to shop for statement accessories. PLUS PLUS: I took a big step and bought my first ever headband here a few weeks ago.

Diem Attire | Vietnam

A curation of Vietnamese brands with styles that range from everyday lounge, to girls night out, to Coachella. A lot of the pieces I personally want are sold out, but I am patiently sitting on a few waitlists (starting with that top on the bottom left).

Andreeva $$$ | Ukraine

Another mother-daughter duo, this Ukraine-founded brand with a presence in New York City offers a collection of occasion dresses and vacation-wear. Expect bright colors, sparkly embellishments, and a lot of crochet. Side note if you’re one of my friends — isn’t this sooo Sophie?

Faithfull The Brand ★ $$$ | Bali

Every piece from Faithfull The Brand reminds me of outfits I’ve seen on vacation that have made me think wow, everyone here is so cool. Though expensive, the brand is B-Corp certified, so you know your money is going to the best of the best in sustainability speak.

I hope to make this a regular series, or perhaps a living document that I update as I uncover more brands! As always, let me know your thoughts below. And as always, if you make any purchases, wear them well!

I don’t mean personally, though I did recently meet a man at a bar who told me his sister used to work for him and that he’s a real asshole.

Last year I purchased a dress from said asshole. Not to be dramatic, but it changed my life.

She is simply known as the Wang — by friends, family, and anyone who has made the mistake of passing me a quick compliment after I’ve had a few cocktails. She is navy (my favorite color) with white pinstripes. Her material is thick and woven, not unlike a compact gauze bandage, and holds the dress’s babydoll shape — tight around the bust, gently flaring out toward the hem with a subtle flip reminiscent of a 60s blowout. She is of scandalous length, just short enough to encourage boyshorts underneath, but only for bending-down purposes. She is everything I look for in a minidress.

We met on The RealReal and were fast friends. Normally I’d date around for a bit, see what else is out there. But I knew I had to act quickly. I could feel the slimy paws of the less appreciative adding her to their wishlists.

We’ve been inseparable ever since.

The important people in my life know her well. “Can I please wear the Wang tonight” my friends plead before nights out in the big city. “FUCK YES” they respond when I tell them it’s a Wang night. She’s one of the girls. And beyond the praise and admiration, she’s revealed to me the true magic of outfit repeating.

Together, Wang and I experienced a sunset over Lake Michigan off the coast of Chicago. We survived bottomless wine in Manhattan’s East Village, followed by a rainy night of bar hopping. She’s kept me company at work, layered over barrel jeans and paired with my pop-of-red ballet flats. She was with me when I lost (and found) my phone at a club in Copenhagen. I feel a deeper connection with her than I have with some of the men I’ve, um, kissed. (My grandparents read these). She feels like an extension of me, and I think that’s exactly what personal style should feel like.

The first time I remember developing a real connection to a piece of clothing was the summer after my sophomore year of college. I was very into thrifting à la Emma Chamberlain and happened upon a navy sweater embroidered with a bulldog wearing a scarf. It’s Polo-esque, but unique enough not to be mistaken for the heritage brand. And I’ve worn it approximately once a week since I bought it for eight dollars five years ago.

Most recently, I adopted my soul mate. I found her online and immediately scheduled an in-person meeting at What Goes Around Comes Around in Soho. I’d dreamt of owning a Fendi handbag since my first Sex and the City go around. The incredible store associate whose name I forget (I’M SORRY) told me I was far too cool for a basic baguette. I’d come for the right girl: Brown Zucca Canvas Chef Medium. Her birth name doesn’t really roll off the tongue, so I christened her Fifi. She is my daughter — with a heavy New York accent on daw-tah. If I was a better future mother to human children, I’d pass her on as a family heirloom. But I love her too much to even consider parting with her in some hypothetical time ahead. She is my first-born after all. And she recently got a sister! My best friend Sophie brought home Pauline, a red glossy patent-leather YSL ‘Le 5 à 7 mini’ shoulder bag.

From Fifi, Wang, and the rest of the gang, I’ve discovered a love for wearing my clothes over and over again. There’s a real coolness to it. I’m not talking about rewearing a plain white tee or pair of jeans. I’m talking about outfits that people remember. Watching your personal style become a tangible part of your outward identity is chic, babe.

When people recognize my clothes — not just my sense of style, but specific pieces — I feel like myself. They’re not just seeing some dress I wore last week, they’re seeing the night we spent giggling over espresso martinis and eavesdropping on first dates. I don’t mind that I only own one beach coverup (if you know you know), because the worn fabric now feels like summer afternoons at my friend Charlotte’s house in Westchester. It smells like watermelon and potato chips and freshly mowed grass.

When I look at my wardrobe, I see stories. Some that I created on my own and some that I inherited from owners past. I think that’s why I’m drawn to things that look a little bit worn. I prefer slouchy bags to structured silhouettes. I think my hair looks better the day after I blow it out. I like when my makeup is a bit messy. I think leather looks more expensive when it has some wear to it. Of course none of this applies to Fifi, who I meticulously place in her dust bag after every outing. But I like the look of history, and the only way to give your clothes a narrative is to wear them.

Now it goes without saying (but I’m a writer, so I’ll say it) there’s also the sustainability aspect. In a world where entire countries are used as dumping grounds for unwanted textiles, the only real solution to the fashion crisis is to shop less. Second-hand habits are a step in the right direction, but no matter how sustainable the source, it’s overconsumption that perpetuates the cruel cycle of waste. I love to shop, but I don’t feel an urgent need to consume in a way that I did before I found my personal style. I used to panic before occasions and make shitty purchases that I’d ultimately donate or resell on Depop for a few dollars because I had “nothing” to wear.

Now I struggle with the opposite problem. I have too much! I can’t decide what to wear because I have so many tried-and-true options, each with so many styling possibilities. And as a girl who loves clothes more than most things, this is such a good feeling. It’s like finishing your groceries without wasting any food, creating a nourishing meal out of fridge scraps and saving that $30 you would have spent on Door Dash for a rainy day (or a cute vintage top).

I’ll close this off with a little love letter to my closet, who didn’t always feel like a friend, but is now an integral part of me.

If you feel so inclined, comment below and tell me about your closest closet friends. And as always, wear them well. <3

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So let’s get into it.

#1. Glorious Exploits By Ferdia Lennon

My favorite book of 2025 took me all the way back to ancient Greece… kind of. Set on the island of Sicily during the Peloponnesian War, two Syracusans with an affinity for theater set out to do something groundbreaking. Using Athenian prisoners, held captive and starving in a rock quarry, Lampo and Gelon, formerly employed potters and part-time shitty wine drinkers, organize a performance of famed playwright Euripides’s latest work, never before seen outside of Athens.

Written in contemporary English, Lennon’s hilarious prose (think when a really funny kid first learns how to curse) bring a historic world to life in a modern and painfully relatable way. Their story — filled with all the drama, romance, and tragedy of an epic tale — reveals that at the end of the day, Syracusan or Athenian (or New Yorker), 413 BC or 2025, we all just want to do something that feels important.

Glorious Exploits is Lennon’s debut novel and I hope not his last.

Now in no particular order…

Peace Like a River By Leif Enger

While I’m cursing my brain because this book is already fuzzy in my mind, it’s a blessing in disguise because I’ll soon be ready to read it again. Peace Like a River was my foray into Enger’s writing, and I knew quite instantly this would become one of my favorite novels.

In the 1950s, in a small town called Roofing, Jeremiah, a religious man and performer of miracles, lives with his three children Davy, Rueben, and Swede. Their simple existence is upended when Davy is imprisoned for the murder of two neighborhood bullies and escapes jail, becoming a high-profile outlaw and forcing the Lands’s to live as nomads as they traverse the Midwest in search of their older brother and son.

With all the beloved elements of a classic western, Enger’s debut novel explores themes of religion and loss of innocence. If the plot doesn’t appeal to you, his prose are magical enough on their own to make this a worthwhile read.

Blindness By José Saramago

Imagine driving home from work. It’s Wednesday evening, say 5:30. There’s light traffic, you’re hungry and your wife is making dinner. Suddenly you can’t see. Everything is white.

Blindness tells the story of a global pandemic where everyone exposed loses their sight. It explores what the human experience would be like without eyes. How would we react as a society? How would we behave as individuals when we know that no one is watching? How do we care for each other? How do we trust?

This is not a read for the faint of heart (or stomach). It is descriptively gruesome and heartbreaking. But I believe it is important, as do many others. José Saramago won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1998, three years after this novel’s release.

My Friends By Fredrik Backman

I had the pleasure of meeting Fredrik Backman last May during his press tour for My Friends. He spoke with a moderator for about 40 minutes, during which he admitted to almost giving up on this book (I’m so glad he didn’t) and not wanting to do any press (I’m so glad he did). Backman is one of my favorite authors, thanks to my parents who encouraged me to read Anxious People a few years ago. I’ve since read all of his books and fallen in love with his character-driven worlds. I told him this during our short interaction as he signed my book. He then signed a second copy for my parents. “Thanks for being a bad influence on your daughter.”

Backman’s latest novel tells the story of a painting — the most famous painting in the world — which depicts a pier stretching over the ocean. If you look closely, three tiny figures sit on the edge. Fourteen-year-old best friends whose shared laughter and secrets overpower difficult home lives, adolescent bullies, and uncertain futures.

In typical Backman fashion, you’ll adore the characters like your own friends and experience an overwhelming need to tell the people you love that you love them.

10 Minutes 38 Seconds in This Strange World By Elif Shafak

I discovered this book on the same special shelf at Unabridged Bookstore in Chicago that gave me Steve Toltz and his slam-dunk novels, A Fraction of The Whole and Here Goes Nothing. So I knew this would be good.

The book opens with Tequila Leila’s murder. Well technically she’s already been murdered, but her brain hasn’t fully shut down yet. Stuffed in a dumpster on the outskirts of Istanbul, she relives her most prominent memories — from her childhood, which began with her father zealously hoping for a son, to her life as a sex worker in a brothel during a period of violent political instability.

Shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2019, this novel tells the complicated story of Leila’s life through the lens of her death — a story of leaving home and finding it again in the people you love.

All the Pretty Horses By Cormac McCarthy

Dad, if you’re reading this, you’ll be thrilled to learn I read three Cormac McCarthy books this year. And if you’re not, what the hell? I’m your first-born daughter for god’s sake. All the Pretty Horses was my favorite (I also read The Road and Child of God).

While McCarthy is known for his darkness, this is a romance. Of course it has it’s fair share of bloodshed and haunting pasts, but at its core, it’s a love letter to the fading Great American West. Not the region, but the lifestyle. Best friends John Grady Cole and Lacey Rawlins flee their hometown of San Angelo, Texas when Cole discovers his grandfather’s ranch is to be sold. On horseback, with all of their belongings strapped to their saddles, they cross the Mexican border in search of work. And on their way, run into a host of classic Cormac characters, like the iconic thirteen-year-old-trouble-maker Jimmy Blevins.

* Spoiler alert: there’s a scene where Blevins falls off his horse that actually made me laugh out loud.

This book made me want to spend a week riding horses (I don’t know how to ride horses) in the Texas desert and eat beans from a can under an orange sunset.

Prophet Song By Paul Lynch

If you’re looking for an escape, I wouldn’t recommend this one. If you’re willing to confront some hard truths, and you liked George Orwell’s 1984, give this Booker winner a try.

Set in a future Dublin that quite closely resembles today’s America, Eilish Stack struggles to keep her family together after her husband was taken by the police. She is one of many wives who’ve lost a husband, mothers who have lost a child, to a broken democracy where people are stolen from their jobs or homes, never to be seen or heard from again.

As the world unravels around her, Eilish lives in a constant state of stuckness. To stay or to get out? To preserve her children’s freedom or to keep them under constant watch? To pretend everything is okay or to acknowledge the fact that nothing will ever be the same?

For some reason, the entire time I was reading this I thought it was written by a woman, which I think is a good thing.

Other honorable mentions:

I Cheerfully Refuse By Leif Enger

Set in a not-so-distant-future America, Rainy seeks refuge from a powerful adversary in the tumultuous Lake Superior. On his journey via sailboat, he discovers isolated communities on the lake’s coast and islands, filled with strange characters and future friends.

Beautiful World, Where Are You By Sally Rooney

Four people learning how to love each other and themselves. Not quite as destructive as Normal People, but not far off either.

The Book Thief By Markus Zusak

Told from the perspective of Death, a young girl named Liesel finds power in the quiet rebellion of stealing books in Nazi Germany. Her father teaches her to read in their basement — a ritual that continues when their sacred space becomes the hiding place of a Jew.

The Berry Pickers By Amanda Peters

In the 1960s, a little girl goes missing from the blueberry fields where her family works during the summer. Over the next 50 years, she struggles to make sense of strange reveries from her early childhood while her family remains haunted by loss of their youngest sister and daughter.

James By Percival Everett

A reimagining of Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the perspective of Jim.

Straight Man By Richard Russo

An English professor’s life quickly spirals after he strangles a duck on campus. Cause of craziness: inability to pee. You’ll just have to take my word for this one.

The Road By Cormac McCarthy

In a post-apocalyptic world marked by ash and snow, a man and his son traverse a long road in hopes of making it to the coast. Absolutely gut wrenching.

The Devil in the White City By Erik Larson

An awesome non-fiction depiction (that rhymes!) of a series of murders that took place during the construction of the Chicago World’s Fair. It was seriously so easy to disappear people back then.

Everything else I read:

The Stranger By Albert Camus

Cloud Cuckoo Land By Anthony Doerr

The Catcher in the Rye By J. D. Salinger

Lunar Park By Bret Easton Ellis

North Woods By Daniel Mason

And Then There Were None By Agatha Christie

Bright Lights, Big City By Jay McInerney

The Unbearable Lightness of Being By Milan Kundera

Child of God By Cormac McCarthy

The Lincoln Highway By Amore Towles

Less Than Zero By Bret Easton Ellis

Never Let Me Go By Kazuo Ishiguro

Atonement By Ian McEwan

The Silent Patient By Alex Michaelides

Orbital By Samantha Harvey

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I love it, contrary to that description. Chicago is awesome, but it’s no New York. Sorry! It’s just not. Especially if you’re incapable of staying in on a week night and addicted to vintage shopping. The sheer amount of places in New York — boutiques, bars, bodegas — is unlike anywhere else.

I’ve spent the majority of my time below Houston, loitering in cafes and drinking too many cosmos at chic little bars. And while sometimes, the buzz of the city can be mind-numbing, my brain is often inundated with perplexities. Where’s everyone going? What’s happening over there? I want to know everything. But I’ve narrowed it down for you, my loyal readers (my Grandparents). New York, I have some questions.

What the hell is everyone waiting in line for? No seriously. WHY are we queuing? Recently, I was strolling in Soho, near Elizabeth Street Garden, and I noticed a line two-blocks long. I surveilled the crowd as I walked by. There was a bit of everyone: girls, gays, unenthused boyfriends. Some new pop-up I presumed. Curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask. “It’s for Harry Styles’s brand. He just released a vibrator.” Right, because that’s what we want. No, no, we’re good on a new album. Just a sex toy please!

