Leandra Medine's Blog, page 714

Fashion PSA: Madewell Jeans are The Best I’ve Ever Had

Is the jury still out on which is harder to find — the perfect man or perfect jeans?

My instinct says no — but not particularly because I’ve been able to resolve that one is easier to locate than the other. It appears as though I’ve been able to find at least approximations of both in relatively fell swoops. And though it took a longer time to find the jeans (I resolved the man was perfect long before he resolved that I was a fitting partner), the street lamp at the end of that road provided hope and promise. Hope because, relatively speaking, the jeans in question are actually affordable. Promise because any physical manifestation of good denim that could plausibly combat ye olde saying, “they don’t make ‘em like this anymore” is reason enough to investigate. No?

So let us turn our attention to Madewell, where the indigo flows like bats in the night, the rises vary according to your relationship with self and not the other way around and the variety of fits range more extensively than that of the mylk selection at Organic Avenue.

I, personally, have taken toward the high riser in black sea with the holes at the knee. They’re great with navy sweaters when its cold and sequined tank tops when it’s hot. In a dream world, I’m also wearing these. In white. With boots and knits and t-shirts and dresses over them.

I have yet to meet a shirt more useful than this one and know — just know — that come Fall, this mighty fellow will fall into the rotation more seamlessly than a duck meets water.

What?

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See for yourself. It’s like George Zimmer always said — you’re gonna like the way you look, I guarantee it.

Images via Madewell look books 

Why We Need Cathy Horyn

Cathy Horyn’s piercing prose is back and just in time to jolt fashion out of its summer stupor. On Monday, T: The New York Times Style Magazine published one of Horyn’s first long-form pieces since leaving the Times in January after her longtime partner, Art Ortenberg, fell deathly ill. In the article, titled “Sign of the Times,” Horyn expounds on the swift simplification of fashion as of late — a trend she believes to be typified by Hedi Slimane of Saint Laurent.

Horyn writes like most people play a game of Battleship; she makes as few moves as possible and always with the intent to blow you out of the water. Sentences like this one read like a punch to the gut: “I’m no fan of Slimane’s, but he’s clever. In two years as creative chief, he has barely broken a sweat as he fetches another pussy bow from the ’60s time capsule.”

Boom.

In the 1,233 words that follow, Horyn argues that fashion today has lost a sense of brazen purpose. Rather than striving to be bold, designers like Slimane are cranking out straightforward, relatable clothes that fit within a digestible brand image. In Horyn’s words: “…what was once noble is now a universal fast-track to fabulousness.” With each new season, fast fashion and the runway become increasingly indistinguishable.

What makes this piece so poignant is not only Horyn’s ability to succinctly capture the current spirit (or lack thereof) of fashion, but also how her qualms with Slimane echo a similar void in fashion criticism that was created when she left. Unlike some aspects of the fashion business today, Horyn is not afraid to be audacious. She has something to say and wants you to hear it loud and clear. There are no “ifs” or “maybes” in her writing, like in the headlines we see today.

Since replacing Horyn at the Times in March, Vanessa Friedman has done an impressive job producing articles on a more regular basis and increasing the publication’s online presence. Like Slimane did with Saint Laurent, Friedman brought the Style Section into the modern age. Her opinions are nothing short of bold — take “Beyoncé, a Legend of Rock, but Not Fashion,” an article that provoked endless Internet commentary. Yet despite Friedman’s best efforts, I still worry that fashion criticism in general is adopting a fast-fashion model where trending content is valued over stylized substance. Friedman chooses to spend her energy and talents keeping up with business, politics and popular culture trends and as a result oftentimes forgoes thinking outside the proverbial shoebox.

In comparison, Friedman’s pieces are lengthy while Horyn’s reviews adhered to a strict 500-word maximum. Friedman asks thought-provoking questions; Horyn provides answers before anyone even knows to ask. Friedman speaks to everyone; Horyn answers to nobody. These women represent two very different approaches to fashion criticism — both equally laudable — but Horyn’s extended absence made me realize just how rare her voice is. And how glad I am that she’s back.

