#Head of Womenswear

[aagdolla]

Street style at the Dior FW 24 fashion show in Paris, France (Feb/March 2024).

[alexinafan]

Alexina Graham

[tronform]

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#TRONFORM #MotivationInStyle #LuxuryEssentials #EvolveWithTRONFORM #Fashion #Style #Luxury #OOTD #InstaFashion #StreetStyle #LuxuryLife #FashionBlog #Womenswear #LuxuryLifestyle #StyleInspiration #FashionStyle #CasualStyle #LuxuryFashion #DesignerWear #Trendy #Fashionable #FashionAddict #Fashionista #fyp #foryoupage #foryou

[paulinalukasiewicz]

Fiery red silk scarf design for Esntl Studio brand featuring abstract palm leaves print.

[f0point5]

(I’m) charming and endearing, and (un)comfortable

Written companion piece to the Lando x fakegirlfriend!reader social media au

Set after Part 6, at the dinner with Lando’s dad that is mentioned.

A/N: So, those of you who were here for the Max fix know that I do long form writing exercises to get more of a feel for the characters for the smau. I didn’t share the Max ones while the fic was ongoing because my writing is not my favourite, but I do like providing more of an insight into the real life stuff that isn’t covered in the smau and especially the reader’s thoughts. And I like this is kind of needed for this smau especially. So, I’m not going to tag anyone in these so that if you’d rather just read the smau you don’t get caught up with these, but you can read them if you want more of an insight into the reader’s character. If you hate it…just pretend it never happened 🫠🫣

“You look fine,” you tell your reflection, staring at it right in the eyes.

Your gaze flits down to your simple black satin slip dress. Black Amina Muadi heels peek out from the hem. Single, but elegant, you think.

You look fine.

“You look fine.” You tell your reflection one more time, and she looks like she believes you.

Of course you look fine. You wouldn’t have a career if you didn’t. People have paid obscene amounts of money for your face and your body. You know exactly how much Lando Norris has paid. You put together something that accentuates your shape a bit but not so much that his dad would think you’re trying.

You haven’t met a parent in a while. Once you’d started shooting womenswear at 15, parents were rarely around, though occasionally you would run into an overbearing mother. You can’t remember ever meeting anyone’s father.

Your alarm rings, so it’s too late to change now. Steeling yourself with one last deep breath, you go over to the interconnecting door and knock.

On the other side of the door, something bangs, and then someone grunts, and you’re about to just give up on this whole idea before the door wings open to reveal a panting Lando Norris.

He’s dressed in beige chinos and a black polo shirt, showing off a golden tan. Okay, you’d let Twitter win this one; he’s beautiful.

“I thought you were going to-“ he starts, but then stops himself. You suppose he assumed you’d knock on the external door. “Never mind,”

“So,” you gesture to the space between you.

“Oh, yeah, come in,” he says, stepping aside to let you into his suite.

It’s huge. You survey the large living room. Several pairs of chinos sit in dry cleaning plastic on the couch. The remains of a fruit platter sits on the dining table. Two sets of golf clubs rest precariously on a wall in the corner. He’s a bit of a slob.

“What?” He asks you. You turn to him, surprised to find his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Nothing,” you shake your head and shrug, but he doesn’t stop studying you. He’s making an effort not to be obvious, but he’s assessing you from head to toe. It makes you squirm. “It’s okay? The look?”

His eyes widen. “The look’s incredible,” he says quickly, probably embarrassed you caught him looking. His cheeks turn even more red. “You’re-“

“Okay, we can go?” You cut him off, smoothing you already sleek up-do. He should turn the damn air conditioning on.

Lando motions for you to go ahead of him to the door and he trails behind you until he hurries past you to get the door. You head to the lift in silence, hair on the back of your neck prickling every time you feel his eyes linger on you.

You look fine. He would have told you if you didn’t.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he says, when you’re in the lift. You glance at him, finding him already looking at you with a shy smile that would have any woman on her knees right there.

You shrug. “It’s not a problem.”

“Probably not your idea of a fun evening,” he continues, and you wonder if he’s trying to convince you to call it off and go back upstairs.

“I was going to eat from the restaurant anyway.” You say, watching as he yawns. “You’re tired?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Two sessions today. And quali always take a lot out of me, you know,”

You hum in response.

“I, uh,” he stops himself, and then notices you’re looking at him, so he sighs before continuing. “I actually did pretty well. At quali. Better than I thought I would, anyway. It’s…” he trails off, scratching at the back of his neck.

He looks sort of embarrassed to have even mentioned it. You almost give in and tell him you watched the qualifying live while doing your post flight skincare, but you don’t. You’re not sure why exactly, it just feels like you’d be committing to something, and don’t want to do that.

“Congratulations,” is all you end up saying, and then it’s back to silence.

When you get downstairs, three separate groups of girls ask for pictures with him. You stand aside awkwardly, watching the way these strangers lean into him and eagerly put their arms around him and stand so close. It makes your skin crawl. Lando doesn’t react to it. But then, you never do, either.