I do, however, respect the population’s unmatched dedication to the pop-up shop. At least they’re Limited Time Only. You know what’s not Limited Time Only? Brandy Melville, Kith, and Supreme. I have never — NEVER — in my three whole months of living here, walked by any of these stores and NOT seen a line down the block. Babe, Harry Styles is literally selling vibrators across the street and we’re waiting around for a $400 T-shirt?

Speaking of waiting in lines.

Does anyone here have a job? Allow me to set the scene. It’s 11:30 on a Wednesday. I’m walking to a cafe on Orchard Street, which is still closed off to vehicles for Summer Streets. Laptop in bag, I’m browsing the window displays of the many independent designer showrooms, and sure, maybe I pop in for a closer look. I can barely fit inside the tiny storefronts, and I definitely can’t get to the fitting room. I know what I’m doing shopping around on a Wednesday at 11:30. I’m taking a well-deserved 15-minute break from my job while I head to a cafe to clock back into my job. What are you guys doing here? I don’t see the outline of a laptop in your bag.

Not to mention the grown men planted at the cafe with me. Reading books (*cough* performative), scrolling on dating apps, even watching movies on their phones. Do you really have no responsibilities right now? So how the hell did you afford that Acne Studios jacket?

Should I get a bob? Perhaps not the most relatable of my intrusive thoughts, but I’ve been haunted by the idea of a nice chop recently. There are too many chic bobs bobbing around this city, someone’s gonna get hurt! I hoped the ruminations would expire when summer ended, when the idea of a free back-of-the-neck didn’t sound so deliciously necessary. But I was wrong. Have you ever seen a bob lengthed so perfectly it ends just where the collar of a trench coat begins? That’ll get you looking for an appointment. I give myself two years maximum.

Nothing wakes me from my bob or queue related reveries faster than being stuck behind a horrible walker. You know the type. Feet dragging, situated in a way where they somehow take up the entire sidewalk, and always fixated on their phone.

Does no one here know how to walk? Hi! Is it your first time ever stepping outside? Should I get on my knees, pat the ground, and cheer you on as you take sloppy strides? Jesus Christ. I’M WALKIN’ HERE. MOVE.

If you’re also enraged by non self-aware sidewalk hogs, check out this TikTok account that rates walkers around New York. It’s nice to know we’re not alone.

@mvttbvssYou’re not hallucinating, this was real. This is where near-standstill pace and lack of awareness are crippling to my existence. I know they weren’t locals but this felt like I was in a fever dream with no escape #fyp #fypシ #foryoupage #foryourpage #nyc #newyorkcity #nyclife #targetaudience

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New York, I have some further questions. Mostly about men. But those are for another time. I have to get back to work because I HAVE A JOB.

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It’s been a while.

I know. I KNOW.

I’ve been busy, okay.

Doing what? That’s none of your business.

Well, one thing I have been doing is experimenting in my closet. I’ve acquired a lot of new clothes recently. Yes, I’ve done some shopping. But in an effort to stay loyal to my New Year’s resolution of buying less things, I’ve been attempting to transform clothing I already own into things I don’t.

This little exploration got me thinking, if clothes are just pieces of fabric, why are we so willing to wear them only as the retail gods intended? Why can’t a skirt be a tube top? Of course it can! It’s literally the exact same shape! I began to look at my closet, not as full of tops and bottoms and dresses, but as textiles designed to cover my body however I see fit. And I’ll be damned. As skirts became shirts, shirts became skirts, and dresses became tops, my wardrobe doubled without spending a dime. All it took was a little imagination.

For my first act, I present to you: The Tank-Top-Turned-Mini-Skirt.

Last November, I was getting ready for a Clairo concert — which was incredible, thank you for asking. It was one of those nights where I hated every outfit I tried on and convinced myself I needed an entirely new wardrobe. I was searching for the perfect blend of casual, cute, nighttime-but not-going-out, and it’s-a-Wednesday-night-so-I—don’t-want-to-try-too-hard. Finally, I tried on a floral, black-and-white camisole, which was not the vibe. But as I lazily wiggled out of the tank top, pulling it down my body instead of over my head, it got stuck around my waist. Fucking great. Just what I needed — my clothes are ugly and I’m fat! But wait a second. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. How CUTE! I tucked in the shoulder straps, secured the fold with a safety pin by my hip, and voila! A mini skirt!

Wearing a shirt as a skirt is a fabulous and easy way to breathe new life into your closet. But Julia, why can’t I just buy a mini skirt instead? Of course you can, but if you’re anything like me, it’s impossible to find one that checks all of your boxes. It can’t be skin tight, it can’t have a slit, it absolutely can’t be made of that cheap neoprene-esque material. For me, the perfect black mini isn’t a skirt at all — it’s a linen, strapless Reformation top (you probably know the one). And technically, because I already owned it, it was free!

I now introduce to you: The Shapeshifting Button-Down

With a well-fitting button-down, which for me means loose, the opportunities are truly endless. The sleeves serve as moldable straps that can be styled in countless ways. Halter top, hell yeah. Strapless and backless, you know it. I’m a strong proponent for a backless top — possibly because as my frontal lobe nears full development, it’s the only part of my body I don’t mind showing off. By wearing a button-down backwards, and doing only a few buttons, you achieve a gorgeous, off-the-shoulder silhouette that shows a tasteful amount of spine.

Above, I’ve modeled just a few of the many ways you can transform a basic shirt into an interesting new piece. And the best part? Every time you wear it, you have a conversation starter. Did you know this is actually a…

Have you considered… Pants as a Shirt?

Jake Fleming — model, fashion influencer, and sometimes, Anna Wintour look-alike — is the innovator behind the infamous Pant Shirt (patent pending). His rather self-explanatory technique involves placing the waist-section of your pants back-side up on your chest, allowing the pant legs to drape over your shoulders, and pulling the ends of the legs forward under your armpits, and tying them in the— oh, what the hell I’ll just show you.

Fleming’s impact transcends his over 332,000 followers. In March of 2024, Balenciaga released its Fall Ready-to-Wear collection featuring multiple looks in which the model wears a pair of pants as a top, styled in a way that looks utterly familiar to fans of Fleming. Coincidence? The jury is still out. Regardless, thanks to Fleming, you can achieve a $1,450 designer look for free.

More muses

If you’re seeking inspiration from someone with a slightly more relatable closet, meet Katie Casper. The vintage expert, and very soon-to-be mom, shows off her simple-yet-elevated outfit creations online and posts about her fashion finds on her Substack. In any given ‘get dressed with me’ video, Casper might play around with multiple belts, throw on a midi-skirt as a strapless tunic, or reshape her garments using antique earrings. From corporate-appropriate looks to date-night outfits, Casper never fails to achieve the perfect combination of chic and unexpected.

For the courageous dressers, I suggest checking out lolfashiondump — AKA Jaclyn. With one of the boldest closets I’ve ever seen, and big bouncy curls to match, Jaclyn creates museum-worthy outfits for the everyday. Many of her looks feature vests layered over frilly button-downs, voluminous skirts, and chunky platform shoes — all topped off with her signature large-framed glasses. Plus, she has the coolest nails which she designs herself, some of which taking over 10 hours to complete.

Olivia Grace Coletti, owner of the Instagram account @styleintrigue, offers a unique kind of poetic impetus for getting dressed. Her scrappy-meets-classy style is fueled by what she calls “the 3 feeling method,” which entails basing your outfit on how you want to feel. And she’s not just talking basics — her looks have been inspired by feelings like “astute,” “giggly,” and even “sponge-like.” Not only does she nail these sentiments in a way that feels both authentic and articulable, she’s not afraid to take major risks. In a video from earlier this week, she turns a broken Union Jack umbrella into a flattering skirt.

So please, for the love of fashion, don’t be afraid to play! Wear your clothes backwards and upside-down, create the ugliest outfit known to humankind. Try and fail and do it a million times over. In the worst case, you laugh at yourself and readjust. In the best case, you create something you love from something you already loved.

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As the curtains opened and the first model strutted through the pack of identically-clad ‘photographers,’ evoking the image of some space-age-ified parting of the Red Sea, I gasped aloud. I was immediately reminded of something Matty Healy, lead singer of The 1975, once said in an interview. To paraphrase, there are certain pieces of art that feel so obvious, as if they’ve existed forever, lying in wait for someone to “unearth” them. As Healy felt about his chart-topping Somebody Else, I must imagine Domenico and Stefano felt about their recent show. Of course the runway should be red velvet, of course there should be a pack of sartorial men parodying some mythically respectable paparazzi. It feels so right. Like something I’ve seen before yet, at the same time, something completely new.

At the center of the captivating set and score, the clothes too represent something entirely different from their Fashion Week companions. While designers like Louis Vuitton and Prada, though different in execution, displayed masculinity through downturned chins and vague, industrial backdrops, Dolce & Gabbana offered confidence and nonchalance. While other sets perhaps matched in mesmerism, like Zegna’s Severance-esque indoor pastures (complete with Irving Bailiff!) or Yves Saint Laurent’s fallen chandeliers (though I’ll argue that even the blandest of scenes can be made cinematic by the addition of Leonard Cohen’s “You Want it Darker”), none equaled in energy.

It takes true imagination to disguise heavy wool as something sexy, with the lightness of summer. Each piece screams I look hot and I know it, thanks to the combination of styling and the mise-en-scène. The clothes complement the ambience, as if belonging to some greater exhibition, defying the hubris which so often entangles a good collection in an inconsistent narrative.

And what it does best of all? It makes you want to wear the clothes. It makes them irresistible. There are 50-odd attractive men who cannot stop taking photos, pausing only to admire their shots and show their neighbors, who no doubt have the same frames paused on their screens. It removes your liberty as a viewer to decide how you feel. It says you love it, you want it. And this, of course, is a risk. If the collection was objectively bad, it would be kitschy, egoistic. But oh, is it good.

The pieces themselves are crafted with the earned confidence of a label that has dressed celebrities of the highest notability for decades. The evolution from more casual, after-party-type looks, to superbly tailored evening wear, isn’t revolutionary, though the relatively minimalistic styling managed to uniquely juxtapose an air of relatability — a sense that someone really could just leave their house like this — with a twinge of exclusivity, you could, but you won’t. The thick-framed glasses paired with most looks add a certain je ne sais quoi, sophisticated yet casual, and play into both the 1960s La Dolce Vita era and today’s fascination with glasses as a statement accessory.

Each ‘Week,’ designers raise the bar of not just styling, but set design, scoring, even seating charts, eager to do what’s never been done before and to offer a hungry audience something fresh, that hopefully, if done well, will stick in their teeth long enough to satisfy until the next big thing. While I, like most, am guilty of wanting more, wanting new, and wanting now, I am happy to stay here for a while. Where the clothes dazzle, the men charm, and life is sweet.

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There are endless breeds of influencers dictating the social media landscape — restaurant recommenders, book sellers, makeup artists, style savants — and though many of them raise red flags, it would be pointless and repetitive to rant into the void about my general frustrations with social media’s greedy foundations. Today, I will express my grievances with one specific subculture that I have dubbed the ‘thrift-fluencers’

They typically appear before the backdrop of a Goodwill or Salvation Army, or some other local thrift shop, brandishing their unbelievable finds and throwing around the word ‘vintage’ like it doesn’t have a dictionary definition.

A quick aside.

Remember the app Flip? Around October of 2023, there was short-lived commotion about an app that gives you ‘free’ money to spend on real, trendy products. The catch? Once that sign-up bonus is spent, to earn more money you have to post product reviews. And to post product reviews, you have to buy products. Technically, you get free shit, but at the cost of having to actually own a fuck-ton of shit you don’t need and tell everyone else to buy it.

This resembles the work of an influencer. To make money, you need followers, and to gain followers, you have to post consistent content. So if your content is thrifting, you have to go to the thrift store a lot.

Something about perpetuating this cycle of overconsumption with second-hand shopping as the subject matter doesn’t sit right with me. I’m sure it wasn’t the goal of most thrift-fluencers to promote a binge-like approach to shopping. In fact, I bet it was the opposite. But regardless of intention, to keep the followers, likes, and comments coming, they have to keep thrifting.

Sure, you could argue that shopping excessively from a thrift store is better than shopping excessively from a fast-fashion retailer. Maybe I’d agree. But I’m not here to compare the merits of Goodwill versus Urban Outfitters. What’s better than shopping excessively is not shopping excessively. That is the harsh truth. An indisputable fact. On an individual level, the problem with shopping isn’t where you shop, but how you shop. And I have a problem with people who preach the second-hand gospel while consuming like it’s their full-time job (because it is).

Hypocrisy aside, thrift-fluencers advertise unrealistic thrifting experiences. Contrary to what their content reveals, it’s not guaranteed you’ll strike out at your local Salvation Army with $25 Frye Campus boots or a mistakenly underpriced authentic Coach purse. This offers false hope to many who plan to use thrift stores as their first point of action before running to the full-priced retail stores. It shrouds the complex process of thrifting, which takes time, energy, patience, and open-mindedness. It’s often not easy or glamorous. It’s hours of swiping through dusty clothing racks filled with itchy sweaters that haven’t been washed since before they were moved from their hangers to a trash bag in the garage.

I will admit that not all thrift-fluencers are equal. There are many second-hand shoppers that I follow who, in my opinion, succeed in promoting thrifting as a means of discovering personal style, or who thrift for the purpose of upcycling, or who shop intentionally for their curated vintage stores. I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about people who fill multiple huge plastic bags (like seriously bring a fucking tote) with ‘vintage’ Brandy Melville and Free people to either hoard or resell at a higher price.

This brings me to my next point, which might be controversial. I’ve noticed a subculture of ‘thrift-fluencers’ that have this, dare I say, sorority-girl energy. I guess this comes with the territory of something becoming popular — what was once the stomping grounds of a more indie culture (and of course people who thrift for financial reasons) has opened its doors to the mainstream. People are posting hauls littered with pre-worn Edikted, Zara, H&M, etcetera. And the issue isn’t that they’re buying these things, but that they’re proudly encouraging others to do the same.

These pieces aren’t made of high quality, long-lasting fabrics nor are they representative of timeless styles — both of which are easy to find at thrift stores when you know what brands and textiles to look for. In actuality, these second-hand fast-fashion purchases are more dangerous because (a) low-quality pieces that have already been worn and washed will deteriorate faster and (b) low prices lead to more impulsive purchases and, subsequently, impermanence. You know what feels worse than donating something you never wore? Bringing something you bought at Goodwill back after you never wore it.

So forgive me if I’m out of place, but I think if you are going to base your internet persona on ‘sustainable shopping,’ either do it in a way that’s actually sustainable or don’t do it at all.

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If you’re looking for Colleen Hoover and Sarah J. Mass, you’ve come to the wrong place. Maybe it’s my superiority complex, bred from English courses and the desire to call myself a writer, or a genuine predilection for objectively high-quality literature, but I will be dead before I pick up It Ends With Us. I totally might be missing out, but I don’t care. I’m not one who can overlook cheesy writing for the sake of plot. And I don’t like smut. Sorry!

