Chaff: Issue 1 by chaffmag

issue 1

chaff

the salty fashion and culture mag

issue 1 Thoughts 5 Editor’s Note 40 Yet Another Hot Take on the Environment in Times of a Global Pandemic 46 What are the Influencers Doing in the Age of Isolation? 51 Go Big or Go Home: A Culture of All or Nothing 80 Enjoy the Money, Jane. 84 A Love Letter to the Unused Contents of My Wardrobe

Fashion 8 The Diary of a Recovering Shopaholic #1 10 Happy Accidents 16 Selling Tips from a Depop Connoisseur 20 50 Shades of Greenwashing 26 Made in Yorkshire: Freddie Smithson 32 Juxtapositions 38 Holy Smokes! The Curious Relationship Between Fashion and Fags 52 What Does the C-Word Mean for This Year’s Fashion Graduates? 58 Omnium Gatherum 66 The Devil Wears eBay: Marcus Jaye 88 Roop! She Did it Again

Culture 42 The Panty Hamster, The Bearded Clam, The Tuna Tunnel: The Vagina Museum 48 The Rise of the Problematic Dating Show 70 Why is My iPhone Always Listening to My Thoughts? 72 This Season’s Hottest Accessory? Crushed Avo on Toast

Beauty 76 The Beauty Industry is Bullshitting You. Here’s How 4

chaff Editor-in-Chief Pippa Simmonds Staff Photographer Elizabeth Butler Contributing Editors Valeria Wiwinius Summer Noyes Lizzy Greenwood Hayley Barnes Darcy Foster Other Contributors & Special Thanks Pietro Barcaro Simone Field Eve Jappy Jack Smith Seth Butler Eliot Stone Jasmine de Baeza Paul Tierney Urjuan Toosy Mark O'Connor @chaffmag @chaffmag www.chaffmag.co.uk 5

The Editor’s Note I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t had plans, hopes and dreams in some way effected by what’s been happening for the past few months. Regardless of this, it’s easy (and very much OK) to feel hopelessly disappointed that your summer holiday is cancelled, or your graduation is postponed, or you’re just really, really missing your local pub garden. It’s another of those situations in modern life, which are far too common, where the abundance of know-it-all’s on social media allow people to feel guilty for doing nothing far wrong. A tweet about wishing you were barbecuing in the park is met by angry trolls, asking: “How do you think the NHS workers feel?” A shared post on Facebook about the lack of funding for our health service attracts a thread of comments from people asking if you are personally giving up your free time to volunteer or donating any extra cash to healthcare charities. It’s not enough to merely express concern or opinion about the government’s approach to the situation (when other people, by the way, have no idea what you’re doing with your spare

time), it’s not enough to feel sad about missing out on exciting future plans. Incidentally, it’s also not enough to have off-days, to watch lots of TV, to eat lots of snacks, because according to the internet: “Now is the time to be creative! Take up that hobby, learn that language, finish that project!” The reality is, after a few days, the passive aggressive notifications from DuoLingo can only add to the distress caused by a society already in turmoil. The emptiness you feel due to a lack of motivation, routine and general normality can feel like a dramatic overreaction in comparison to the one single topic that dominates the news at present, but it isn’t. Your personal lack of direction is just one of the many, many factors of people’s lives that are being affected by this situation, and it’s something you’re allowed to feel sad about. With that said, I introduce you to the first issue of Chaff which, much like most areas of our lives right now, differs slightly from its original plan. If nothing else, our aim is to present you with substance that distracts you from the chaos of the world, albeit only for a few minutes.

Pippa Simmonds Editor-in-Chief

The Diary of a Recovering Shopaholic #1 By Summer Noyes

Illustration by Simone Field

I’ve been thinking about shopping. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted more. There’s a peculiar characteristic of our day and age, in which trends are so rapidly changing and readily available, that it is possible to purchase a £4 top from a fast fashion store and have it in your hands the following day. I distinctly remember begging my mum to buy new clothes for my Barbies, new additions to my dressing up box or whatever I’d seen on the latest Toys R Us advert. My parents rarely gave into my incessant begging for things, things and more things; and on some level I justify my ridiculous purchasing habits with the fact that I was not a spoilt child. Other people/things I blame include advertising and social media, influencers and clever VM in shop windows. Regardless, the fact of the matter is that I buy too much stuff. Without a doubt, I am in possession of a regrettably addictive personality. This can be seen in all areas of my life, I am obsessed with many things: dating apps, social media, drinking, sleep. I’ve also been working and saving since the age of 14, and currently work three jobs, so I have something of a ‘treat yo’ self ’ attitude, you could say. My monthly average fashion spending lies at £268.77, which is just a little bit ridiculous when you consider that the majority of my purchases are less than £30 each. How has my wardrobe not physically exploded yet? Perhaps my relentless shopping routines are a form of procrastination, a distraction from the banality of everyday life. Or, perhaps, I should just stop trying to find things to rationalise my own ridiculousness and just conclude that I like clothes a bit too much. Upon reflection, I have decided that enough might just be enough, and as a personal challenge (and probably yet another method of procrastination), I will not be spending a single penny on fashion related items for the next month. Yep, you heard it here first.

out soon, in my face (or my Facebook feed). Send help. I haven’t given in yet, by the way. Saturday, 15th February 1.43pm I’ve got no hot water or heating right now thanks to my classically ever-obliging British landlords. I feel sorry for myself. I need a temporary fix. I am craving a purchase.

“I’m still convinced that without the brainwashing powers of social media and strategic advertising, I would be much less inclined to shop as much as I do.”

Saturday, 1st February 2.35pm Nipped into town today to get some film developed. Usually I’d pass the waiting time by popping into a couple of shops, browsing, and inevitably making at least one purchase. If I look around and see something I like, I’m unlikely to leave on the shelf. It’s kind of like going into an animal shelter and trying to leave behind the saddest, biggest-eyed, floppiest eared puppy. Instead, I venture into a coffee shop to crack on with some work. Get me. Sunday, 9th February 8.20pm Me again. 11 days in and I’m slowly having my arm twisted by strategic ASOS adverts waving a pair of trousers they KNOW I will love, and I KNOW will sell

Monday, 17th February 12pm Really starting to miss shopping now. However, I did find a jumble sale at a church, where everything cost 40p. I bought 6 items (oops) for £2. Afterwards I may have slipped and fallen into a charity shop and stumbled across a great pair of jeans for £3. Needless to say, they came home with me. My purchases did give me the buzz I was craving, but knowing it was for a good cause and I wasn’t contributing to the perils of fast fashion makes it kind of okay, right? Thursday, 20th February 11.15pm It’s the last day of ASOS’ cheeky 25% off promotion. This is frustrating for me because it’s such a rare deal, there are so many items I have been lusting after for yonks. I could get them so cheap. SO much willpower required here, I’m having the overwhelming urge to treat myself. I will resist. Friday, 28th February Shopping ban lifted! I have purchased one quality jumper. I actually had a sift through all my usual online shopping spots, but it really didn’t give me the same pleasure as it used to. I even added stuff to my basket, but I think it was the overwhelming pressure of my shopping hiatus finally being over. In the end, I closed the tabs. Let’s see how long this lasts. A successful month, you might say. I’m still convinced that without the brainwashing powers of social media and strategic advertising, I would be much less inclined to shop as much as I do. It seems like all I have to do is think about something before it suddenly appears as an advert in between Instagram stories. Not to mention the abundance of influencers, whose daily photos silently imply that outfit repeating should be listed as the eighth deadly sin. Regardless, I’m proud of myself, and I will be adopting a ‘think before you shop’ attitude from now on.

@sumnoyes 11

PHOTOGRAPHY Elizabeth Butler MAKE UP & STYLING Pippa Simmonds MODELLED BY Eve Jappy & Jack Smith PRODUCTION ASSISTANCE Seth Butler

THIS PAGE Eve wears Zara top & H&M skirt and vintage mules OPPOSITE Eve wears Zara dress Jack wears vintage shirt & Calvin Klein Jeans trousers

HAPPY ACCIDENTS

OPPOSITE Jack wears vintage shirt and Zara trousers

THIS PAGE Jack wears vintage shirt, SEMICOUTURE trousers & vintage mules OPPOSITE Eve wears vintage sunglasses & Zara dress

Selling Tips from a Depop Conoisseur By Pippa Simmonds

Got a big old pile of clothes collecting dust in your wardrobe? Look to make a bit of extra cash? Between the endless attempts to get that money shot, the cheeky hagglers and the endless interaction required to make even one sale on Depop, the process can seem daunting. Holly Tuckley (@hollycoco) is one of the reselling app’s success stories – she shares her tips on how to nail the sales.

How long have you been running your Depop shop? About 2 years! But only seriously for a year or so. How did you build up your 18k following? I think being constant with my style and taking decent quality pictures (these have improved massively!) has been the key - Depop are always looking for people to feature and I have always had a strong visual identity, so I think that helped me get noticed and grow my following. Also, I just get so excited about the clothes! I think that really comes across. Do you ever feel frustrated at a lack of sales? Not really. When I was doing it casually, I never thought much about sales – I was just happy there were some! Now if I go a day without selling it can be unsettling but you have to remind yourself retail is retail - you can sell nothing one day then sell 9 items the next - it’s unpredictable! The good thing about Depop is the ability to have direct engagement and feedback with your buyers at real time, which really helps educate your sourcing for the future - and sales! Where do you source your clothes? Is it a case of constantly being on the lookout for items to sell? Online and the usual charity shop hunt. I don’t use a wholesaler because I want to hand pick everything and the buying is the bit I most enjoy. I look all day every day! Is it not difficult not to keep all the good stuff for yourself?! Yes. I keep stuff ALL THE TIME but I’m quite strict that if I haven’t actually worn it in a couple of months it has to go!

