Leandra Medine's Blog, page 576

Fashion Talk: The Italians Are Coming!

What is so powerful about influence is that the clout of individual reverberates and peripheral talent gets to reap his or her benefits. Before Gucci punctuated fashion’s new eccentric, there were a handful of designers in Italy quietly doing their part to express the nuances of a version of new fashion. And maybe it was just me who didn’t pay close enough attention, but recently it seems that the interesting stuff in fashion is definitively coming out of Italy. Where Milan once felt a little bit like the orange LifeSaver or the deceased Instagram filter, Kelvin (that is, like the city you engage with only when you feel like you must), it’s becoming an incubator of fresh talent, reminding the misunderstood of its innate authority. The truth about who runs fashion.

Below, three designers to keep your eye on.

1. Aquilano.Rimondi by Tommaso Aquilano and Roberto Rimondi

“We design for women. Our aim is to enhance their silhouette and femininity playing with the juxtaposition of fabrics, volumes and sartorial elements. We want women to feel free and beautiful in our designs. Confident.”

Location: Milan

Vibe: High power female executive does not tolerate wage gap, comparisons to men. Will wear sequins when necessary.

Standout silhouette: It’s a toss up — a combination of the tailored suits and dainty kinks, like a racerback spaghetti strap, or sheer knee-length skirts.

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2. Marco de Vincenzo by Marco de Vincenzo

“Believe in creativity as I always do. And bet on a special garment, one that will have a value forever, because if the ideas are brave and clear, it will gain value over time.”

Location: Rome

Vibe: Groucho Marx once said that your 30s are like the teenagehood of middle age. This makes a lot of sense when you consider that you’ve already built the foundation of your identity but you’re willing to try on new ideas for size. Marco de Vicenzo, with his savoir-faire taps into these ideas, is unafraid to construct new concepts by season, as if his version of the eccentric is a little more grounded in reality.

Standout silhouette: the tea-length pencil dresses that somehow appears neither matronly or boring.

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3. Francesco Scognamiglio

Location: Milan

Vibe: Ballerina-cum-stylist who needs a sandwich, pursues said sandwich, gets caught up on bedsheets and linens floor in department store, fancies herself a coat from a duvet comforter, debunks myth of Black Swan.

Standout silhouette: The girly slip dresses — won’t they look great with flat lace-up sandals and sun kissed skin? They do a good job reading rough and cool in spite of themselves. That is, prim and feminine.

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Runway photos via Vogue Runway, collages by Krista Anna Lewis.

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Wide Leg Pants for the Skinny Jeans Addict

Pants shouldn’t feel scary, but they are. They bring up all sorts of emotions and highlight awful truths and illuminate insecurities about things that no one will ever notice — no one except for you and that rude, rude mirror (in a poorly-lit dressing room, I can almost guarantee you).

Skinny jeans, meanwhile — a different category from pants — have become something of a security blanket. Despite the fact that certain pairs require a vat of vaseline to “slip” into, they feel slimming. They shloop us in like Spanx, push the butt up like a renaissance chest and pair well with everything. They’re easy.

Which made me feel kind of bad when a few months ago, I told Katie Sturino in a purely hyperbolic fit that skinny jeans were dead. Dead, I repeated for dramatic measure.

They’re not dead. I was A) projecting and B) eager to see Katie in something other than a denim tube sock. JUST for once. For fun! To live vicariously through her like a stage mom on Dancing with the Babies or whatever that show is called!

So we decided to give the ultimate pant, the wide leg trouser, the old college try.

Tory Burch sweater, Eileen Fisher pants, Vass shoes (similar here), Vanessa Bruno bag

And immediately, Katie was like, “Bye!”

Full disclosure: the above look freaked her out. She said it was boxier than she’d normally lean, but thennn guess what else she said? She felt cool.

Pause for tip: when doing a boxy top with a wide-leg pant, think structure. One or the other should hold its shape in order to keep you from feeling messy-in-a-bad-way.

In the next round, we sexed her up a bit. Actually, technically all I did was suggest a bodysuit to balance out the volume down below and Katie, per usual, added the sex.

Tuxe bodysuit, ASOS pants, J.Crew shoes, Equipment scarf, NYDJ coat, Shinola notebook

Meow.

And because that was her vibe/a happy compromise, in round three, we kept the same idea and swapped out the items.

