Death of Fashion by SHEI Magazine

DEATH OF FASHION

Standford Lipsey Student Publications Building 420 Maynard St, Ann Arbor, MI 48109

ALEX ANDERSEN MACKENZIE FLEMING Editor-in-Chief Creative Director

JACOB WARD

Publisher

Marketing Director

Operations Director

ALEX CHESSARE

JULIA NAPIEWOCKI

Design Editors

Print Fashion Editors

Print Features Editor

Print Photo Editors

GABI MECHABER EMMA PETERSON

JOSIE BURCK KARLY MADEY

MELINA SCHAEFER

KORRIN DERING ED TIAN

Video Editor

Digital Fashion Editor

Digital Features Editor

Print Beauty Editor

SAM RAO

SARAH ORY

LAUREN CHAMPLIN

YOUMNA KHAN

Finance Coordinators

Events Coordinator

Managing Photo Editor

Digital Photo Editor

MAGGIE CLARK MICHELLE TAO

CAROLINE MARTINO

GABRIELLE MACK

GABBY CERITANO

Human Resources Coordinator

Social Media Coordinators

Public Relations Coordinators

Street Style Editor

SENA KADDURAH

HANNAH TRIESTER APOORVA GAUTAM

DAPHNE PATTON RACHEL PORDY

SUREET SARAU

Digital Content Editor

ALEX STERCHELE

Design Team Andy Nakamura, Sandy Chang, Kai Huie, Christina Tan, Kimi Lillios, Rino Fujimoto, Kali Francisco, Olivia Ortiz, Camille Andrew, Taylor Silver, Nicole Kim, Margaret Laakso

Digital Content Team Neha Kotagiri, Allison He, Christina Tan, Helena Grobel, Sonali Pai

Finance Team Swetha Susarla, Michelle Tao, Emma Lewry, Margaret Clark, Elle Donakowski

Fashion Team Sophie Alphonso, Kailana Dejoie, Chloe Erdle, Isabelle Fisher, Tavleen Gill, Amanda Li, Peter Marcus, Courtney Mass, Noor Moughni, Olivia Mouradian, Natalia Nowicka, Madison Patel, Abby Rapoport, Dhruv Verma Anastasia Hernando, Ayanna Bell, Benjamin Michalsky, Emily Hayman, Gigi Kalabat, Janae Dyas, Jordan Wade, Kathryn Dorfman, Kelsea Chen Meredith Randall, Sarah Dettling, Sandy Chang, Sophie McKay, Victoria Vaz

Features Team Meera Kumar, Brooklyn Blevins, Annie Malek, Lucy Perrone, Ben Decker Cat Heher Neha Kotagiri, Melissa Dash, Patience Young, Janice Kang, Ava Shapiro, Hannah Triester, Heba Malik, Tiara Partsch, Natalia Szura, Jayde Emery, Sarah Stolar Nadia Judge, Katy Pentiuk, Peter Hummer, Christina Cincilla

Photography Team Anna Fuder, Brooke Dodderidge, Chrisitina Merrill, Emma West, Hannah Anderson, Margeaux Fortin, Nolan Lopez, Riley Kisser, Selena Sun, Sophie Hendrich, Tess Crowley, Zahria Jordan

Videography Team Grant Emmenheiser, Madeline Kim, Hannah Mutz, Lisa Ryou, Sara Cooper, Eaman Ali, Rachel Ienna, Samin Hassan, Hannah Hur, Emily Veguilla, Riley Kisser, Coco DelVecchio

Human Resources Team Mary Mack, Lillian Fakih, Jacqueline Choe, Izzy Tuchman

Public Relations Team Megan Eng, Mya Steir, Ava Ben David, Rachel Pordy, Katherine Lambert, Izzy Saunders, Celia Pagnucco, Kali Hightower

Events Team Alex McMullen, Molly Kennedy, Makenzie Kulczycki, Annie Cooper, Liza Miller, Julia Barge, Tiara Blonshine, Anastasia Hernando

Social Media Team Samedha Gorrai, Amanda Sachs, Anastasia Hernando, Makena Torrey, Julia Goldish, Charlotte Foley, Neha Kotagiri, Sandy Chang, Olivia Sun, Carolyn Soltz, Lauren Rosenberg, Megan Eng, Sofie Harb

Street Style Team Sophie Hendrich, Becca Mahon, Calin Firlit, Devon Kelly, Emmalyn Kukura, Emma Moss, Hanna Erhardt, Jenna Frieberg, Leonie Muno, Maggie Innis, Nicola Troschinet, Riley Kisser, Rosalie Comte, Tess Crowley, Victoria Vaz

IN THIS ISSUE 6

Player One: Build Your Character

Fashion Imaginings

Subaltern Utopia

Fashion Made It Out Alive

KECCAK-256

Irradication

Liberated Threads

38 Bloated

Imitation vs. Innovation

Intellectual Property

“We Should not Want to Murder Our Lives”

LE ET TER FROM F

ashion is dead. Who killed it? Technology? The pandemic? Us? Still swirling through the muddy waters of a global pandemic and its consequential drastic social change, the SHEI Print Team questions the new role of fashion and its metaphorical and literal death. Death of the planet. Death of status. We are at a point of no return. Fashion that degrades the earth no longer has the resources here to survive. Fashion as a tool wielded by the elites no longer speaks with the same amplified voice. And now that we have entered the digital realm of fashion, these new technologies cannot be uninvented. We must tread forward and re-write fashion’s existence. With fashion’s death comes its rebirth. How will the landscape of fashion shift moving forward? How will we see trends become resurrected? What are the cultural implications of the emerging digital fashion space? Will the strong social push for more sustainability and inclusivity actually change the ways in which we market, engage with, and interpret fashion? In DEATH OF FASHION, we explore the exploitation of marginalized voices and lack of representation, environmental impact, and elitism of fashion that currently plague the industry. This issue is an act of rebellion against the current systems and industry standards. However, its defiant nature should not be confused with pessimism nor naive optimism. And fashion’s death is not a tragedy. Rather, it’s an opportunity for meaningful change, for self-expression and exploration of fashion’s true potential. Though damage cannot be reversed and history should not be erased, we present our vision for fashion’s future and our hopes for a more representative, slower, and flourishing industry.

