Have you ever shaved your legs or underarms one day, only to realize the next that you've grown a bit of stubble -- as well as a penis? Man, I really hate when that happens.
In so many ways, #cockinasock is awesome. Inspiring conversation about testicular cancer? Terrific! Objectifying the male form for once in a blue moon? Why not. Increasing the market for penis warmers? I'm all for it. However, there is one aspect of #cockinasock that I can't help but notice in a very BIG way: It's the rampant pubic hair! And more importantly, the fact that no one is talking about it.
It's unfortunate that in an industry that primarily serves women, we're not supporting young, female designers in the way we should be.
Is it really "street style" if you're dressed like you stepped out of a lookbook?
Mango, I'm extremely disappointed in you. I have never in my life yelled at a retailer like this! I was rooting for you, we were all rooting for you!
Say it with me: VA-GI-NA. Goooood.
There are exactly two things you need to know about The Big Bang Theory star Kaley Cuoco's wedding to tennis pro Ryan Sweeting, which took place New Year's Eve in Southern California. One, Henry Cavill is officially still on the market THANK HEAVENS. And two, her dress was pink.
As a writer and copy editor, could I really bring myself to wear clothing bearing a blatant typo? Probs not. What about the millions of little boys and girls who look to me as a wily defender of the written word? How could I possibly explain this to them?
Stories of why working in PR is super annoying during Fashion Week.
What I know for sure: I'm never going to be a top-performer on Reward Style.
Kanye West gave another passion-filled rant to a crowd of people in New York yesterday. Unfortunately, it did not take place at a fashion week event, but at a listening party for Pusha T in Brooklyn. We guess after a few days of going to a bunch of fashion shows, he needed to let loose, drink some Grey Goose (as he admits he has done), and start screaming into a microphone.
Last night at sunset marked the start of Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. It's one of the holiest holidays for Jews. This year, it happens to coincide with New York fashion week, the most important time of year for anyone who works in the fashion industry. It puts many of us (myself included) in a tight spot.
Confession: I've got a bit of a jealousy issue. Not about the latest tech gadget I can't afford, or whoever Henry Cavill's allegedly been seen with out on the town (sorry, Kaley Cuoco, but I refuse to believe it). So who's the object of my envy? Let's just say, it's a girl who gets adorable Chloe and Vivienne Westwood shoes sent to her on the reg. Her everyday wardrobe consists of Marc Jacobs and Stella McCartney. She never looks less than super cute and she hangs out with Victoria and David Beckham ALL THE DAMN TIME. I'm talking about Harper Seven Beckham. Who turns two-years-old today.
When we wrote about what Texas state Senator Wendy Davis wore during her extraordinary 11-hour filibuster that blocked an anti-abortion bill in Texas last week (Erdem dress, hot pink Mizuno sneakers), we expected some backlash. We anticipated that some readers would think that commenting on what Davis wore would detract from her brave actions. Some did. “I know that this is a fashion site, but I DO think you have taken away from Senator Davis's astonishing accomplishment by reducing it to a story about what she wore,” a commenter wrote. “Women are so much more than clothes hangers.” Of course we are. But how we get dressed is part of how we communicate with the world; what we wear says a lot about who we are. So is it not ok then, to comment, to discuss, to analyze, what women politicians and public figures wear? Is it reductive and harmful? Or is the problem that male politicians aren't subject to the same scrutiny?
First thing's first. I’m a woman, I’m a writer. That said: Let’s talk about Vice, its Women in Fiction issue, and the shocking “fashion” spread of women writers committing suicide. At first glance, the issue features short fiction by a talented, fresh writer, A.L. Major, and famous storytellers like Marilynne Robinson, Mary Gaitskill, and Joyce Carol Oates. Then there’s this spread*, entitled “Last Words”—a photographic essay of sorts—of women writers before they meet death. The beautification of females and death is nothing new--forms of pornography are devoted to it. Most gargantuan billboards in Times Square show dead-eyed models, lounging like corpses à la Tom Petty’s "Last Dance with Mary Jane" music video. What the French call petit mort, or “little death”, is an evocative euphemism for climax. My initial instinct is to attribute any work of art with layers of metaphor and meaning, contextualize it in a way that uncovers some truth I hadn’t seen. I can’t do that with “Last Words.” These writers are completely stripped of their words.
A segment by online news show The Young Turks, which takes T magazine to task for featuring a thin Julia Nobis on their cover, recently went viral. Co-host Cenk Uygur refers to Nobis as "disgusting" more than once during the course of the video, adding that she's "obviously anorexic," prompting no less than Nobis's dad Eddy to chime in, blasting Uygur in the comments. Now Uygur's at it again in what is ostensibly intended as an apology video, but which ends with Ugyur blasting the fashion industry as a whole. He finishes the video visibly heated, saying that "the fashion industry is full of shit" and that they "don't know what's appealing on this planet." I think it's Ugyur who's full of shit.
The garment industry of my motherland, Bangladesh, is burning, collapsing and struggling to stay afloat in the world economy. The worst part? All goods belong to the lowest bidder. No safety regulations, no living wage and no respect for the health, bodies and wellbeing of workers. As the Bangladeshi government scrambles in the face of another “accident,” thousands are protesting against abhorrent conditions in Bangladesh’s Savar Industrial Zone. The names of the retailers’ tags discovered in the rubble: Mango, Joe Fresh and United Colors of Benetton. I can’t help but lament the irony of these names—evocative of the tropical, the colorful and alive, much like the verdant landscape of Bangladesh. The same sickening feeling I had on November 24, 2012, when a factory fire killed 112 Bangladeshi workers. Post-Thanksgiving meal, I jumped to sweep up Black Friday deals. More ironic names: Faded Glory. Gap. Buried among these lost garments are the bodies of folks, mostly women, who knew that something was terribly wrong with the building when they clocked into work. Now, where do we fit it in?
I know, I know. You probably thought we'd be the last site to call out fashion brands for going overboard with the whole cat thing. But even we, the people who conceptualized an entire site dedicated to cats in fashion (for April Fool's), feel it's gone a little too far.
It's been a tough few weeks for mini skirts and the young women who flaunt them. Between CNN's blame-the-victim tone in Steubenville to the helicopter parents picketing Victoria's Secret Pink, you'd think America's most pressing national security issue is teen girls in glittery panties. (And according to Harmony Korine's bubblegum grenade Spring Breakers, that's exactly right.) And on the fashion front, T Magazine editor Deborah Needleman tweets "Say goodbye to slut clothes"...
Are skinny jeans on their way out?