Sometimes, selling a t-shirt for £5 or less can seem pointless, with a standard 1st class package costing around £3.50 to post. What do you base the pricing of your products on? Experience! Pricing is trial and error, I’ve found. I tend to price on a combination of hot item potential, what I’ve seen other sellers price similar items and what I think is a fair amount considering the time and energy I’ve put in – and the fact that haggle culture is alive and well on Depop! Buyers on Depop can be seriously cheeky! (See @depopdrama on Insta) What is the most ridiculous offer you’ve received for an item? I actually don’t get that many ridiculous offers! More ridiculous comments from the male population but even that is fairly minimal (thankfully!)

With the rise in popularity of second-hand and vintage fashion, was sustainability an important factor for you when you launched your shop? 100% - I’ve been doing biodegradable packaging for over a year after my dad brought up the fact I was touting sustainability - but sending in freshly manufactured plastic! Finally, do you have any tips about how to be a successful Depopper? Really enjoy the clothes! Make the goal to create the best visual you can - make that garment bloody shine! Flavour flavour - and the sales should follow!

You can find Holly on Depop @hollycoco.

50 Shades of Greenwashing

If you’ve ever found yourself traipsing through your favourite fashion site in an attempt to educate yourself about their innerworkings, only to stare in confusion at the brands inability to properly explain their self-proclaimed ethical efforts – worry not. We’re here to separate the wheat from the chaff.

By Pippa Simmonds

Greenwashing, put simply, is information that misleads consumers about the environmental impact of a product or a company itself, often allowing said consumer to positively misjudge their own shopping habits. Now, we’re not here to publicly bash your favourite stores for being unethical, because at the end of the day they exist within an industry that low-key prides itself on questionable morals. Nevertheless, if you’re looking to shop more ethically, here’s a few ways these brands might be kidding you about their efforts towards being sustainable. When you think about it, it’s common sense that a fashion brand that is able to take a product from design to the shelf in as little as two weeks, cannot be doing so without at least a little environmental damage. How is it not costing them the earth? Cheap fabrics and cheap labour. How are the clothes reaching the stores so quickly? Airmiles, and plenty of ‘em. What are they made of? Plastic, mostly. What is it good for? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! As you can imagine, it’s easy to slap an ambiguous term like ‘responsible’, ‘conscious’ or even ‘sustainable’ itself, onto a product description and let your customer take that as they will, as it is an extremely difficult method of marketing to legislate. This means a company who, for example, uses a percentage of recycled cotton to make a garment, is able to state this on the label or website without being inclined to inform its unknowing customer that a recycled cotton t-shirt uses the same estimated 2,000 litres of water to produce as standard cotton. Nor that the cotton farmer that made it earns a pitiful wage, and does so surrounded by harmful pesticides. We’ve all heard of Corporate Social Responsibility, a business’ obligation to adhere to certain ethical standards whilst simultaneously boosting their own appearance to the general public; and greenwashing can very easily be a brand’s way of doing this. By using vague terminology that doesn’t detail what exactly makes a product, collection or even entire business ‘sustainable’, firms are able to give themselves a good name for being ethical do-gooders while continuing to conceal what exactly goes on down the production line. Spoiler alert: every business’ top priority = profit! An interesting technique often used by fashion brands is the inclusion of earth-toned and green designs and marketing. This, alongside one of our token buzzwords, can subconsciously allow a customer 24

to believe that a brand is sustainable, essentially due to long-standing stereotypes about hippies, trees and the colour brown. There is an existence of brands out there whose primary aims include being sustainable, fair and ethical. The problem with greenwashing is, it allows these brands to get lost in a sea of corporate craziness. If you’re serious about sustainable shopping, consider these three factors:

People – Who made this garment? 2013 saw the tragic collapse of the Rana Plaza garment factory in Bangladesh, a catastrophe that killed over 1000 workers; who had expressed concern to their bosses about cracks in the factory’s walls only the day before. Don’t forget that one of the most paramount issues within sustainable fashion is the people themselves.

Planet – What impact did this garments production have on the environment? In 2018, an estimated 235 million items of clothing ended up in landfill in the UK. Alongside this, the UN Environment Programme states that textile dying is still the second largest global water polluter. If these facts don’t shock you into doing your research before shopping, you’re a lost cause.

Possibilities – What alternatives are there to this garment? Could you find something similar second-hand? If you’re not into vintage, clothing has such a short life cycle these days (largely due to the throwaway nature of fast fashion), that you can find second-hand items that have only been worn a handful of times, if that. Depop and eBay are a vintage-lover’s heaven, and for those looking for a more high-end option, Vestiaire is brimming with pre-loved, designer treats. If you feel the need to switch up your wardrobe more frequently, there are now an abundance of clothing rental services including The Devout, where a subscription will bag you 5 items each month for £79.

Want more juice on the environmental impacts of fashion? Check out these podcast episodes:

Livia Firth, Eco-Age & The Green Carpet – WARDROBE CRISIS with Clare Press

Microplastics with Cyrill Gutsch and Dr Mark Browne - Fashion Fix with Charli Howard

Can fashion ever be sustainable? – Today in Focus

Made in Yorkshire: Freddie Smithson

By Pippa Simmonds

Freddie Smithson’s “naff sense of humour” is the basis of his work as an artist. You’ll likely recognise from your Instagram feed, where he runs his iconic side hustle under the handle @freddiemade. We discussed the Queen, the power of social media, and finding inspiration within the monotony of everyday life. A Graphic Communication degree lead Freddie Smithson to an internship at House of Holland, which coincided nicely with the global explosion of social media. This in turn, made him a meme connoisseur, amongst other things. Freddie is a freelance designer in his every spare moment, as well as creative director at creative agency CULT LDN and Senior Creative Lead for Social at Burberry. So, a relatively busy man. He spent his childhood in the Yorkshire countryside “drawing and painting obsessively”, so it’s hardly a surprise that Freddie’s life took this particular path. “As I got older, I became more interested in the way creatives could resonate with people,” he explains. “I started my [Instagram] page to showcase the collage work I was focusing on at the time and began to tie those into pop culture moments and the fashion calendar, accidentally starting the meme page I have today.” @freddiemade currently boasts 133k followers and is perhaps most renowned for Smithson’s iconic the Queen x Rihanna mashups. In fact, our Queen Liz has quite a heavy presence on his feed. “Not a royalist!” he confirms, “Just love her attitude, and iconic colour-fashion! She’s an iconic Brit who resonates with people immediately, so she’s a great character to use.”

All images courtesy of Freddie Smithson @freddiemade

Like most people who aren’t lucky enough to be born a Beckham, Kardashian or similar, Freddie started his fashion at the bottom of the ladder. I’m interested to hear whether his experience working as a fashion intern was true to the Devil Wears Prada depiction of it that we’re oh so used to. “Absolutely not! Anyone who works in fashion would tell you that it’s a lot of hard work, long hours and no glamour,” he says. “But the satisfaction of collectively creating beautiful work that resonates with people is the biggest reward for effort.” A quick scroll through Freddie’s Instagram will give you an idea of his approach to work and, well, life. He tells me that his attitude towards all his projects is the same, as it’s essentially just his personality, on paper. If there’s one skill he does possess, though, its

“Anyone who works in fashion would tell you that there’s no glamour, but the satisfaction of creating beautiful work that resonates with people is the biggest reward for effort.” adaptability. He’s learnt that despite making a name for himself via the incredibly charming wit he presents to the world through social media and many of his other projects; it’s not a method that works for every brand. So, despite the somewhat sardonic exterior presented on @freddiemade, Freddie wouldn’t take the piss for the wrong brand. “It simply isn’t what the audience is looking for. I’m all about understanding a brand and their audience and creating [the kind of] content they want to digest.” Smithson recognises that social media has its downfalls, but above all sees it as a powerful tool for both creativity and, well, just about everything else. “Communities, families, communications, help. Just look at the [Covid-19] situation at the moment, everyone

“Art comes in a million forms, being rebellious is just one approach.” has been rallying together online to share news and offer love and support. I think it’s the most incredible tool when used in the right way.” In terms of topics like politics, he manages to avoid “diving into the nitty gritty”, as he hopes that politics is an area that should merit people to do their own research, despite his creative outlook highlighting the important moments. Freddie’s tongue-in-cheek creations could be considered rebellious, but does he think this a requirement for an artist? “Absolutely not! Art comes in a million different forms, being rebellious is just one approach,” he muses, “If it tells a story or is simply beautiful for the sake of being beautiful, that’s more than enough for me.” In fact, it doesn’t even have to be beautiful, Freddie tells us that he takes a lot of inspiration from the more mundane parts of life, too. “It’s my bread and butter,” he says. “I

love the naff, cheesy, everyday stuff.” He cites photographer Martin Parr as a huge inspiration, for his ability to capture the distinctive humdrum that is the Britain Freddie knows so well, in the most beautiful way. This is perhaps what gives Freddie such a relatable appeal, for it’s hard to imagine even the most serious Fashion Person scrolling past a meme of Meryl Streep in a tracksuit and A-Cold-Wall* crossbody without cracking at least a little smile. There were a few questions Freddie decided to scoot past, he seems to be a man that doesn’t give too much away. So, if you’re wondering what’s next for him, I couldn’t tell you. But for now, his quaran-memes are a welcome escape from the current triteness of our everyday lives.