AYR turtleneck sweater (another option here), Eileen Fisher wool pants, J.Crew shoes, Karen Walker sunglasses, Mother of Pearl clutch

Pause for tips: In general, with wide-leggers, buy the size for your thighs and then tailor the tummy and length. They look best when they hit right at the waist, are less scary with heels but can work with a sneaker if you don’t let the foot fabric pool.

Consider these pants the next time you’re washing your skinnies. Let them be your nighttime alternative or interview killer. Think of them as a new way to babe; a different kind of clothing rhyme.

Besides, you know what they say, right?

The bigger the pants, the bigger the dance.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis; o utfit credits and more styling tips in slideshow above. Follow Katie Sturino on Instagram @the12ishstyle, and check out her website here.

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Oh Boy Episode 18: Hari Nef

“I always wanted to be beautiful,” actress and model Hari Nef tells Jay Buim. “I never felt beautiful when I was a person who was presenting as male. I wasn’t any more beautiful after shooting a fashion editorial than I was before it, but it’s the most conventional affirmation of your physical beauty that you possibly can have. After so many years of trying to figure out how not to hate my body…I just never thought people would see me like that. That was the original rush. Now it’s more of a negotiation, trying to feel beautiful on my own terms and not have it come from the validation.”

In this episode of Oh Boy, we meet Hari Nef, the first openly transgender model signed to IMG who plays Tante Gittel in the 2nd season of Transparent. She speaks about the set’s welcoming environment (she describes it as “gender-chill”) and wonders aloud what the film and television industry would be like if it were controlled by women instead of men. She also speaks to the need for trans rights, more understanding and less stigma — on screen, off camera and in real life.

And like everyone else, she’s trying to figure out what’s next. “I’m just kind of starting my journey,” she says.

Follow Hari on Instagram and Twitter (one of our favorite Instagrams to follow!). Host Jay Buim also has a pretty killer Instagram and website. Logo and feature illustration by Kelly Shami.

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Life is Messy. Keep Fashion Fun!

I watched the tragedy unfold in slow motion: our waitress smiling as she perched the overflowing pitcher of beer on our table, my friend’s hand reaching over to pour some into a plastic cup, a menacing wave of foam creeping toward the edge, and finally, a generous slosh of liquid landing squarely on my left foot.

Normally I don’t cry over spilt beverages (beer, milk, or otherwise), but it just so happened that I was wearing my new pair of olive green suede platform sandals that night. I had recently acquired them at Bergdorf Goodman’s shoe sale to the sweet tune of 50% off. Even with the discount, they were still an investment. I justified it by convincing myself that I would wear them all the time because they were a unicorn combination of beautiful and comfortable.

And now — beer-stained.

I frantically glanced around for a paper towel or spare bottle of suede cleaner or time travel device that I could use to rewind the past 30 seconds. But then I remembered that I was in the basement of a sketchy karaoke bar, not Hogwarts.

Wiping away excess liquid with my hand, I cursed myself for thinking I could get away with wearing nice shoes in the presence of alcohol. Had college taught me nothing?

The next morning, armed with a slightly stale bagel for sustenance, I contemplated the tricky quandary of fashion’s intersection with real life.

It struck me that while other expressions of creativity are relegated to museums or safely admired from behind velvet ropes, fashion is not limited to the removed voyeurism of its runway shows and glossy magazine spreads. On the contrary, our relationship to fashion is often distinctly up-close-and-personal because we literally live inside of our clothing, whether we’re swaddling our necks in an oversized scarf or zipping ourselves into the fashionable confines of a denim romper.

In the past, I’ve been tempted to hoard prized belongings on the top shelf of my closet, reserving them for mess-free special occasions like Election Day or Winter solstice. But even extreme caution is not immune to risk. I learned that the hard way in sixth grade when I saved a new blue-and-yellow striped polo shirt to debut the weekend my middle school crush was visiting with his family. After finally wearing it for the first time, I discovered the shirt had been tos sed into my sister’s mildew-ridden sleep-away camp laundry bag, leaving its blue-and-yellow striping covered in tiny dots of mold. Basically, it resembled a preppy incarnation of the Bubonic plague. My mom took one look and handed me the garbage bin.