I don’t mean to brag, but I did surpass my goal for my Good Reads 2024 Reading Challenge. Thank you, thank you, please hold your applause! My target was 15 books and so far I've read 21. For me, that’s a lot of reading.

Here is everything I read this year; the good, the bad and the in between.

Best of the year ✮✮✮✮✮

Here Goes Nothing by Steve Toltz

This was my favorite book I read this year, and bonus points because I found it on my own! I typically gravitate toward books my parents recommend, and occasionally endorsements from friends with trusted tastes, but I found this gem in a bookstore in Boystown Chicago, the cover partially obstructed by a sticky note with praise from a bookseller.

Oh, the plot is so dark and delicious! It’s got murder, scandal, apocalypse, and so much tasty pondering about the human condition.

A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz

What a debut!! If Toltz’s mind even slightly resembles the cluttered, dusty, never-ending cavernous, labyrinths of his characters’ thought machines, I don’t how he gets any writing done, and I don’t know how he’s only published three novels.

I’m struggling to put into words how this story touched me, but touch me it did. I feel a little spot etched deep into my brain fibers where Martin and Jasper, the father-son main-character duo, will live for a long time I think. Alas, they’re novel-driving fear of mortality is extinguished by the reader.

On the sentence level, Toltz is a genius. Here are some of my favorite moments:

“Everyone knows loneliness tastes like cold potato soup.”

“I pray the baby won’t be premature—undercooked people are trouble.”

“I saw him as a spider who woke up thinking he was a fly and didn’t understand he was caught in his own web.”

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

Speaking of debut novels, Van Pelt’s set the bar tremendously high for the rest of her authorial career. This is a beautiful story about connection; between human and octopus, parent and child, the living and the deceased. It is a beautifully crafted narrative filled with beautifully crafted syntax. I would do anything for Tova and Marcellus.

The Beach by Alex Garland

Thank you to the woman at Hatchards in London who saw me dubiously holding Lord of the Flies and asked if I would be open to something better. This was fantastic, and I don’t use that word lightly! I use it darkly. This story was very dark.

Was it a bit unbelievable at times? Sure. But I could not put it down. For the whole four days it took me to read it, I looked forward to the moment I could quit my responsibilities and enter Garland’s arcane, sandy world. The scenes featuring Mr. Duck were of the most vivid and haunting writing I have ever ingested.

Everybody’s Fool by Richard Russo

Richard Russo is a recurring character in this reading roundup. I adore everything he writes, but this was my favorite that I read this year. Russo has a unique talent for creating profound worlds out of small towns and simple people. Plot typically takes the back burner, leaving room for deep characters with tear-jerking character development. But I’ll be damned! Everybody’s Fool had plot to spare!

This is the second novel in Russo’s “Sully trilogy” and I recommend reading them in order.

Normal People by Sally Rooney

I don’t think I have anything to add to this conversation. I started and finished the book in one day.

Really good ✮✮✮✮

The Many Lives of Mama Love by Lara Love Hardin

My grandma recommended this to me and it did not disappoint. Love Hardin is a fabulous writer who fearlessly shared her story of addiction, motherhood, and perseverance. I want to give her a hug.

Nomadland by Jessica Bruder

While I prefer to read fiction, this was an amazing piece of journalism. For years, Bruder followed the eccentric individuals who chose to abandon the conventions of houses and apartments and instead live nomadically in a variety of moving vehicles.

Nomadland inspired me to write this piece for Haloscope Magazine — here’s a shameless self promo!

Somebody’s Fool by Richard Russo

We know how I feel about Russo.

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

This was really good, and I read it really fast because it was really good. Really! Some parts, however, felt a bit too dramatic, though I’m sure that was the intention. Though I enjoyed the read, the main character’s life was so chaotic (brought about by her own horrible decisions) that I was glad when it ended.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Why I waited so long to read this is just as inexplicable as why I never picked up Normal People until this year. I devoured this book and somehow managed to swerve movie spoilers for ten years. Fabulous!

Based on a True Story: A Memoir by Norm Macdonald

I miss Norm. This “memoir,” compiled of ridiculous fictional tales that so perfectly capture Norm’s comedic cadence, was a joy to read.

Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo

Again, nothing else to say.

Good ✮✮✮

The Bee Sting by Paul Murray

I have a mental block when it comes to books where each chapter is from the perspective of a different character. I have a harder time holding onto the story. And wow were these chapters long. I witnessed someone’s entire childhood, seemingly spare of few details, and then had to wait 150 pages to hear from them again! That being said, the ending of this book was incredibly gripping. All of that grueling character development served it’s purpose for the last quarter of the novel.

Fleishman is in Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Akner

Cute.

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

I really wanted to like this book because it has such an interesting premise; a mysterious third-world country, a cohort of elites of many native tongues, a beloved Opera singer trapped amongst adoring strangers like a peacock in a zoo. But then nothing happened until literally the last ten pages. I was bored!

Tom Lake by Ann Patchett

I’m so sorry Ann but this was also boring!

Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange

I wanted to like this but I just didn’t. The first half of the book was totally lost to the second half. However, I did learn a lot about the Native American experience which is a topic I want to read more about.

Not my place to judge

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer

This book should really be required reading for anyone. Was it good? I guess it was as good as any book can be that dives into all of the intricate horrors of the factory farming system.

The Push: A Climber’s Journey of Endurance, Risk, and Going Beyond Limits by Tommy Caldwell

I read this right after I watched Free Solo and felt slightly obsessed with Alex Honnold. This is a memoir written by his friend, who was featured in the documentary, about his own experiences as a climber. Was it good? Eh. But I didn’t read it because I thought it would be good, I read it because I wanted to hear his story.

Do not read ✮

The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst

No, no, no. I hated this. Clearly this is an unpopular opinion, because Hollinghurst won the Booker, but oh my god did I hate it! I hated all of the characters and I hated the story. Nothing about this was redeeming.

Seven Types of Ambiguity by Elliot Perlman

This was a book I suffered through not because it was bad, but because it left such a sour taste in my mouth. At some points it felt really evil. I did not feel moved by this at all, in a positive or negative way. I closed the book and thought, thank god I’m done with that.

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Dying to see what I read next? Let’s be friends on GoodReads! But I will judge your taste!

Monday is white, like fresh powdery snow. Tuesday is pale mint green. Wednesday is the color of barbecue sauce, a viscous brownish red. Thursday is the color of a Rice Krispies Treat. Friday is pale yellow, like a peeled banana. Saturday is dark pink. Sunday is black.

Thursday is the color of a Rice Krispies Treat. What does that even mean? How does one begin to process a reality where a day of the week is objectively the shade of a popular breakfast cereal? For Gilman, this is as logical a truth as the sky is blue and fire is hot.

Gilman has synesthesia, a neurological phenomenon that occurs when one’s senses are crossed. Her synesthesia causes her to associate things like the number three, January and Thursday, with colors. To her, it’s hard to fathom a reality where Thursday isn’t the color of a Rice Krispies Treat.

We often assume that our perceptions are similar to those around us, that our shared abilities to see, hear, taste, smell and touch create a blanket perception of the world. This conjecture makes it easier to endure the impossibility of experiencing another person’s reality. It’s why we don’t generally question whether someone else’s blue sky is the same as our own. But reality is in the eye of the beholder. Our individual perceptions of reality are illusions created by our brains, a synthesis of our sensory perception of external stimuli that make up the world. And reality is tenuous. A few molecules of LSD, an amount completely invisible under a microscope, can completely alter one’s perception of reality and turn a blue sky kaleidoscopic.

The more science delves into the nature of sensory perception and processing, the more it is understood that reality is an individual experience that may not be as uniform across humanity as we tend to assume.

Gilman was born on September 26, 1964, in the small town of Oakland, Maine. She was blind, a result of prenatal Rubella, only able to detect light and shadow. At two years old, a series of cataract surgeries granted Gilman partial sight in her right eye, but her amblyopic left eye, which points inward toward the bridge of her nose, has little function. She also gradually lost much of her hearing, a consequence of Rubella-induced nerve damage. By age six, she wore hearing aids.

In her thick-framed glasses, Gilman learned to navigate the world without depth perception or precise sound. But what she can grasp, better than anything else and, she is convinced, anyone else, is color. Color is everything to Gilman. It is what differentiates between objects that appear fuzzy, even through her glasses. And it is a tool she used to conquer school, independence and relationships. To her, everything is associated with a color: letters, numbers, days of the week, months, songs, voices. Synesthesia is her quiet superpower, invisible from the outside, that helps her manage her reality.

When we consider our five main senses, we tend to think of them as distinct experiences. We taste with our mouths, hear with our ears, see with our eyes. But what if you could taste something you see? Or hear something you smell? For synesthetes like Gilman, the senses aren’t so rigid.

Our brains are filled with neurons, tiny nerve cells that transmit information to our bodies. Sensory neurons are specialized neurons that detect sensory information like sight and sound. To simplify a complicated and almost instantaneous process, these neurons, when triggered by an external stimulus, send signals to different parts of our brain that are responsible for processing a specific sense. For example, the sound of a musical note triggers the transmission of sensory neurons to our auditory cortex, where the information is processed to create the sensation of hearing. The brain’s mechanism of organizing and processing sensory information is what constructs the experiences of sight, smell, taste, touch, temperature and pain that make up our reality.

Marcia Grabowecky, director of Brian, Behavior and Cognition studies at Northwestern University and a principal investigator at the Multisensory Lab, explains that synesthesia occurs when the input to one sensory modality triggers sensation in another sensory modality. The sound of snare drum might elicit the taste of metal, or Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” might feel like shimmery yellow. Some synesthetic experiences are projective and manifest like a hallucination. When one listens to the 1975 operatic-rock medley, they might actually see a streak of yellow appear in front of them, as if projected onto an invisible screen. Other synesthetic experiences are associative. So while one may not see anything, they know that “Bohemian Rhapsody” is yellow, and “Under Pressure” is blue, and “Another One Bites the Dust” is red. And regardless of form, synesthesia is consistent over time and instantaneous.

Gilman experiences the most common form of synesthesia called associative grapheme-color synesthesia which occurs when symbols, like letters and numbers, or concepts, like days of the week, have specific colors attached to them. Long before she knew that there was a scientific name for the way she perceives the world, Gilman relied on her color associations to get through school.

In 1970, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) was passed, allowing children with disabilities to attend public schools instead of specialized institutions. Gilman was among the first children in her state to be “mainstreamed,” which meant she had to work a little harder than her peers to keep up. “The signal to the senses came a bit slower to me,” she tells me. Especially in math class. Gilman didn’t add and subtract the way most people do. In her mind, her colored numbers appeared like a game board, each number represented by a colored square. For her, the number three is red, four is Kelly green, five is cotton candy pink and six is dark blue. So to add three plus three, Gilman starts on her red square and moves three spaces to the right, landing on dark blue. To subtract, she moves in the opposite direction.

As we chatted on the phone, I tried to imagine what it would be like to break down complex math equations through a mental Monopoly board. I couldn’t, but neither could Gilman. Her synesthesia only took her as far as algebra, at which point she spent many long nights with her father who patiently helped her decode functions and variables.

Despite synesthesia being both a tool and a defining characteristic of Gilman’s worldview, she didn’t talk about it much growing up. Her mother is a common-sense kind of woman who doesn’t care much for anything outside of what she can see. “She likes to read a lot of biographies,” Gilman tells me. “I like science fiction.”

It is not uncommon for synesthetes to keep their experiences to themselves. Some people hesitate to talk about it out of fear of being judged or mocked. Others don’t know that their worldview is relatively unique, so they don’t think to mention it.

Chad Manning, musician and founder of Manning Music, a bluegrass music school in Berkeley, California, didn’t find out he was a synesthete until he was 49. Manning experiences a form of auditory-tactile synesthesia that causes him to feel shapes when he listens to music and to associate words with shapes. “I never thought it was actually full-on synesthesia,” he tells me. He had heard of the phenomenon, but until last year thought it only referred to cases where it manifests like a hallucination.

Conceptually, there is a connection between music and shapes. Music has structure and movement; a pitch goes up and down. This relationship is what made Manning doubt that he “qualified” as a synesthete. But his experience goes beyond conceptual understanding. It’s visceral. “It’s like I’m getting in the shapes and going for a ride,” he says. “They pull on me from my center, so it will kind of pull me into a curve or I can come to a stop and then drop.”

Manning began playing music at eight years old but became infatuated at 14. “When I heard these particular fiddlers shape things so beautifully, that’s when my love of music really kicked in,” he says. “One of the beautiful things about fiddle is that you have a bow, which is like a breath. It’s how I mold shape.”

About a year ago, Manning was at a dinner party with the teachers from his music school along with their spouses. He sat next to Colleen Silva, the wife of one of his colleagues, who is a synesthete and has known about her synesthesia for over three decades. He talked with his hands, as he usually does, his fingers like brushstrokes on an invisible canvas, transforming his words into dynamic shapes.

“Why did you make that shape when you said that?” Manning recalls Silva asking him.

“Oh, well because that’s the shape of the word,” he replied.

“Do you have synesthesia?” she asked.

Manning thought about it. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” He explained that he sort of feels shapes and colors when he listens to music, but he doesn’t actually see anything.

“Yeah, not everybody feels colors,” Silva said.

Silva has sequence-space synesthesia in which almost anything that can be organized chronologically, like counting numbers, days of the week, temperature, historical time-periods and even bra sizes, exist in three-dimensional space. At all times, Silva is surrounded by mental numerical “maps” that are fixed around her. Like Gilman and Manning, Silva’s synesthesia is associative. She doesn’t see the number ten floating in the air, but she knows that it lives about one foot away from her right shoulder and that the number one exists about a foot away from her left shoulder on the same dimensional plane. And the position of Silva’s maps is stagnant, meaning if she moves her head, the points on her maps stay fixed in space. “I can’t say or hear or read the word ‘three’ without my brain going to the place where three exists around my body,” she says. “My entire life, everything, has a place that goes all around my body.”

In elementary school, she had to take a special class to learn how to tell time. “I couldn’t understand a clock because I had my own system,” she tells me. “It starts below my feet, like 5 a.m., and then noon is around my waist. Then it goes up to midnight, which is maybe two or three feet above my head. And then all of the other numbers in the middle of the night go behind my back.”

When she was 19, Silva and a friend were watching an episode of “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson” in which he brought on a woman who viewed the days of the week as being stacked vertically on top of each other. She turned to her friend and explained that she has the exact same thing. It was the first time she had vocalized her mental maps. “I couldn’t believe that (my friend) didn’t know what I was talking about,” she says. “But I knew it was something, and I was interested.”