THIS PAGE Stick-on nails by SkinnyDip All jewellery vintage OPPOSITE Gucci by watch Necklace set by HSamuel MODELLED BY Pippa Simmonds

juxtapositions noun the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

THIS PAGE All jewellery vintage OPPOSITE Vintage bag, ASOS sunglasses, vintage jewellery

THIS PAGE HSamuel jewellery set

HOLY SMOKES!

begavet.tumblr.com

The Curious Relationship Between Fashion & Fags By Pippa Simmonds

Nowadays, for many, the idea of smoking is nauseating - unless, of course, it’s outside a Slug and Lettuce of a Saturday night, six BOGOF cocktails deep, slurring questionable advice at an inebriated stranger about the qualms of their problematic love life. But despite this less than glamorous practice of the habit in our kale-eating, spin-class-attending, vagina-steaming generation; it has long had sexy, voguish associations too... Smoking and fashion go together like two wheezing peas in a wrinkled pod, thanks to the long-standing stereotypes about supermodels surviving solely on Marlborough Lights, cocaine and black coffee. There was a period during the 90s where it was actually a rarity to see a photograph of Kate Moss, hand unoccupied by a smoke. My time studying fashion taught me the inextricable link between fashion and smoking, when on my very first day one teacher told us “if you don’t smoke, start now”. We all laughed, thinking this statement an eccentric icebreaker, but his poker face lingered, and two hours and eight fag breaks later, we realised he actually hadn’t been joking. This particular teacher also threw in a rhetorical “Is this seriously what you’ve all chosen to wear on your first day of fashion school?” to his welcome speech, so admittedly was a particularly exaggerated caricature of a Fashion Person. Regardless, today there is always a moment of “Ooooooh, controversial”, when a post from someone famous on Instagram features the sly social statement of a cigarette in hand. A common offender is fashion’s eternal It Girl, Alexa Chung, who after several public attempts to quit smoking, still posts the occasional snap of herself puffing away. Her PDS (public display of smoking) seems less showy, more hopelessly addicted. It appears as though more often than not, when someone snaps her, there’s likely to be a cig in her hand, and she has no time nor desire to throw the thing out of the frame for the sake of her followers. And despite inevitable concern from her fans, who leave comments like “smoking kills” or “such an unhealthy habit, Alexa”, it doesn’t stop her photos accumulating their usual hundreds and thousands of likes. She is of the rare breed of cool person who could probably post a selfie in a ‘Make America Great Again’ baseball cap and maintain the loyal encouragement of her ordinarily liberal following. Something about smoking feels Parisian and sexy, and on occasion I find myself in the aforementioned Slug and Lettuce scenario - but I always picture myself looking more Audrey Hepburn than Bridget Jones. I used to watch the troubled teens of Skins chain-smoke their way through sixth form thinking: I could be as effortlessly sexy as Effy if only I could bite the bullet and take up smoking (regardless of the fact Effy’s breath probably reeked). Some of legendary fashion photographer Irving Penn’s most recognisable photographs are of smoking women, one of which I have on my bedroom wall. After all, the key to being ‘cool’, is not trying to be cool.

Another common occurrence is famous folk posting pictures of themselves from a photoshoot withcig but taking the time to disclose the fact that they do not in fact smoke. Kendall Jenner recently posted a snap from a shoot with a fag in hand and captioned it “i don’t smoke”. Today’s views on smoking seem somewhat contradictory: it’s cool, nonchalant connotations mean its still a popular prop in fashion publishing to do this day (see the controversial snaps posted by Gigi and Bella Hadid), despite the fact that to most people, it’s actually quite uncool.

@alexachung on Instagram

Irving Penn, Girl With Tobacco on Tongue (Mary Jane Russell)

Yet Another Hot Take on the Environment in Times of a Global Pandemic Some food for thought as you sip on your casual quarantine 12 o’clock G&T. By Valeria Wiwinius

plasticphobia.com

Over the past decade, the sustainability movement has reached an all-time high. From professionals advising us on the pitiful state of our natural habitat over university tutors reminding their students not to forget the importance of being sustainable and ethno-politico-socio-economically correct when working on assignments; to self-proclaimed environmentalists taking to the streets on what seems to be an everyday basis to remind us of what needs to change for us to #savetheplanet. Either way, it seemed as if the world was starting to slowly understand the consequences of our lavish lifestyles for the planet and ‘most importantly’, the human race. Even a number of our beloved fashion houses tried to take steps towards a more sustainable future (whether for publicity purposes or out of genuine concern for our planet, you be the judge of that). And then, something interesting happened. A virus, previously unheard of by most, started circulating and - surprise, surprise - unexpectedly took over the planet, forcing people worldwide to stay at home, politicians to close the borders in a sad attempt to regain control over the situation and businesses to shut their doors until further notice. While some don’t have the luxury of enjoying extensive periods of self-isolation in the comfort of their own homes - NHS workers, we think of you, guys - most of us stay in and do what we do best: complain via all social platforms possible about how bored we are and how unfair it is that, instead of spending our well-deserved summer holidays in Italy, Hawaii or Dubai, we’d now be trying to soak up some British sun while trying not to fall out of our apartment windows. And because sharing is caring, the posts are usually followed by some highly accurate facts from super reliable sources about Covid-19 and the aftermath of it. Great. Where does this leave our super-duper plan to save our planet, or as I like to call it, save our own asses - for the planet will eventually regenerate, but our race probably won’t? Well, one could say it casually chills in the

@ikaveri on Twitter

same boat as all the restaurants and pubs that are desperate to reopen - it’s on hold until further notice. The result? Rising loungewear clothing prices, ever-growing waiting phases for deliveries and extensive splurging on higher-end clothing, with ‘Premium’ brands noting a sales increase of 85%, followed by the ‘Luxury’ market whose sales rose by 36%. And so, we’re keeping our minds and bodies healthy with our comfy loungewear that Influencer XY has said is the cutest thing ever, beauty products to achieve the perfect natural skin, grooming products to help with a trendy buzz haircut, and gym equipment to ensure we can stylishly follow along all the online workout classes. But let’s be fair, fashion isn’t the only bad guy around here. Remember that period when everything remained open and we were merely advised to wash our hands and avoid mass gatherings? Back in those days, when going to pubs and restaurants, I saw an astonishing amount of plastic in form of straws, shopping bags and cutlery again - a phenomenon, I thought had completely died since Greta Thunberg had been jetting (or rather, sailing) all around the planet to motivate us to put our best foot forwards for future generations to come. I remember something my grandma told me back in December when I visited her in Odessa, Ukraine, and had tried lecturing her on why buying plastic water bottles was bad. “Most of the people here are thankful they can even afford that bottle and are thinking about how they’re going to feed their children in the evening. They don’t have time to think about whether the water they drink comes out of a plastic or a glass bottle - as long as they even have water.” Having grown up in Western Europe, I didn’t fully understand what she meant at the time. Now I do. It’s not that people in Ukraine (or any other country with acute poverty) don’t care about our planet going to shit. It’s just that their priorities are completely different to ours. How many of us have to worry about whether we can afford a loaf of bread? In Ukraine, that’s sadly an every-day reality for many people. They’re not in a peaceful mode of reflection and improvement, but in the basic survival

mode which most of us have left a long time ago to move on to a better life where all primary needs are covered. If you ask me, the virus itself isn’t our main problem. The human race has survived far worse illnesses and epidemics, so the situation isn’t as ‘unprecedented’ as we claim it to be. Besides, I think it’s safe to say that at least one of the confirmed 78 projects that are actively trying to develop an effective vaccine are going to be successful in their pursuit sometime in the near future. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a horrible situation, one that I hope we won’t have to live through again and one we shouldn’t be taking lightly either. But I think that the main problem is what the virus has shown us about our oh so perfect social structures, be it that the fact that the healthcare system isn’t as great as we believed it to be, the unstable so-called democracies that have switched to unofficial dictatorships or the proof that no matter how much we try, we can’t control nature. Covid-19 has awakened in us a reasonable and collective fear which has led to a basic regression into the survival mode. When your main priority is to not get sick, you don’t care whether you’re drinking out of a plastic straw or carrying your necessities home in a plastic bag as long as you get that drink and can stock your necessary 2649510461 rolls of toilet paper. Yes, the reduced number of flights and cars on the street have definitely helped to better the global air levels but it has also shown us how easily we as a society tend to forget that mass hoarding of toilet paper, hand sanitiser and comfy loungewear aren’t sustainable living approaches either. So my question is, what will the world look like once we’re allowed to travel around the globe, use our cars for purposes other than the weekly shop and set foot outside without a valid reason again? Has the virus actually helped us understand our mistakes or has it just plunged us back into a constant survival mode and awakened a deeper craving for all things nice and pretty that we can’t have right now? I guess time will tell, so for now, just sit back and enjoy the show. 43

THE PANTY HAMSTER THE BEARDED CLAM THE TUNA TUNNEL:

THE VAGINA MUSEUM

I am a feminist. I am very much in support of our vaginas being discussed more openly within society. I am especially keen to eliminate that scrunched up, small-child-who-justbit-into-a-peppercorn facial expression men do when a woman mentions menstruating. But after visiting London’s Vagina Museum this week I found myself wondering: will this ever be possible? Illustrations courtesy of Charlotte Willcox By Pippa Simmonds

First and foremost, I was extremely excited, one might even say thrilled, when I heard that Camden Market’s line up had just been graced by the presence of an entire museum solely dedicated to female genitals. I didn’t, however, think about what kind of reception this might have from the general public. The museum’s first exhibition, which is currently on display, is entitled ‘Muff Busters: Vagina Myths and How to Fight Them’. It is, to simplify, a room filled with coochie-themed illustrations by the extremely talented Charlotte Willcox (@ charlotteillustrates), and three huge, glittery sculptures of menstrual products by artist, sculptor, propmaker and set designer Sam Dawood (@sam.daw.ood). The museum also features a gift shop selling everything from tote bags to vulva-shaped chocolate lollipops. Frankly, it’s a pretty magnificent sight to lay your eyes on as a woman who, due to societal structures around shame, spent her teenage years masking the painfully obvious sound of unwrapping sanitary towels with unconvincing coughs in the school bathroom. The exhibition aims to break down myths associated with vaginas, including periods being synonymous with dirtiness and the social construct of virginity. The way Muff Busters explains said myths is ideal for a person, male or female, who is uneducated on the subject and sees vaginas as a topic to be either avoided or used as the butt of a joke. Or rather, it would be ideal if only these people would take a moment to stop giggling at the sight of a hand-drawn vulva and actually take in some of the information being presented to them. The problem I found was that during the 45 minutes I spent browsing the exhibition and its accompanying gift shop, I was largely surrounded by people who didn’t seem like they were there to educate themselves at all; quite the opposite in fact.