He apologises for the interruption and you wave it off, embarrassed that he might have noticed your discomfort. It’s not your business.

Inside the restaurant, Lando gently directs you towards a table by the window where his dad is waiting. You’d googled him, so you knew what he liked like, but the photos didn’t do justice to the serenity that rolls off this man in waves.

He stands when he sees you, opening his arms to his son. Lando steps into his embrace with no hesitation, and you wonder if that’s why he’s not bothered so much by the closeness of strangers. Maybe you wouldn’t mind being touched if anyone had ever touched you like that.

When they part, you pull your lips into a smile and step forward.

“Good evening, Mr. Norris. I’m Y/N,”

Adam’s wide smile falters for a second. “Of course I know that,” he says with a chuckle, beckoning you over. You oblige, and he leans in to kiss you on both cheeks. “Who wouldn’t recognise his son’s girlfriend, eh? And please, call me Adam,”

“D’accord.” When both men raise an eyebrow, you explain, “it means okay,”

“Ah,” Adam says with a sage nod, sitting down.

You startle when Lando pulls your chair out for you, flashing him what you hope is a grateful look rather than a confused one.

“I learnt French all through school but I’ve forgotten it all, unfortunately,” Adam says.

“I got the duolingo for it, but it’s harder than you think,” Lando chips in.

“Surely Y/N could teach you,”

“I’m too strict for him,” you joke, forcing yourself not to react when you feel Lando rest his arm on the back of your chair.

“Is that so,” Adam says, catching your eye.

You know the looks he’s giving you. It’s the look a casting director gets when they meet you and you aren’t quite what they asked for. That look they get in their eyes as they decide if you’re a good enough compromise is the same one Adam Norris is giving you now.

He’s the worst kind of casting director - the type that will try to make small talk as if they don’t have your life in numbers printed out in front of them; the type to make you laugh so they can judge the shade and angle of your teeth. Not content with your time, they demand a performance.

So you perform.

You order pasta instead of salad because being thin is most appreciated when it’s effortless. You tease Lando endlessly because the brits like to make fun of each other. You pretend you’re duly nervous when Adam speaks to you and not nervous every time Lando does.

You’re not sure if Adam buys into it. He and Lando have an easy and intoxicating rapport that you’re powerless to replicate. Lando’s admiration of his dad is almost palpable, and Adam’s adoration is plain to see. He loves his son so much that you think it must be clear to him that you don’t.

But he’s clever, and funny, and more gracious than you deserve. He’s so guileless that you understand why Lando would want to shield him from the truth of your situation. You feel a little guilty, being part of the lie, and even more guilty for being part of the truth, but you push that all down, reminding yourself that these people have no more to do with you than a photographer or a designer on a shoot.

By the time dinner comes to an end, you’re exhausted. You can taste blood in your mouth from chewing the inside of your cheek, and you feel sick from the Chardonnay that Adam ordered that you had to pretend to like on an empty stomach.

The knot in your chest loosens with every step the three of you take towards the lifts. Lando and Adam joke about what they’re going to eat for dinner after the race and you almost burst into tears at the thought of doing this all again tomorrow.

“I’m so glad I finally got to meet you,” Adam says with what you’ve come to believe is a trademark wide smile. “Honestly I was starting to think he’d made it up, getting the most beautiful girl in the world to go out with him,”

Ha. Most beautiful. Maybe when you were six, all lithe and pouty and innocent. Maybe when you were seventeen, no curves or dark circles or opinions. Not now.

He’s teasing you, not laughing at you, but your body can’t tell the difference.

You think you feel the bile rising up your throat but thankfully Lando cuts in before you have to.

“Dad,” he chides through clenched teeth and a pained smile. When you turn to him the blush that has become quite familiar to you is back with a vengeance, and spreading all the way to his ears.

“What? It’s not bad to say your girlfriend is beautiful,” Adam teases, turning to you. “Is it, Y/N?”

“I would be worried if he didn’t. It’s how I stay employed, after all,” you say with a smile. Your response is effortless, well rehearsed, right down to the way you lift your hand to ghost over your collarbone.

“Must be a glamorous life, being a model,” Adam says thoughtfully. You may not have any experience meeting parents, but you know well enough what he’s getting at.

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “No more glamorous than being a formula one driver. And I’m sure you know from Lando that glamour doesn’t mean comfort. Very often the opposite, if my shoes are any indication,”

He’s taken aback by your answer, doesn’t even bother to hide his raised eyebrows. “No, that’s-“ he lets out a sigh. “That’s very true. You’ve got a wise one here, mate,”

“Yeah, she’s keeping me out of trouble,” Lando jokes, nudging you, and though it doesn’t hurt you feel a sting where his skin touched yours.

“I don’t doubt it,” Adam says, opening his arms to hug you again. “Go easy on him though, eh?” These words are half whispered as he pulls you close, squeezing you just once before he lets you go.

“I will,” you promise. It’s one you’ll try to keep.

He hugs Lando next, a tight one, cradling the back of his son’s head with a gentle tap.