No matter what we do, our tangible relationship with what we wear can result in a bit of messiness. Beer spills on suede shoes, lipstick smears on shirt collars, buttons pop off cherished cardigans, and eating a burrito for lunch makes you look slightly preggo in your high waist jeans. But dammit, that burrito was probably delicious. That party was probably fun, that smooch was likely worth it. Joie de vivre exists whether dressed or not — so why not go all out?

Consider stains evidence of a life well-lived in clothes well-loved.

And maybe carry a Tide-to-go pen.

Protagonist shirt, Shourouk earrings, Yves Saint Laurent ring, Jennifer Fisher gold bow cuff, Sylvia Toledano gold pearl cuff, NARS lipstick in “Dragon Girl;” Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis.

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Ordered Lunch Too Late? Five Ways to Procrastinate Until It Arrives.

Bleeeerrrrrggg, welcome to the midday lull. Bet your brain feels far too cookie dough soft and gooey to focus on anything productive, right? The only solution (E. coli free!) is to take a break. Read each of these tidbits from the web reeeeeal slowly and make at least 10 bathroom trips (walking, naturally, the long way around the office). It’s a surefire way to put off your to-do list for at least another few hours…at which point we should both start doing some work. Really.

Alexa Chung can’t make your desk lunch taste better, but man can she spice up a closet.

Midnight Cowboy

A photo posted by nicholasgrimshaw (@nicholasgrimshaw) on Dec 31, 2015 at 5:06pm PST

Word on the street is that she’s obsessed with Réalisation Par, an up-and-coming Australian label full of flouncy mini dresses (the kind you’d imagine Brigitte Bardot skipping down cobble stone streets in) and plunging, going out tops (those are BACK, remember?) with a louche sort of Studio 64 swagger. See that dress she’s wearing above? Same brand. You get in white, I’ll get it in black? Know what’s more expensive than being a man? Being a woman. According to a study from the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs, the “female” version of everything from toys to clothes to personal home care product costs more than its “male” counterparts. (I knew my razor was more expensive, but now you’re telling me my pink, sparkly Windex is too?!) So what’s the solution here? Ask for a raise or ditch the “chick magnets”? [Grazia Daily UK] In need of a coffee break? Get Marc Jacobs to go with you!

@zoolander filmed and directed by @nicolasnewbold starring @themarcjacobs @chardefrancesco @lorenzomartone @alexander_simai – 1st AD @madisynritland #stbarths A video posted by Marc Jacobs (@themarcjacobs) on Jan 2, 2016 at 4:06pm PST

In what might be one of my favorite Insta clips to date, MJ and his pals filmed their very own take on Zoolander’s legendary “Orange Mocha Frappuccino” montage while vacationing in St. Barts. Although I refuse to use the term “squadgoals” in 2016, if I was, hypothetically, maybe, possibly going to reconsider, now would be a good time. [The Telegraph]

Already planning tomorrow’s work outfit? Copy Jaden Smith, who looks dang good in a skirt. 

@sarahdonnealia @riannevanrompaey @jean_campbell #jadensmith @christiaingrey in the new @louisvuitton SS16 ad Campaign photographed by Bruce Weber   A photo posted by

The To-Do Lists of Man Repeller

You know what can be overwhelming?

I don’t have time to wait for you to answer that question! It’s too overwhelming! So I’ll just say it:

Getting back to work after the end-of-year break sucks.

At least after the summer come the holidays — first Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then–

You know the drill. But after New Year’s …after New Year’s, there’s no new break nearby. Quite the contrary. Just a shit ton of winter. Say goodbye to nice shoes and hello to boots with traction! Who needs a snazzy if not frivolous but completely uplifting statement coat when you can wear a compression comforter with sleeves on it, am I right?

Of course I’m not right.

This is without question the worst stretch of the year. I would rather listen to Rebecca Black sing about all the other days of the week than face the upcoming three months, but I’m an adult (evidence: I’m still citing Rebecca Black as a relevant pop culture reference), so I can’t just lift the covers over my head like a groundhog and come out only when the sun’s shadow has assured me it’s not going anywhere. I have to engage. To participate and contribute to society as any other self-respecting Samaritan would. And the only way to do that, as far as I’m concerned, is to enlist empathy. Which is why I made three quarters of the Man Repeller pie share their to-do lists for the first day back. Yes they would be exhausting — would things like order lunch ever even go checked off? — perhaps, too, infuriating. (Really, you’re gonna put “call grandma” on your list?) But ultimately, they would also be comforting.