In order to unpick the reasoning behind this bizarre, ongoing stigma, I expressed my concern about the reception of the exhibit to Muff Busters’ very own illustrator, Charlotte Willcox. “Because these people have been [to the museum], and voluntarily opened themselves up to the information being shown, they become more used to seeing and hearing the word vagina,” she reflected. “Another reason people will laugh is because it’s still something that makes them feel uncomfortable! But it’s a good first step that they even entered the premises, and that’s what we want.” She makes a good point, and whilst it can be frustrating to see conversations like these disregarded by the people who most need educating; the pure existence of projects like the Vagina Museum is enough to make these people consider the normalisation of them.

Charlotte shed some hope on the matter for me, and we discussed the progress around eradicating vagina-shaming thus far. “I think we’re getting so much better already at dealing with stigma, but unfortunately we have a long way to go. It’s frustrating, but we have to see it as motivation to keep thinking of ways to smash the taboos.” Embarrassment around this subject is undoubtably something a lot of us have to unlearn, and Charlotte thinks a lot of it comes back to how, when and if we were taught about it. “I think it’s down to a lack of education about the subjects. Things like periods and gynaecological anatomy should be spoken about as early as possible (to all genders!), so that it becomes the norm as they grow up.” She explained. “I think it’s the fear of not understanding and being too embarrassed to learn about our bodies.” When I asked a male friend what his thoughts on the Vagina Museum were, his automatic response was “It’s cool, but a bit unfair.” I snorted and asked how in the hell it is unfair, and he responded: “There’s no penis museum.” I was quick to inform him that there is in fact a penis museum located in Iceland, which was actually one of the driving forces behind founding of the Vagina Museum. That fact of the matter is, his automatic response was to jump to the defence of men, many of whom still feel uncomfortable and even threatened by open discussions about female genitalia and anatomy; without thinking to clarify his knowledge that there was no male equivalent to the organisation. I’ve never witnessed any sexist or misogynistic behaviour from my friend before, and I honestly don’t believe he has it in him. However, social conditioning meant that his natural reaction was not to first consider the positive message that the Vagina Museum intends to convey, but to compare this to the sex that has so long prevailed within society. Needless to say, I set him straight. But for me, this is proof of the need for such an organisation. Whilst I’m quick to blame systemic patriarchy for our inability to discuss vaginas without the mask of the many ridiculous nicknames we have for them, it’s just as much women who make conversations regarding our panty hamsters difficult. “Especially a lot of older women, as they think it should be talked about in private. That’s why it’s so important for places like the Vagina Museum to be around, as it opens up new conversations.” Charlotte told me. “A big thing is learning from our parents, how they see it. My mum was always very open about these topics and would answer all my questions without making me feel embarrassed, so naturally her openness passed on to me. But there are plenty of families who don’t think it’s necessary to talk about these subjects because of embarrassment.” At first, I struggled to see how stigma-less conversations about gynaecological anatomy could ever become the benchmark in our society. Nevertheless, we have no choice but to be happy with the knowledge that increased awareness of a subject and its place in our everyday lives is always one step closer to standardising it. Because any progress is good progress, right?

What are the Influencers Doing in the Age of Isolation? By Pippa Simmonds Throughout the course of this isolated period, friends and I have been completing daily ‘challenges’ to keep ourselves entertained. Amongst other things, these have included: doing a headstand, doing a handstand, doing 10,000 steps, sending each other photos of our meals (we started to run out of ideas round about here). And, of course, the isolation classic: baking something. When it came to the baking challenge, I gathered my blueberry muffin ingredients and decided it would be fun (which, incidentally, it was not for anyone except me) to film the process; influencer style. I didn’t go to the effort of editing the thing into one, smoothly transitioning IGTV-style masterpiece, I just a sent a new, one-minute clip to the WhatsApp group every time I added a new ingredient. I even threw in a wobbly time lapse of me beating the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, for good measure. Waiting for my muffins to bake, I noticed the rose plant on my window wilting and imagined myself, the new influencer on the block, sharing this menial piece of information with my followers. I thought about how there would likely be a subtle #ad in there for the Ikea plant pot the roses were dying in, or maybe the earrings or lip balm I was wearing in the video. One can get a bit carried away when trapped in the confines of their house for too long. Don’t get me wrong, if someone offered me thousands to produce meaningless spon-con and natter away to my front camera all day, you bet your quarantine banana bread I’d be right on that. It actually felt like I was chatting with friends as I added the blueberries to my muffin batter, narrating the process (I kind of was, just not friends who were in any way

#bananabread on Instagram

“Admittedly, I’ve been harping on about how easy it would be to be an influencer, but I’m honestly not sure what my moral stance is on owning that many knitted co-rds.”

interested). With influencers, however, there’s always at least one bored follower who will actually, willingly sit through a three-minute video of you explaining the diminishing state of your rose plant. If I could describe influencer culture in the current climate in the most millennial way possible, it’s like when Kylie Jenner hid her pregnancy from the world by very uncharacteristically posting exclusively #throwback photos and selfies from the shoulders upwards for nine months. I’m sure Kylie had the same attitude as us during that time, one of feeling no obligation for the bottom half of our outfits to be anything other than pyjama bottoms even though we’re still technically doing our jobs; albeit via Zoom. It’s a combination of this backlog of throwbacks and top half selfies, along with ‘loungewear hauls’ that I’ve been noticing on my feed. That is, influencers ordering and/or being sent excessive amounts of tracksuits and pyjamas, making montages of themselves twirling around and telling us how super-comfy they are. Admittedly, I’ve been harping on about how easy it would be to be an influencer, but I’m honestly not sure what my moral stance is on owning that many knitted co-rds. Frankly, nobody has a purpose for that much loungewear – even when quarantining in the midst of a global pandemic. So, due to a frustration of those whom in my opinion, only add to the fakeness of Instagram, I’m not too engaged with the Zoellas of the world. But from what I have seen from the influencers, it looks like they’re still raking in more cash than most of us with their blueberry muffins and their dead flowers and their bloody loungewear. Good for them, I’m definitely not bitter.

The Rise of the Problematic Dating Show By Pippa Simmonds

There’s no need to feel uneasy about finding any available variation of ‘single strangers thrown into a house’ enjoyable. But how much further can this entertainment model go on the ridiculousness scale?

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Most of us are guilty of indulging in an episode or two of Love Island, the reality show whereby a handful of twenty-something, conventionally über-attractive single people are thrust into a Spanish villa for six weeks of organised fun, with the end goal of finding love; or, rather, finding a shiny £50,0000 in their bank on their return to the UK. Looking back, Love Island felt like the calm before a storm of increasingly ridiculous dating shows. After countless seasons of Love Island, our next obsession became Netflix’s Love is Blind, a show which again, focused on a group of singles (this time, Americans), who sat in ‘pods’ talking to each other anonymously before agreeing to marry whoever they had had the best chats with. Naturally, the end of the series saw some alter-jilting, brides dramatically fleeing the scene with their polyester trains dragging behind them, etc. There was also a handy reunion episode where rival brides shouted at each other and us lucky viewers got to find out what happened post-wedding (or in some cases, postnon-wedding). The dating show concept became even more warped with the recent arrival of the Too Hot to Handle on Netflix which, you guessed it, saw a bunch of singles thrown into a house together. The variation on the theme here was that in order to get their hands on, you guessed it, a large sum of money; this particularly horny group must abstain from any kissing or sexual contact throughout their

@suzy899 on Twitter

time on the show. The entertainment factor set in when it became clear that nobody had applied to that show without first watching the steamy scenes in Love Island and expecting a similar rocky road to splitting the prize money with someone they’ve eventually settled for, not before messing with the emotions of various other contestants. The problem, of course, with curating a dating show with these meaningful undertones, supposedly designed to teach its contestants the importance of emotional connections (rather than just acting on their incessant horn), is that viewers are no longer tuning in for that reason. Gone are the innocent days when it was enough for Channel 4’s First Dates to reduce us to tears at two widowed pensioners finally finding the companionship they’ve missed so very much. Viewers are now tuning into dating shows to see heated arguments arise when two of contestants realise they like the same person, or fights break out between potential couples due to nothing more than their uncontrollable urges to shag each other. And somehow in the case of Too Hot to Handle, the £100k incentive sort of takes away from the importance of the emotional and anatomical lessons that the contestants are supposedly learning by being temporarily celibate and having science lessons about their own vaginas. Whilst the producers of Too Hot to Handle would love to pretend that the point of the show is to help educate people of the

complexities of their own emotions, it’s really more about causing arguments between young, good-looking people by banning them from having sex. This brings me on to the next victim of my cross-examination of dating shows: Channel 4’s 5 Guys a Week. It is, exactly what it says on the tin: one woman choosing from five men, over the coulrse of a week. Whilst this one is particularly entertaining, it’s rather hilarious that anyone has attempted to pass it off as being about finding a relationship, or even a one-night stand. It becomes blatant within the first couple of minutes of each episode that it is in fact, a testosterone fuelled survival of the fittest, a competition in which the woman’s affections are in no way the end goal. The men’s quest to prove their manliness takes over as soon as they meet one another. One episode even saw 33-year old Nina’s aggressively heterosexual potential suitors become the best of laddish friends, fleeing her house together and leaving her with no choice but to choose the only man whose strategy wasn’t to gang up on her. A truly lucky lady. I’m not naïve enough to ignore the fact that these shows are produced solely for our entertainment, and that they succeed in that task. Shock factor is part of the reason some of the most prevalent pop culture substance has reached such heights. Isn’t it strange, though, how so much of our modern-day understanding of entertainment lies within profiting off the emotional torture of fame hungry people?