Alex Andersen Editor-In-Chief

TH H E E D IT TORS I

n Michigan, winter can seem almost like a permanent death; at some point, the oppressive cold sits on your chest like an incubus, and it’s difficult to take a full breath. The snow soaks through your jacket and boots and socks, making a home in your bones. Outside, the colors have slipped from autumn vibrancy to a stark black and white. But just as you forget the feeling of warm sun on your face, the world stubbornly comes alive again. The muffling blankets of snow melt away gradually, and the wind’s sharpness gives way to the far-off sweetness of Spring. Like a miracle, color unfolds into the world again, and the quiet of winter is broken by the call of the cardinal. A few years ago, SHEI did a print dealing with the future of fashion. This time, we decided to study its death. But like the seasons, fashion’s death is not an end but a new beginning. We were interested in discovering the ways fashion dies, in order to better understand how it rebuilds itself anew. Changes in technology, social attitudes, and the pandemic have proven fashion as we know it to no longer be adequate in serving the needs of individuals. Competing forces in the advancements in mass production capabilities and heightened social awareness of inhumane labor conditions has lead to a dichotomy of philosophies about fashion: on the one hand, fast fashion has altered people’s expectations about trends and style, killing the fall and spring season and giving rise to a 365-day fashion cycle. On the other hand, increased sensitivity to the exploitation of cheap labor has led to the popularity of an aesthetic focused on sustainability, with thrifting and clothing-swaps becoming a key part of many people’s personal fashion journeys. The death of the fashion cycle, as discussed in Ava Shapiro’s feature, comes with its own set of challenges. Conversely, the death of fashion as a vehicle for isolation and its birth as a tool for community is explored in Patience Young’s piece on clothing swaps. Of course, it’s also undeniable that fashion has been altered greatly by the pandemic. However, it’s not the first time aspects of fashion have been killed by the circumstances of the time. In her

feature, Meera Kumar explores the ways fashion has been defined by certain events, and examines some curious changes in attitudes towards fashion brought about by the pandemic. Catherine Heher is also interested in the way the pandemic has changed our attitudes, but not just towards fashion; she looks at the ways the pandemic has changed our fundamental attitudes towards life itself, and the ways in which destruction and specifically self-destruction has become the vogue. Finally, my own feature focuses on the ways we can better understand our own relationship with fashion by looking at how we imagine fashion of the future. What did the 1990s want to kill so badly in their fashion world that made the costume design of The Matrix resonate so strongly? How does the fashion of Dune speak to the enduring cyclical nature of fashion, despite advancements in technology and new demands on the purposes which clothing serves? In this print, we witness a lot of death: the death of the trend, the death of fashion as a symbol of status, the death of the runway and the death of the Earth at the hands of our increased consumption of clothing and textiles. However, we also explore what exactly these deaths give way to-and imagine the multitudes of things that fashion can become. What opportunities do technology afford for the world of fashion? In what ways can fashion become more inclusive? In what ways can fashion become first and foremost a tool for self expression rather than a tool wielded by an industry to monetize our insecurities? Yes, it’s true that fashion as we know it is dying. But this is a constant, just like the arrival of winter. And just as certain that winter will arrive is the promise that spring will come again. Fashion has ceased to serve the needs of this changing world, so it has to be reborn into something that we can’t even imagine. We can already see these changes coming to life, and we can dream into existence the changes that we hope to see. And just when it seems that fashion has grown cold and stale and has lost its ability to inspire and serve us in the way we need, it will stubbornly push up from the soil and unfurl into something new, and wonderfully different.

Melina Schaefer Print Features Editor 5

STYLISTS JOSIE BURCK KARLY MADEY JACOB WARD PHOTOGRAPHERS KORRIN DERING ED TIAN HAIR YOUMNA KHAN MAKEUP YOUMNA KHAN VIDEOGRAPHER MADELINE KIM GRAPHIC DESIGNERS GABI MECHABER EMMA PETERSON ALEX ANDERSEN JOSIE BURCK JACOB WARD MODEL RIPLEY NEWMAN

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n the landscape of science fiction, filmmakers make decisions about worldbuilding and characters with the aim to demonstrate an existence which is fundamentally different from our own. In order to transport viewers to a universe which is believably futuristic, there must be elements within nearly every facet of life which unsettle us with their foreignness. While this is clearly evident in set design and special effects, special care is also taken with the sartorial; fashion in the imagined future is often either an exaggeration of the current, or a pivot to new directionsit is rarely a continuation of the norm. Through these choices we see reflected the anxieties of the time, and the impact of these choices reflect the ways in which these imaginings speak to the audiences they were created for. What current fashion do these films decide to kill? What do they resurrect? The Matrix This 1999 Sci-fi noir film comes at the heels of a decade defined by technological churn. The World Wide Web was invented, Google was founded, and Windows 95 enabled widespread use of the computer in homes across America. These changes were heavily resisted by the public, and a survey conducted by Dell in the 90’s found that a staggering 55% of Americans refused to use computers in their everyday lives out of distrust, and even fear. The film itself explores the complicated relationship between man and machine, examining the ways technology can be