At the time the Johnny Carson episode aired, an American neurologist named Richard Cytowic was working to restore the scientific study of synesthesia, which had fallen under the radar for about 100 years. Between 1876 and 1895, there was a period of intense scientific interest in synesthesia. Julia Simner, a professor of neuropsychology at the University of Sussex, dubs this “the golden age of synesthesia research.” For the first time in recorded history, scientists were utilizing surveys to examine synesthetic experiences which led to the discovery of associative and projective crossovers between all of the senses. Silva’s sequence-space synesthesia was one of the first types to be studied by Sir Francis Galton, Charles Darwin’s half-cousin, who learned of it in a self-report written by an English engineer.

In the early 20th century, behaviorism struck the psychological community. Behaviorism is an approach that emphasizes the impact of the environment on human behavior. It rejects introspection and first-person accounts as a valid method of study, which not only discredits the study of synesthesia but also of subjects like memory and emotion.

It wasn’t until the early 1980s that synesthesia was pushed back under the microscope by Cytowic, despite a warning from his colleagues that this work would “ruin his career.” Silva’s father happened upon one of Cytowic’s early articles and sent it to his daughter. She reached out to Cytowic who conducted a preliminary interview with her over the phone and then recruited her as one of his first research participants. She has since been a subject in all of his books.

Because of her involvement in the study of synesthesia, Silva is able to recognize the signs of a synesthete, like she did with Manning. “It was a very exciting evening,” she tells me. “To see (Manning) have this sort of burst of information in his brain, that was really cool.”

For Gilman, being able to attach a label to her experience was a relief. In 2002, Gilman was in a relationship with a man named John (whose name has been changed per her request) who also had color-grapheme synesthesia. They were set up by Gilman’s roommate at the University of South Carolina Spartanburg. On their first date, they talked until three in the morning. The next day, it was raining, and John picked her up for class. They quickly became inseparable, and their synesthesia, though they didn’t know the word for it at the time, brought them closer together.

John’s mother watched Richard Cytowic’s 60 Minutes episode and immediately phoned her son. “Guess what?” she said. “I just found out what you guys have is actually real.” Gilman says the experience was validating. “We were absolutely tickled,” she tells me. “It was nice to share it with somebody who understood.” The couple began dressing in their respective colors for the days of the week, teasing each other about who was right and sometimes wearing each other’s colors.

In 2009, Gilman joined a Facebook group for synesthetes, which is how I connected with her. While she doesn’t post in the group often, it serves as a way for her to connect with and learn from the other 2,000 members.

Her desire to learn and understand is common among synesthetes. It’s the reason why I’m writing this story. I have associative chromesthesia which causes me to view every song as having a distinct color dependent on the key of the music. I first learned about synesthesia in fifth grade from a book titled “A Mango Shaped Space” by Wendy Mass. It tells the story of a little girl named Mia who has intense and sometimes debilitating projective chromesthesia, and her journey toward understanding and accepting her unique world view. I’ve since read the book twice and developed an acute interest in the perceptual phenomenon. I connected with Mass to ask why she chose to write about synesthesia for her debut novel, not being a synesthete herself. “I was keeping my eyes open for something I could write about a character where the people around her wouldn’t know that anything was different about her,” she told me. And while working as a librarian, she happened upon one of Cytowic’s books, “The Man Who Tasted Shapes.” It’s been 21 years since “Mango” was published, and Mass says she still hears from synesthetes and non-synesthetes alike who were moved by Mia’s story.

Manning was also curious about his synesthetic experiences years before his conversation with Silva. During his freshman year at Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington, he conducted an experiment on some of his friends to explore whether everyone has similar associations between shapes, colors, sounds and other sensory experiences. Manning had his friends lie on their backs as he guided them through breathing exercises and asked them free-association questions like, what color comes to mind when you hear the word “breakfast.”

Throughout his experiment, which continued when he transferred to Whitworth College in Spokane, some of his subjects fell into hypnotic states and irregular breathing patterns. One of the more intense sessions even prompted Manning to call a mental health hotline where he was told, unhelpfully, that he had tapped into some unknown area of consciousness and should attempt his experiment in an isolation tank. Eventually, students started coming to Manning to be hypnotized, resulting in the dean asking him to stop. “Honestly, I can’t even remember what the results were, but I guess it’s kind of a reminder to me that I had (synesthesia) then too,” he tells me. “I was trying to figure out if other people could get tapped into that same thing.”

Sarah Smith, 33, a fitness instructor and multimedia artist with chromesthesia from New York City, frequently attends events for artists and musicians where “synesthete” is as normal of an introductory characteristic as a job title or hometown. “It felt so cool and exciting and freeing to be able to talk in terms of shapes and colors and (talk about) these experiences of being able to travel into worlds through songs,” she tells me.

Annie Oliver, 43, an elementary English as a Second Language teacher from Knoxville, Tennessee, joined Facebook groups like Gilman in hopes of finding someone with her same type of synesthesia. She sees projections of shapes when she listens to music. Different sounds elicit different visuals and certain sounds produce clearer visuals than others. For instance, a percussion sound is easy to see and appears like a circle, varying in size and location in space based on volume and tone. Oliver’s most vivid projection is the sound of a rotary telephone ring, which appears like two small vertically stacked dots that zigzag in opposite directions. While it’s already difficult to process what this looks and feels like, Oliver’s projections also have no color. “I can’t explain it,” she tells me. “Because everything has to have a color, but there’s just not. It's just like this absence of color or something.” Oliver only recently found out there is such a thing as synesthesia, though her mom remembers her talking about her ability to see music as a child. “It’s something that’s always been in my own head since I was a kid,” she says. “I’m dying to talk to somebody else that has the same thing.”

It is unknown how common synesthesia is. Cytowic estimates that 1 in 30 people have a common form of synesthesia. Sean A. Day, president of the International Association of Synesthetes, Artists and Scientists, surmises that rarer forms of synesthesia occur in approximately 1 in 15,000 people. While research is not yet comprehensive enough to conclude exact statistics, experts agree that, based on data from the past two centuries, synesthesia is likely more common than we think it is. In fact, many famous artists and musicians have been open about their synesthesia, like Wassily Kandinsky, a Russian abstract painter who saw projections of colors when he listened to music, and singer Billie Eilish whose associative color synesthesia inspires her art.

Neurologists don’t know what causes synesthesia, though multiple theories exist. Grabowecky, who specializes in multisensory integration, explains one theory that synesthesia is a result of incomplete synaptic pruning. Essentially, when our early brains are developing, they form millions of rapid and simultaneous neural connections, many of which are unnecessary. As our brains mature, these connections, or synapses, are pruned. Our brains get rid of the connections we don’t need or use to prioritize a neural network that aids our survival. According to this theory, synesthesia occurs due to unpruned multisensory connections.

Cytowic, however, questions whether synesthetic connections are unnecessary. In a 2009 interview with Scientific American, he asks why, if synesthesia is useless, it hasn’t been discarded by evolution over time? Perhaps there is something evolutionarily beneficial about humans’ ability to make connections, to see “the similar in the dissimilar.” With the exception of rare and debilitating cases, synesthesia ranges from serving as a crutch for navigating life to a quirk that makes for an interesting and animated reality.

Manning says he can’t imagine life without synesthesia. “What would music be without shape?” he asks me. “I can’t even comprehend it, to be honest.”

Gilman feels the same way about color. “When people tell me they’re colorblind, to me, that sounds so much worse than being totally blind,” she says. “I can’t imagine a world without color. I just can’t.”

Gilman and John broke up in 2012. They lived together in the countryside, near Inman, South Carolina, but being isolated in a rural area was poor for Gilman’s mental health. After a period of extreme depression, she moved to Columbia to be near her mother and step-father. She and John tried to do long-distance, but it didn’t work. And until I messaged Gilman on Facebook, she hadn’t spoken to anyone about her synesthesia since their breakup.

She lived on her own for 12 years, with a guide dog named Gossamer Lafayette, Gossie for short. After he passed away, she moved in with her mother and step-father, but she hopes to move back to Maine soon. She is now training a new puppy, a cross between a Brussels Griffon and a shiatsu with an impressive underbite, named Jack. “The terror,” as she calls him, caused her to reschedule our last interview multiple times.

“Does 2morro work ok 4 u?” she texted me, along with a photo of Jack and a GIF of a sparkling pink bubble-lettered “thank you!”

“Of course, good luck with your puppy training,” I responded. “And thank you so much, I really appreciate it!”

“Hey, so do I,” she replied. “It’s not often people ask about it, ya kno?”

When I told people I was pursuing a Masters in Journalism degree, I received a trail mix of responses; different words all dusted in the same sugary sentiment. “You’re brave.”

I’m not naive. I know journalism isn’t the most stable or lucrative industry — some might even argue that it’s the least stable or lucrative. The people who commended my nerve are right. Legacy media isn’t what it used to be. But New Media is where it’s never been before.

Journalism has broken the conventions of printed words, staff writers, televisions and fact checkers (this last point is concerning). We are living in Charlie Skinner’s, the fictional president of the fictional news department in the fictional series The Newsroom, nightmare. When entrepreneur Lucas Pruit (played by B. J. Novak) buys Atlantis Cable News, an agency dedicated to eliminating reporting bias, he intends to embrace social-media-driven journalism, viewing every human with a cellphone as a potential reporter capable of collecting and broadcasting their own news. Skinner was, understandably, vehemently against turning his respected (kinda) and professional department into a free-for-all user-generated platform. 

We’ve turned Pruit’s vision into reality, we just didn’t need ‘big news’ to help us get there. According to a Pew Research Center study from October, 54% of Americans get news from social media. The people who spread information, the curators of culture, the people who tell us what to buy and what to be afraid of, are no longer trapped behind an anchor desk.

Despite the many drastic ways that journalists have been forced to adapt to the new digital social sphere, one of the most basic forms of journalism is climbing.

The ‘man on the street’ interview was the first thing I learned in journalism school. Day one, I was thrown onto Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, clutching a Juvale reporter’s notebook and Bic Round Stic in my sweaty, shaking palms. I had to interview a minimum of five random people about fall fashion trend predictions. It was terrifying.

Many people turned me down and others gave me incredible quotes but then asked not to be included in my story (I hadn’t yet learned the rules of on and off the record). But the people who did grant me their time demonstrated the merit of this interview style. They were caught off guard, flattered to be chosen, and totally authentic. Unlike pre-determined  sources, they didn’t have time to contemplate answers or consider how they wanted to present themselves.

This style of interviewing has been around for centuries. Okay, I don’t actually know this for sure. But I imagine that since humans began to record and report current events, they have valued the experiences and opinions of everyday civilians. Certainly ‘man on the street’ interviews have been a core facet of broadcast journalism since the invention of the microphone. Where news can be pedantic, causing viewers to feel like they're being spoken at and not with, interviewing non-experts provides a sense of inclusivity. Sometimes, we don’t care what a professor or government official has to say. Sometimes we just want to hear from a neighbor. 

These interviews can also be entertaining — I’ve fallen down YouTube rabbit holes of news bloopers, often featuring out-of-pocket interviewees. Because there is no prep, there is always the potential for something to go wrong or for someone to say something really funny, bringing some (much needed, in my opinion) humor to the seriousness of the news. And the authenticity engendered by this interview style gives it legs outside of news and other traditional forms of journalism.

The original man on the street in my mind is Billy Eichner, star and creator of Billy on the Street, a show that follows Eichner as he asks random people random questions on the streets of New York City. I used to spend hours binge-watching his episodes, completely hooked because I never knew what to expect. It’s amazing how many one-liners spawn from regular folk when you stick a microphone and a really loud gay Jew in their faces. Through his series, Eichner perfectly captured the chaotic energy of New York City in a way no scripted show could have. While it wouldn’t work without his character, it mostly delivers because it platforms real people.

Street interviews have made a recent comeback on social media. If you frequent Washington Square Park, you’ve probably seen Davis Burleson filming his series, “What’s Poppin,” where he asks random pedestrians rapid-fire questions. Well, sometimes his guests are random. Other times they’re Charli XCX. Burleson’s show has become so popular, people actually go to Washington Square Park in hopes of getting interviewed. While it would be irresponsible for me not to credit his success to a) his bubbly persona and b) New York City’s unmatched eccentricity, the interviews are entertaining because the subjects are excited to be interviewed. 

Don’t you want to be asked about your outfit inspiration every time you step out looking cute? Wouldn’t you love to be asked your opinion on things like situationships, Chappell Roan, and the latest celebrity beef? Sure, there’s no lack of opinion-sharing today. But there’s something thrilling about being singled out to give your opinion because someone is actually asking for it.

It’s also fun to talk to someone new. Aside from the occasional catcall, I’m not used to interacting with people I pass on the sidewalk. I may smile at a cute Corgi or shout a quick compliment at a cool-looking girl, but I’m usually in my own world. Every so often, however, someone strikes up a conversation with me, and assuming it goes well, I experience a sense of weightlessness. It’s this child-like elation that feels like making a new friend, even if I know I’ll never see this person again. I think that growing up with social media has made us youths lonely. We don’t know how to talk to people outside of our bubbles because we don’t feel like we have to. We interact with thousands of strangers every day through our phones but we’re made to feel weird about talking to people in real life with our mouths.

If you’re unfamiliar with Burleson, you may know Caleb Simpson who runs around New York asking people how much they pay for rent and then touring their apartments (and testing how comfy their beds are). Two years ago, I would have been very skeptical about letting a man I don’t know into my home. Now, I sit on my couch pondering my apartment and practicing giving a tour of my place (and stressing about what I would do if I was caught on a messy apartment day).

There’s also David Carmi, who asks people on the street what makes them confident. He’s a recurring character on my explore page and some of his videos have moved me to tears. I didn’t know I could feel so connected to strangers who appear only on my screen and only for 30 seconds. But that is what I find to be so beautiful about these interviews. There are no expectations for the subjects to be overly interesting or unique. They are not recurring ‘real people’ on a reality show. There are no stakeholders. They are platformed simply because they are themselves. And as a viewer, they make me consider how full of people the world is and how many people I’d like to meet and how, maybe, I should start talking to people on the street.

For one lucky lady, street interview buzz surpassed ‘industry standard.’ Hailey Welch, otherwise known as Hawk Tuah, went mega-viral this summer for her oral-sex themed street interview. Welch now has three-million Instagram followers, a podcast, merchandise, brand deals, celebrity friendships and constant media attention. Her rise to fame was totally unconventional, and many find her undeserving of it. But Welch wasn’t trying to be famous. She didn’t post the video herself. She has even expressed embarrassment about the video that put her on the map. Love her or hate her, we gave her this platform. Whether you found her interview to be iconic, or funny, or crazy, or grotesque, she didn’t ask for any of this. We gave her the nickname and then she continued to feed us. When I was working at the New York Post, there was a period where we had multiple top-performing Hawk Tuah stories every day. She conquered the digital world by being her true, slightly apologetic, self. 

Yes, many people today are famous for ‘being themselves.’ Fame no longer requires a specific talent or niche, just likability. But it’s hard to believe that every reality star or influencer is truly authentic when they are setting up their tripod or getting glammed, planning content, and checking off targeted follower milestones.