Go Big or Go Home: A Culture of All or Nothing There’s an incredibly specific and annoying trait amongst a large portion of our current generation that seems to relish in calling out other people on their lack of 100% commitment to any given cause. By Pippa Simmonds Be it a plant-based diet or a pledge to the strange community of people that is the Harry Styles fandom, there’s a certain pressure that lies within undertaking any interest, habit or pursuit of self-improvement these days. The Harry Styles thing was probably a bad example, but the most obvious instances when it comes all-or-nothing syndrome lie around environmental issues. In order to be taken seriously in your quest to do better for the planet, it seems you must first sacrifice everything that us, the human race, have become accustomed to due to technology and societal changes. Now, it’s blaringly obvious that there are an abundance of habits we have which are less than beneficial for the environment. However, it seems as if making small lifestyle changes just won’t cut it. Towards the end of last year, I did a lot of research on fast fashion and its environmental and social implications, and a mere couple of documentaries completely changed my outlook, and my shopping habits. I ask you to bear in mind that I live in a house share in which the news that ASOS are running a 20% off code spreads through the hallways like wildfire, before chasing us all downstairs to the living room to scour our saved lists and make a group order (fashion students, am I right?). Anyway, I’ve always loved a charity shop, a kilo sale and a scroll through Depop, so I decided to pretty much boycott fast fashion altogether, despite the temptation that comes from housemates that constantly send me screengrabs of cute clothes. I say ‘pretty much’ because since then, the only fast fashion purchase I’ve made is some Primark knickers, and as much as I’d love to invest in the fancy organic ones that they always advertise in podcast breaks, I’m just not quite there financially yet. The point of this anecdote is that whilst I spend a lot of time thinking before I buy, and almost exclusively purchase clothing second hand when I do; I don’t make a point of sharing this on social media, or elsewhere, due to fear of being criticised for my still-carnivorous diet or the fact that I use lipsticks that were likely tested on animals. Realistically, a society of selfish people (and if you want to argue with that, I ask you to consider the world’s reaction to a global pandemic – stockpiling bog roll and caster sugar? Really?) are never going to fully commit to the lifestyle

example set by Extinction Rebellion. That, amongst other things, would involve sacrificing our yearly holidays. If not it would only involve making the journey to Mallorca a whole lot more troublesome by embargoing EasyJet and adding a boat or two to the equation. Not to mention the kilo of new swimwear that thanks to the ever-brilliant role models that are the Love Island producers, has been normalised as a pre-holiday ritual. So, if you’re not willing to give up the ease of air-travel and copping 12 new neon boob tubes from Pretty Little Thing for your annual girls’ holiday, it seems you’re a lost cause. But let’s consider that although it may seem ironic that my (sometimes) vegetarian housemate still receives numerous Amazon parcels per week, small lifestyle changes might just be ok. A few years ago, my dad embarked on ‘meat-free Mondays’ after reading that Paul McCartney does it (not solely because Paul McCartney does it, there was also some context around its environmental benefits). Anyway, I was thinking about this the other day: if, in an alternate universe, my dad were the sort of person to tweet about his cutting down on meat, or post an Instagram picture of his vegetable quiche dinner of a Monday evening, he would be unlikely to do so without fear of judgement. There’s always going to be one keyboard warrior somewhere, reading it and thinking (if not actually commenting): why not full vegan? What’s the point otherwise? The point is, if every single person made minute lifestyle changes similar to those of my dad, my flexitarian housemate and my ninety-eight-percent-second-hand-shopping self, it’d still be a whole lot better than doing nothing at all. Where has this attitude come from? If you can’t go hard, you’re expected to go home. In a hyper-woke society full of people constantly trying to one-up each other, it’s no wonder that doing one good thing only gets you criticism for not doing ten. I suppose the point is that not everybody is in a physical, emotional or economic position to drastically change their lives entirely. Sometimes we just have to be a bit selfish.

Although it may seem ironic that my sometimesvegetarian housemate still receives numerous weekly Amazon parcels, small lifestyle changes might just be ok.”

What Does the C-Word Mean for This Year’s Fashion Graduates? Amongst the many facets of our lives that have ground to a halt thanks to the global crisis we have on our hands, is the cancellation (not postponement) of London’s Graduate Fashion Week. Or rather, the moment that many fashion students’ entire degrees have led up to...

By Pippa Simmonds Illustration by Simone Field

Pre-collection line up by Fashion Design student Jazz de Baeza

Graduate Fashion Week is held every year at east London’s Truman Brewery, and serves to exhibit the best work from the country’s fashion specific courses, giving its students the opportunity to showcase their projects to industry professionals and potential employers. For many, Graduate Fashion Week is the single most important moment of their time as a fashion student. Given the current state of panic making its way across our entire planet, the Graduate Fashion Foundation made the testing decision to cancel this year’s event. The GFF has been going since 1991 and is run on the basis of ‘bridging the gap between education and employment’. So, how exactly do they plan to do this in the absence of their biggest event of the year? According to their website, GFW attracts a staggering 30,000 guests per year, so we can see why Miss Rona might cause some issues with this event going ahead. The event features 22 catwalk shows across the week as well as 38 university exhibition stands and a number of industry-run talks, workshops and masterclasses. A letter was published on the GFW website addressed to the class of 2020, asking graduates to ‘bear with’ them as they work towards an alternative method of providing the industry visibility that they ensure for students each year. Whilst nobody can blame the organisers of GFW for these undeniably unexpected circumstances, unfortunately, this year’s fashion students are just another notch on the C-word’s bedpost.

So, what are the class of 2020 most concerned about with regards to missing out on GFW? “We won’t get the opportunity to meet and network [with people looking to hire], which will mean potentially missing out on vital job opportunities. I just want to leave knowing I can get a job.” Says Beth, a Fashion Journalism student. Other students are concerned they don’t have other options in terms of showcasing their work, especially when they have been working towards partaking in a staple event within the industry. Many students feel that they have been robbed of the opportunity to win one of the many awards that are up for grabs at GFW, which for some could be the difference between starting the business they’ve been working towards and, well, not (never mind the fact that the industry almost definitely won’t be ready for start-ups following the corona chaos, but that’s another story). Part of the problem for these students is that for many, it’s been drilled into them from day one of their degrees that Graduate Fashion Week is the opportunity for them to make their name in the industry. So, are there any positives to the situation we are facing? Course Leader of the University for the Creative Arts’ BA Fashion Journalism course, Mark O’Connor, has a more positive outlook on the situation for the UK’s fashion students.

“We won’t get the opportunity to meet and network, which will mean potentially missing out on vital job opportunities. I just want to leave knowing I can get a job.” - Beth, BA Fashion Journalism

“In the UK, the lockdown has undoubtedly transformed our lives, but the public is finding ways of thriving in the face of this adversity. Final year graduating students for whom the pandemic has been the catalyst are to fully embrace the online world for everything from receiving lectures and tutorials on face to face platforms, such as Zoom or Teams. New digital technologies are allowing students to produce and promote work that will ultimately create their final degree showcase. Everybody is doing what they can to help one another and as we exercise social distancing, this hardship has and will actually bring us together as a community. Quarantines are forcing even the most traditional fashion universities to engage in digital technology. This could be an exciting prospect for our graduates and perhaps trigger fresh initiatives that will last beyond the pandemic itself. But what does this actually mean for young people looking for work after graduating from University? During this unprecedented time, this is going to be a challenge for graduating students, as they will have to adapt to new ways of showcasing their final work or collections. The test will be to embrace these nuances in technology and digital design, but if millennia that are the social media generation can’t find ways to diversify, then no one can. There may be good news however, ‘thinking differently’ (that has been Apple’s slogan) will inevitably shift us away from traditional methods and force us all to become more sustainable and consider a different approach to how work is seen and promoted in the future. The news that Graduate Fashion Week was cancelling its event this summer came as a terrible blow to our final year students and staff, especially as students use this event as a networking opportunity in order to break through and gain employment in the creative industries. Universities are now thinking about how best they can support their students in order to help them create

a digital portfolio of work and develop new online strategies, where they can showcase their work. Digital solutions are definitely on the horizon. These new developments will perhaps open new doors in job markets with different opportunities available. The regular routine of a 9-5 Monday to Friday job and working pattern may be a thing of the past. This would encourage more remote and technology, just could be the anecdote for life after Covid-19 and for this new generation of millennial graduate job seekers. Brands are also helping in this crisis. ‘Format’, the Canadian do-ityourself web-builder, announced this week that they are supporting Independent photographers through the pandemic, by providing a $25,000 Photographer Fund to help photographers who are facing unprecedented financial hardships in the wake of the Covid-19 outbreak to stay on their feet. As we go through what can only be regarded as a mini-recession, and public spending hits an all-time low, this uncertainty means people are hanging on to any spare cash they have. This has certainly hit fashion brands and retailers hard. It is unlikely though, that what we considered as the norm just a few months ago, will ever be restored. Just before the outbreak, Greta Thunberg, Extinction Rebellion et al were out campaigning for a brighter, sustainable future to protect the next generation from severe weather conditions and geographical disaster, and Covid-19 may have given the environmentalists’ just the helping hand they sought for. While planes are grounded, car traffic jams are non-existent and the streets now clear of people – not only are the stars visible at night in London once again, moreover environmentalists are noticing a sea change across the planet. One thing is for sure, positivity can and will emerge from this crisis.”