harnessed for individual expression or become a device of isolation and control. Neo uses his advanced knowledge of technology to control it, but those still blissfully unaware in the matrix itself are a slave to the very technology mankind created. The stark contrast between the world of the Matrix and the Nebuchadnezzar, the ship where Neo and the other rebels take refuge, is so powerful in part because it creates a clear dialogue between the contemporary world of the viewers and a futuristic dystopia in which technology takes over. The distinction between the two worlds is made clear not just through the elaborate, futuristic set design of the Nebuchadnezzar, but also through the costuming of the film’s characters; Neo’s leather duster, Trinity’s skin tight black bodysuit, and the iconic black sunglasses all form a stark contrast to the pedestrian clothing of the Matrix. Designer Kym Barret wielded low cost materials like PVC to create pieces that emphasized texture and movement, like the sweep of the coat or the mirror-like reflection of the catsuit. These costumes not only set these characters apart, they also suggest the ways in which a person who works in-tandem with technology rather than under its control might look like; the futuristic materials of the garments enable movement, and the simplicity of the design suggests efficiency and a desire for anonymity. Ironically, it’s this desire for anonymity that makes the wearer so eye-catching; the design suggests a disregard for acknowledgement and indicates the presence of a private and inaccessible world, hidden behind the shades of a pair of pitch-

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black sunglasses. This makes sense for Neo’s character as a hacker, who discovers the truth of the Matrix through his knowledge of computers while keeping his identity hidden. This sleekness is in complete opposition to many maximalist styles of the decade that touted patterns, colors and playful cuts. However, upon the film’s release its costume design influenced many fashion houses, most notably the Christian Dior 1999 fall collection. Models sheathed in leather, skirts laden with pockets and industrial buckles, and blocky black face paint across the eyes all coalesce to achieve a style very distinct from the romantic, historic collections of the house’s past. The pieces are unisex, utilitarian, and sharpley constructed. Like the Matrix characters themselves, they rebel against the norm and seek to make an impact not with their beauty, but rather in the manner in which the fabric and cut accentuates and aids the work and motion of the body. There are those who are a slave to technology, and there are those who harness technology with a superior understanding of its limits and dangers, and who wear it like a second skin. They can slip into the anonymity of the internet, traverse the very fabric of its code, and remain undefined by it. Soon after the film’s release, the Y2K crisis inspires fresh fear over human dependence on technology. Almost like an omen, The Matrix prophesied a world that was careening into reality-a reality in which man cannot untangle himself from machine.

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Dune Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben once said that “the contemporary is inscribed intact in the present, signaling it foremost as archaic.” This is to say that much of the contemporary world is informed by past traditions and ideas, and this could not be more true than in the costume design for Dune (2021). Designer Jaqueline West was approached for the project due to her experience in historical and period pieces, which was also why she flatly refused the offer at first. What place did extended knowledge of historical fashion have in a science-fiction film? The plot of the film itself, based on the classic novel by Frank Herbert, envisions a world still reeling from the havoc created by complications with computer technology. In a lot of ways, humanity has been forced to restart, and for this reason West looked to the distant, medieval past for inspiration. She drew

from ancient Marseille Tarot cards, the Avignon tapestries of the Knights Templar, and even the art of Goya and Carravagio. However, she took care to suggest futurism in her designs, eliminating any visible fastenings because she “didn’t believe buttons or zippers would make it into the future”.

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Protagonist Paul begins with an elaborate costume that is slowly pared down throughout the film as the circumstances of his life require him to assume more control of his own destiny. This change is illustrated by West, who first dresses Paul in heavy fabrics reminiscent of Doctor Zhivago. After moving to the desert, the changing environment and Paul’s liberation are both reflected in the more breathable, flowing, Lawrence of Arabia-esque garments. Lady Jessica, Paul’s mother, also has an intricate story told through wardrobe. In the first half of the film, she is defined by her position as a concubine. Her finery and jewels adorn her, but the veil she is forced to wear abstructs her view of the world and limits her motion. This proves a stark contrast to the second half, in which she must rely on her strength and agility to save herself and her son. Here, she dons the iconic stillsuit, an important fixture in the story. Designed to repurpose the lost liquid of its wearer to allow for survival in the brutal desert, the stillsuit was one of the greatest feats of design for West because it had to look right on each character, allow for extreme motion, and also look the part. The stillsuit exemplifies a key facet to future imaginings of design: the way clothing changes and evolves to fit the uses required of it. In this extreme case, clothing is a key tool to survival, and relies upon technology to allow its wearer to survive conditions that would otherwise be fatal. In this lies the genius of Dune’s costume design: the acknowledgement

of the ways fashion is informed by the past, as well as the ways it is informed by the needs of the present. Where The Matrix departs completely from contemporary fashion in order to construct a future world, Dune digs into traditions of the past to create a hybrid fashion landscape that resembles the reality of fashion we always have and always will exist in. After all, every style and trend today is a riff or extrapolation of a trend of the past, and by acknowledging this West creates an environment that is both familiar in its reference to the past and also distinctly futuristic in its materials, technologies and capabilities. The fashion of The Matrix is one which chooses to oppose the fashion of its time, while Dune endeavors to resurrect past traditions. However in both cases we can see a strong assertion for the direction of fashion in the future, either in the rejection of it or in the continuation of its cyclical nature. Regardless, fashion proves to be a powerful tool in illustrating hopes, anxieties and possibilities for the future because of its close proximity to our function in the world.