“Well,” he says to both of you, “it’s been lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’m just going to check the front desk has organised my taxi to the airport on Monday, so I’ll see you both tomorrow,”

“Night, Dad,”

“Love you.”

Adam heads off to the desk just as the lift arrives and you dart into it. You’re too tired to even press the button for your floor but Lando takes care of it.

He lets out a heavy breath, looking over at you as though thinking you might do the same. He doesn’t realise your night isn’t over until he’s gone, too.

“I think that went well,” he says. It’s a confident statement said in an uncertain tone, and you can’t help but feel bad. It’s not as though he was the one who had to make a good impression.

“I’m sorry if I’m not-“ you stop yourself. It’s not your fault. “If he didn’t like me. I hope it won’t cause problems for you,”

Lando looks completely nonplussed by your comment. “Of course he liked you,” he says with reassuring scoff and a smile, as if anything else is unimaginable. ���And he’s not really that kind of dad. He just cares that I like you,”

God, that smile. You’d hate yourself for the things you’d do to keep him smiling at you like that.

“I think you faked that well,” you say, smiling back at him.

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for doing this,” he clears his throat. “Still don’t know why you did,”

He’s expecting an answer and you struggle for something to tell him. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for.

You can feel the pressure building as he waits for you to say something. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears. Your skin bursts into flames and your palms get clammy.

Why is he even asking? He didn’t think twice about asking you for a favour and now he’s changing the rules. It was dinner, not a kidney. Does he have so many vampires around him that he thinks you need a reason to be nice? Is he so used to paying for kindness that he thinks he needs to buy you, too? Didn’t he already try?

Thankfully, mercifully, the lift stops at your floor and you waste no time stepping out even though you’re beginning to feel unsteady on your feet.

The air conditioning hits you, and you realise you don’t owe Lando an explanation.

“You can just say thank you, you know,” you tell him, striding towards your rooms with him half a step behind. “You don’t have to think so much about it.”

“I did say thank you,” he argues. You glance at him as you pull out your keycard. He’s bewildered. You’re breaking your promise to Adam already, but it’s his sanity or yours.

“De rien.” You place your key card against the censor and open the door. “Goodnight.”

Once you slip inside, the door clicks shut with no trouble, and you wait to hear Lando’s door open and shut before you make your way further into the room. You kick off your shoes and shed your dress on the way to your suitcase.

You can hear him moving around in his suite, more attuned to it now you know the layout of the room. As you rummage around for your sweatpants and hoodie, half of you wants to send an apology text. The stupid half of you. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. You can’t afford for it to matter. The weight of his judgement will crush you, you know it.

As you pull on the brown Quadrant hoodie, you tell yourself it’s better he doesn’t think of you at all.

[thefashionfold]

Zimmermann AW2024

Key trend for AW2024: Wide Stripes

Read my trend report featuring over 40 womenswear and menswear looks here, and see shopping ideas for both women and men if you'd like to get a head start on this key trend.

[frankiebirds]

re one of ur last posts - what are ur nonbinary elle and spencer hcs?? :))

AH i actually dont have that many so a lot of these literally just came into my head. also i'm very sorry this mostly became "elle helping spencer realise he's nonbinary" headcanons, i'll have to think more about elle :((

this one is not my headcanon. i tried to find whose it is but for the life of me i cannot track it down, so if anyone knows please tell me so i can link them: they share a wardrobe. the only one who remembers which clothes initially belonged to which person is spencer, for obvious reasons. EDIT: got this from this post by @/spritehouse

elle has her shit figured out pre-canon but isn't doing anything about it because it's 2005. spencer does not have his shit figured out until after he gets with elle

well. he has it a little figured out. he knows there's something to figure out, he knows he isn't a cis man, but he's just like. i have way too much going on in my life already to think about that so i will ignore it <3 because that's worked out so well for him

pre-figuring his shit out, spencer is constantly (and largely unintentionally) mixing "menswear" and "womenswear". i really struggle to see a version of spencer where he and diana didn't experience serious financial issues after william left, and even as an adult, high-quality private psychiatric care like diana's is expensive. so, the majority of his clothes are thrifted (yes, i know about the $500 cardigans in later seasons. gifts from rossi <3) and he doesn't really care what section of goodwill he finds them in. so he's constantly wearing, like. a men's shirt under a women's cardigan over men's pants held up with a women's belt. post-figuring his shit out, this becomes intentional and he starts blatantly mixing styles. the kind of thing that gets him stopped in public by someone going "hey you know that's a women's...?" and he goes "yep! :D"

by contrast, elle, while she largely has things figured out, does not present the way she wants to for safety reasons. spencer helps her gradually feel more comfortable presenting the way she wants while she helps him figure out his gender stuff

as for reid's gender stuff, i think for a long time he's really overly fixated on labelling himself. the closest any label comes is bigender but that doesn't feel quite right and he has a lot of unnecessary angst about it. (not projecting at all shut up). eventually he's venting to elle one day about how he feels this and this and this about his gender and if he was to describe it he would describe it like this but he just can't figure it out. and then elle gets genuinely confused because it sounds to her like he very much has figured it out. it takes a long time for him to understand and accept that there isn't a magic word that will describe all parts of him, and he may never find one. and that's fine

elle does spencer's makeup. he looks in the mirror and cries.