Because

You know how it goes

Misery loves company. So, please! Impart your to-do list in the hamper below or at the very least, enjoy ours and wonder why Yvonne (the woman behind the Twitter account, for the uninitiated), has to call Virgin America.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

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You Might Be Calling Your Flat Shoes the Wrong Thing

A debate recently broke out in the office regarding the difference between brogues, oxfords and loafers. Some of us believed the first two were the same thing. Others claimed that the tell of an oxford was that it comprised of two colors — a “saddle shoe.” All of us had different definitions of a loafer. It was absolute madness and wigs were flying and shoes were lobbed at heads. It was extremely uncivilized. But pandemonium is only natural when you don’t know what to call the items on your feet!

The only way to restore order to the office was to seek outside help of an expert. I called upon Dan Rookwood, US Editor for MRPORTER.com, to break it down and bring back our office peace.

An oxford is a formal lace-up shoe. It is not, as some of you may have thought, an esteemed English university worn on one’s feet.

So, yes:

Dieppa Restrepo oxfords

No:

University of Oxford, Old Souls Quad

Rookwood says you can distinguish the oxford from the other main type of lace-up shoe, a derby, by looking at the lacing itself: “An oxford has a ‘closed front’ which gives it a sleeker appearance and thus is usually a more formal shoe than a derby.”

If you look at an oxford, it is basically wearing a lace-up V-neck shirt that stops where your foot bends.

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The derby, Rookwood explained, is a lace-up where the eyelet facing are stitched on top of the vamp (the front section of the shoe). This is called an “open front.” If you take out the laces, it opens like a flasher opening his trench. An oxford would never do that, both because it is more dignified and because it wouldn’t physically be able to, thanks to the stitching.

According to Rookwood, a brogue is “strictly speaking, a decorative perforated pattern in the leather of the shoe. You could have an oxford shoe that is also a brogue, for example.”

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Fun fact: a brogue is also a heavy Irish and sometimes Scottish accent. “Tom Branson has a sexy Irish brogue.”

A loafer is a slip-on shoe without laces. “Think of the classic Gucci horsebit loafer,” said Rookwood who kindly does not think I am an idiot despite basically asking, “What is a shoe?”

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Fast Quiz: 

The man in the orange kilt is wearing A) an oxford B) a loafer C) a brogue?

The real answer is that this picture isn’t close up enough to tell. We know they are not loafers. He is likely wearing oxfords as opposed to derbys due to the formal nature of his dress and though I see no apparent perforation to determine these oxfords as brogues, he definitely speaks with a Scottish brogue.

The more you know.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis; Illustration by Emily Zirimis and Handwriting by Krista Anna Lewis

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What a World We Live In: I Can’t Opt Out

On the last day of 2015, I was sitting in the breakfast room of a resort in Mexico eating a plate of papaya thinking about what I would do for dinner when I got home that evening to celebrate New Years with my husband. I scrolled through Instagram and with each passing photo, I felt like New Year’s Eve was a bigger deal than it had ever been. Like the earth had sent an echo through its pockets, affecting all those who reckoned themselves participants of the planet to demand that this year, they go hard.

There were the extensive sunrises and sunsets, peppered by palm trees and white sand beaches. These came with captions that bid adieus on this day of finalities. Then there were the sparkles and the sequins — glitter and beads that came only to underline comments bursting with hope and anticipation to ignite the fire of unknown that lay ahead. And then, of course, there were the hollow calls to FOMO — inflated plans that seem unnatural, there only as if to say, “What I’m doing is better than what you’re doing.”

Of course, though, none of us are strangers to social media FOMO. Is not, after all, Instagram a mere popularity contest to prove that “my life is better than yours”? But as with everything else, you have the choice to opt in or out. Follow or unfollow. Like or dislike. And frankly speaking, that conversation is stale. What I’m more concerned with is a recent condition I’ve identified that has magnified the celebration of global events to a degree that is not just becoming unsustainable but I fear is actually affecting my ability to think for myself.