WRITER MELINA SCHAEFER GRAPHIC DESIGNER EMMA PETERSON

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SUB ALTERN UTOPIA

STYLISTS JOSIE BURCK KARLY MADEY JACOB WARD PHOTOGRAPHERS KORRIN DERING LIV PILOT ED TIAN GRAPHIC DESIGNER KALI FRANCISCO MODELS EVAN DENG LUCAS LITTLE CHARITA PERRY

Redesigned coat - Kiwanis Skirt - Salvation Army Purse - Salvation Army Boots - Doc Martens Pants - Levi’s Rope - Home Depot Hat - Value World

Fashion Made It Out Alive

OVID-19 has undoubtedly changed the way every single one of us views nearly all aspects of our lives– from exercise and a healthy lifestyle to social interactions and productivity. By the looks of the statistics of cases around the world, it seems as if–fingers crossed–we’ve made it past the most dangerous phase of this virus’ existence. We’re all starting to look back with equal amounts of fondness and loathing at the way staying at home for nearly a year fundamentally changed who we are as people. At the same time, we’re also starting to look forward–at the possibilities and opportunities we’ve gained in a post-corona world as well as at the ways the changes we’ve gone through have reshaped our lives and our interactions with the rest of the world. One of the many industries that had to take a humongous step back during the pandemic was the fashion industry. As you can probably imagine, the worldwide crisis we just managed to overcome has changed the fashion scene all around the world in unexpectedly wonderful ways. Fashion has, and hopefully always will, surprise us when forced to face the test of time–especially the test of the whole world shutting down for a microbial organism. Fashion has been something that has constantly adapted to the way we live our lives. Naturally, when there’s a major disruption in that routine, like a pandemic, financial crisis, or disaster, fashion will have to reinvent itself. When the Spanish Flu was wreaking havoc in 1918, the fashion industry found a way to meet the needs of those who wanted to stay safe and trendy as they went about their daily business. Veils and gloves were made with this very intention. Although these items had existed in fashion in the past, the fashion industry of 1918 brought them back and repurposed them to also serve the function of protecting one against illness. The world of fashion has managed to morph itself not only in the face of sickness and death but also when the economic situation of an entire country was suddenly in turmoil. During the great recession of 2008, there was an exceedingly noticeable alteration in the way people dressed. Most of the population, including those who were among the wealthier classes of society, opted for minimalistic, simple clothing as opposed to the bright, flashy clothing that grew popular in the 2000s. However,

people also managed to use fashion as a form of escapism. By putting more emphasis on the way they were dressing and new, interesting fashion trends, they wouldn’t have to think as much about their country falling apart. As you might’ve read, the fashion trends that seemed to arise in the pandemic were leaning towards sweats and loungewear, even when we were no longer in lockdown. I imagined that most people on the streets running their errands would be donning a Nike sweatshirt, yoga pants, and crocs. There has most definitely been an increase in the number of people feeling comfortable wearing loungewear as they go about their daily activities. Most people wouldn’t even look twice if you walked out of your house in pajamas–certainly a comfort for those of us who sometimes simply don’t have the energy to be bothered about what we’re wearing. However, fashion also saw the emergence of a simultaneous, yet very different trend. When people began to take the risk of leaving their houses, they also started taking risks with their fashion choices. Designers have chosen to amp up the maximalism in their new lines, and fashion icons and influencers have been embracing it wholeheartedly. The truly interesting phenomenon is the fact that people we would consider conservative and less willing to take risks with their fashion choices are also leaning into this trend of taking back the extravagance of 80’s fashion trends. People who were forced to curb their inner fashionistas while they stayed at home for over a year and a half were finally sick and tired of it and decided it was time to wear their craziest outfits and try their wackiest styles. Just as the lockdown was ending in most states, people were uncertain as to how long they could be outside and live a somewhat normal life before being forced back into their homes, and they decided to put on their best clothing and show it off while they still could. Of the many fashion trends that arose post-pandemic, some prominent ones were noted to be shoulder pads, balloon sleeves, and outfits covered in silver dust. After a whole year of being alone, it is really no surprise that people want to grab the attention of those around them, and the easiest way to do that is fashion. Furthermore, the lines between who is considered a fashion model or icon and who isn’t are very evidently

blurring. With TikTok now being one of the most iconic platforms for a fashion trend to begin, we can never know whether that trend was started by a model working for the Mark Jacobs TikTok page or Janice from a small town in Texas. We saw the explosion of the over-the-top e-girl and e-boy styles that all began with TikTok. The fact that this app allows you to dress up in the comfort of your home and be as bold as you want when you show yourself to the world has certainly impacted the way fashion influences us. Along with this rise in diverse fashion trends through social media, a huge driving factor of this increased drama to fashion has certainly been the accessibility we got from online shopping. We’ve all been through the inevitable online shopping addiction at some point during the pandemic. We learned how truly convenient it is to sit in bed and browse through hundreds of pieces online, certainly more than you could ever find in a shop. Even post-lockdown, 60.5% of Americans in a survey of 1,843 people said they’d be shopping online much more. With this rise in online shopping along with a push to move towards more sustainable fashion, resale has become a huge market in the fashion industry. The extravagant and outgoing clothing most people are seen wearing is coming from the ability for almost anyone to afford such clothing on thrift stores online and on social media. The rise of online rental shops has also allowed for this same level of affordability and has changed the way we use our wardrobes. Fashion has been with us through it all. Whether it was there to provide us solace in uncertain times or was composed primarily of T-shirts and sweatpants, fashion has gone through a tremendous cycle of constantly reinventing itself. Of course, the fashion industry has faced its fair share of challenges because of the way the world changed. However, it managed to reincarnate itself in a different form in order to provide us with the need of the hour. Fashion is something we are constantly in the midst of, and it changes and morphs itself to fit perfectly into the way the world works. Fashion is fluid and we have managed to figure out how to make it a constant source of serotonin even when hit by the darkest times. Especially in the case of fashion, the only constant is change and I don’t think we’d have it any other way.

