spring/summer 2018 Spring/Summer 2018
contributors Yosan Alemu Umaima Ansari Atsede Assayehgen Maddy Aubey Olivia Baker Kyra Chen Blythe Drucker Cameron Downey Jeff Fan Dana Frayne Allie Goines Claire Lin Jenkins Juliana Kaplan Elise Logan Yuki Mitsuda Emma Noelle Anderson Peguero II Sara Rabb Charlotte Rodriguez Nathaly Sanguino Vanessa Smith Charlotte Voelkel Morgana Von Peebles Genevieve Yiming Wang Jasmine Weber Kira Wilson Kristian Alt Woerner Evelyn Wolfely
additional thanks to Paulina Abaunza ANTIDSCPLNE Susan Alexandra Connor Cowden Scrap City L.A Poppy Lissiman Paris99 Warby Parker
masthead Editor-in-Chief Carolina Dalia Gonzalez Logistics Director Emily Mahan Photo Director Emily Kimura Fashion Director Miarosa Ciallella Features Director Darinelle Merced-Calderon Design Director Rebecca Siqueiros Copy Chief Jacquelyn Klein Market Director Paloma Raines Holler Managing Editor Ally Lozada PR Director Layla Alexander Blog Director Maria Adentuji
Follow Hoot on Instagram @hootmag Like Hoot Magazine on Facebook For more from Hoot Magazine, visit hootmag.org/blog Find past issues of Hoot at issuu.com/hootmag Email the editors at hootmag@barnard.edu
letter from the editor Beginnings hold a reputation of fresh ideas and new plans, a space where anything and everything is possible. In the same breath, beginnings can be a place of stress and disarray. There are no rules, no guidelines, and no correct way to do things. For our new editorial board, beginnings have held these two meanings. We are both overflowing with creative energy, yet continuously grappling with the small chaos that comes with beginnings. For this reason, the new editorial board chose disorder as this semester’s theme. Disorder, however, was not only relevant to the new editorial board’s status. There is a living disorder that extends beyond beginnings. Within our political climate, our society, and even on our campus, we felt a constant evolving disorder present. Our shoots and feature pieces channeled our theme of disorder by displaying a diverse range of interpretations and meanings. From Holler to Hoot, creative directors, stylists, photographers, and writers questioned the status quo.They created their own worlds of disorder that defied tradition. With the new editorial board, we sought out ways to keep disorder at the heart of our choices and ideas as well. We realized that although disorder might have a bad track record, amazing change can come from it. It is pertinent, especially as a fashion magazine, to give space to challenge the order and thus, disorder, of things. As always, thank you for support and love. I want to say a special thank you to Mia and Emily for facing this new beginning by my side. I am so proud of the new editorial board and what we have accomplished. I am excited for what we will create with the coming issues and I hope that you, our readers, will continue to support our magazine.