penelope is the first person they come out to and she is DELIGHTED to have other trans people on the team. one more and they outnumber the cis people...

morgan is next. spencer says "we're nonbinary" and morgan says "is this like a 'we're pregnant' situation or are you actually talking about both of you" and elle hits him in the head. spencer immediately feels many times less anxious than he did before. i love u morgan

morgan asks spencer in private if he wants him to stop calling him pretty boy. spencer tells him to please never stop. calling him "pretty", an adjective usually used to describe women, paired with "boy" makes him very happy. with this in mind, morgan starts calling elle "handsome girl". elle pretends to be nonchalant about it, but it makes her really happy.

they never tell gideon. spencer can't handle the thought of him reacting badly. (gideon was under the impression that spencer was just closeted this whole time. oops!)

like i said, spencer REALLY likes being described as masculine and feminine in the same breath. when elle first introduces him to her friends, she says "this is spencer, she's my boyfriend" and spencer runs away to stim in private. elle's friends are very confused.

[amphibious-thing]

Talking of fashion and class lets talk about Princess Seraphina. Seraphina was a Gentleman's Servant by trade and also a molly with a taste for fashion. Seraphina wore both menswear and womenswear and seems to have used both he/him and she/her pronouns.

The Princess took "great Delight in Balls and Masquerades", and "always chuses to appear at them in a Female Dress". Mary Poplet recalled "she commonly us'd to wear a white Gown, and a scarlet Cloak, with her Hair frizzled and curl'd all round her Forehead".

"I was trying on a Suit of Red Damask at my Mantua-maker's in the Strand," recalls Mary Robinson, "when the Princess Seraphina came up, and told me the Suit look'd mighty pretty. I wish, says he, you would lend 'em me for a Night, to go to Mrs. Green's in Nottingham-Court, by the Seven Dials, for I am to meet some fine Gentlemen there. Why, says I, can't Mrs. Green furnish you? Yes, says he, she lends me a Velvet Scarf and a Gold Watch sometimes."

"Another Time" recalls Robinson, "he comes to me, and says, Lord, Madam, I must ask your Pardon, I was at your Mantua-maker's Yesterday, and dress'd my Head in your Lac'd Pinners, and I would sain have borrow'd them to have gone to the Ridotto at Vauxhall last Night, but I cou'd not persuade her to lend 'em me; but however she sent me your Callimanco Gown and Madam Nuttal's Mob, and one of her Smocks, and so I went thither to pick up some Gentlemen to Dance."

But it was actually Seraphina's taste in menswear that got her in trouble. "He used to be but meanly dress'd, as to Men's Cloaths," recalls Robinson, "but he came lately to my Mantua-maker's, in a handsome Black Suit". Seraphina was out in this handsome new suit "dress'd in a black Coat, a white Waistcoat, and black Breeches" when the suit was taken by Thomas Gordon. Exactly how Gordon got Seraphina's new suit is a bit of a he-said she-said situation with Seraphina alleging that Gordon robbed her a knife point and Gordon claiming Seraphina gave it to him in exchange for not reporting her for attempted sodomy.

(see Trial of Thomas Gordon, 5th July 1732)

[sseditorialnews]

Menswear has been seriously turning heads in the past few years—so much so that many times, it's more interesting than womenswear. Is this an indication of an impending shift in fashion?

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

Seán McGirr Named Creative Director of Alexander McQueen

“We are delighted to welcome Seán McGirr as creative director. With his experience, personality and creative energy, he will bring a powerful creative language to Alexander McQueen while building on its unique heritage,” said Alexander McQueen CEO Gianfilippo Testa in a statement. Seán McGirr was most recently head of men’s ready-to-wear at JW Anderson, and has previously worked at Dries Van Noten on the womenswear collection. His résumé also includes stints at Burberry and Christophe Lemaire for Uniqlo.

The designer, who recently left his post at JW Anderson, is a Dublin-born Irish national. He studied at London College of Fashion, and is a graduate of Central Saint Martins in London, where he obtained a Master of Arts in Fashion in 2013.

[alexinafan]

Alexina Graham

[spellbook-gayboy]

Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend: The Story of a Superhero who became a Fashion Mogul by Christina Cabello

Throughout the course of her life, Ilyana ‘Layla’ Ignacio has worn many different hats: superhero, professional MMA fighter, and most recently, successful fashionista. Her story is one of hardship, reinvention and enterprise that stands alone in its uniqueness even among her peers in the international superhero community. From her career as the heroine Krystal to her ventures in the world of fashion, it seems that the Diamond Dame has been there and done that on more than one occasion, and still plans to do so much more. 