If Welch has taught me anything, aside from that we should all really be prioritizing saliva when giving blowjobs, it's that we should be talking tuah (I’m sorry, I had to) more people. People are funny! And smart! And interesting! And according to the popularity of these interviews, people want to be spoken to. To be validated. To be seen as important. To smile. To joke. To express their feelings. It's easy to do that to an audience of usernames. But it's more rewarding to share that with a physical human.

If you’re anything like me, which I hope that you are because you’re here, you consistently wait until the last minute to plan your Halloween costume. I’m feeling generous, so here’s how this will work: I get to tell you a little bit about myself and, in turn, you get to some not-so-basic and very-much-chic Halloween costume ideas.

The only catch: I’m not telling you what my costume is because hey, you’re still new here and I don’t know if you can trust you to not one-up me.

So, *ahem*, hi.

Frank-N-Furter from Rocky Horror

I lost my Rocky Horror virginity the summer before college — cliché, I know. Naturally, I was nervous. What would it feel like? Would it hurt? Luckily, I was with someone experienced; my friend had a sickeningly cool older sister who had taken her a few times. I wore all black, something vaguely slutty but that didn’t look like I was trying too hard. I had a big red ‘V’ painted on my chest in lipstick upon arrival. I did the pre-show virgin ritual (lined up pelvis-to-butt with a row of other virgins and thrusted three times) and after a few hits from a weed pen, I was ready to give it up.

It was magical, which is something not many can say about their first time. Despite not knowing the call outs and performing a very reserved ‘Time Warp,’ I was hooked, already planning my next visit to the decaying Gateway Theater in Fort Lauderdale.

I think I went back six times that summer with my friend who also lost her virginity that fateful night. Ever since, Rocky has become a constant in my life. In every city I’ve moved to, I’ve managed to find a shabby theater that carries on the cultish tradition. I’ve dragged my chaste friends along and cheered for them as they popped their cherries in front of a crowd and witnessed their awe as a theater of oddballs shouted ‘FUCKING! AND SUCKING!’ in perfect unison.

It is a secret dream of mine to play the role of The Lips in a local production.

Lady Gaga at the 2009 VMAs

In 2009, I roadtripped from Miami to Atlanta with my grandparents. It was on that very flat, billboard-heavy drive that I discovered Lady Gaga. My grandma, Gam, was obsessed with her debut record, and we listened to The Fame Monster (Deluxe Edition) for the entire car ride.

My second Lady Gaga era occurred during freshman year of high school. One of my friends had an extra VIP ticket to her concert (I can’t remember which tour) and she graciously gave it to me. It was my first time being barricade at a concert and I remember absolutely nothing. But it feels really cool to tell people about that now.

I’m now having a Fame Monster renaissance. I can’t have a successful sweaty workout without ‘Dancing in the Dark,’ ‘Paper Gangsta,’ and ‘Alejandro’ on full volume. I can’t listen to ‘Speechless’ outside of my apartment because I cannot contain the urge to belt. For my birthday, I bought myself her debut record on vinyl.

I cried on the StairMaster last week watching her 2009 VMAs performance and I would probably shed a tear if I saw someone dressed like that at a Halloween party.

Matty Healy from the “Love Me” music video

I am a huge fan of the 1975 and Matty Healy - sorry if you think that’s controversial. My love stems from the music, it’s just a bonus that I find the lead singer to be incredibly sexy and intelligent.

I have seen them live three times and at my first show, Matty came into the audience and sang ‘Be My Mistake’ without a microphone into my face. I held his ankle (he was standing on the rails of a barricade) for the entire song and if I close my eyes, I can still feel it in my right hand.

This specific costume has been on my mind for years but I haven’t yet built up the courage to purchase a life-sized Harry Styles cardboard cut-out which, unfortunately, is absolutely necessary.

Margo, Edith and Agnes from “Despicable Me”

I am the oldest of three girls and I’m convinced the creators of Despicable Me spied on us when conceiving Margo, Edith and Agnes. Like Margo, I am controlling and have poor eyesight. Like Edith, my middle sister is the only blond and is stubborn and prone (well, the most prone) to violence. Beneath her tough exterior, she is the biggest sweetheart. My youngest sister is tiny, cute and sassy and loves attention, like Agnes.

To say we were obsessed with this movie is an understatement. My sisters would watch it daily in the car on those little screens that come in minivans. I would sit in the front seat listening to it over and over and over. Now I can recite 90% of the film with impeccable timing, cadence and accents. As I write this, I’m realizing this should be my answer for fun-fact ice breakers.

Other movies I have memorized include: The Bee Movie, Coraline, Harry Potter and the Sorcerers’ Stone, Monsters Inc, The Parent Trap and most of Shrek.

The Three Amigos

This movie was weirdly a huge part of my childhood even though I was too young to appreciate it. And it’s a super easy Halloween costume because all you need are three identical Mariachi getups.

Toodles Galore and Tom Cat from “Tom and Jerry”

Cartoons were also integral to my growing up, specifically Tom and Jerry, Popeye, and Pink Panther. Unfortunately, we had to stop watching them before bed because they made Naomi, my middle sister, too violent.

The ‘is you is or is you ain’t my baby’ Tom and Jerry scene makes me painfully nostalgic.

Carrie Bradshaw and Stanford Blatch

I watched Sex and the City for the first time this past summer. I was interning at the New York Post (in a super liberal way) and subletting a studio on the corner of West 4th and 12th. I was living out my Carrie Bradshaw dreams; eating Bleeker Street Pizza and drinking wine after work, shopping with money I didn’t have and trying to make it in the world of journalism (kinda).

Despite Carrie Bradshaw’s poor decision making and tendency to sometimes be insufferable, I think she takes more heat than she deserves. She has my dream life (sans the horrible track record with men). I would kill to make however much money needed to afford her Manhattan apartment by writing one column a week and sometimes being a diva at Vogue.

One thing I appreciate about the show is the friendships outside of the core four. Miranda has Steve, Charlotte has Anthony, and Carrie has adorable Stanford who I think brings out a different, sillier side of her. And you know what, I’m sick of defending my love for her I LOVE CARRIE BRADSHAW.

I also think Big is really hot and kind of looks like what my boyfriend will look like in 15 years but you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Janey Glenn and Lynne Stone from “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”

No, I’m not obsessed with Sarah Jessica Parker or anything but I am obsessed with the movie ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’ Growing up, it was one of my favorite movies to watch with my mom. I was a dancer (for 12 years) and I could not get over how funny dance moves of the 80s were.

I think this is a movie every girl should sit down and watch with their mom if they’re able.

Selena Gomez with a little blue going for the Teen Vogue party

I am definitely online a lot. My screen time is embarrassing and something I try not to think about, which is hard when I have to override a 15-minute Instagram timer 35 times a day. But I don’t know if I can say I’m ‘chronically’ online. I deleted TikTok over three years ago which, of course gave me a superiority complex, but also means I have to wait between 5 and 7 business days to discover the latest video trend on Reels.

This Selena Gomez moment is something you have to be pretty heavily online to understand, but I think it’s well known enough that you’re social media use doesn’t have to be terminal to recognize it. I also just think it’s a cunty Halloween costume. Also — how do we feel about the normalization of the word cunt? Personally, I’m not bothered. Comment your thoughts so I know you’re actually reading mwahahahaha!

Clairo from the Charm tour

I saw Clairo live last week and it was the first time in years I’ve felt relaxed at a concert. Normally I’m lining up outside the door, rushing to the barricade to get as close as possible, narrowly avoiding physical altercations and frantically deleting photos to clear storage on my phone.

Clairo showed me that sometimes it’s okay to hang toward the back and just enjoy listening to good music. Also I love her style for the Charm tour — a feminine slinky dress, boots, headphones and a microphone would make the cutest costume (though you could be mistaken for really any singer).

Lucy and Pippa as Lady Gaga and Britney Spears

Tell Me Lies is the first show in a while (besides Love Island which I fucking cherish) that I’ve watched while everyone else is watching. I usually don’t partake in popular media because a) I think I’m better than everyone else and b) it feels like I have to which stresses me out. That being said, I usually come around eventually. For instance, I finally read ‘Normal People’ about a month ago and wow was I wrong for holding out on that one.

I don’t think ‘Tell Me Lies’ is a particularly good show, but it has become a weekly ritual in my apartment (though the last episode of season two came out this week and was fucking nuts). For a little while, every Wednesday night included a pre-and-post-show passionate discussion with my roommates.

I will miss Pippa and Wrigley the most.

Billie, Charli and The Dare

I absolutely had a Brat summer and basked in the glory of being Julia.

Miss Spink and Forcible

Coraline is probably my favorite movie ever, though that feels like a big statement to make publicly. I’m a huge fan of claymation and grew up on Corpse Bride, and The Nightmare Before Christmas.

I’ve always wanted to dress as Coraline for Halloween, but I could never find the right yellow raincoat that balanced cute and slutty. Miss Spink and Forcible are a fabulous option for a duo costume that shows people you are badass enough to love the movie but not as basic as everyone else. AND it’s a costume with two options depending on which world you choose to portray.

I hope I’ve left you with some solid recommendatios and information about myself that makes you want to stay a little longer.

To wrap this up, here are a few more bits that didn’t quite fit the Halloween narrative…

• I just turned 23

• I grew up in South Florida

• I went to college at the University of Michigan and will Go Blue until I die

• I studied abroad in Prague and love to talk about it

• My parents are my best friends (in a cool way. I also have other friends)

• I live in Chicago now but feel New York City calling me

• I work in marketing but don’t feel very fulfilled

• My favorite authors are Richard Russo and Fredrik Backman

• I’m a cat person if I had to choose but I’m ashamed to admit it

Okay byeeeeeee xoxoxo!!!!

As my vision blurred from excessive scrolling, turning blouses and boots into fuzzy colorful blobs, a streak of pink caught my eye. It was a listing for a pile of dirty used pointe shoes with over 500 likes.

No ballerina would be interested in castoff pointe shoes. No, these were non-dancers, laypeople fawning over torn silk and flimsy leather shanks.

Shoes resembling ballet flats have existed for centuries, ebbing in and out of style since pompes of the 1500s. Recently, they’ve made a marked comeback; feet around the world are favoring flat over platformed, dainty over daring. Notable examples of the ballet flat trend that have taken over the ‘get ready with me’ realm are the Maison Margiela Tabi Ballerina, Steve Madden Graya Patent, Miu Miu Satin Ballerinas and Dolce Vita Rodni Mesh Ballet Flats.

‘Ballet core’ feels like a natural derivative of the ‘clean girl aesthetic,’ which parades slick-back hair, soft makeup and simple patterns and silhouettes. Like the clean girls, ballerinas are bred to be graceful and feminine. The dance style was founded upon elegant lines, movements that elongate the body and disciplined technique. It makes sense that ballerinas have, again, become a source of aesthetic inspiration. It is a sport that commands awe and respect, but it was also built upon illusion. A talented ballerina will trick an audience into believing it is easy. A proper jeté should mask the effort it requires to achieve a hyper-extended split in the air. Patrons should question how a dancer is floating without hidden wires or magic. In the 18th century, a Swedish-born dancer and choreographer actually experimented with a pulley system that lifted dancers off the ground during jumps and leaps to create the illusion of flying. But ballet is anything but easy. Ballet is shaking muscles, bleeding feet and ceaseless dedication to the craft. 

Fashion and sports are closely intertwined, giving sportswear a purpose beyond functionality. Air Jordans, tennis skirts, jerseys, and baseball hats have marked fashion territory off the courts and fields. Ballet shoes are no different. But like each article of clothing that has evolved from athletics, ballet-inspired shoes should be worn with knowledge of the role they play to a dancer. Especially as the look of hardened soles and thick toes gain popularity, it is important, and interesting, to discern why a pointe shoe looks the way it does, and why it will never look as elegant on the street as it does on a stage.

Ballet dates back to the Italian Renaissance courts of the 15th century, but it wasn’t until 1832 that Marie Taglioni, a Swedish-born dancer of the Romantic ballet era, became the first ballerina to dance ‘en pointe.’ She performed La Sylphide, choreographed by her father, in satin slippers that were darned at the sides and toes to hold a pointed shape. 

In the 20th century, the modern pointe shoe was born, credited to Anna Pavlova, a Russian ballerina. Pavlova inserted leather soles into her shoes to provide extra arch support and hardened the toe of her shoes to form a box she could balance on, preserving the romantic ideal of dancing on the smallest point of the foot. 

While pointe shoes have evolved over the years, the way they are made has largely remained the same. The shoe is made of a box and a shank. The box is a hard, flat surface at the toe of the shoe that supports a dancer's toes, allowing them to balance en pointe. A common misconception is that the box is made of wood, but it is actually crafted from tightly packed layers of paper and fabric that are glued together. The shank is a stiff material that hardens the sole of the shoe to provide support for a dancer’s arch. The sole is constructed from leather that is reinforced with glue and stitching.

Because every dancer has different feet with varying needs for support, there are many different pointe shoe brands with distinct advantages. Some have softer boxes and shanks for dancers who need less arch support and require a softer toe to get on top of their box (where the tip of the toes touch the floor). Dancers with more pronounced arches require more support and a stronger box. Finding the best pointe shoe is a tedious process. Many dancers try countless brands before declaring loyalty to a specific shoe.

Unlike their designer derivatives, pointe shoes don’t come ready-to-wear. The dancer must sew on elastic bands and ribbons that are perfectly placed for the shape of their foot. A miniature sewing kit is a staple of every ballerina’s dance bag. 

Once the shoe is sewn to fit the foot, you can’t just start dancing. The hard shoe has to be broken in, which can be done in a variety of ways. Dancers will slam them repeatedly against the floor to soften the boxes and beat the noise out (to maintain a ballerina’s whimsy, pointe shoes shouldn’t make noise while the ballerina is dancing). The shank might be closed between a door and a door frame to loosen the leather. Dancers will wet and heat the box to make it more flexible. After the shoes are broken in, it is rare that a dancer just slips it on their bare feet. Materials like toe tape, lambs wool, gel toe pads, bandaids, paper towels and toe spacers are all shoved between the toes and the box to protect a dancer’s feet, which even with armor are prone to bleeding, bruising, blistering and forming in-grown toenails. 

A ballerina’s feet are a perfect metaphor for the sport itself — to the untrained eye, ballet is silky and delicate, but insiders understand the grit required to perform.

When the tedious and expensive process of buying, sewing and breaking in pointe shoes is complete, professional ballerinas have between three days to one week before they have to do it all again. 

As a former dancer, I understand the allure of a ballet shoe and the desire to emanate a ballerina’s unmatched grace. But I find it interesting that brands are seemingly using the pointe shoe for inspiration. Unlike a flat ballet slipper, pointe shoes are made to be worn en relevé. Despite the pain of dancing en pointe, it is arguably more uncomfortable to walk flat-footed in a pointe shoe and it is definitely awkward looking. It’s impossible to replicate the grace of a pointe shoe without being en pointe.