WRITER MEERA KUMAR GRAPHIC DESIGNERS ANDREW NAKAMURA GABI MECHABER

OUTFIT ARTISANT.IO PHOTOGRAPHERS KORRIN DERING ED TIAN HAIR/MAKEUP EMILY HAYMAN VIDEOGRAPHERS SAM RAO GRAPHIC DESIGNER SANDY CHANG MODEL AGNES ASAMOAH LOCATION MID MICHIGAN MATERIALS

Irradication

STYLISTS EMILY HAYMAN JANAÉ DYAS PHOTOGRAPHERS SAM MCLEOD RILEY KISSER GABRIELLE MACK FRANCES GU GRAPHIC DESIGNER KAI HUIE MODEL BRIARRE JOHNSON

Liberated

Threads

just purchased a pair of new jeans at a store for the first time in 14 years. I was shocked when I saw the price tag. As I admired the fit in the mirror my heart yearned for a clothing swap. There, I wouldn’t have to fork over $70, hell I wouldn’t have to open my wallet at all. More likely there would be tasty free snacks and a crowd of people to cheer and give feedback as I put together new looks. Clothing swaps take many forms. They happen at bars, churches, gardens, and people’s living rooms. Some swaps have an admission fee, but it’s usually pretty cheap. Sometimes there is a rule that you can only take as many items as you have contributed. Having subsisted off of swaps in Detroit for the last ten years I rarely ran into either of these practices. Most Detroit clothing swaps are just about cleaning out your closet, amping up your style, and hanging out with or making new friends. Whatever clothes are not claimed get donated to local organizations. Many of the clothing swaps I have attended had a luxurious spread of food and drink. When we shop at a store it’s often a solitary act. There is no one shaped like you to suggest a good fit. The only second opinion you get is from the store clerk. At a clothing swap you might be able to get advice from the previous owner, and hear the history of the piece and how much they loved it. There’s a whole crew of fellow swappers to hype you up. There is a strong sense of affection as people get excited to see their old clothing take on new lives. In the U.S. clothing swaps have a long history dating back to World War II. In those troubled economic times, people could not afford new clothing. The swaps were done anonymously because used clothing was a source of shame. Swaps likely existed much further back than this, probably to the 19th century advent of department stores, which was the first time lower classes could afford to partake in fashion. During the 1960’s and 1980’s clothing swaps became more popular, and today there’s a plethora of options to choose from. With vintage and retro being all the rage, the appeal of a swap has never been better.

Modern fashion is a product of consumer capitalism birthed by the Industrial Age. It’s long been a marker of status and individuality. The fashion industry prays on our insecurities and egos. It makes promises it can’t keep, like if we wear that brand, look like that model, and keep up with these trends we will finally be happy. Fashion, as it stands, will never be able to deliver that happiness. Aspiring to unrealistic beauty standards damages our self-image. Mass produced clothes lack a custom fit and leave us feeling insecure. It is difficult to establish a personal style when our access to unique goods is limited. Fashion has become devastating to the environment, filling landfills with harmful by-products and cheaply made items. Fast fashion in particular has exploded in popularity but exploits people and the planet to keep its cheap goods coming.

Fashion takes on a new meaning in the clothing swap environment. It is more an act of expression than conformity to societal norms. People chose wardrobes based on what looks attractive to them and not on what trends designers or fast fashion chose to produce. Like thrifting, there is the thrill of the hunt. Unique pieces abound since they’ve been sourced from the collections of stylish folks. In the decade plus that I found all of my clothing at swaps, the only thing I ever had to purchase were socks and underwear. I was able to get everything I needed, and things I didn’t know I needed like my skin tight 70s couch material romper or my collection of velvet dresses. In addition to a whole new wardrobe, one which I would continue rotating out at the next swap, I made a lot of lovely friends. We bonded over the piles of garments or plates of chocolate-covered strawberries, or they saw me in the wild and came up to say “Hey that’s my shirt! Did you get it at Brooke’s swap?”

At a clothing swap you’ll find style you never had before thanks to the variety and the encouraging environment. Generally there’s mirrors around and trying things on is a very public activity. This might feel nerve wracking at first but one of the best things about a swap is all the positive feedback you get. As people crowd together for a glimpse of themselves, they compliment each other. The love is so earnest. In a way, making clothing swaps a part of your life is a process of liberation during which the spell cast upon you by the fashion industry is lifted and replaced by human interaction and exploration. Practicing this type of communal and autonomous activity helps one build the confidence and sense of self that gives us the strength to buck the fashion industry. It can be hard to be in touch with our true desires when so much of our life is conditioned by Hollywood and magazines. Adorning ourselves with affirming beauty is a human right. People in all parts of history had various ways of communicating their role and expressing themselves through their appearance. The explosion of fashion as an elite hobby separates us from our natural rights. The clothing swap is a place where we can build our personal style. We aren’t caged in by the same five types of jeans and the harsh fluorescent lighting. Clothing swaps aren’t just good for our spirit, they are good for the planet. An old sweater finds a new life instead of landing in the dumpster. Attendees fill their closets without generating waste. The wares don’t have to be shipped long distances. By reusing clothing we reduce the need for new items. I’ve seen a rainbow jumpsuit pass through several years of clothing swaps and delight numerous owners. Another perk is that used clothing is already preshrunk and tends to be more durable. It’s pretty rare to find something dry-clean only, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find gorgeous gowns.