Much of Miss Ignacio’s earliest days as a hero remain unknown, but what is known is that her powers were the result of truly extraordinary circumstances: caught in the explosion of a major industrial accident, the damage to her body triggered a nigh impossible reaction within her cells that caused them to crystallise in an attempt to save her. It worked, and as a result, Layla retained the ability to convert her soft tissue into an organic diamond-like substance that greatly enhances her durability and regeneration and removes the need for her to eat, sleep and even breathe. She can also generate extra amounts of this substance both in and out of her crystalline form. With these newfound abilities and her background as an amateur MMA fighter, Layla took the alias of Krystal and embarked on a new career as a superhero, fighting crime and looking good while doing it. In this period of her life she accomplished much, from fighting many varieties of supervillains to pulling off many incredible rescues, perhaps the most famous of which being the time that she managed to lift a large chunk of the collapsed Golden Gate Bridge (the weight of which was estimated to weigh somewhere in the region of 500-1000 tons) to rescue a trapped group of civilians during an attack by the supervillain Walking Dread. 

But all good things must come to an end eventually, and over time, Krystal began to slowly dial back her appearances as a superhero, citing a still unknown personal tragedy. It was also at this point that she made the first of many forays into the world of fashion: at just twenty-seven years old, Layla opened the Stellar Shine Fashion Boutique, from which she would gain no small of fame for her innovative techniques and unique design vision. Not long after the opening of her boutique, Layla also debuted the first of her many successful clothing lines, Cosmic Figures. Apparently named for and inspired by a childhood fascination with designing astronomy-themed clothes, Cosmic Figures quickly became one of the fastest-selling clothing lines of the year and even won the Emerging Talent Award at that year’s CFDA Fashion Awards. This interest with the stars also influenced the boutique itself, hence its name, and most if not all of the lines that have been produced since it opened, including the upcoming Nova and Nebula line of womenswear, which is set to release in time for summer of this year. During all of this, Layla did also still make appearances as Krystal, now a frequent associate of the late Guardians of the Globe, in particular members Green Ghost and Black Samson, the latter of whom she was also rumoured to be in a romantic relationship at one point or another. For a time, it seemed as if things couldn’t be better for her, with both a thriving hero career and a successful business under her wing. 

But that was soon shattered when the Guardians of the Globe were found dead, later confirmed as having been murdered by the former superhero Omni-Man. This revelation gutted Krystal, who announced shortly afterwards that she would be going on hiatus from crimefighting for the foreseeable future. While she has been spotted occasionally in her crystalline form since then, Layla currently devotes most of her time to her position as CEO and Head Fashion Designer of the Stellar Shine Fashion Boutique based in Syracuse, New York, where she continues her work while grieving the loss of such close allies and friends. 

In summary, the story of Ilyana Ignacio is one of many twists and turns, with changes that have bought both hardship and relief. It is the story of a woman who has reinvented herself time and again, who has gone from an amateur fighter on the edges of obscurity to one of the most famous person in the American fashion world. But perhaps most importantly, it’s a story that is also far from being over, and knowing Krystal, isn’t likely to stop being eventful any time soon. 

[wormsin]

I Need to be the Most Fashionable Bitch at the Airport

8/20/23

I'm at the airport heading to Grandpa's memorial. I'm wearing a black a-shirt that says "ALL THINGS ARE DELICATELY CONNECTED" (jenny holzer truism; gift), oversized black short-sleeve button up with unidentified painting of The Last Judgment (my one aliexpress purchase of weird button ups), grey sweatshirt under black motorcycle jacket (allsaints, mom utterly spoiling me), black cargo pants, sneakers, 3M aura mask.

this combination is extremely comfortable and also lets me be the most fashionable person at the airport, an extremely low bar. as a transmasc its my god-given right to wear oversized shirts. it helps the fit issue of having more hip than mens shirts account for, and can widen the shoulder. i feel most comfortable in clothes that drape my back and hips, that dont come in at the waist, so i often wear these button ups open. its one of two silhouettes that dont make me insanely dysmorphic.

oversized transmasc fashion is sometimes ridiculed but personally im a fan, even as someone who believes right fit is important. 'right ' is just relative. trans/queer people are often manipulating our proportions to pass or signal, and thats because fit and silhouette in fashion is gendered.

off the bat, wearing oversized or proportion-fucking clothing is a lot easier when youre straight sized because there's more clothes for you period and you can find things a size up. also fatness is gendered in a complex way so Your Millage May Vary. anyway—

right now men's and women's silhouettes are very similar. its all slim and about moralizing and accentuating the ''"natural body"". and by accentuate I mean make women look skinnier with a fatter ass and men look skinnier with more muscles. it sucks ass. I could go off on a long rant about the politics of athleisure. there are more variations in shape in streetwear etc. but mens office and formal wear is all very slim right now (derogatory).

this is very different from 1600s france or 1950s america, where the male and female form in fashion were quite different. please dont make the mistake of thinking this uniformity/unisexing is a linear, progressive trend. there are rather cycles of feminizing menswear and masculinizing womenswear based on previous generations (1890s, 1920s, 1960s-now kind of).