But perhaps the pointe shoe also represents an integral aspect of fashion. Through style, we create the illusion of effortlessness. A good outfit should look like it just came together, when really it is a result of experimenting with patterns, prints, silhouettes, and color combinations. We squeeze our feet into dainty heels and sacrifice comfort for sophistication. We’ve normalized the phrase “beauty is pain” and embraced the idea that to look good is not always to feel good. Like ballet, though I will argue on a smaller scale, being fashionable is hard work. So as a former ballerina, I respect the aesthetic interest in regularizing the pointe shoe.

The professor dressed in strange clothes and resembled Snow White. She had fair skin, short black hair which she styled into bangs and wore pulled back into a low bun, and she always wore a modern-renaissance-esque floor-length dress, flowing at the skirt and corseted at the waist.

For obvious reasons, I considered dropping the class. But frankly, I was too lazy to find a replacement — the Dracula class met at a time that conflicted with a mandatory course and I was going abroad at the semester’s end. No one actually knew how to read Old English, right?

Wrong. I was the only one who hadn’t read “Beowulf,” whatever the fuck that is, aside from a few stragglers who were also distracted during class registration.

Flash forward to the end of the semester: I still didn’t understand Old English (how to read it or what it is), but I did grasp the greater meaning of the class: lists are everywhere.

According to the Mathematical Universe Hypothesis, also known as the Ultimate Ensemble Theory, the universe is a mathematical object. Math is not something that describes the universe, but is the universe. I’m right-brained, so I don’t know what that means — I Googled “how are numbers the foundation of the universe” to find the name of the theory that I was pretty sure existed. Here’s the through line: lists are like the mathematical equations of written language. Overtly and covertly, they are everywhere; wrinkled in hands in grocery stores, scribbled in agendas; playlists, movie rankings, poems, tables of contents, any article with subheadings.

I’ve always been a fan of the list. My notes app is filled with an embarrassing amount of the “to-do” variety, emphasizing unnecessary action items like make coffee, shower and watch new episode of Tell Me Lies. Though I rarely stick to my self-made syllabi, creating a list makes me feel good about going into a new day.

I didn’t realize just how much I love to list until I started writing creatively. In journalism school, we were taught about service stories and H2s, simple ways to break up information without relying on intricate narrative transitions. With a subhead, you’re allowed to completely change topics without “therefore,” “moreover,” or even a cheeky “nevertheless.” Who knew?!

But it is time for me to break up with lists, at least for a little while.

I’ve become too reliant on their ease, the way they invalidate the need for a flowing narrative. And listicle blogging is kind of offensive, right? Who am I to give you tips and tricks, organized under cute mini headlines and forced into small paragraphs that fit the chosen sub-theme. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.

Listing with intention would be a different story, but I’ve gone off the rails, fallen off the wagon. I’ve listed too close to the sun.

I am officially stepping away from the listicle, fighting my female instinct to gather and organize, and forcing myself to transition, to continue, to progress.

Goodbye for now, old friend. Subheads are soooooooo last season.

I’ve spent months on the mobile app, crafting my perfectly curated feed of vintage sweaters, kitten heels and cross-body purses. It’s like a Pinterest board, but instead of being flooded with obscure images of suspiciously trendy outfits and improbably beautiful women, the algorithm serves up exactly what I’m looking for, with a genuine ‘Buy’ button and a contactable seller. 

When I first downloaded Depop, I focused on hunting specific items — Dr. Martens 1461 Patent Leather Oxford shoes, Ralph Lauren Polo-Bear Sweater — but was often disappointed with the results, due to the size options, quality or prices. Through my pursuits, however, my homepage began to mimic my searches. I began discovering items that fit my desires (and my feet) without having to do anything but scroll. 

I was hooked. I forgot about Instagram, neglecting my friend’s vacation posts and shared memes, and challenged myself to find what I considered to be Depop gems. On June 17, 2021, I completed my first purchase: a pair of Steve Madden sneakers with a chunky platform sole and blue, red and gray panel details. They were in decent condition and only $35. Looking back, I probably wouldn’t buy them today, but at the time I felt proud. I had digitally thrifted a cool pair of shoes, and who knew what I would find next.

It would be impossible to talk about Depop without sharing a story so near and dear to my heart. If you know it, feel free to sing along. I call it: The Tale of the Tall Tan Boots.

Once upon a time, I was in the market for a new purse. While I hate to speak ill of my cherished black no-name cross-body (you know the one), I was feeling bored, craving new arm candy.

I came across a Dr. Martens maroon mini messenger bag. How journalist, how chic. The seller was offering a bundle, two purses for $85, so I snagged a darling green and brown shoulder bag as well. And then I waited.

About a week later, a package arrived at my door. It was larger than I expected, but it is not uncommon for Depop sellers to use whatever parcels they have lying around to ship items (to avoid having to buy an envelope or box at the post office). I picked it up. Much heavier than I expected. Something was most definitely up.

I double checked the address. Julia Gordon, mhm, mhm. Now I was intrigued.

When I tore open the packaging, I audibly gasped. Not only did I see my purses, but a gorgeous pair of tan leather boots with Goldilocks heels, not to thin and not too thick, not too tall and not too short. Clearly, the seller had made a mistake. These boots were meant for someone else, yet somehow they had found their way to me.

They fit perfectly, and for a girl who is 5’’5 with size 5.5 feet, this was a rare occasion. I’ve never been someone who could share shoes with my friends and sometimes they don’t even carry my size in stores.

I had a moral dilemma on my hands. Should I return them to the seller? Offer to send them to the person who bought them? Keep them for myself and say nothing?

I decided to message the girl who sold them to me, explaining that while I did not order them, I would be happy to pay for them… or return them if you reaaaalllyyyy want me to.

There’s no mechanism for returning items on Depop. Your options are as follows: a) hope the seller is nice enough to Venmo you back, b) Repop the item and hope someone else buys it, or c) suck it up babe.

Because of this built-in no-return policy, the seller, a trendy NYU student, my angel sent from heaven, let me keep the boots for a heavily discounted price. Thus, I was officially the owner of a perfect pair of shoes and a believer in the Depop gods.

Now that I have racked up three years of experience on the app, both as a buyer and a seller, I am a self-proclaimed expert. I am confident that I can find anything one might want amidst the endless squares of clothing and accessories patiently waiting to be adopted. And it is only fair that I share my expertise.

Here is how I navigate Depop to find the hidden gems.

Personalizing your homepage

I find it helpful to treat Depop like a mood board because, while the end goal is to find specific items to purchase, interacting with listings that match your aesthetic, regardless of size or quality, will tell the algorithm what you’re looking for.

And from my experience, it is suspiciously accurate. Scrolling through my ‘suggested for you’ page eerily resembles my Pinterest feed, though less visually pleasing. Depop knows what I want before I do.

To begin personalizing your homepage, I recommend searching for brands and aesthetics that interest you. Additionally, at the bottom of the homepage is a section called ‘The Depop Edit’ which features staff-selected listings. This is a great way to explore what is trending on the app and to interact with styles you like.

Bargaining best practices

Bargain, bargain, bargain.

Like eBay, one of the first resale platforms, Depop has an offer feature. Shoppers can leave offers on specific items, with the option to bargain either an auto-generated discount or a custom amount. The seller will then have 24 hours to accept or decline the offer. Unlike eBay, an offer is not binding. So really, you’ve got nothing to lose.

Sellers can also send offers directly to shoppers. Unfortunately, the majority of my in-app notifications are not people ‘hearting’ my listings, but people offering me deals on pieces I’ve liked. While this can be annoying, it is also thrilling when you get a special, personalized offer that is totally not being sent out to the 200 other people that hearted the listing!!

And don’t be afraid to go low — more often than not a seller will not decline your offer but will hit you back with something in between your offer and the original price.

Ask questions

One of my favorite things about the app is how interactive it is. Behind every listing is a real person (usually a cool girl) who is there to answer any questions you have.

If you spot something you love but aren’t ready to commit, leave a message for the seller. Ask for more details about the fit or the condition, request additional photos, inquire about an item’s past life. It’s your right to have as as much information as possible about what you’re potentially purchasing.

Messaging sellers is also a great way to learn about bundles (when sellers will discount items if you buy multiple at the same time). If you express interest in a listing by reaching out, there’s a great chance a seller will offer you a bundle discount.

Now you might be thinking, how the hell do I sell my unwanted clothes? If I don’t want them, why should anyone else?

While I admittedly have much less experience with selling than buying, I have managed to make a pretty penny off of some items that were rotting in the back of my closet.

Show off your personality

The description section of a listing is a great place to throw any information that a buyer could possibly need. Of course, the description should include logistical things like the size and condition of an item, but it also should include that this shirt has a 90% success rate of DFMOs (dance floor make outs) and that it does wonders for the girls (tits, boobs, etc.). Being authentic in your captions shows buyers that you’re a real and trustworthy person who isn’t going to scam them.

Be your own mannequin

Pose 👏 in 👏 the 👏 clothes 👏.

It’s difficult to gage how something will fit when it’s sprawled out and wrinkled on a bedspread. As a shopper, I constantly gravitate toward listings that feature the clothes on a body.

There’s a reason brands photograph their clothing on models and not hangers.

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Cut the bullshit

I’ll keep this one short ‘n sweet.

If it’s Brandy Melville, it isn’t “vintage.”

If it’s Brandy Melville, it shouldn’t be $45.

Good luck out there, soldiers. Make me proud.

Your scalp throbs in pain from the impressive grip of 30 bobby pins that hold your bun in place on the crown of your head, making it impossible to sleep on your back. The waistband of your pink tights leaves a tender imprint in your stomach and hips (yes, even the ‘seamless’ ones). The straps of your skin-hugging lace leotard cuts harsh pink marks into your shoulders. Your skin is sticky with last nights sweat, a result of running La Esmeralda en pointe until it was near perfect, despite exasperated limbs and aching ingrown toenails.

I could have unravelled my slick bun when I got home from the studio, removed my uncomfortable uniform and showered off the perspiration and hair gel. But I was consistently exhausted. That final drop of energy to slip on comfy pajamas — because let’s be real, a shower was out of the question — was irretrievable after a full day of high school, dance and homework. In the studio, I was graceful and sleek. But when I got home, I was just gross.

Maybe this is where my detest for athleisure stems from. I’ve never associated athletic clothing with comfort. Leggings and a sports bra signified sore muscles and getting yelled at. I lived in gym wear, not by choice, but by necessity. There was nothing leisurely about it.

I’m being dramatic. It’s not like I’m traumatized by nylon and spandex. I slip on a pair of biker shorts every time I work out. I just can’t imagine choosing to wear a skin-tight athletic set to go to brunch or to go shopping. The thought of my body being so exposed in a non-athletic situation makes my stomach lurch toward my spine.

According to a hasty and non-fact-checked Google search, the athleisure market was valued at $394.24 billion in 2023 and is expected to rise to $1,069.84 billion over the next decade. I don’t even know how to pronounce that number. So clearly, I’m missing something.

After living in Chicago for a year, I’m accustomed to being the only one in jeans at a café. The girlies of the Windy City love a little Lulu Lemon. For the gym, great. For a hot girl walk, perfect. To play tennis, of course. But to breakfast? To day drink? I can’t get behind it.

Part of it also stems from my disdain for dressing exactly like everyone else. And I’m not sitting here on my high horse calling anybody out for following trends or dressing ‘basic.’ I’m talking about people literally wearing the exact same articles of clothing.

I have lost count of the number of times I have seen a group of girls walking around Lincoln Park wearing identical workout dresses — same style, same color, same brand. What is it about athleisure that makes girls so comfortable looking utterly identical to their peers? Why is it that, if we showed up to a party wearing the same mini-dress as someone else we might roll our eyes, but if we all show up to the hot-girl stroll in matching athletic sets we don’t so much as bat an eye?

And why is it that America is the only place where athleisure really exists? The antique cobblestone streets of Europe are not flooded with Alo and Set Active, nor are they overtaken by similar European brands. Leisurewear still has an air of, how you say, put-togetherness that America simply lacks.

And here is what really gets me. Call it what you want — leisurewear, loungewear — what we put on to sit around, to rot, to rest, to relax is what we wear when we are being lazy. So if you aren’t working out in any way shape or form, why do you get to pretend that you are? Why are we cosplaying going to the gym? Why are we masking our patriotic laziness under a tight layer of spandex?

One final note. This isn’t about judging people. Ultimately, what one wears is their choice and has no effect on my life. It’s about trying to understand this phenomenon that has completely taken over the retail market.

** Disclaimer: this post does NOT apply to my friends who love athleisure because 1) they are my friends whom I love very much and 2) they are so cute they get an athleisure pass. **

When I studied abroad in Prague, I lived a few blocks away from two independent designers’ studios. They were tiny storefronts, each only holding around 20 one-of-a-kind pieces produced in their respective back rooms.

This was the first time I had gone into a store and spoken to the person who made the clothes. As I tried on their pieces, I could feel their eyes on me through the fitting room curtain. I was putting something on my body that existed nowhere else; that was sewn by the hands of a young girl, who couldn’t have been a few years older than me, who stood on the other side of the makeshift dressing room. The knowledge that, if I bought something, I would be the only one in the world to have it was too enticing to pass up.

I bought a bubble-gum pink babydoll dress from a designer named Anna Tran. It was so unlike me; the color, the simple fact that it was a dress. But it felt good. It was mine and no-one else’s. And if anyone asked, I could say, ‘Oh sorry, this is from an independent boutique in Prague.’ Come on, that’s cool. Like, objectively. 

I have since kept my eyes peeled for independent designers, both in person and on social media. In a world riddled with cheaply made, copy-and-paste fast fashion, I find that following up-and-coming designers is the most exciting way to discover new styles. 

For a story I wrote a few months ago about personal style, I spoke to an independent stylist in Chicago named Jabari Sandifer. He noted that many independent designers are ripped off by bigger brands. Without the backing of a notable name, small designers are easy targets for brands like Shein and Zara to steal unique designs that they can create for a molecule of the cost. 

Whether you are browsing or purchasing, independent designers deserve your attention. They are often producing sustainably, if not in terms of materials than regarding ethical production practices. And they have the freedom to create wherever they want, without stakeholders or opinions to sway their artistic decisions. Here are a few of my favorites.

Bye Frisbie | @byefrisbie

Frisbie (that’s probably not his actual name, but who knows!) is an LA-based designer who specializes in bags. He predominantly works with recycled denim to make his detailed creations, which often feature motifs of houses and landscapes.

His needlework is among the most intricate I’ve ever seen. One quick scroll through his Instagram Reels demonstrates why his prices range from $20 for a simple bucket hat to $7,500 for a backpack shaped like an apartment complex. He has worked with athletes to create custom designs and recently did a campaign for New Belgium: a Frisbie x Fat Tire 6-pack carrier.

Paula Votteler | @paulasprojects_ 

What if someone told you they found the perfect clutch for your wedding day — something white (obviously), unique, pearlescent and elegant. The catch? It’s made of entirely recycled yogurt cups. The other catch? You’d never be able to tell. 