“Quarantines are forcing even the most traditional fashion universities to engage in digital technology. This could be an exciting prospect for our graduates and perhaps trigger fresh initiatives that will last beyond the pandemic itself.”

ALL OUFITS Omnium Gatherum by Charlie Simmonds PHOTOGRAPHY Elizabeth Butler MODELLED BY Eliot Stone, Darcy Foster STYLING Pippa Simmonds MAKE UP Hayley Barnes PRODUCTION ASSISTANCE Pietro Barcaro

CHARLIE SIMMONDS DESIGNED HER GRADUATE COLLECTION, OMNIUM GATHERUM, IN THE MIDST OF THE BREXIT REFERENDUM. THREE YEARS LATER, THE CONVERSATION AND THE COLLECTION ARE BOTH MORE PERTINENT THAN EVER.

Images courtesy of thechicgeek.com

The Devil Wears eBay: Marcus Jaye

You can tell that Marcus Jaye isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t the sort of Fashion Person who takes himself too seriously, largely by the giant papier Mache version of his own head you are most likely to recognise him by. By Pippa Simmonds

You can tell that Marcus Jaye isn’t the sort of Fashion Person who takes himself too seriously, largely by the giant papier Mache version of his own head you are most likely to recognise him by. “To be honest, I started going bald and I don’t really like having my photograph being taken. I thought, ‘how can I be in the picture, but not be in the picture?’” Despite the fact that most photos of Marcus feature this particularly extreme accessory, he confesses it doesn’t make too many appearances in his day-to-day life. “It’s kind of my alter-ego, but it’s pretty big and I’d really rather leave it at home than carry it round all day,” he explains. “Especially if I’ve had a few cocktails.” His men’s fashion blog, The Chic Geek, turns eleven this May. It came about following Jaye’s own prediction that digital publishing was on the up and the end of print was nigh. While the fashion publishing landscape hasn’t quite mapped out as he expected since the blog’s 2009 launch, his prediction wasn’t entirely untrue; what with the prominence of social media platforms like Instagram now being used for, well, just about everything. After two years of blogging, Jaye

landed himself his first book deal, The Chic Geek’ Fashion, Grooming & Style Guide for Men. Fast forward to 2019 and the release of his second book Fashion Wankers: It Takes One to Know One, of which the primary message is: it’s cool to take the piss out of yourself. I’m curious as to what being a Fashion Wanker entails and am told that it all boils down to the fact that “We’re not saving lives”. Given the stone-cold persona the fashion industry is often tainted with (Anna Wintour, I’m looking at you), it’s refreshing to talk to someone who can actually laugh at themselves, and the industry in which they exist. As a creative young person, post A-levels, Jaye embarked on a six-month stint at Kingston University studying landscape architecture, but soon decided that “designing superstore car parks” wasn’t for him. Marcus recalls spending his evenings at Kingston watching CNN’s Style with Elsa Klensch, on which he remembers watching Shalom Harlow spinning around, being spray painted by robots in Alexander McQueen’s Spring 1999 show. This would be the show that made him realise that fashion was much more than clothes.

Ergo, Jaye’s fashion journey began at London College of Fashion, where he stumbled across a course called Fashion Promotion, and bagged himself a degree. You could say that his ideas were before their time, as Jaye’s final project at university was a magazine he claimed to be the world’s first luxury, green, environmental fashion magazine. “It was all about saving the world in a Louis Vuitton jumpsuit.” Marcus ponders that despite ‘sustainability’ being an often-misused buzzword in the industry, people have been talking about ethical fashion forever - it’s just that nobody really listened until now. Marcus describes his younger self as “the kid who was trying to get the council to recycle plastic bottles”, and strongly believes that without legislation, a healthy planet and a sustainable fashion industry is completely and utterly unachievable. Ultimately, “the only sustainable fashion company is one that doesn’t exist.” Jaye’s personal style somewhat reflects a youth spent hounding local council members about the importance of recycling - he’s more of a collector than a shopper. He buys his clothing “everywhere”, but his preferred method of shopping is to visualise a look he wants to wear before relentlessly searching the far corners of eBay in order to bring said look to life. The clearance rail in TKMaxx is another favourite, and our conversation reminds him of a time where it was virtually impossible for men to find “crazy” clothing without spending the earth; which he compares to the ease of looking cool in our current age of endless options. On the present state of the industry, he believes that without further technological change, we’re just “treading water”. But what does this mean? His predictions include sustainable fabric technology and clothes

“The only sustainable fashion company is one that doesn’t exist.” as a service rather than an ownable item. He considers that many talented young designers don’t get very far because the reigning force of our catwalks is, and has been for some time, nostalgia. “The ironic thing is, we want all these new ideas, but nobody wants to support the people who are coming up with them.” Marcus is also troubled by the perceived evils of fast fashion and makes the interesting point that in an industry driven by constant change (and of course, profit), all fashion is somewhat fast. It’s quite literally an occupational hazard. He describes it as a game whereby people are trying to be creative, whilst considering the ultimate goal of fashion: to make money. According to Jaye and his 25 year stretch as a fashion consumer, quality has lessened while prices have only gone up. So, what next for The Chic Geek? Move over, Monopoly – Marcus is currently working on Fashion Wankers: The Board Game (“Can you imagine playing that with your Grandad?”). It’s unconfirmed whether the game will come with its very own papier Mache Chic Geek head, but we can only hope. You can follow Marcus on Instagram @thechicgeekcouk and read the blog at www.thechicgeek.co.uk.

I’ve started a list on my iPhone’s Notes app entitled ‘weird ads’. Weird, in this context, translates to ‘suspiciously in tune with the inner workings of my brain/thoughts I haven’t even vocalised yet’. I’m talking about targeted internet advertising, people. By Pippa Simmonds

Why is My iPhone Always Listening to My Thoughts? 72

As of yet, despite experiencing many examples of this (to an arguably concerning degree) but just not thinking to write it down, there are two instances on my list. The first stemmed from a conversation I was having with a colleague on the tube about 6 months ago, whereby I spotted a particularly stylish looking lady sporting an embroidered headband with a tiger stitched on, surrounded by colourful sequins and beading. As you can probably tell, I’m still pining over said headband, but that’s what the point is not. “I love her headband,” I said, “I wonder where it’s from?” “Ask her”, my friend chipped in. Naturally I just sniggered at this suggestion, given that it was rush hour on the tube, and I am British - but nonetheless, continued to side eye the stylish woman for the remainder our conveniently synchronised journey to the end of the Northern Line. The following day, I arrived at work and opened my laptop to have a quick scroll through the morning news. What, you ask, was lingering at the side of the page? That bloody headband. There it was, its glistening sequins and gloriously stitched tiger staring me right in the face. A well-known, mid-market fashion company - whose website, I must stress, I had never before visited – had somehow tracked me down. Me, the woman who had, over the evening following our first encounter, began to develop questionably romantic feelings towards this godforsaken tiger headband. Purely out of spite towards the robots who are clearly monitoring my every utterance through my iPhone’s camera/microphone/mind-reading device, I didn’t make the purchase.

Instance two occurred more recently. After two years and much persuasion, my boyfriend had finally convinced me to watch an anime film. The following day I was tapping through Instagram stories and, lo and behold, an advertisement for a small Etsy shop selling posters of the exact film that had popped my anime cherry only the evening before, appeared. We hadn’t even watched it on one of my devices. Are there tiny little bugs hiding in the nooks and crannies of my phone with extremely sensitive hearing? If I make those high-pitched sounds that dogs hate, will the bugs piss off and leave me alone? It's not just me who feels unsettled by this bizarre virtual stalking. One friend received an exploding birthday card, and her friend filmed her opening it. Later that day she received two ads from (unquestionably niche) exploding birthday card companies on Instagram, then a week or so later she picked up the card again when she was tidying her room. Later that day, another ad. ASOS sent out email offers on ‘singles day’ and the only people in my eight-person house share who received them were those who weren’t in relationships. Are ASOS stalking our (mostly private) Instagram accounts? If so, how?! Amongst my favourite examples was one from a friend who forgot to log her cycle in her period tracking app and went on to receive adverts for baby clothes and prams on social media. Another was a friend who was discussing foot fetishes with work colleagues, and soon started receiving ads on Facebook marketplace for footshaped flesh lights. “I’ve never searched for anything like that before!” she assured me. My sister once had a programme playing on her laptop in the background one evening when a targeted ad for Ben & Jerry’s came on, shouting “Hey! Listen up, Charlie!”, as if it knew her full concentration wasn’t on the ice cream in question. This was followed by a strongly worded email to head office about privacy (she gets it from our mother). Others I’ve heard from friends have included menial items like gel pens, Shredded Wheat and Vix VapoRub being mentioned in passing conversations, only for them to later appear between stories on Instagram. My housemate also gets “a lot” of adverts for yoghurt (she doesn’t like yoghurt), in ad breaks when watching catch-up TV, and is convinced “they are trying to get [her] to like it”. So, where do we draw the line

between personalised ads and unambiguous invasions of privacy? When you click yes to a site’s privacy policy, what exactly are you agreeing to? A recent documentary by BBC’s Panorama investigated E-Commerce giant Amazon and how much data they really have about us, their customers. What They Know About Us revealed Amazon’s admission to, in order to improve customer experience, having staff members listen to about “1% of recordings” made through the company’s ‘Alexa’ device - a virtual assistant built into the Amazon Echo and other smart speakers – which via voice control can aid customers with everything from switching on their Vengaboys playlist to adjusting the temperature of their home. Now, these recordings are supposedly anonymous, but it’s hardly well-advertised to customers upon purchasing an Alexa-enabled device that somewhere, an Amazon employee could be sitting in an office listening to their conversations. This would be especially unnerving if said customer had been listening to the Vengaboys. There is essentially no limit to how much information Alexa can collect, and every time a user asks a question, makes a purchase, or even alters their tone of voice due to a change in emotional state – she supposedly makes a mental note. The documentary also revealed that Amazon delivery drones are now capable of carrying out ‘surveillance’, such as detecting open doors and windows, and even whether there are people inside the house they are distributing to. Spooky. It doesn’t seem to me as if anyone is using my shopping habits or conversational topics for anything sinister and as far as I’m aware, I haven’t said, searched or thought about anything juicy enough that a spy somewhere in the world would feel the need to hold it against me. Yet, somehow that doesn’t lessen the uneasiness I feel when I’m thinking about having pizza for dinner and suddenly, Dominos are in my DM’s harping on about Two for Tuesday’s. In the meantime, I might start following Will Smith’s example in 2004’s I, Robot: “I’m not talking around that thing.”