Sounds fun, right? I recommend you and your friends try organizing one. First you’ll have to secure your venue, depending on its size you can decide how many people to invite. Select a diverse group of people to maximize aesthetics and body types. Pick up some snacks and La Croix for your guests if you can swing it. If your venue is big you will need some folding tables or to spread blankets out on the floor. Recruit some helpers, as people arrive with their clothing day of many hands make light work of organizing the piles. Make sure to acquire some mirrors to place strategically. In your invite you can specify that people need to bring bags but it doesn’t hurt to have some plastic grocery bags on hand. Determine where you will drop off left over items, many nonprofits accept clothing donations. Bring garbage bags to transport your excess. It’s good to have a few friends to lend a hand in clean up and donation transport. The most beautiful thing about clothing swaps is the mutual aid aspect. Learning to work together to combat consumerism while still being our most stylish selves is a gift to all attendees. Liberate yourselves from the shackles of fashion!

WRITER PATIENCE YOUNG GRAPHIC DESIGNER MARGARET LAAKSO

B l oated

STYLIST JOSIE BURCK KARLY MADEY JACOB WARD PHOTOGRAPHER KORRIN DERING ED TIAN VIDEOGRAPHER EAMAN ALI GRAPHIC DESIGNER NICOLE KIM MODELS ETHAN JORDAN KAMILAH SOBERS

IMITATION INNOVATION V.S.

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he rise of Tik Tok and Instagram has subsequently led to a rise in fashion content and marketing for designers through these mediums. However, as more individuals post their outfits and recent purchases on social media, the demand for more styles has increased dramatically. While in previous decades trends can last anywhere from 3-7 years, trends are now lasting as short as a few weeks through oversaturation and fast fashion dupes. Think House of Sunny’s Hockney Dress, whose design became copied so quickly that it came and went within the span of a whole summer. This quickening cycle creates a demand for innovation that is difficult for large brands to sustain. With this influx of trends and extremely fast turnaround to create new pieces, large brands with inexpensive price tags can’t keep up. On the other hand, independent designers have been able to utilize this constant desire for newness as an opportunity for them to showcase their creativity. The rise of social media has also had a hand in indie designers’ successes, helping them reach wider audiences. While these smaller creators have garnered more attention through social media, large fashion brands have been noticing them too. With the mix of demands for new designs and the power of social media to reach audiences far and wide, large labels now have the chance to stumble upon the unique designs of indie labels and claim them as their own, mass producing them at a lower price. While these

companies have been successful in stealing indie designers’ creations, there is little that the smaller designers can do to keep the rights of their pieces, leaving them helpless in the ownership for their own designs. Social media and fast fashion have both drastically changed the ways in which large brands find inspiration to create their newest designs. While the designers of the past had to rely on what they encountered in the real world, the internet has made art and creative projects from all over accessible for anyone to see. Most of the big names in fashion have derived their inspiration from their daily life, history, or simply by what styles or silhouettes were trending at the time. Nowadays, the clothing market has become dominated by fast fashion brands like Shein, H&M, and Zara rather than the luxury brands that use to set the trends. Instead of their designs being headed by one creative director, they have teams of over 100 designers that scout for new pieces from anywhere that they can get their hands on, including Instagram and other popular social media sites. Consequently, this creates a perfect opportunity for these design teams to find small artists through these apps and recreate their designs for a larger audience. Since these independent designers have smaller, more cult-like followings on their accounts, this copying can usually go unnoticed.

When an indie designer’s pieces are published online, it is that much easier for someone working at a fast fashion company to see their creation, have it made at one of their warehouses, and mass produce it on their company’s website. The copied piece is also much more likely to be seen and purchased by consumers as well due to the company’s name recognition, quantity of supply, and low price as opposed to many indie designers who must create their pieces by hand and thus charge a higher price for their own labor put into their work. A notable example of this phenomenon is the infamous Strawberry Dress designed by Larika Matoshi. This pink midi dress rose to fame in 2017, marked by its sparkling red strawberries and flattering cinch at the waist. Matoshi’s design became an instant hit all over the internet, with the everyday fashion blogger posing with it on their instagrams and even model Tess Holliday wearing it on a red carpet. While social media’s influence certainly helped this design make its mark, it was not long after that brands such as Zara, Amazon, and even Aliexpress. Needless to say, social media can help a small business gain traction just as easily as it can make their original designs a part of the public domain. While the copying of small designers’ ideas seems like it could result in a lawsuit, it is actually quite easy for major companies to get away with this in the United States. While other countries that have been the homes of major fashion houses have had laws in effect for many years that protect designer’s creations, the United States has not caught up. According to The Courtroom, “U.S. copyright laws were written to protect ‘original works of authorship.’... U.S. copyright laws do not protect against useful things including accessories or clothing.” To put it simply, copyright law in the United States sees things like music, drama, and literature as art, but fashion as a utility. Our current legal system does not value clothing for its art, but for its functionality, making creativity in fashion susceptible to artistic theft with no justice. The only way that designers can legally protect their designs is by trademarking or by a trade dress, which consists of a patent on a specific shape, color scheme, or design. While these are viable options in the eyes of the law, they are not often pursued by designers due to the costs in money, time, and effort they take to actually gain approval. Overall, the path to legally protecting one’s designs is not an easy one. While they have not yet been successful, there have been pushes for legislation that protect fashion designs from copyright infringement. In 2012, the CFDA attempted to pass