so right now, if we want to 'pass' or genderfuck or navigate being gendered correctly, we rely on fine-haired signals. (it's easier to queer code and be read as 'some flavor of gay' ime.) and a lot of that is based on the shape of our bodies. wearing a men's jacket isn't going to shift my gender signals much since women wear menswear inspired womenswear and, to a lesser extent, menswear—but wearing a mens jacket a size up so my shoulders seem wider will shift the needle more. and even if it doesn't, I like how it looks.

there's not actually a formula for this because passing and gendering are highly specified to location, culture, race, age, fatness, how aware of trans people someone is, if there are other queers around you, etc.

more interesting than dialogue about passing are the weirdo trans/queer fashions happening right now which, like all interesting fashion these days, actually have bold shapes. transmasc, butch, and stud fashion often make use of oversized and baggy clothes, especially with the 90s / cargo / wide pant resurgence. and there's lots going on with weirdo niche fashion like clowncore. people were dragging Elliot Page's fashion (Balenciaga 2022, 2021 met gala) but its deliberate.

I feel pretty gay and trans at the airport, especially when I hit the middle of the country. but I did once see a man flagging black at an airport with a tattoo that said "ITS A LIFESTYLE"—so there's room for improvement.

[confessionsfromthesecondrow]

Fashion In Flux.

As 2022 drew to a close, the tectonics slowly began shifting; now, as we embark into 2023, fashion is finally facing a major vibe shift. 

While the past seven years have been peppered with rising talents and breakout stars, following the last seismic shift, it has undeniably been a two-man race between Gucci’s Alessandro Michele and Balenciaga’s Demna. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Following Michele’s recent announcement that he’d be parting ways with the Italian house, occurring almost simultaneously with Balenciaga-gate, fashion finds itself in a state of flux.

Michele’s appointment as creative director back in 2015 came as something of a surprise – triumphant over more recognisable names including Riccardo Tisci, Christopher Kane, Joseph Altuzarra, and Tom Ford, again – with Kering’s chief François-Henri Pinault tasking the designer with taking the house in a ‘daring direction’ following predecessor Frida Giannini’s early exit. 

It’s a formula we’ve similarly seen strike gold in the years since with Daniel Lee at Bottega Veneta and Daniel Roseberry at Schiaparelli, but it has also been catastrophic, in the case of Justin O’Shea’s breakneck seven-month tenure at Brioni and Lanvin’s seemingly revolving front door.

Revisiting his Autumn/Winter 2015 debut (the unofficial one), Michele’s maximalist magpie tendencies weren’t as grandiose as we’ve come to expect, but his willowy boys with their luscious locks, pussybow blouses, fur-lined slippers, and nerdy, oversized reading glasses were a world away from the stark streetwear we were seeing in menswear at the time. Similarly, his womenswear debut was an entirely different offering to Miuccia Prada’s smart and subversive Prada, Hedi Slimane’s svelte and skanky Saint Laurent, Nicolas Ghesquière’s sleek and chic Louis Vuitton, or Phoebe Philo’s salve for all wounds, Céline – before Slimane later axed the é. 

After presenting four collections – his AW15 menswear and womenswear debuts (presented separately, before the brand went co-ed in 2017) a Resort 2016 show in New York, and a stepped-up sophomore menswear outing – Michele was awarded International Designer of the Year at the 2015 British Fashion Awards for having ‘set the fashion agenda’ and ‘confirming Gucci’s position as a truly directional fashion house.’ 

Meanwhile, Demna, who we now know as the mononymous creative director at Balenciaga, was still somewhat unknown, just beginning to step into the limelight as design lead at Vetements, presenting his sophomore collection during the same season. He would be named as Alexander Wang’s successor seven months later in October 2015. 

In the years that followed, both designers began laying the foundations to create the behemoth brands today, albeit at opposite ends of the spectrum – Balenciaga the dark and dirty counterpart to the romance and nostalgia of Gucci. 

There’s the inescapable assault from both brands as the go-to for your celebrity faves: from Balenciaga’s Kim Kardashian, Kanye West, Dua Lipa, Elliot Page, Justin Bieber, Isabelle Huppert, Michaela Coel, Nicole Kidman, and Kylie Jenner to Gucci’s Harry Styles, Jared Leto, Lana Del Rey, Florence Welch, Måneskin, Miley Cyrus, Phoebe Bridgers, Billie Eilish, Dev Hynes, Idris Elba, Janelle Monáe, Julia Garner, Andrew Garfield, Jodie Smith, Jack Grealish – you get it. 

Yet amid standout shows (Autumn/Winter 2018, Spring/Summer 2019, Resort 2020, and Autumn/Winter 2022) meme-orable moments (from severed heads to platform Crocs) and cohort of collaborations (adidas times two, Palace, The Simpsons, Disney, and even each other in fashion’s first multiverse moment) their commonality stretched beyond the creative into their forward-thinking business mindset. Whether partnering with the World Food Programme, aiding employees to find safe abortions, ditching fur, platforming upcoming design talents, hiring diehard stans, or branching into beauty, Demna and Alessandro represented a ‘new’ kind of creative director – simultaneously scrutinising the finer details while taking scope of the bigger picture. 