Carolina Dalia Gonzalez
night call directors Cameron Downey photographer Evelyn Wolfley stylist Cameron Downey makeup Vanessa Smith models Collins Mokua, Alimatou Demba assistants Yosan Alemu, Layla Alexander, Mia Ciallella brands ANTIDSCPLNE
is adaptive clothing adapting the fashion industry? writer Dana Frayne
According to the World Health Organization, more than one billion people have a disability. Adaptive clothing, which offers features like magnetic buttons and zippers that require less tactile effort, can be life-changing for people with disabilities. However, despite roughly 13% of the global population living with a disability, hardly any fashion houses have produced adaptive clothing lines or made other strides within the realm of disability activism. However, there are a few, like Tommy Hilfiger, who have started launching adaptive lines designed for individuals with disabilities. With regards to the launch of Tommy Hilfiger’s Tommy Adaptive line, the brand’s founder remarked: “Inclusivity and the democratization of fashion have always been at the core of our brand’s DNA. Tommy Adaptive continues to build on that vision, empowering people to express themselves through fashion.” On the surface the launch of adaptive clothing lines has pronounced benefits, such as being a potential means of empowerment for individuals with disabilities, it is important to consider potential downsides of such clothing lines as well. Overall, while the launch of adaptive clothing lines by high-end fashion houses is promising, it is important to be nuanced while considering the potential effects that adaptive clothing lines will have on the disability community. Due to the groundbreaking nature of Tommy Adaptive, there was an outpouring of online debate regarding the pros and cons of an adaptive clothing line from a high-end fashion house. On Twitter, which is widely viewed as the hub for discussion in the disability community, there was a consensus that the functionality and the aesthetic beauty of the clothing in the Tommy Adaptive collection was impressive. A common issue with previous, smaller adaptive clothing lines was that many consumers were not satisfied with the appearance of the clothes themselves. Due to misrepresentations in popular culture and the mistreatment of people with disabilities, body confidence is a point of contention for individuals with disabilities. Adaptive clothing is a means to empowerment through functionality and aesthetically-pleasing designs that can provide opportunities for self-expression. Although adaptive clothing by high-end fashion houses can produce significant, empowering benefits, one must ask whether high-end adaptive
clothing lines can truly be inclusive due to exorbitant prices. The brand’s goal of democratizing fashion may be moot if the target demographic cannot obtain the collection due to economic constraints. Having a disability in the United States is excruciatingly expensive, especially without insurance. Employees with disabilities can still be legally paid under the minimum wage, and there are a range of financial battles that individuals with disabilities may face, such as regularly paying for costly medications or contracting car rental services since accessible public transportations options are unreliable due to the widespread lack of accessible infrastructure in most American cities. Therefore, while Tommy Adaptive and other adaptive clothing lines are a step toward inclusivity for individuals with disabilities, financial inclusivity must also be considered when designing adaptive clothing lines.
illustra tor Ch arl
otte Vo elkel
While some individuals with disabilities might not have the means to purchase high-end adaptive clothing, it is promising that more affordable brands, such as Target and Zappos, recently launched adaptive clothing lines. All of these brands have spurred a discussion about disabilities in the fashion industry, and hopefully more brands across the industry will follow their lead. Adaptive clothing is supportive of the disability rights movement. The benefits are plentiful, but the central tenet is that functional and attractive clothing collections can empower individuals with disabilities. There is not only a need for adaptive clothing, but there is a gaping need for more magazine campaigns featuring models with disabilities, more fashion designers with disabilities, and increased employment of individuals with disabilities across the fashion industry. Adaptive clothing is a promising start for the representation of people with disabilities in the fashion industry, yet it is only scratching the surface of what the fashion industry could unlock if it paid more attention to the disability community.
baby’s breath director Mia Ciallella photographer Emma Noelle makeup Nathaly Sanguino stylist Mia Ciallella assistants Carolina Gonzalez models Emma Schechter, Simi Olagundoye,
Karina EncarnaciĂłn brands Paris99, Poppy Lissiman, Susan Alexandra
refraction
director & photographer Emily Kimura makeup Umaima Ansari assistant Elise Logan model Jadie Stillwell, Nabila Nawrin, Rania Siddique videographer Kyra Chen brand Warby Parker
why can’t my fat fashion be high fashion? writer Juliana Kaplan
Over winter break, I went shopping with my mom for the first time in years. Our local Target had finally incorporated their new plus-size line onto the store floor, instead of relegating it to the dark online corner it used to occupy. While we flipped through tunics and dresses, my arms laden with high waisted pants and cheap tank tops, I felt both satisfaction and an overwhelming sadness. Why had it taken us 21 years to get here? Until I arrived at college, I considered fashion entirely aspirational. As a plus-sized woman, nothing was designed for me. In fact, at times, it felt like fashion was actively working against me; the unparalleled popularity of crop tops my junior year of high school still haunts me. Fashion seemed like a purposeful demarcation, a construction of everything that society had told me was wrong with my body: my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. It seemed like a pointed, purposeful exclusion. For fat bodies, fashion becomes a matter of survival, not the high art that it could—and should—be. Limited options define fat fashion, rather than fat fashion being allowed to design itself. It’s another avenue of self-definition stolen from fat consumers, and one that casts them into molds America has poured: cheap polyesters, shoddy seams, and general messiness and disgust. Plus-sized clothing has historically been an expensive, ill-fitting concealer. When even capitalism leaves you behind, there’s a pretty clear line drawn in the sand. Fashion, it seems, is so afraid to outfit fat bodies that it would rather not touch what is, according to Bloomberg, a $20 billion plus size market. In recent years, there has been a surge in plus-size representation and fashion. Body positive Instagrams and pages have exploded in popularity. A quick perusal of #bodypositive reveals a robust and booming community. For me, discovering this community was life changing. I saw people of all genders and sizes radically reconstructing what beauty and fashion means. A crop top could be a vehicle for celebrating one’s stomach. A short dress showcases thighs. In this community, styles and silhouettes are reserved for anyone who wants to wear them. It grounds fashion in art and selfexpression.