Without a regular column for the Times, Horyn now ironically possesses just that: time, which is a rare and priceless commodity in fashion and on the Internet. Now, more than ever, we need fashion critics of her caliber who can step back from the factory that fashion has become and take inventory of the situation. The same way that we need designers to keep practicing Haute Couture, we also need Cathy Horyn to continue crafting her well-tailored sentences.

Image via Guest of a Guest

We Tried The Margiela Diet

Kanye West must be superhuman. Amelia and I covered our heads in scarves for about four hours today and let me tell you, it is difficult to see out of them. (I had to fix like 5647827 typs upon proofreading — I left some in for posterity, though.) It’s also hard to breathe out of them and eat out of them (if you soak water through the fabric surrounding the region of your lips, however, you can drink in very small incremements!), let alone perform a sold out concert in Brooklyn’s Barclays Center. Here are our recaps from a half day of trying the Margiela diet.

Leandra:

Let me start by weighing the pros and cons.

Con: Eating, or, I should say, the lack of the ability to do so.

Pro: None

Con: Breathing, or, I should say, the lack of ability to do so.

Pro: The air in New York is polluted-as-fuq anyway

Con: Appearing vaguely as though I am about to embark on a, how you say, flowery bank robbery

Pro: Exhibiting commitment to the Nice Bucket Challenge and proving humanity wrong about my intentions. (I didn’t even so much as rob Juice Press when I went in wearing my makeshift Margiela mask to get some chia pudding.)

Pro: I cannot pick my eyebrows

Con: None

Pro: I can finally be compared to Kanye West in a meaningful way

Con: Is that a good thing?

Let me end with this deduction: The models of Margiela’s runway shows are heroes. I, however, am human.

Amelia: Contacts, bless their scientific souls, are the main reason I am able to walk around during the day without getting hit by vehicles, but until I pop those clear little freakshows into my eyeballs I can barely see my feet. This is just what the Margiela Diet was like! You would think I’d be great at this by now. I am not.

For starters, Charlotte tied my scarf on too tight and I was unable to get it off. This caused me three separate rounds of anxiety: once when I wanted to breathe, once when I wanted to eat and once when I wanted to not be on the Margiela Diet anymore or ever again. Both Leandra and Charlotte stood and laughed while I struggled to get it off all three times.

Walking was hard but not impossible, although I imagine it was confusing to the sea of people who I was unknowingly wobbling towards. I only realized I was about to run into someone when I ran into someone. This gave me a strong appreciation for those Margiela models who not only had to sashay down a runway in heels without falling stage but who had to do it with their faces covered in FABRIC.

Fabric is not fun to breathe through, did I mention that? Kids, do not try this at home. Do not try this on your cats, either.

Results of typing with a covered face were drunk-looking. I edited myself sans-scarf.

The one perk I found was that when it came to the actual “Diet” part of it, I did, in fact, eat less! At first I didn’t eat at all. Then I realized that if I cheated a bit and rolled the scarf up just over my mouth, then I could stick a fork in it while still maintaining partial blindness. The inability to see remained so intact that Leandra, bless her asshole of a heart, had actually taken her scarf off and proceeded to watch my attempts at playing airplane-spoon with myself.

Moral of the story: we should not quit our day jobs, models are magicians, and Kanye West may in fact be a god.

Or he has X-Ray vision.

Runway Images via Style.com

Why It Is Important To Be Nice

“Mean Girls” became as popular as it did not because of its cast, or its writers, or the varying stages of comedic timing that strung the movie together, or even because Lindsay Lohan was still at the top of the class that is Hollywood’s “A-List.” “Mean Girls” went viral because it was honest. Because girls — no, humans — can be really, really mean.

Somewhere along the way, benevolence was thrown out the window and replaced by malevolence. And so it was cool to be cruel. George Saunders wrote a commencement speech in 2013 where he declared that his only regrets have been failures of kindness. My father has long echoed (or foreshadowed) this sentiment, telling me that I would never regret being nice and I think he was right. My mom still tells me that when people act maliciously, it’s a note on their happiness index, not on my, or your, unlikeability.

But there’s a difference between acting nice and being kind. (For one thing, one might require acting.) A common misconception is that one informs the other, when in reality, you don’t technically have to be nice to act nice. It’s kind of selfish in that way, but if there is such a thing as constructive selfishness, niceness seems to encompass it.