When I started out with the plate of papaya that morning, I planned to, at best, cook something vaguely festive while wearing a ton of sequins to inaugurate the new year. At worst, I’d watch a movie and fall asleep before the ball drop, but as I let myself fall down the rabbit hole that is a new kind of TMZ, I felt less and less like the plans I wanted to put in place were adequate enough. Like I needed to be making a bigger deal, one more in line with the preparations for the many hooplas that I was seeing. And I felt like I needed to be loud about it. To reflect on the previous year publicly, to renounce bad habits and to find a mystical sunset to post so that I could thank the fantastic citizens of Man Repeller’s account. (Seriously, though, thank you.)

But see, that’s not even it. Remember when cultural activities like Coachella, Art Basel, SXSW or Fashion Week were specifically catered to the interests of very particular groups (music, art, tech, clothing) of creatives? Don’t you find that they’ve each become their own massive, global experiences that are supposed to appeal to everyone within, essentially, a certain age bracket? I’ve been to Coachella four times and guess what? I don’t even like live music. It scares me to be among huge crowds and takes about three days to recover the ringing in my ears after the fact.

I know that realistically, there are those who are strong enough to plead the fifth. But what about those who, like me, aren’t? Who feel obligated to engage even when it’s not coming from the most authentic place? Keep it up and the dishonesty begins to affect you in a very real way. You run the risk of diluting your identity. Of convincing yourself that you want something you don’t —  or you are someone who ultimately, you aren’t. And when you’ve done that, when you’ve lost your grounding, don’t you lose what makes you you? At that point, I gotta wonder: what are we left with if not a society of people who are miserable but can’t figure out why?

Collage by Emily Zirimis

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Welcome to #Goals Month on Man Repeller

Where the word once used to stand alone in the name of setting and making targets, “#goals” — preceded by that important hashtag — has become the most sincere form of Internet compliment.

Examples:

Your outfit is #goals

Their relationship is #goals

#Squadgoals. 

Translations:

I love your outfit.

I want a romantic connection where sweatpants and pizza are foreplay, too.

You guys look fun, wish we could hang.

(It’s actually refreshing amid all of the mean stuff that gets thrown into the social media-sphere.)

But of course, the original meaning of those goals is “I want to achieve.” One sets goals to score — that promotion, those abs, that finally-organized closet, a savings account; it’s not meant for a hashtag to linger in the Inter-ether and then be forgotten like a party hat following New Year’s Eve the moment your friend mentions you under a new meme.

No.

Real goals keep us focused. They help us prioritize.

Leandra and I talked about resolutions leading up to her most recent episode of Monocycle, and we asked each other: have you ever actually kept a resolution? My answer was no — that the large and lofty bars I’d set went un-jumped, sometimes limboed under but were most typically walked around. Throughout the year, however, things do get accomplished. Satisfying items are checked off the list of life to-do’s. Goals — both little and big — are achieved.

They just aren’t always written down in the New-Year-flavored permanent marker with a stop watch attached, ticking down second by second each day.

Which is precisely why we’ve turned January into #Goals Month at Man Repeller. December, the month of Little Indulgences, concluded with a post asking you what your Goldfish Resolutions were; what things will you aspire to achieve so that you grow and feel great as opposed to shrink in shame for not becoming the world’s youngest billionaire who also lost three pounds. Because life (and I promise you I’m telling myself this, too) is not really a ladder. Each wrung climbed is not another step toward the best and ultimate you. You’re already you. Life is way more shape-shifty. Wobbly. Fuck-up-able. It means your target can and will change.

In basically every sport, they tell you to zero-in and focus on The Thing ahead: the net, the ball, the spot on the wall if you’re a ballerina and spinning really fast. But that net, the ball, the spot on the wall — it changes every game. It changes within the game! So you just keep setting goals.

Pick a spot and aim.

Welcome to Goals Month.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

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All the People We Want to Be in 2016

It’s 2016: “New year, new me.” Regardless of what “resolution” means to you, who do you want to be?

What about Iris Apfel for her accessory-centered weight training program. Batman for his built-in sunscreen. Picasso for his sword (just as much as his shorts) and anyone who wears sequins for the hollering hoot of it. What about women who wear color like it’s the last thing they’ll ever do? What about she who stands without a slouch, gets tan lines without the ouch and dares the city to come at her winter whites with any crap?

Of course, pictures of all these human honey bees would make a lot more sense, so scroll like a jewel-bellied troll and then way down in the comments, add your colorful epitome of #goals. Typing them out loud is half the battle.

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