But, arguably, there hasn’t been as much of an accompanying retail boom. When Everlane, a fashion startup, hit Columbia’s campus, I wasn’t surprised to learn they only offered sizes up to a 14. Madewell, another favorite for reliable denim, only sizes to XL. In many cases, I find myself opting for the fast fashion that I know will reliably fit. Forever 21 Plus offers some of my favorite inclusively sized pieces; before I ordered a swimsuit from Forever 21, I was consistently paying more than $100 for shoddily constructed one-pieces. Although the environmental and economic impacts of fast fashion cannot be understated, what can we do when we’re backed into a corner? I would love to buy from Everlane and other brands centered on more ethical consumption, but it’s simply not an option. And a whole other story is how this forced waste dovetails with the societal perception of fat people as lazy and wasteful. In a statement for a Racked article on the lack of inclusive sizing in fashion startups, Everlane wrote: “The Everlane story is one that has been built slowly and carefully...Given that, it is on our roadmap to do plus-size, but we need to take the time to do it right. To do plus, it requires more than extended sizing. We need to launch plus as a separate brand with new fits, new models and new fabrics to ensure that the styles fit and look great. As we gain scale and get new customers, we will be able to focus our energy on launching this line.” The author of that piece, Amanda Mull, thoughtfully responded to Everlane’s statement: “The statement echoes a sentiment that I heard from every straight-size CEO I spoke with, even those who have begun to make their brands more inclusive: that plus-size people need to be patient while others solve the egregious problems of their bodies. Women over a certain size are always a burden, never a priority.They’re expected to wait while others are served first.” In the meantime, I’ll buy the clothes that fit and that I love. And while the rest of the fashion world catches up—or, more likely, is forced to— I’ll enjoy my Target expeditions with my mom. I know that we deserve better, but, for now, I’ll be wearing my $10 high-waisted pants in peace.
kinetic eye director & photographer Morgana Van Peebles makeup Claire Lin Jenkins stylist Olivia Baker assistent Paloma Raines tech supervisor Elise Logan model Laura Cortez, Heven Haile, Clara Harte brand Scrap City L.A.