You think about the concepts of karma and the sort of legacy that you want to leave behind and you’re inclined to vet in the favor of niceness based on those accords, right? I think that’s fine because ultimately, to perform an act of niceness — whether to appease a third party gaze or look for approval or to incite a slow hand clap or simply to impress the object of your desire — doesn’t really matter as long as you’re doing The Good Thing. It’s a step, no matter how wobbly, in the direction of a more important and authentic establishment and that is kindness.

See, at the core of kindness sits the crux of all that fluffy altruistic stuff that makes you feel happy (hard emotion when not contingent on material things but also only ever real and true when not) but really, really full.

Niceness can be flashy; it can be phony; it can be docile and for that very reason, has been renounced by New York Times’ writer Catherine Newman. But if you ask me, it can also be what separates humanity from barbarism. Maybe acting nice leads to being kind.

So consider this a call to action, eh? The Ice Bucket Challenge is cool but maybe we all try to The Nice Bucket Challenge for a bit and see what happens.

Original Image shot by Michael Donovan

5 Things To Talk About This AM

Morning, Man Repellers! Here are five things to talk about today:

1. Read:

Into the Gloss gives us a glimpse of Jenna Lyons’s beauty routine as well as her J.Crew office, which is unsurprisingly chock-full of interesting art, furniture and personal knick-knacks. One of the best things on display is a picture with Barack and Michelle Obama. [Into the Gloss]

2. Watch: 

Nicki Minaj dropped her video for “Anaconda” this morning, which is NSFW but you should definitely watch when your boss isn’t looking. In the meantime, Vulture has compiled the best Drake faces from the video. [Vulture]

3. Follow: Renaissance art gets hilarious captions with this new Twitter account @wtfrenaissance [Huffington Post]

Once completed, Hannah’s Ice Bucket Challenge video was probably going to break the internet. pic.twitter.com/GzNOtwnQOV

— wtf renaissance (@WtfRenaissance) August 18, 2014

4. Look: With summer winding down, make sure to take every opportunity to wear see-through clothing. [Sartorialist]

5. LOL: This video is an oldie but goodie and it’s Wednesday morning so you probably need a laugh.

Images shot by Emily Weiss for Into the Gloss and Scott Schuman for The Sartorialist. 

Fashion Is Getting Dangerously Close to the 2000s

Cropped pastel polos were the thing. We can probably thank Marissa Cooper for that.

You know what else was cool? Peasant skirts – low slung, white, eyelet peasant skirts that hit directly at the knee or fell all the way to the floor, and sometimes you’d wear it with a white ribbed tank. Or maybe you were more of a BP spaghetti-strap top kind of girl.

Either way you definitely had a short denim jacket that you paired with your velour sweatsuit bottoms on casual days and with your three-tiered miniskirts for parties. And belts. There were so many belts arbitrarily slung around hips that never once considered their predecessors were created to hold up pants.

If you were of the Taking Back Sunday persuasion, you relied instead on a diet of cargo pants and rubber bracelets, nostalgic cartoon references and black t-shirts with pop-tinged misanthropic statements (“I see dumb people”) in white writing.

It didn’t matter if you considered yourself Aberpreppy or Emo. Unlike the holy ’90s, there was no real sartorial divide when considering the nuances of cafeteria geopolitics — in the year 2000, everyone’s style was generally bad. It was as if an entire decade of clothing had deferred its acceptance to college and instead retreated into its parent’s basement, and what once had been cool finally started to weather, like a ’99 hangover turned chronic Millennium migraine.

Even the decade’s name sucked: “The 2000s.”

There was no ring to it.

I feel like I can say all of this because it was the first 10 years of my life where I was actually present for the outfit decision-making process. Those of us born around ’88 are always taking credit for the Blossom or Zach Morris references in our TBTS, but let’s be real. That was our parents’ beautiful insanity – they got dressed in the ’90s; we were just being dressed.

Meanwhile the 2000s were our responsibility. I knowingly spent my allowance at Hot Topic, admit to purchasing pseudo-punk bondage pants and a few years later, kitten heels. In 2005 I made multiple conscious decisions to layer different polo shirts over one another to coordinate with my flip flops, so like a little sister that no one else is allowed to talk shit about, regarding “the 2000s,” I can.