Yet it’s this painstaking attention to detail that makes Balenciaga’s recent ad scandal even more perplexing. Despite the brand initially blaming production company North Six – with a $25m lawsuit that was swiftly dropped – insiders question, rightfully so, how such images could see the light of day with so many stakeholders involved. 

Regardless of which side of the scandal you find yourself on, it’s impossible to ignore the endurance of this particular controversy. Thanks to the Right’s rebirth of ‘Satanic Panic’, luxury brands are forced to walk an ever-shrinking tightrope to do the ‘right’ thing, not because they want to, but because they have to in order to protect their bottom line. Remember when controversial ads were en vogue? 

Since Balenciaga-gate, Gucci found itself under similar criticism following the release of its ‘HA HA HA’ campaign – featuring Harry Styles wearing a teddy bear t-shirt toting a mattress that denigrators said belonged to a ‘toddler’. In a now deleted TikTok video, Coach was decried for Disney-themed teddy bears in its Sydney store that were described as ‘satanic’ and ‘evil’. 

For Balenciaga, the fallout (still falling) from its Chernobyl has seen Kim Kardashian, the poster child for Demna’s Balenciaga, noticeably out of the brand claiming to be ‘shaken by the disturbing images’ and ‘re-evaluating her relationship with the brand’. After appearing in the brand’s AW22 campaign, Euphoria’s Alexa Demie deleted all Balenciaga images from her Instagram feed and promptly unfollowed for good measure. Then the Business of Fashion rescinded its ‘highest honour’, the Global VOICES award and instead asked the brand representatives to attend to explain the saga – they declined. 

As the brand’s first show post-Balenci-gate approaches, the mind intrigues whether deep-thinking Demna will address the controversy. Amid the storm that has permanently taken root above Balenciaga HQ, the designer and CEO Cédric Charbit seem to be on borrowed time.

So, who does that leave in line to succeed fashion’s Iron Throne? At the end of 2022, Miu Miu took home Lyst’s title of hottest brand of the year for the first time – beating away heavyweights Balenciaga (who has topped the chart six times) and Gucci (topping 10 times and never placing lower than 4th). 

Thanks to its viral micro skirt set – which solidified its status on countless covers and via Shein knock-offs and homemade Halloween costumes – Miuccia trebled down from Spring/Summer 2022 through to Spring/Summer 2023, turning Moo Moo into a cash cow with churning out micro bras and adorable accessories.  

There’s also the new guard of next gen designers invited to make their mark at hallowed houses: Ludovic de Saint Sernin and Harris Reed will shortly present their debuts for Ann Demeulemeester and Nina Ricci respectively, while Maximilian Davis will reveal his sophomore runway collection for Ferragamo. With luck, an exciting opportunity to see what they’ve got, and not another revolving door. Bianca Saunders and Priya Ahluwalia next please! 

Will Matthieu Blazy achieve a hattrick at Bottega Veneta? What has Raf Simons got up his sleeve? What Ever Happened To Phoebe Philo? With heavyweights in limbo – Alessandro Michele, Riccardo Tisci – a hotly anticipated debut from Daniel Lee at Burberry, and open spots at Louis Vuitton menswear and Gucci, the guillotine looks like it’s readying for more chops with LVMH’s recent CEO moves. 

Time to place your bets. 

[thefashionfold]

Mira Mikati AW2024

Key trend for AW2024: Wide Stripes

Read my trend report featuring over 40 womenswear and menswear looks here, and see shopping ideas for both women and men if you'd like to get a head start on this key trend.

[oigimi]

. birthday present .

. arthur x murasaki (oc) . 1.3k words . idrk what this is other than a small drabble to get writing on murasaki and do an arthur bday thing .

Murasaki, coming not only from an entirely foreign culture to that of France, was also nearly a millennium removed from the time she had been brought up in. Every day in 19th century Paris was a new adventure for her, full of new things to learn about that she had not even considered before, and one of those things was birthdays. The way people in the future went about birthdays was worlds away from how she had come to celebrate. So when a fellow vampiric author approached her about a potential birthday celebration, she was a little taken aback.

“Tomorrow? You have a birthday tomorrow?”

Arthur nodded and crossed his arms. “That’s right. Care to join me on a little excursion today, perhaps, in celebration? My schedule is clear and I imagine yours is too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Murasaki asked, leaning back in her chair. She did, in fact, have a clear schedule for the time being, but she still had to stand her ground.

“Nothing, nothing! I’ve just noticed you woke up later than usual today, and your makeup is freshly done. So you must have more free time than usual, at least right now.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. Damn Arthur. Nothing gets past him. Her attempt to chastise him had failed yet again, so she stretched her arms up and looked around her room. “Well I suppose I can make some time for you. What do you plan on doing today, follower of my path?”