metalezcla director Carolina Dalia Gonzalez photographer Emily Kimura stylist Mia Ciallella makeup Carolina Dalia Gonzalez, Anisa Tavangar assistants Caitlin Lent, Anisa Tavangar models Camilla Siazon makeup Reina Rebelde
decadence
director & photographer Anderson Peguero II makeup Ivanna Charlotte Rodriguez assistant Darinelle Merced-Calderon models Naina Durga Lacakare,Francois Yoshida-Abe, Mariah Viman jewlery from students’ closets
highgate, st. mary parish writer Maddy Aubey
Papaya Guava and Red Red Wine Drip down my fingers Like the blood of my Buffalo Soldier ancestors Our only legal export is Reggae Music squeezed from us like Coconut Milk Rice and Peas Cassava cut open on a wooden block of Starch and Stale Bread Negril beaches have sand as white as saltfish bones Prick the back of my throat till I croak like a tree frog Wail like a mule while Scotch Bonnet burns my eyes Sip Cola Champagne with fried dumplings to ease the pain Negril beaches have papaya as sticky as sweat Beading over a bowl of porridge Thick and hot corn-meal Match the rows on your head Eat that quickly while it’s still hot Hot like summers and Kingston traffic Hot like Curry Goat and dancehall Like Ginger Tea and and Jamaican Girls Who grow up to be Jamaican Mothers Strong like Oxtail and Jerk Chicken Sweet like Rum Punch and Black Cake Jamaican Mothers who grow up to be Jamaican Grandmothers Tough like GrateACake and Yams Warm like Ackee and Callaloo side by side Hot Jamaican Girls who become strict Jamaican Mothers And grew up to be tough Jamaican Grandmothers Married to Strong Jamaican Boys who became untrustworthy Jamaican Men followed by crow-footed Jamaican Grandfathers If you walk down the hill from Annotto Bay cemetery Past Auntie’s and the Yam shop You’ll hit Cane River Falls That’s where I’d like to go when I die. Spliffs rolled by my grandfather’s thumb then somehow seemed less corrupt Shaded by Banana leaf and Jackfruit trees…. We can sit here all day if you’d like
ace
director & photographer Jasmine Weber makeup Sara Rabb stylist Atsede Assayehgen models Zoe Guy, Aaliyah Johnson, Ciara Lily
Keane, Dadd Matthews, Keenan Teddy Smith assistants Mia Ciallella, Kira Wilson clothing from students’ closets
bezel
writer Blythe Drucker
Fashion loves to play with time: take a shirt from one decade, combine it with pants from another, add a belt from today.Transforming old to new, the various pieces receive a new history. A classic look may never die, and vintage clothing provides infinite opportunities for revival. In this temporal reorganization, we witness a cultural reincarnation, appeasing inevitable nostalgia. Yet, we must be careful. The boundaries of time are not to be crossed carelessly. All pieces have meaning, and must be put together logically, as is the case with any puzzle. Many of us begin to play this game of time and fashion at a young age. As children we would play dress up in our parents closet, rummaging through hats and scarves, and stumbling through hallways in shoes too large for our feet. And for many, the fun doesn’t stop as we get older. We occasionally ask to borrow a sweater or accessory. In our own homes we go vintage shopping, reviving pieces our parents have not worn since high school. This past winter, I sat in a hospital waiting room with my mother. She was waiting to have a central line placement put in for her upcoming bone marrow transplant. Wearing jewelry is not permitted during the procedure, so I would wear her engagement and wedding rings as I waited. At first, I was excited. Once again, I was a child, rifling through her jewelry boxes filled with history: my great grandmother’s costume jewelry, my grandmother’s pearls, and various pieces purchased at street stands in NYC from my mother’s time in college and medical school. After I placed the rings on my finger, I felt a fleeting rush of excitement. But as I gazed at the glistening diamonds, my enthusiasm faltered. These rings felt wrong on my hand. Though the rings complemented the shape of my finger, they did not fit. All that the rings symbolized was wrong for me. They were for my mother, for her marriage. At 19, just beginning college, I was far from even considering marriage. I began to glance around the waiting room, taking part in the old southern preoccupation of attempting to discover the thoughts of those around you in regards to yourself. Did they see the rings? Did they think they were mine? Did they see it was wrong? In the game of temporal disorder, I broke the rules, crossed a boundary not to be crossed, and I could feel it. As I sat in the waiting room, all I could think about was taking them off. When the procedure was over, I hurriedly followed the nurse to the recovery room. As the nurse attempted to explain to me the many medical processes that I would never attempt to comprehend, my sole focus was removing the rings from my finger and returning them to my mother’s hand. I tried to place them on her finger, but her hand was still swollen as a result of the procedure. We placed the delicate accessories to the side as we waited for the swelling to calm. Resting on the yellow plastic tray next to my mother, the rings already appeared more naturally placed than before. They belonged with her, not me. Those rings have yet to fit my finger in the game of time. Maybe someday, but not now.
