At Issey Miyake.
One of my favorite parts about each of the fashion weeks every year is the increasing amount of coverage on those that attend the shows. While fashion critics lament the rise of the attention-seeking street-style stars that cause nothing more than a circus outside the tents, I love being able to see what goes on behind the scenes at the shows and watching the "watchers" of the shows.
Dina Litovsky captured many of these oddly beautiful moments at Paris Fashion Week for New York Magazine's The Cut. All of the photographs in the series are entrancing, and can be seen here.
Here are a few of my most favorite photos:
At Akris.
At Givenchy.
At Stella McCartney.
I love New York Fashion Week. I've always felt that it sets the stage for all of the following fashion weeks--that it's the true test of what we can predict to see on the sidewalks in the coming seasons. New York Fashion Week also seems to produce the most wearable ready-to-wear clothing. From 3.1 Phillip Lim to Kate Spade to Alexander Wang, these are the clothes that will have some semblance of affordability and practicality.
Yet there is something special about the London and Paris Fashion Weeks. London seems to have a mood all on its own--defined by a city that has been known for the most unique of trends like punk, the collections that emerge from its runways never fail to instill awe in its audiences.
Erdem has been one of my favorite shows to anticipate during London Fashion Week since the beginning of high school, when my love for fashion began. Its original prints are some of the most unique to emerge from all of the shows at the different fashion weeks--but it seems as though this season was different.
The focus was less on intricate prints, and instead on unique textures and fabrics. Defined by striking black and white, the details of the garments stood out with grandeur.
Here are some of my favorite looks:
//images via Style.com
Designer collaborations are among my favorite things. As a poor college student, these collaborations are often the closest I could ever dream of getting to wearing a designer label.
Of course, designer collaborations are not new. If anything, they're getting rather old. Since the first groundbreaking cross of Isaac Mizrahi and Target in 2002, the rush to buy any and all items has quickly died down. The Neiman Marcus x Target collaboration last year was perhaps the biggest example of this--items lingered on the floor for so long that they were eventually placed on clearance for 70% off.
Yet while designer collaborations don't have the same novelty that they used to, many of the fashion set and those attempting to join it still salivate over the prospect of a well-designed collaboration. Occasionally, a designer seems to pull through and put his or her aesthetic into the collection--making it worth it to participate in the race to buy the items.
Phillip Lim has done this for Target. Preparing a collection that fits the needs of both the average Target customer and Phillip Lim devotees is no easy task, yet he's managed to do it. The collection is separated into three sections of lasting wardrobe staples for morning, noon, and night.
Here are some of my favorites from the collection that will leave me desperately waiting for September 15 (view the whole collection here):
This summer, my parents decided that it was time to replace the carpets in my sister's bedroom and my own. I was also instructed that my childhood furniture would be sold and the bedroom set that belonged to my grandmother would take my place.
Of course, the opportunity to play with interior design is not one that I am to turn down. But I soon realized that new carpets and new furniture meant one thing: lots and lots of moving.
College students are quick to associate with this pain; while we may love the lives that we live in those dingy first apartments and prison-like dorm rooms, the two most torturous days of the year are when we move in and out.
Packing up your entire life into boxes is strange enough--but in the case of packing up your childhood room, it's even stranger. You come across things that you have no idea why or how you ever came to possess it. More likely, you come across the smallest of things that trigger the strongest of memories.
Unpacking was much more difficult than packing things up temporarily, as I was tasked with sorting through my things to decide what was worth keeping. Stuffed animals were bagged to be given away to younger family members, artwork from a class taken freshman year of high school was stashed into folders--yet one box remained that I struggled with.
The box could not be lifted by one person. It had to be at least 30 pounds. And it contained my magazine collection that was established in early 2007. Six years of Vogue, Teen Vogue, Nylon and a smattering of others had added up without much notice.
I've always had a love affair with magazines. My father introduced me to their magic at a young age, and I've never looked back. Yet as I looked at these magazines stacked up on my kitchen table like soldiers standing sentry, I wondered what purpose they still held. Yes, they are archives that can be treasured; they are tomes of style that may one day be considered rare and ancient.
I live in New York for three-quarters of the year. These magazines sit in my childhood room during that time, doing nothing but collecting dust. So what should become of them?
Eventually, I reached the decision that I would give them away. Subscribing to these magazines is what made me fall in love with fashion and writing, inspiring my desired career path. Yet they are no use to me if they sit untouched 3,000 miles away. It's hard to part with things that have extended meanings; it's hard to part with the pages that have set fire to an unending passion within me.
But it's time. And now that I will soon be moving into my own apartment, perhaps it's time to start my own collection once more.