“Amongst my favourite examples [of targeted ads] was one from a friend who forgot to log her cycle in her period tracking app and went on to receive adverts for baby clothes and prams on social media.”

Side note: about 25 minutes after I wrote that closing line, I received a BOGOF text offer from Dominos.

m.muesly.com

This Season’s Hottest Accessory? Crushed Avo on Toast By Lizzy Greenwood

Like so many aspects of our modern existence, social media has managed to pervade the way we interact, shop and now, eat. But since when did food become as trend led and fashionable as Jacquemus’ tiny handbags?

Honestly, it’s exhausting. Now food is just as aesthetic, faddish and narcissistic as everything else. Our millennial avarice for mass acceptance compounded by our superficial lens which sees each act as a means of social performative posturing cannot quite comprehend that some of life’s pleasures can be enjoyed simply in the moment. From humble beginnings to humble brags, #foodporn has become this season’s hottest accessory. Even the tag #foodporn highlights its salacious qualities, sexing it up, making the whole thing rather perverse. Usually reserved for earnest home cooks, photographing what you eat, where you eat it, who you are eating it with and what you’re wearing while eating it has become (strap in, I know you’ve heard this term before) the ‘new norm’. Now, there are cafes and restaurants furnished purely with shareable aesthetic in mind; their surroundings making them Instagram appropriate, reeling in punters with its appealing fantastical and theatrical food (no one cares about the food) delicately peppered with edible flowers (don’t get me started on edible flowers) on a backdrop of some plastique rose wall or some other faux-decor. I must reiterate, louder for those at the back, no one really cares about the food. I shall elaborate. It is not what the food is, rather, what the food represents. It’s about peacocking, let’s be frank. The food is emblematic of your social status in life: healthy, wholesome, outgoing, financially liberated to

waste money on ridiculous faddy food that has now gone cold. For many young diners, it would be committing a cardinal sin to begin one’s meal without documenting it beforehand and sharing on socials. There are restaurants and cafes almost sacrosanct because of the culinary social currency they bequeath. Some restaurants go as far as installing marble table tops, ordering Italian linen cloths or investing in beautiful wooden benches purely to enhance the photographic experience of its patron. If you’re not despairing at this revelation, I am on your behalf. Nowadays, food is engineered to be liked, to be shared, where taste comes firmly second place. Chefs are now ‘cooking for the ‘gram’, making food whose image comes first, sometimes to the detriment of its taste, or indeed, any discernable nutritional value. Let’s take for example, freak shakes, unicorn fraps, rainbow bagels, doughnuts embedded with biscuits and pregnant with filling, smoothie bowls with the geometric symmetry that the Aztecs would be envious of. Most things are so sweet and sugar-loaded, it is genuinely irresponsible to consume them. A Unicorn Frap has 76 grams of sugar in it. Freak shakes made with such poise and architecture that it’s a genuine effort to try and slurp up the full fat beverage beneath the slice of cake and peak of whipped cream. I’ll pass. However, this does bode well for smaller fooderies and cupcakeries who rely on their ‘grammable grub to boost sales, generate a culinary buzz and increase footfall by those keen to enrich their feed by endorsing the newest foodie fad. Whilst I enjoy the odd foodie sensation, have marvelled at some creations and have seen the appeal of pastel ice-creams held up pleasingly across the perfect azure sky, I think it’s time we all admit that it’s all a bit much, and we’ve lost sight of why we’re doing. In the words/tweet of @rhigbennett circa 2015: ‘Y is my Instagram full of crushed avocado and poached eggs on toast for breakfast, just have some coco pops and piss off ’.

“Nowadays, food is engineered to be liked, to be shared, where taste comes firmly second place.”

ladyandtheblog.com

The Beauty Industry is Bullshitting You. Here’s How @thebaalm on Instagram

By Hayley Barnes

With the proliferation of social media, it’s no wonder beauty has become a $60 billion industry. Now, more than ever, there’s a whole realm of beauty facts and fiction to rifle through. So, let’s cut through the fat, and get straight to the facts. Here’s our 5 quick tips to staying smart with your skincare.

The beauty market can often seem like an over-saturated, chaotic landscape of scrubs, serums and SPF’s that’s near impossible to navigate. It’s hard to know which brands to trust, which beauty blogger is telling porkies, and whether Hailey Bieber actually likes that foundation (or if BareMinerals are still running her check). So, no sponsored products, no bullshit: let’s hear some home truths. 1. MAKEUP WIPES ARE PURE SHIT Not literal shit, but the skincare equivalent. You must be aware by now that wipes (disposable or not) are awful for the environment. Not only can they clog up water systems in cities, but they aren’t great for your clogged pores, either. More often than not, wipes contain alcohol, which is the cardinal sin for skincare. While they may give you the feeling of clean skin, the reality is that they’re damaging the skin barrier, completely killing off any good bacteria that lives on your skin, as well as removing any natural moisture. Instead, opt for micellar water or a cleansing balm to remove makeup. Additionally - make sure you are cleansing your skin after removing your makeup. After all, you wouldn’t mop the floor before you’d vacuumed, would you? 2. SPF IN YOUR MAKEUP DOES PRETTY MUCH NOTHING We all need to be wearing an SPF every. Single. Day. Whether you live in London or LA, it’s important to maintain the health of your skin. However, if you think the SPF 20 in your BB cream is protecting you from harmful rays, you are wrong. More often than not, the amount of SPF in your favourite base product is very low, even if it claims to be SPF 50. In order to get complete UV coverage, you would really need to be applying 2 hefty pumps of your base all over. Better yet, you would also need to be applying it every few hours, given that make up tends to wear thin throughout the course of the day. Make sure to be wearing SPF under your base product, and then your base product with SPF, as the cherry on top of a UV cake.

3. PUT DOWN THE FACE SCRUBS I don’t care what Kylie Jenner says, any physical exfoliant for the face is crap. In fact, it’s best to avoid taking advice from billionaires who can actually pay for any facial treatment they want. I can guarantee you any dermatologist will be quick to inform you that physical scrubs and exfoliants cause nothing but horror for your poor skin. While a walnut scrub may give the illusion of fantastically smoothed and soft skin, the tiny sharp fragments are in fact creating micro-abrasions on your skin, creating more damage. If you want to exfoliate your skin for blackheads, dry patches and general baby softness, always use a chemical exfoliator. Something with a AHA or BHA, such as Azealic Acid, Glycolic Acid, Lactic Acid, or Salycilic Acid. Instead of scratching off dead skin from your face, these chemicals break down the dead skin, washing it away and leaving a fresh, healthy face. 4. NO SINGLE PRODUCT WORKS FOR EVERY ACNE SUFFERER I’m looking at you, Proactiv. Yes, while some skincare brands will make bold claims and tell you that theirs is the magic regime for acne-prone skin, it may not always work for you. As per number 3, there are number of chemicals and ingredients that help to remove dead skin cells and clean the skin of any acne-causing bacteria. However, some may work, and some may make your acne worse. While it’s always good to consider to advice from other acne sufferers on what may work for you, don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t; and always try to explore all options. Your skin, like any organ in the body, is unique to everyone and has different intolerances.

@thebaalm on Instagram

5. CLEAN BEAUTY IS A COMPLETE MYTH Clean beauty is a rising skin care craze (or fad), claiming to be skincare and makeup made completely naturally, without any chemicals. I’m sure most of you took GCSE Chemistry, but everything is made of chemicals, do there really is there is no regulation on what can be entitled a ‘clean’ product. More often than not, it’s just a buzz word used by brands to make a pretty buck from a growing millennial market who are more health/ ecologically conscious than consumers before them. So, before you buy a ‘clean’ product and buy into the hype, always check the ingredients list of the product online and cross reference it to sites such as CosDNA or the Think Dirty app, which can help unpick exactly how ‘clean’ this product really is. With every new tip and trick you learn when it comes to beauty, ask yourself if it serves you or the multi-million-dollar industry it belongs to; and don’t forget the small matter of the beauty industry existing within a patriarchal society that seeks to control women by telling them they will never be perfect and need to continually fix themselves. Remember, women only started shaving after the First World War when the razor companies lost their entire consumer group. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to smooth out your skin texture or try out that new blush technique you saw on TikTok, just make sure you double check every purchase: is it Chaff beauty bullshit approved?

@thebaalm on Instagram

Enjoy the money, Jane.

Has lockdown made anybody else their neediest self?