And I will. At least for a moment longer, because what this all boils down to is a plea: a plea to beg the designers of the upcoming Spring 2015 runways to pretend like 2000 – 2008 didn’t happen.

We know fashion loves nothing more than subculture nostalgia, and everyone has exhausted the ’20s flapper. Mod’s been done. So has punk. The hippie influence has become omnipresent. The ’80s have been usurped by Urban Outfitters, and the three ’90s ideals — grunge, Gap and minimalism — are all currently defining what it means to dress in 2014.

Which means we’re running out of decades.

We’ve even lapped some of the aforementioned twice.

The only untapped genre is whatever you call the years bookmarked by Lizzie McGuire/late Buffy/early True Blood/The O.C. It was a golden age for television but the dark age of clothing. So please, Miuccia. Karl. Phoebe. Nicolas. I beg you. Pretend it never happened. Redux the redux of the ’90s, for all I care. Bring back mullets and poodle skirts.

Anything’s better than a Marissa Cooper baby polo.

Illustration by Charlotte Fassler

MR Style Icon: Elisa Sednaoui

Do you think it’s because Elisa Sednaoui is a Sagittarius that she has successfully been able to juggle multiple careers that span the occupational index of acting, directing, modeling and philanthropy? (In 2013, she launched a foundation to promote creativity in the classroom for kids and whatnot). Or do you think she’s simply an overachiever who has been able to champion on-screen irresistibility (I would be lying if I told you she hasn’t sold to me at least one pair of Chanel sunglasses) and beyond?

Regardless of our opinions, it appears as though her style is indubitably a window into her flexible vocational successes. Just when it seems like she’s hit a home run with her seemingly signature, unflinching style (e.g., a pinstriped double breasted suit and tie), she surprises you with the antithesis of it (a three-quarter length midi dress in pop-y shades of turquoise and pink), confidently worn with the same level of conviction, gumption and swagger as the first look.

So how does she do it, right?

I guess if we knew, she wouldn’t be an icon. So, no more questions! Let’s just look at pictures, make like Hostess and say it: now that’s the stuff.

A Case For Fake Holidays

People in the media love to hate on fake holidays, and for good reason. If you’re writing about a certain National [Blank] Day, chances are you’re strapped for content. But there’s also a slight possibility that you’re a fake holiday-loving person like me who will take any excuse to celebrate…anything.

It’s always a pleasant surprise to learn that it’s National Whatever Day not only because it’s an excuse to indulge in something random, but also because HOLIDAYS = DISCOUNTS. National Tequila Day, for example, meant city-wide discounts on margaritas. It also meant that had it not been National Tequila Day, my wallet and my hungover self would have been much happier the following morning. Such is the fake holiday conundrum: to jubilee or not to jubilee?

Jubilee. The answer is always jubilee. Why wouldn’t you want to celebrate a fake holiday? You can take off work for National Nap on a Weekday Day (May 11) or, even better, there’s National Recess at Work Day (August 21). With 365 days in a year, there’s no doubt a fake holiday out there for everyone.

Here are some of my favorite fake holidays if you’re still not sold:

1. Static Electricity Day (January 9)

2. Answer Your Cat’s Questions Day (January 22)

3. Laugh and Get Rich Day (February 8)

4. What if Cats Had Opposable Thumbs Day (March 3)

5. No Pants Day (May 2)

6. Plan Your Epitaph Day (July 23)

7. Ask a Stupid Question Day (September 30)

8. Evaluate Your Life Day (October 19)

9. Bird Herders Day (December 15)

10. Fake Holiday Appreciation Day (hereby decreed by yours truly)

Are you celebrating? If so, are we invited?

Image shot by Ben Toms for Dazed & Confused

Eugenia Kim Launches Shoes, Makes Me Want to Run

I don’t mean that literally, though. The last time I ran in heels I almost broke my ankle and definitely popped my knee cap. But that is neither here nor there. What is, you know, here, is a capsule collection of attractive looking shoes by the purveyor of headgear, Eugenia Kim.