“Well I was hoping to pick up a new jacket for myself and grab a bite. Although I think time with you will be enough of a gift for me~” Arthur hummed, leaning against the wall and making eye contact with Murasaki. She maintained this locked gaze with him for a while before breaking another smile.

“Okay. Let me put my shoes on and we’ll see what happens.”

As Arthur left to go put on his jacket, Murasaki pondered the day ahead. She hadn’t spent a generous amount of time with Arthur alone, even attempting to appear icy towards him in the beginning. At first, he seemed very much like the men she served in court with- arrogant, drunk, loud, and unabashed in their intentions on flirting with ladies-in-waiting such as herself. But Arthur was more than that, she’d come to learn. Murasaki took it upon herself to read some of his novels privately, and although she loved to remind Arthur (and Dazai, as well) that he worked in the craft she had pioneered around 900 years ago with her Tale of Genji, she had to give credit where credit was due. Arthur was very quick-witted, and she loved the stories he contributed to the world, however different from the monogatari genre she had worked in herself. Murasaki also couldn’t help but appreciate the idea of Sherlock Holmes only having been bested a few times- once by a woman. And so she decided to indulge him in this venture, and accompany him on a pre-birthday trip, even if to satiate her own curiosity on a birthday celebration and spend a day with a fellow author.

Once both parties were fully dressed and put together, Arthur led the two of them outside and into a coach that dropped them off in front of a rather expensive-looking boutique. Murasaki looked the establishment up and down, noting the array of colorful, patterned dresses in the window. She cracked a grin upon seeing a lavender gown with ornate gold and silver flakes across it. “I like this place. Is this where your jacket is?”

“Mhm. I had it custom ordered. The bird here is quite nimble with her fingers, you know. She makes the highest quality items around.”

“Does she make womenswear too?”

“Of course! She crafted that dress you had your eyes on.”

“How fancy.” Murasaki followed Arthur inside, and was instantly removed from him by the flock of women that rushed to his side. They fawned over him, gushing about how excited they were to see him, what was he doing at the boutique, typical lovestruck dialogue women would come up with in the day. Murasaki chuckled a bit. He seemed to have his hands full, trying to answer every woman at once. Deciding not to let him flounder alone, she made her way back to her colleague’s side. “We’re here to pick up a jacket. We’re on a time crunch.”

“And who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

Now it was Arthur’s time to speak. “This is my lady friend Murasaki. She writes too. I’m taking her on a little day out.”

The disappointed looks of the women made Murasaki look up at Arthur. She didn’t want to be seen as one of his partners, but he seemed to know what he was saying so she just smiled and looked back at the crowd.

Valerie, the owner, stepped out from her office and handed Arthur his jacket. Murasaki reached out to feel it. It was very nicely crafted, with fine wool outside and a comfortable lining inside. Silver buttons shined against it, matching the details on the hem. He slipped his current outerwear off and replaced it with the new jacket.

“It looks nice on you. You look quite regal,” Murasaki hummed, grinning up at Arthur.

“Why thank you, dove. I’ll say a compliment from you is quite rare! Are you finally starting to fancy me?”

“No! You just look nice in the coat! No shame, even on your birthday.”

They paid for the jacket and hit the streets once more, taking in the warm but relaxing May air on their faces.

“I daresay we should eat outside today. It isn’t too hot or too cold, not windy, not cloudy. Plus, we can observe the people around us,” Arthur suggested, leading Murasaki to a small cafe on the corner of a street. In agreement, she requested outdoor seating, and settled across from him with a smile on her face after ordering their food.

“I love watching the people of Paris,” she mused, looking around her. “I can’t even fathom the kinds of lives they live. It’s so far beyond me, but everybody has their own dreams, interests, experiences, and stories to tell. I think that’s something I’m very grateful for in this second life of mine.”

Arthur nodded solemnly. “And it’s my job as a mystery author to be able to figure out those stories before they can even tell them. I quite enjoy people watching too. It’s fun guessing the lives they live just from a few glances.”

“Indeed.” Murasaki received the drinks and sipped her tea. “So why did you ask me to accompany you today? I don’t think I’m always your best friend.”

“Well I wasn’t going to ask Dazai or Newt. And everyone else was busy, including Theo.”

“So I’m a last resort invite.”

“Not exactly!” Arthur laughed. “You always twist my words, dove. Truthfully I’ve wanted some time with you for a while. Comte is always trying to be the one to spoil you, and being the only woman in the mansion you’ve certainly earned everyone’s interest, including mine. So perhaps I could take you with me for a little pre-birthday treat. And that I did.”

Murasaki nodded slowly and sipped her tea. “I see… Well then I have another question for you. Do you have anything planned for your true birthday tomorrow?”

“I’d imagine we’re just going to have a small party at the mansion. And then I’ll go out to the pub.”

“Alright. Well then I’m giving you your gift from me now, so no one else can see.”

She stood up and walked over to Arthur, cupping his face in her hands and giving him a kiss on the cheek, making sure to leave a full mark from her dark red lipstick where she landed.