By Pippa Simmonds

One activity and my housemates and I chose to indulge in during lockdown was a fully-fledged recreation of Come Dine with Me, complete with three courses per night, video recordings of us scoring each other and a platter of prize ‘money’ at the end. And it wasn’t just for our own entertainment, either. Friends and family were following along with arguably more enthusiasm for the next instalment than we ourselves were. I’m quietly ashamed to say that as a house of 22-year-old women, we run a ‘finsta’ or (to translate for anyone who is over the age of sixteen), a private Instagram account, for the goings on of our house. In the instance of Come Dine with Me, the less appropriate elements of the competition were uploaded there (this refers to a particular evening which was ‘dodgy club’ themed, and ended as every dodgy club night does: with sticky floors and mouthfuls of stale bread). Our public accounts, however, were full of photos of us dressed up to the nines and most importantly, like we were having more fun than you during our quarantine. Evening one required us all to dress up in animal print, to match the tens of scraps of zebra and leopard printed Poundland tissue paper plastered to the walls of our kitchen, along with every house plant we collectively own - which within a group of women in their early twenties is rather a lot. We drank margaritas and dined on a ‘fake Nando’s’. Evening two was mine, a

sorry attempt to transform our kitchen into a charming Greek/Spanish/Italian beachside retreat. I gained some bonus points for home-making the hummus and the flatbreads. Next came the club themed evening, aptly named ‘Covid and Boutique’ after our beloved local Fever and Boutique (Google it if you’re unsure). Unsurprisingly the aftermath of this one left us unable to move, let alone cook or eat a coven-themed three course dinner the following day. We ordered copious amounts of hash browns on Uber Eats and decided to give the competition a well-deserved, one-night hiatus. Our final evening saw us all dressed as witches, eating ‘squid ink’ pasta dyed black by food colouring, faffing around with tarot cards and holding hands around a firepit. The authenticity and effort of the evening’s entertainment lead this one to victory. My second-placed self half-recited the classic “Enjoy the money, Jane” speech (again, Google it if you’re unsure, you won’t regret this one), before the evening took a turn which resulted in us ‘celebrating’ my housemate’s win with arguably too much vigour. Despite my near victory at Come Dine with Me, the conclusion I came to as the week came to a close was not related to my cooking or hosting abilities. You see, I realised that it’s all fun and games coming up with fun lockdown activities until they’re over, and you feel an emptiness more haunting than the lack of purpose that lead you to the idea in the first place. As dramatic as that sounds, I’m merely referring to the loneliness I now feel during any moment I spend alone, having spent those five days (and two hangovers) in very close proximity to the other members of my

household. I wake up each day, wander downstairs to make morning tea in the hope of running into someone with whom to exchange at the very least a groggy ‘good morning’. Unfortunately, mine is the only sleeping pattern that went unharmed by the previous days’ antics, and so most days I’m unlikely to stumble upon another resident until around 12pm. Quarantine/lockdown/living hell, whatever you choose to label it, effects every person in different and personal ways. For some, it’s adjusting to new working patterns. For others it’s the restrictions to their freedom caused by only being allowed to leave the house for certain reasons. I find it rather entertaining that after two months, something as light-hearted and trivial as a homemade Come Dine with Me has been what has led me to the realisation that a craving for the company of others is the particular way that lockdown has affected me. I’ve always very much ok with my own company, and lots of it. But there’s something about being stripped of the liberty to do something that makes you want it more. It’s similar to the way the one friend I have who, ordinarily, doesn’t enjoy spending her weekends drinking far too much like the rest of us (not to reduce my friends’ personalities to their drinking habits), has expressed an uncharacteristically strong craving for a night out. I know I’m not the only person experiencing loneliness during this trying time, and as somebody who is locked down with three others, my situation could be a lot worse. Though that doesn’t seem to make me any less needy of an evening, after dinner, when all my housemates part ways to their own bedrooms.

A Love Letter to the Unused Contents of My Wardrobe By Pippa Simmonds

To my dearest clobber, I miss you. I miss waking up in the morning, spending a good fifteen minutes (to half an hour, depending on the weather) deliberating over which ensemble to take with me on my travels on that particular day. I miss putting on a jumper with nothing on underneath and instantly regretting it when I arrive at the destination of the day in a flustered sweat. I even miss the time I had to wear a shoulder brace, which I was convinced ruined all my outfits. I miss the onearmed, Grinch esque tantrum that occurred every time I wanted to go anywhere and the huge pile of clothes that sat sadly on my bed; leaving only an inch of room for me to sit and sulk in that bloody shoulder brace. Perhaps it’s trivial during such a colossally terrible time, for my mind to drift to the outfits I’m not wearing. The world definitely has bigger problems right now. I could wear them, if I wanted to. But something feels off, to me, about sitting dejectedly in my bedroom, all dressed up with nowhere to go. My trusted ribcage Levi’s, Whistles white trainers and whatever will protect or reveal my top half (again, depending on the weather) are currently just about the only items that see the light of day, during a government approved walk or quick trip to the shops. I deliberate the row of shoes lined up in my bedroom, from the 70’s fauxcroc mules, to the Doc Martens Chelsea boots I never got the chance to break in properly pre-lockdown. Sometimes I mix up my choice of bag for a walk, but behind my door still hangs a zebra print mini handbag, a tiny vintage crossbody and a furry shoulder bag, unloved and unworn. The coat rail is the saddest sight in my room at present, which it often is as we enter the summer months. My faux fur jackets are actually collecting dust, as is the second-hand blazer that I definitely haven’t got enough wear out of, but just seems little too much for a trip to Tesco. Despite my longing to put together a pretty outfit, I currently spend every day in my comfies. Thinking I’d look more cool surfer chick than 19-year-old skater boy, I dug out a vest I purchased a few years back on a holiday to Bali and was met with much criticism from my housemates, who were offended by what I thought was a bit of tasteful side boob. Similarly, they mocked me as I appeared in the garden in a pair of old tracksuit bottoms that I’d cut into a (dodgy) pair of shorts during the miniature heatwave of April. The point here is, that although my loungewear collection is of a significantly lesser quality than the rest of my wardrobe, I still find myself alternating between the same four pairs of pyjama bottoms of recent, and I can’t see that changing until Boris gives me the green light to go anywhere other than my local park. Until we meet again, Pippa x 86

Illustration courtesy of Nia Beynon @niabeynonillustration

Roop! She Did it Again By Pippa Simmonds

If the beautiful selection of hand-picked fabrics that Roop’s Furoshiki handbags come in aren’t enough to tempt you to purchase one, founder Natasha Fernandez Arjo’s Instagram snaps of her rescue pups Barry and Blue sporting them probably will be... 90

“I wish there was a story behind the name because everyone asks me!” Natasha Fernandez Arjo tells me when I ask about her nickname, and eponymous title of her sustainable Furoshiki handbag company. “My boyfriend called me Roop five years ago and it stuck. Sorry it’s not more interesting!” Regardless of the origins of its title, Roop itself is, without a doubt, an interesting business venture. I ask to hear a little more about the woman behind the brand, and Natasha’s facts of choice are that this year she will turn 30, her karaoke song is Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene’ and she has “never met a piece of toast she didn’t like”. For those who are unaware of Furoshiki (myself included, pre-discovering Roop), it is a traditional Japanese wrapping technique, supposedly first used during the Nara period (710-794), to protect precious items. Today’s version of Furoshiki is slightly different, although the definition could be interpreted similarly; as most of us count the contents of our handbags (read: our iPhones), amongst our most prized possessions. Natasha tells me it took nearly two years of messing around on her sewing machine to make her first Furoshiki bag, but she’s mastered the art of making them in less than an hour now. “I’ve had to get really fast very quickly over lockdown. I normally take my time and watch EastEnders while I’m sewing.” she says. Back when Natasha first started making the bags, she had to take a month off her job at the time due to a bad back, which was the period that lead her to develop the products and the business itself. Roop operates from Natasha’s home in Manchester, and it has since before lockdown, where she only very recently turned the side hustle into a full-time business. For a business so new, Roop is doing pretty damn well - Natasha already stocks in stores in the UK, Paris and the USA, and has been featured across a number of publications, including Elle.

@itsrooper on Instagram

@natashaxsophie on Instagram

@itsrooper on Instagram

Roop designs, described as “Furoshiki bags meets the scrunchie”, come in an array of beautiful fabrics, all of which are remnant materials; making the brand’s environmental impact pretty low. ‘Sustainable’ fashion has become something of a trend, and sometimes if can be hard to tell whether, particularly large businesses, are genuine in their approach or rather more interested in the publicity. I’ve heard talk of the pandemic potentially encouraging more generally sustainable behaviours from both brands and consumers post lockdown. As what I would describe as something of an expert on the matter, does Natasha think this will stick? “Yes and no,” she says. “I think a lot of people have found more small brands to support and fall in love with, I also think people have been shopping in their own wardrobes during this time,” she continues. “It will be interesting to see if this love for the small and the creative continues.” Natasha’s own interest in being a sustainable brand is partly a reflection of her own lifestyle, but she admits that the business operating the way it does was something of a mistake. “Where I was working [before] sold surplus fabrics, so that’s the only fabric I had.” However, the reception of these remnant fabrics was very positive – leading her to stick with them. “I love the challenges it brings and wouldn’t have it any other way.” She calls herself “a master of eBay” when it comes to sourcing fabrics these days, and tells me that her postman, Carl, probably hates her for it. Naturally, a hiccup of being a small business in such a colossal industry is other brands taking ‘inspiration’ from certain designs, which Natasha has inescapably encountered. Although Furoshiki itself isn’t Natasha’s own brainchild, her designs are undoubtably unlike anything pre-existing within the industry at present. “I am starting to see it more and more, and even one exact copy,” she explains. “There’s not much you can do really; it makes me work harder to be better than them.” As someone who spends a lot of time scrolling through the Roop website, I’m pleased to hear that Natasha has lots of exciting things coming up, but unfortunately, they’re under wraps for the time being. For now, though, she’s been sourcing lots of fabulous new fabrics over the past couple of months, and is excited to get sewing.

“I think a lot of people have found more small brands to support and fall in love with, I also think people have been shopping in their own wardrobes during this time.”

@itsrooper on Instagram

You can shop the collection at www.itsrooper.co.uk, and follow @itsrooper and @natashaxsophie on Instagram to stay in the loop with all things Roop.