There is no theory that suggests if you are good at making hats, you will be good at making shoes but perhaps that’s just because there have been so few proofs of this concept. But with the imminent launch of Kim’s shoes, following the success of her her straw panama hats and fedoras and floppy numbers and the felt cat ears that gave Grumpy Cat a run for her viral frown, that could change as soon as right now.

Because, really, anyone could make a pump, right? It’s easy enough and almost always evinces the spirit of elegance. Getting it right is just a matter of whether the maker will be enterprising enough to weigh that which makes a pump good.

As in, will the shoe’s point remain firmly on the ground or will it flip up calling to mind fractions of a cowboy boot?

Will the leather crack as you walk or will it remain buttery, only strengthening with age and miles? How will it separate itself from the paladins of the pump?

Perhaps with a series of black windy lines?

Or a strip of fur across the front?

Such details can be found on the entire 7-style capsule collection of Eugenia Kim where a boot isn’t just a boot: it’s the pearl within an oyster, a flat isn’t just a flat: it’s a fluff bow or a serpentine disco ball and, of course, a pump isn’t just a pump. It’s a good one.

[Eugenia Kim Shoes via Eugenia Kim, Part of a collaboration with Eugenia Kim]

Memories Made in The Dressing Room

Lately I’ve been feeling nostalgic for the golden days of offline shopping. I imagine this is the way Generation X looks back at Studio 54. Gone are the afternoons spent moseying from store to store. For me at least. Instead, most of my purchases are made from behind a screen, in between checking the news and responding to emails. It’s not so much the trying on or purchasing components of shopping that I miss, but the ceremony around them, and the stories and relationships cultivated along the way.

Some of my most vivid memories took place in dressing rooms: the disappointment I felt when my mom rejected the idea of me wearing a very expensive beach cover-up as my prom dress; the stomach ache from laughing too hard when my best friend got herself caught in a built-in-bra-tank top; my grandmother agreeing to buy me a scrunchie made of the exact fabric of the Limited Too bathing suit I got for my birthday. These interactions probably wouldn’t take place in front of a computer screen, so for future generations they may not take place at all.

I was not raised in a home where consumption was encouraged. For example, on a father-daughter trip to Italy during high school, I took my dad to the Prada outlet where I asked him to buy me a pair of Prada pants for 25 Euro. His reaction was “but you already own pants.” I tried explaining to him (to no avail) that owning pants didn’t make me want these ones any less. I will never forget or stop cherishing that story, but had the pants landed in my closet without any fuss, they most certainly would have been forgotten about within months.

In hindsight, it wasn’t buying or owning items that mattered; it was all of the stuff that emerged while spotting, trying on, negotiating for, and saying hello or goodbye to those things. Shopping actually taught me a lot about life. “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” is not just a Rolling Stones song when you’re at Bloomingdales with a $25 allowance. I can’t remember any of the clothes that were vetoed along the way, but I have many fond memories of the conversations and emotions that surrounded making — or accepting — those choices.

The lessons shopping taught me seem less poignant nowadays. Understanding what it means to “love” a dress but not be able to own it isn’t the same when you’re a click away and the fabric isn’t nestled in between your fingers. Deliberating “do I need this?” is less fun when you’re opening an ASOS box the delivery man just handed to you, as opposed to standing in a cramped dressing room with a best friend convincing yourself that you’d wear leather pants at least four days a week year-round and thus they are a sensible purchase.

Also diminished is “the hunt.” Finding a deal used to be a euphoric experience – often shared with a loved one. I’ve never been to Ibiza, but I imagine its nightclubs offer a similar experience to finding a dress 50% off that fits you like a glove. There is nothing like finding that one item in your size and price range among a sea of clothing, but part of the joy comes from a feeling that fate or luck brought you to that piece: in the entire world of clearance racks, it ended up in your discount store of choice. That just doesn’t exist online.

I’ve always said that there is no relief quite like trying on something you can’t afford only to find out it doesn’t fit. Shopping is a roller coaster of emotion, a symphony of affirmations and rejections based on size, price and style. To remove the social and tactile components of that experience make it no more than a series of acquisitions. And anyone who has ever rolled over laughing or crying in a fitting room knows that’s the most meaningful part of being a buyer — compared to that, ownership is pretty anticlimactic.

Image Shot by Simone Guidarelli for Vanity Fair Italy