a bill entitled the Innovative Design Protection Act, but it was never brought to a vote. This proposal was written with the intent to protect designs for a three-year period if the creator could verify that the piece was entirely new, but perhaps Congress was not ready to change their view of fashion from being strictly functional to wearable art. As consumers, fast fashion is equally attractive as it is guilt-tripping. One on hand, individuals would not want to engage in purchasing from companies that they know are hurting people’s livelihoods and not operating from an ethical standpoint. However, most consumers cannot afford to only buy from these small creators and still want to participate in trends before their time is up. So, how can the consumer combat this issue? One simple way to chip in is to follow and engage with the online content of indie designers. Since many lose business to fast fashion brands due to a lack of exposure, boosting their profiles with a follow and a like will help them reach a larger audience and gain more support from those who can afford their products. Another way to stop supporting fast fashion is to purchase second hand clothing whenever possible. While going to thrift stores is not feasible for those who do not have the time to go out shopping, online stores like Depop or Poshmark make the buying process as simple as fast fashion sites. While these practices can help ease your conscience, the real issue lies in the advertising and business ethics of big brands. With the normalization of inexpensive clothing created by Amazon, Shein, and other companies, consumers are now conditioned to believe that any article of clothing sold for higher than $20-30 is “overpriced.” The average shopper has lost the appreciation for the time and effort that it takes for designers to create clothing in ethical practices as a result of fast fashion, and it is unclear if this mentality about clothing can ever be reversed with social media’s rapidly paced trend cycle. Whether consumers can be shown the light of ethical consumption or not, it is safe to say that fast fashion is not going away anytime soon, and neither is the stealing of indie label’s designs by those companies.

WRITER AVA SHAPIRO GRAPHIC DESIGNER RINO FUJIMOTO

IMITATION V.S. INNOVATION

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Intelle©tual

Property

STYLISTS JOSIE BURCK KARLY MADEY JACOB WARD BRYAN WILSON HAIR YOUMNA KHAN MAKEUP YOUMNA KHAN PHOTOGRAPHERS KORRIN DERING JACOB WARD VIDEOGRAPHER ALEX ANDERSEN GRAPHIC DESIGNER EMMA PETERSON MODELS TIARA AMADIA MARY DU ASHA HARPER ED TIAN MORGAN TUCKER BRYAN WILSON LOCATION KEMPF HOUSE MUSEUM

Brown shirt – SCARBO

Floral dress – Christian Dior

Plaid shirt – 1DERFUL Blue scrubs pants – SCARBO Blue shoes – 1DERFUL

Brown jacket - 1DERFUL Pants, shoes, & bag – 1DERFUL

“We not Should Want I

wake up every morning and I ask myself what type of woman I want to be. I am exhausted by a pandemic that has eaten away at some of my most transitional years as a young adult. I wonder why I have to make decisions that are supposedly going to affect the rest of my life–where to move after graduation, what career to pursue, which facets of life to value over others–when I feel like I have not seen anything or done anything. Mostly, however, I am plagued by a nagging feeling that I cannot keep up; that I will never be able to. I turn to social media, often TikTok these days, to look for options. I could try to be “that girl” by going to cult workout classes each day, wearing matching sweat suits, and trying to change the structure of my jawline by using my gua sha religiously. But it makes my head spin that last week I was supposed to be effortlessly chic with unbrushed hair, slightly smudged eyeliner, and maybe even a cigarette to pass the time. We live in an era of excessive self-awareness where everything is done intentionally–from the clothes we wear to the vocabulary we use. We are the creative directors of our own brands, scripting our lives for an audience that may only exist in our minds. They tell us we have disappointed them, that the plot has grown stale. In the realm of obsessive archetyping, counteraesthetics become just as important. For every fitness influencer sharing her morning routine, there is a hungover girl who tells me that I should not be “getting my life together,” but rather drinking myself into oblivion and impulsively buying plane tickets to Berlin where I can ignore my problems in peace. This trend of conscious self-destruction is not surprising, especially among Millennials and Gen Z. Many of us were promised that there was a right way to do things, a predetermined path for success. Our realities, however, have been defined by failed plans, uncertainty, and an unrelenting sense of existential threat. The desire to blow everything up, at least every once in a while, feels natural. However, the problem with the counter-aesthetic is that it too is a performance. It’s a post-ironic, postfeminist saying that yes, eating disorders are bad for

you, but don’t you want to be skinny? Yes, that drug might kill you, but don’t you want to look cool? Yes, the patriarchy may exist, but is it really in your best interest to fight it? Not caring becomes trendy, smart even, in a world that is destined to fail you. But it is not as if we are being told to chase our passions or live our lives free, open, and honestly. Instead, it is about appearing as if we are unbothered, as if nothing matters. It is a numbness to life rather than a revolutionary way of thinking. This phenomenon is reminiscent of Cat Marnell’s How to Murder Your Life, a memoir published in 2017 about her struggles with drug addiction. The story exists against the backdrop of Marnell’s life as a New York City socialite and fashion editor. How to Murder Your Life is not a cliche story of hope. There is no heartwarming resolution where Marnell achieves full sobriety and happiness. That said, it is not the typical glamorization of unhealthy lifestyles that is often seen in the fashion industry–a tendency to overlook addictions if they present in the form of thin, white, wealthy women who attend high-end parties and spend time with beautiful people. Marnell’s memoir does not harp on the fabulous parties she attended or the fantastic job offers she received. Instead, she shares with readers a series of painful incidents in which she was too drunk, too high, and too depressed to enjoy her accomplishments or even recognize them in the first place. What Marnell does possess, however, is a startling sense of self-awareness. In a 2011 email to the New York Post, at the height of her fame and addiction, Marnell asked “why spend another summer meeting deadlines behind a computer at night when I could be on the rooftop of Le Bain looking for shooting stars and smoking angel dust with my friends?”1 Today such sentiment is a familiar numbness; one I see expressed in real life, in pop culture, and on social media. Marnell’s suffering became its own performance, one that was commodified and rewarded time and time again. At first it simply did not stop her from getting highprofile jobs. Then it became the reason she got them, the content of most of her online stories, and the thing that 1 Hermione Hoby. Cat Marnell Interview: Shooting Star. The Guardian. October 6, 2012.