Paula Votteler is a designer based in Berlin who does everything from up-cycling vintage garments to creating handbags from scratch. What caught my attention though is her work with recycled plastic. Using water bottles, yogurt containers and other throw-away objects, she crafts beautiful handbags that seriously belong in a museum exhibit. She hand-cuts the recycled scraps into tiny shapes, often circles, molds them into 3-dimensional beads and threads them into a pattern that envelops the entire purse.

When she’s not creating eco-friendly handbags, she is a skilled thrift-flipper, taking frumpy second-hand pieces and transforming them into unrecognizable, chic pieces.

I wouldn’t be surprised to read about her in Vogue or WWD in a few years. And I hope I get the byline.

Maggs Rags | @maggs_rags

Enter the world of Magg’s Rags, where rats are prima ballerinas, lobsters sunbathe in itty-bitty bikinis and alligators wear sexy red cowgirl boots. Each of her one-of-a-kind patchwork designs are a character in her storybook collection of recycled crewnecks, camisoles and T-shirts, straight from your Pinterest board. My personal favorite designs include: mice playing pool, lobsters drinking martinis, and the New York City pizza rat with sneakers that actually lace up.

Common themes in her work include animals (though not your cute furry friends, she favors the underdog rodents and roaches), martinis and martini ingredients, vintage cars and funky furniture. It is impossible not to smile at her designs, and if you are lucky enough to make it to one of her clothing drops, it is impossible to choose what to purchase. 

She has been transparent on her social media about her designs being stolen by conglomerates like Shein (EW!) so I beg you, support our girl directly — she releases a small collection of new pieces every two weeks on her website.

Antoine Guerin | @antoine.guerin_

I’ve never been one of those girls who thinks about my wedding. I’ve never fantasized about walking down the aisle and I don’t have a dream first-dance song. But if I do get married, I want Antoine Guerin to design my wedding gown.

His dark and romantic oeuvre features dainty corsets and dresses, whose creation he documents through mesmerizing Instagram videos set to classical melodies. He takes intricacy to another level, creating pleated fabrics with a beautiful quality of movement that balances the geometric structure of the corsets. 

Guerin has mastered the dichotomy of simplicity and singularity. From a distance, his designs aren’t over the top, but upon a closer look, there is so much detail that is consistent over his body of work.

Guerin is one to watch. He has his eyes on major fashion houses and has already worked with Mugler and Schiaparelli.

Sunworn Vintage | @sunwornvintage

Dana Andrews, creator of Sunworn Vintage, couldn’t have come up with a better name for her design business if she tried. Her creations are literally sun-worn, predominantly crafted from used towels that are transformed into everything from water bottle carriers to tote bags to flappy winter hats. Her colorful creations conjure a place where beach-meets-mountains, reflecting both the sunny and outdoorsy spirit of her hometown, Salt Lake City, Utah.

She has expanded her unisex designs into different materials and styles since I first started following her, but she continues to meld functionality and funky. Andrews releases her clothing in small batches and is occasionally open for custom orders where you can mail her a fabric and a design request.

Special shout out to Nicole McLaughlin

I didn’t include her in this list because she’s not really a small designer anymore. She’s partnered with Fila, Calvin Klein, Puma, Prada, and Reebok, and her unconventionally functional designs have attracted over 800k followers on Instagram.

I’ve been following her for years, gawking at her creativity and asking myself how did she think of that?!!! We know her, we love her, and if there’s one to watch, it’s her.

Cool people shop small businesses. And remember, whatever you buy, wear it well :)

I’m not exaggerating. I look forward to the Met Gala all year — to marveling at the best of fashion and judging — harshly — the worst.

This year’s theme was “The Garden of Time,” based on the Costume Institute’s Spring 2024 exhibition entitled “Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion.” I envisioned delicate, ethereal and abstract. Pastels, florals, mesh and lace. And while a few stand-out attendees pushed the boundaries and brought the theme to life, we saw a surprising amount of dark colors, geometric silhouettes, and straight-up boring looks.

I know everyone’s been waiting for my opinion, so alas: the hits and misses of the 2024 Met Gala, from your favorite unqualified fashion critic.

Tyla

My best dressed of the night, the singer stunned in Balmain by Olivier Rousteing and reminded us why we are all gathered here today: to celebrate art. Her dress, made of three different kinds of sand and perfectly molded to her body, belongs in a permanent exhibition.

While most attendees went the “garden” route, fronting florals galore, Tyla dove into the “time” aspect of this year’s concept. So points for being on theme and bonus points for doing something different. And bonus bonus points for being carried up the red carpet stairs like a perfect little doll. And the hourglass handbag!? There is hope for fashion yet.

Elle Fanning

Balmain triumphed again with Elle Fanning’s striking gown. The ice-like garment is so exquisite, it feels wrong to label it as a piece of clothing. It’s a work of art that belongs in a museum beside Tyla’s sand sculpture.

While Fanning would top my best-dressed list regardless of the theme, she nailed the “Garden of Time.” Her look appears to be directly inspired by the J.G. Ballard short story from which the theme derives. In it, Ballard describes flowers in the center of a garden, “their slender stems, like rods of glass, bearing a dozen leaves, the once transparent fronds frosted by the fossilized veins.” It’s spot on. It’s so good. It will live in my mind forever. No one, NO ONE, did it better than Rousteing and crew.

Gigi Hadid

Gigi consistently shows up and shows out for the Met. And unlike some of her supermodel counterparts, she’s not afraid to take risks — like her 2022 Versace latex-meets-quilt, dominatrix-meets-cockroach look that polarized the public. Whether you love her or hate her, you’ve got to respect her openness to experiment. 

This year, she played with contrasting masculinity and femininity, dressed by one of my favorite designers, Thom Browne. Her look took more than 70 people and 13,500 hours to make. And the attention to detail is not lost. The off-the-shoulder top is distinctly feminine, but the skirt is a tuxedo jacket, and then some. The black lining on the suit adds a striking cartoon-esque effect without crossing the line of costume. And a classic Hollywood bouncy bob and red lip complete the look. The dress also features a dainty pocket, as every dress should, almost invisible on her left breast.

Imagine if she had worn the suit version of this look for the after-party. She didn’t, but imagine.

Sabrina Carpenter

As a new Sabrina fan, thanks to that me espresso, I was eagerly awaiting her look. Styled by Oscar de la Renta, she fronted one of those two-in-one dresses that are popular on red carpets. On the top, a tight and simple black bodycon dress. On the bottom, a pale blue, pillowy skirt. She looked beautiful, but I expected more. 

Online, she is being coined the “Cinderella” of the 2024 Met. But I think this look was a missed opportunity. Sabrina is known for her feminine energy, from her buoyant blond locks to her bejeweled mini-skirt-corset sets. I wanted something more ethereal, something more woodland fairy than modern ball gown. Disappointment aside, I regret that I didn’t become a “Carpenter” sooner. I’m working laaaaateee… 

Taylor Russell

Taylor. Motherfucking. Russell. Queen of corsets. Queen of cannibalism. Just kidding. But ever since I saw her in Bones and All, she’s been on my list of ones to watch. This isn’t the first time she’s done a structured corset — at the Bones and All premier, she fronted an insane Schiaparelli drop-waist corset, complete with a geometric cropped blazer. But my jaw dropped when she stepped onto the carpet in this Loewe creation. 

The polished wash of the wooden corset matches her skin tone almost perfectly, creating the illusion that her torso is made of tree bark. This was her inspiration, she told Ashley Graham (whose look I did NOT like) in a pre-carpet interview. She’s always dreamed of being a tree. Seriously, could she be any more loveable? 

If you haven’t already, take a moment to stalk her Instagram. I’m calling it now, she is one of the next high-fashion It Girls.

Kim Kardashian

I have so many questions. Can she breathe? Where are her ribs? Why is she wearing a cardigan? I have to imagine that this was a PR move to get people talking about how unrealistically tiny her waist is. Because this is not good. On the carpet she let her discomfort get the best of her in a very un-Kim-like manner. This isn’t the first time she’s wedged herself into a constricting look at the Met Gala. Just two years ago, she controversially squeezed into Marilyn Monroe’s iconic “Mr. President” dress, open about needing to lose a lot of weight in an unhealthy amount of time. But has she gone too far?

And the cardigan. What the fuck is going on? It looks like something sitting in the back of my closet that I’ve been meaning to drop off at a thrift store. She told the press she was going for an I just had a crazy night in the garden, my hair is all messy, hahaha vibe. But I’m not buying it. She is too meticulous about her fashion choices for this to be the original vision. I am going to need a serious journalistic investigation into this. The people need answers. 

Mona Patel

If you didn’t know who Mona Patel was before last night, you’re not alone. It was the Indian entrepreneur’s first Met Gala, and what a debut. She was styled by Law Roach, best known for his work with Zendaya, in a custom Iris Van Herpen dress.

Her butterfly-inspired rose-and-champagne-colored gown featured kinetic butterflies that wrapped around her arms and gently fluttered their wings. She floated up the carpet like a woodland fairy who came straight from the garden with her insectile friends. Is she a new Met Gala It Girl? I’m excited to find out.

Barry Keoghan

Thank you, Barry, for not wearing a boring suit. And thank you, Burberry, for crafting this Victorian-Era velvet ensemble with no plaid in sight. According to Daniel Lee, chief creative officer at Burberry, Keoghan was dressed as a “stylish and eccentric gentleman.” And I have to agree. The top hat is the icing on the cake.

Emma Chamberlain

Originally, I thought Emma was a miss. I know what you’re thinking. I know. I’m Emma’s biggest fan — if she has no fans, I’m dead. But something about this look didn’t do it for me. This Jean Paul Gaultier design, inspired by a spring 2003 runway show, is darker than her previous Met looks. Last year she went with Miu Miu and the year before (my favorite) she attended with Louis Vuitton.

I feel conflicted. This look is definitely on theme, crafted from vine-like lace, and on par with her recent brunette-era gothic style. But I don’t think it flattered her. And it didn’t feel like Emma, which normally she does so well. HOWEVER, this look is objectively stunning. Too stunning to not be a hit.

And I refuse to say anything more without an attorney present.

Lana Del Rey

Lana Del Rey and Alexander McQueen are a match made in heaven. Need I say more?

Lil Nas X

Lil Nas X can always be trusted to make a statement on the carpet, and this year was no different. His Luar off-white suit is dripping in detail, embellished with over 50,000 Swarovski crystals. The abstract cut-outs, lined with what look like upholstered buttons, offer a satisfying contrast to the bedazzled panels. The look is effortlessly (not really) cool, streetwear meets splendor. And he looks comfortable, which we love.

Janelle Monáe

Janelle Monáe is one of the queens of the Met Gala. No argument there. She has attended the event since 2011 and she frequently appears in “best dressed” listicles. The great thing about her looks, creativity aside, is that she’s usually dressed for the theme. In 2019, her show-stopping Camp outfit featured a Picasso-esque face, deconstructed into a dress and accessorized with four (?) floppy hats. In 2022, her Gilded Glamour look, though a futuristic take on the theme, evoked the extravagance of the era. 

This year, she donned a Vera Wang custom dress made of holographic discs. Allegedly, there is a flower made of recycled plastic on her shoulder, but I think that’s a stretch. Overall, I was bored.

Wisdom Kaye

Finally, the master of fashion made his Met Gala debut. And he did not disappoint. This Robert Wun custom titled “The Burnt Red Rose” was hand-painted and burned to resemble an aging flower. Talk about “Garden of Time.” Anna, darling, please make sure Wisdom gets a permanent spot on the guest list.

Benedetta Piccioli and Pierpaolo Piccioli

I’m hesitant to say anything negative about this look because I love a father-daughter fashion duo. But this is a safe space. For the daughter of the former creative director of Valentino, I expect more than a prom dress. Sorry Benedetta, and sorry Donatella.

Lea Michele

Lea Michele surprised me. She’s not one that I usually look out for. But this beautiful blue Rodarte is just, chef’s kiss. And the pregnant belly completes the look. She’s giving joyful! She’s giving baby shower in the garden! Bravo, Lea!

Serena Williams

Who is her stylist? I just wanna talk…

Nicki Minaj

I’m not normally a fan of short dresses or the brand Marni, but this duo is a dream. This sculpture-like masterpiece honors both Nicki’s iconic silhouette and this year’s theme.

Though the dress’s base mimics solid gold, Francesco Risso, creative director of Marni, explained that it is made of satin covered in ten layers of paint.

While many stuck to a neutral color palette, Nicki’s vibrant blues, pinks and yellows brought the garden to life. This belongs in the exhibit next to Tyla and Elle Fanning’s looks.

And to all the men in boring suits…

Jack, this has nothing to do with you. My expectations for you aren’t that high, no offense. But you paid $75,000 to show up like this? Like this??? To all the men who show up in a boring suit: unless you have a beautiful woman on your arm, we don’t need you here. And no, your tiny lapel brooch does not qualify as being on theme.

~

Until next year… 

I am riding the Amtrak from Chicago to Ann Arbor, hugging my knees. The soles of my New Balance 550s are planted on my seat, representing my innate incapability of sitting like an adult. The sun is rising over a small strip of some middle-of-nowhere midwestern town, and with my self-curated The 1975 Slow and Soft playlist infusing my brain, it feels like an appropriate atmosphere to write. 

I am wearing my new Spanx Air Essentials Wide Leg pants; my current wardrobe fixation. I bought them with my mom in Nordstrom on Michigan Avenue when I was on a strict mission to find sweatpants. I was so meticulous in packing for my move to Chicago, I only brought one pair: ratty, worn-out and from Brandy Mellville. But I happened upon these flowy and buttery trousers and figured they were perhaps more multifaceted than a pair of Aritzia sweats. Who knew Spanx appealed to women under 50? My mom scoffed when I showed her the tag, but when I tried them on, it was obvious. These would be the chic addition to my closet. I could wear them to work, school, lunch, dinner, bed. They look good with just about anything, both loose and fitted in all the right places, hemmed perfectly above the tongue of my sneakers. I left the department store with a maroon pair, and two weeks later, my mom sent me another in navy. 

As someone who detests athleisure (hot take?), my loungewear options are limited. I won’t do leggings outside of the gym (and never on leg day), and if you catch me in yoga pants, something is seriously wrong. It’s not that I think athleisure is ugly. I actually think it can be really cute. I just don’t think it looks cute on me. It feels unnatural for my clothes to mirror the shape of my body. So while some have their Lulu leggings, I have my Spanx. And though I spent three months unwinding on the couch in my denim Levis — which are so worn they are basically sweatpants — I remained true to my sense of style, patiently searching for my perfect pair of comfy pants. 

So I’m sitting on the train, mulling over the contents of my suitcase and hoping I didn’t forget anything, not that it matters at this point, and I am pondering my wardrobe staples, the items I would never forget to pack. And many of them are things that a few years ago, I would never purchase. Things my mom would hold up from across the store that would make me roll my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek, an expression that silently said, “Girl, I would literally never wear that.” But my mom was right about so many things, as moms typically are. Though at the time I preferred short over long, skinny over baggy and cropped over full-length, I now find that every day I dress more and more like my mom. 