to Our Murder Lives” fueled her media attention. Marnell appeared to be in control of her narrative. It is as if she became so aware of her problems, so willing to incorporate them into her brand, that they stopped being problems all together. Her story could have been a nuanced one that explored the realities of addiction alongside the selfishness and privilege that Marnell often exudes. But instead it was reduced to its over-thetop shock value, rewarded for its ability to be both selfcritical and make no apologies. How to Murder Your Life may feel like an artifact from a different era despite being four years old. It recounts the early 2010s, a time when we watched Blair and Serena fight over Nate, instead of Maddy and Cassie. But I would argue that Marnell’s ironic self-awareness is more in keeping with today’s times than its own. If her memoir were released tomorrow, there would be a flood of social media creators obsessed with Marnell—not just her “aesthetic,” but the bluntness in her storytelling. The prerequisite assumption would be that we should not glamorize addiction with many proceeding to do so anyway. There would be content like “how to do your makeup like Cat Marnell” or “where to shop if you want to look like Cat Marnell,” alongside fan montages of her most outrageous moments and quotes. Such creators would be performing the same kind of self-aware irony that Marnell was, consumed by a need to take inflammatory positions for the sake of a simplified self-brand. I say this while knowing full well that I have romanticized plenty about Marnell’s life: the high-profile creative job, the seemingly raw talent, the effortless beauty, and the endless parties. Most days, I do not want to be told that even if I had all those things I might still be unsatisfied. I do not want to be lectured on the pitfalls of the party lifestyle or hear that a pretty dress and a good pair of shoes would not make my problems go away. Even if I know such things to be true, it is often freeing to reject conventional wisdom. For many of us, the lessons of our childhood were tried and true. Money cannot buy happiness. Cigarettes cause lung cancer. Excessively materialistic and shallow people are often not good friends. This is all fairly good advice, but the messaging exists alongside all the things we have come to question–ideas that everything will be

okay if we follow rules set forth by the status quo. When we brace against the typical, we are often rightfully demanding that nuance be brought to the conversation. Marnell’s story, for example, cannot simply be reduced to lessons that drugs are “bad,” or that when it comes to the wealthy and glamorous, everything is not always as it seems. Marnell is an intriguing character, and it would be harmful and ignorant to simply villainize her or her drug use without looking at the whole, complex picture. Marnell and her contemporaries understand that the ordinary has failed us time and time again. They know better than to push something that feels contrived. But instead of encouraging complex analyses, we often take texts like How to Murder Your Life at face value. The lesson is that there is no lesson at all, leaving room for Marnell’s experiences to be reduced to a brand or aesthetic. I wake up every morning and I ask myself what type of woman I want to be because nothing is supposed to feel contrived but everything does. Each outfit I choose to put on, each post I make on social media, and everything I say, even to my closest friends, feels like a character portrait rather than a life actually lived. I feel like I am cosplaying, the trendy sorority girl one day, the big city fashion girl the next, the bohemian artist who lives in the woods the day after that. It is not that there are hordes of young people who actually want to be like Marnell. It is instead the performance of embracing her that becomes compelling– the ability to shock one’s imagined audience with a lack of concern for the things we have been socialized to think of as “bad”: drugs, partying, materialism, and so on. But rather than demanding that we treat her story with the complexity and compassion it deserves, we have instead settled on doing nothing. Something as serious as drug addiction gets treated like a plot device, curated in a writer’s room somewhere, rather than the story of an actual person. The lines between performance and reality become so blurred that we forget that some things are meant to be taken seriously. Some things are real.

WRITER CAT HEHER GRAPHIC DESIGNER GABI MECHABER

DIRECTOR’S NOTE

or me, this issue is a tribute to the late Virgil Abloh, who will remain in history as one of the greatest and most prolific American designers. Abloh, like all Black artists, understood that being radical is necessary to maintaining the forward momentum of arts and culture. Of course, this is a bold and insolent statement–that fashion is dead. As a fashion magazine, we should be promoting the idea of fashion as a necessity, not only for humanity but the rapid transformation of what’s known as the ‘cultural economy’; it’s due to the nature of this economy that we say that fashion has metaphorically died. The cultural economy has managed to turn human personalities into products while, from a Foucauldian standpoint, maximizing the potential output of surveillance on the mass public through cultural commodities. This “fashion” needs to die, as we recognize that after death comes the rebirth of a new socio-cultural gestalt. Take the case of digital fashion, which seeks to replace the unimaginable amount of waste generated from social-media-trends-turned consumer market opportunism. Now, we are able to visualize the precipice a future of fashion that breaches concepts of physicality, liberating us from materialistic constraints. Fashion is dead because of the ever-increasing awareness within the production sectors of the industry–from consumers to designers, to manufacturers–that the industry as it exists must be revolutionized. It’s in the hands of younger generations to use these tools, combined with our own expertise, to imagine a fashion industry that obliterates classism disguised as “exclusivity”, money as “freedom”, and cults of personalities as “culture”.

Jacob Ward Creative Director 63

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WINTER 2022

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