When I look back on childhood photos, the time before I could dress myself, notable motifs are toggle jackets, turtlenecks, short-sleeve T-shirts layered over long sleeves, and patterned sweater dresses. I think about how cool I could have been growing up if I listened to my mom instead of following the trends. To think that had I just been a touch more patient at the mall I could have skipped over the two-inch inseam Abercrombie jorts phase is too painful an idea. In all seriousness, I do think it’s important to go through those awkward, or in my case skimpy, fashion eras to discover that you might actually feel more comfortable wearing something ironically out of your comfort zone. 

Even since my freshman year of college, my style has evolved. My college debut was defined by cargo pants, specifically a stiff black denim pair adorned with pockets and accented with white stitching, and funky mismatched earrings, shout out to the pair that resembled a goldfish in a plastic bag that I lost somewhere in my dorm room. I donated those pants to Goodwill last year and occasionally find a rogue etsy earring hiding in a random purse pocket. The point is, I would never wear those pieces today, but at the time, they felt like Julia. 

I feel like I have finally reached a point of satisfaction with my style. I am comfortable with how I present myself to the world and I feel like my sense of fashion is consistent with the other aspects of my personality. It is inevitable, of course, that my sense of style will continue to develop over time, but I predict it will remain somewhat aligned with my current taste. I would define my present style as timeless. But with that, a few clarifications. Firstly, I do not mean to insinuate that I am always fronting classic elegance. That is absolutely not the case. Secondly, timelessness is not so much representative of my current collection of clothing, it is more so how I would characterize my dream wardrobe, given unlimited funds and closet space. There are certain pieces of clothing that have simply outlived others, things that people have been reliably sporting for decades. At my core, I am drawn more to timeless fashion than I am to modern trends. It only took me years of buying and recycling “popular” clothing to discover what really makes me excited to get dressed. 

And what is more timeless than a black mock neck. Funnily enough, I don’t own one right now. I sadly lost my favorite one, gifted to me by my mother, in Prague. But it is a staple nonetheless. Emma Chamberlain (my style icon) recently released a 30-minute YouTube video in which she created 13 different outfits, all with a black turtleneck as the base. It is an absurdly versatile piece that elevates any outfit of any aesthetic. On its own, the silhouette is so chic. It lengthens the neck and the arms and slims out the torso in a way that is simultaneously humble and sexy. But layer one under a graphic tee and you’ve got haute grunge. Top one with a sweater vest and you’re an academic weapon. Layer one under a dress and you’re just fucking cool. I happen to prefer a mock neck over a turtleneck, simply because I think it better flatters my round face. Regardless of which style you prefer, a black high-neck long sleeve is a key component to a timeless wardrobe.

My second non-negotiable is a favorite pair of jeans. And these will look different for everyone. They might be straight-legged, bell-bottomed, high-waisted, or even skinny, if that’s what you’re into. It truthfully doesn’t matter what they look like, so long as you know they will always make you feel good. My go-to is the Levi’s Baggy Dad, one size too big. As I said before, I wear mine so often I would catalog them in the same comfort category as sweatpants. They look good with every outfit and sit pleasantly on my hips. And if you know me, you know that until very recently, I had an intense vendetta against low-rise pants. I have actually heard myself say, outloud, that I feel more naked in low-rise jeans than I do when I am actually naked. But the Baggy Dads man, they changed me. I now not only tolerate a low-rise, but I actually think they are more comfortable and flattering than high-rise pants. While I love spreading the Baggy Dad gospel (they are almost always on sale by the way), find the jeans that work for you. Buy them in blue and black. And make sure you can sit in them. I know it’s ~just girly things~ to have “sitting jeans” and “standing jeans,” but in my opinion, if you can’t comfortably sit down, they aren’t worth it. Flattering jeans that don’t cut into your stomach do exist, I promise.

This next one is quite obvious: solid black and white T-shirts. Okay, duh. But the crucial element here is that these fit you perfectly. Now of course you can, and should, have various styles of T-shirts. I happen to have an affinity for ones that are two-sizes too big. But in addition to those, everyone should have at least one that fits beautifully, where the shoulder seams actually fall on the curve of the shoulders and the hem cuts off precisely above the pants. A common misconception (grounded in no statistics whatsoever that I completely made up) is that a shirt that fits has to be tight. “Fitted” and “fit” are not synonymous; something I learned from Stacy London and Clinton Kelly of TLC’s “What not to Wear.” Your perfect tee by no means has to hug the skin, it just has to fit you correctly, in whatever way that means for your body. There is something so uniquely chic about a shirt that fits. It creates the illusion that you put effort into your outfit. It makes the statement that you know yourself well enough to know what looks perfect on you.

Now for the feet. If I wanted to make myself seem cooler, I would say a pair of loafers are the most versatile, timeless shoe. And I do believe that — there’s a reason they have never gone out of style. There’s just something about a nice leather dress shoe that is so classic and attractive. While I do have a pair of sleek Dr. Marten’s loafers, I truthfully never wear them because they are so uncomfortable, likely because I never broke them in. My version of the loafer is a pair of Chuck Taylors. Obviously Converse aren’t as glamorous or artistic as a carefully crafted dress shoe, but they are undeniably classic. The style has, for the most part, remained unchanged since the original Chuck Taylor was released in 1922. And while I can’t imagine playing basketball in them, I pretty much wear them to do everything else. I wear them to class, on a night out, I wore them to work an office job and even to walk the stage at graduation. They are the shoes that best embody my sense of style. Casual, comfortable, consistent and classic.

Crew socks are a recently discovered necessity. I don’t have much to say about them, but I think they really tie an outfit together. They’re sleeker than an ankle sock, and they add a subtle notion of effort that makes you look more put together. 

Now to wrap it up, everyone needs a crossbody purse. If you have ever seen me outside of my apartment, you’ve seen my black leather crossbody with silver zippers and my little Prague keychain. This bag has become an extension of myself and I refuse to go anywhere without it. Though I do sometimes feel bad for my other neglected purses that I only occasionally bring out into the world, they just don’t provide the same sense of security as my beloved. I used to never carry a purse and would shove all of my belongings into the back of my phone case or my pocket. You would think that a misplaced driver’s license and hundreds of lost chapsticks might have convinced me, but it wasn’t until I studied abroad that I understood the comfort of carrying a bag. My mother gifted it to me as I packed for the airport and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since. I call it my “Mary Poppins bag” because although unassuming, it literally fits everything. It feels soothing to have all of my things with me when I leave the house, to not have to worry about whether or not I will need Advil on a night out or regret not bringing my film camera because I didn’t want to hold it all day. So whatever your bag looks like, patterned or plain, ludicrously capacious (iykyk) or subtle, you deserve an emotional support purse. 

I saw a TikTok, well, an Instagram Reels, that said you could die at any moment, and the outfit you are wearing could become your forever ghost outfit. As someone who believes in ghosts (I think), that idea resonated with me. So if I wake up feeling off, I’ll put on a black mock-neck, Levis, converse and my leather crossbody, just to be safe. Find your ghost outfit, something you would be comfortable haunting your enemies in for eternity, and wear it well. 

Some people meal prep for the week — put rice and veggies into little containers or something like that. I’m lucky if I remember to leave my apartment in the morning with a protein bar for breakfast, but without fail I can tell you exactly what I am wearing, Monday through Friday, on Sunday night.

Outfit prepping is a new thing I’ve been trying out, partially because it makes early mornings easier, but more so because it’s fun. I like to challenge myself by seeing how many outfits I can concoct from my wardrobe; how many different ways I can wear the same sweater or jeans. And I get a lot of inspiration from watching other people get dressed.

If your Instagram feed looks anything like mine, every other scroll features someone half naked, standing with their body in full frame, putting on an outfit. While I totally think that beginning a video without pants on is unnecessary, I love discovering the contents of other people’s closets and how they choose to style them. At the moment, these videos are Instagram’s singular redeeming quality, the sole reason I have yet to succeed at permanently removing the app from my phone. 

If Instagram isn’t shoving get dressed with me content down your throat, I present to you my favorite fashion girlies and gentleman who, in my eyes, are pushing creative boundaries and connecting with their audiences in refreshing ways. They give me hope for the future of social media when most other creators make me want to toss my phone out the window of a very tall building and move to the middle of a mountain range.

Jake Fleming | @jake.fleming

He’s chic, he’s a trailblazer, he is that bitch, and he’s obsessed with buying hyper-realistic animal purses. Jake Fleming is an it girl, and his over-the-top enthusiasm for avant-garde fashion is infectious. He first caught my attention with a video review of a $990 JW Anderson bag shaped like a frog that opened at the mouth. To pass the keep-or-return test, the bag (if you can even call it that; it’s made out of a hard plastic material and has no strap or handle) had to fit a Rhode lip balm, an Epipen, a credit card, an ID, an inhaler, and Benadryl. Against my doubts, there was room to spare, and thus began a series of other similar purchases. Fleming has since reviewed purses shaped like a pigeon, a penguin, a silver-studded micro-penis, a wiener dog with a mermaid tail, headphones (actually worn on one’s head), and a bejeweled champagne-colored pig. 

When walking down the streets of New York, however, you might not even notice his eccentric clutch. Instead, you might observe that he is wearing pants as a top and shirts as a skirt. Fleming has concocted an exquisitely unorthodox means of repurposing clothing, and he has mastered it so fluently it can be difficult to comprehend that his midi-skirt is actually three button-downs fastened together or that his angular top is a pair of trousers with the pant legs wrapped around his neck, crossed at his back, and held together by a belt at the waist. Fleming’s tagged photos are flooded with people recreating his imaginative style, and he somehow finds new ways to awe in every video. A result of his charm and sickening sense of style, he frequents high-profile runaway shows looking cooler than the models on the catwalk.

Atiya Walcott | @atiyawalcottfits

Atiya Walcott is a chai latte for the soul; unpretentious yet bold, soothing and refreshing. Her ritualistic editorial-quality videos each follow the same layout featuring an iterative voiceover atop instrumental music: 

My name is Atiya Walcott. I’m incredibly fashionable and let’s get dressed together. 

She is incredibly fashionable. And she may have the coolest coat collection I’ve ever seen. Walcott balances texture, print and color in a revitalizing way, often pairing subdued neutrals with a confident statement hat or coat. Blending dreamily with her poetic whimsicality is her style of video which is visually reminiscent of a Wes Anderson scene. She stands centered before interchangeable pieces of wooden furniture, framed by a high-ceiling seafoam-hued wall. With the help of editing, she floats backwards effortlessly onto the makeshift stage where a compilation of freeze frames reveal her outfit. Walcott is a breath of fresh air in an era of homogenous content. And she lives in Chicago. I heard people who live there are pretty cool.

Eden Masliah | @edenmasliah

Whenever a scroll session leads me to Eden Masliah’s congested New York City studio that is literally overflowing with clothes, I am transported back to college, sitting on a girlfriend’s bed and helping them choose an outfit for a night out. She is a fashion student, living on her own and taking the city streets by storm in baggy jeans, oversized hoodies, chunky shoes and a slick-back bun. Her style is way cool — streetwear meets chic — and her personality is irresistible. She talks to the camera the way one talks to a best friend, and her excitement for getting dressed seems in no way restrained by the fact that technically, she’s talking to herself.

Masliah currently has just short of 200-thousand Instagram followers, and that number is quickly growing. How she manages being a full-time fashion student, attending runway shows and brand events and filming content is beyond my scope of comprehension. But with all of the makings of an “it girl,” and a self-proclaimed hunger for greatness, she is one to watch. 

Siena Filippi | @simply.siena

I’ve followed Siena the longest of anyone on this list, sucked in by her thrift hauls and her sense of style that reminds me of my mom: vintage patterned “grandma” sweaters, low rise jeans and statement belts. The best word I can think of to describe her is adorable. Her darling style has evolved since our first acquaintance, but it hasn’t strayed far from where she began. She doesn’t experiment with crazy trends or play into a vast range of aesthetics. Instead, she has developed a cohesive sense of style. 

In addition to thrift hauls and style videos, Filippi runs her own online resale shop called Ri.Reclaimed where she curates and up-cycles vintage items as well as offers a personal styling service. And if that doesn’t impress you, in 2023 she designed and launched her own capsule wardrobe featuring a black mini skirt, black fitted T-shirt and beige cargo pants. As a member of the petit community (I think she’s 5’2), she has talked in length about her journey to finding silhouettes that elongate her body and enhance her figure. Her capsule collection is meant to flatter all, and from what I recall, received great reviews. 

If fashion isn’t necessarily your fancy, she also documents her long distance relationship with “Mr. Michigan,” her boyfriend whom she met via Instagram last year. They’re cute, and not in an annoying way. And if you need guidance for dressing your boyfriend like an indie/granola/stoner/skater boy, Siena is your girl. 

Krista Lavrusik | @kristalavrusik

Have you ever felt so excited that you’ve lost control of your body? When it’s hard to talk or to contain a massive grin. Maybe you even laugh out loud or catch yourself involuntarily dancing? That is how Krista Lavrusik feels every time she gets dressed. Or at least that’s how it translates through the screen.

If I didn’t love my mom so much, I would want Lavrusik to adopt me. Technically speaking, she’s older than anyone on this list, but her energy is that of someone who has worn a uniform their whole life and is finally experiencing the freedom of dressing themselves.

Her style isn’t anything revolutionary, and with Princess Diana cited as one of her fashion icons, her outfits typically feature thrifted crewnecks, button downs, straight-leg jeans, baseball caps and cowboy boots. She has this sparkle in her eyes that is ignited by basic pieces that many would flip past at a Goodwill without a second glance. 

If you’re looking for new ways to elevate your everyday style, Lavrusik participates in a video series called the 333 Challenge, where she takes three tops, three bottoms, three pairs of shoes and a few accessories and uses them to create as many outfit combinations as possible. For someone whose New Year's Resolution is to shop less (mostly because I literally cannot afford to shop), I love applying this approach to my own closet and watching my wardrobe come to life in a new way.

Vicky Montanari | @vicmontanari

Talk about a dream wardrobe. If anyone has mine, it’s Vicky Montanari. She was born in Rome and lived there through her adolescence before moving to Rio de Janeiro and then to her current home, Lisbon. Her worldliness is evident in her style, which blends vibrant patterns with prints and textures that shouldn’t work together but always do. Her Instagram page makes me want to add some color to my basic wardrobe and play around with long skirts, blouses and ballerina flats. 

Though she does have a taste for expensive European fashion that makes me slightly, okay a little more than slightly, jealous, her ability to style unique, albeit expensive, pieces makes her high taste a little less agonizing  — because there’s nothing I hate more than when people who have no fashion sense spend loads of money on tasteless clothes. 

I eagerly look forward to Montanari’s outfits the way I crave a summer trip to Europe where I can throw on a handmade, flowy maxi-skirt and strut down the cobblestone streets of a patinated city, hair blowing in the wind, sunglasses on and a beach nearby.