Healthy lifestyle
A healthy lifestyle is one which helps to keep and improve people's health and well-being.Many governments and non-governmental organizations have made big efforts in healthy lifestyle and health promotion.
Mental Health
Mental health can be considered a very important factor of physical health for the effects it produces on bodily functions. This type of health concerns emotional and cognitive well-being or an absence of mental disorder.
Public health
Public health can be defined in a variety of ways. It can be presented as "the study of the physical, psychosocial and socio-cultural determinants of population health and actions to improve the health of the population.
Reproductive Health
For the UN, reproductive health is a right, like other human rights. This recent concept evokes the good transmission of the genetic heritage from one generation to the next.
Health
Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being, and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.
lundi 18 juin 2018
I'm Indian - Why Don't I Ever See Anyone Who Looks Like Me in Fashion?
Fashion has always been a part of my DNA. As a child, I would spend hours dressing up in my mother's clothes, ripping out pages of magazines for things that inspired me, and drawing outfits from my favorite movies. Flash forward to today, fashion is still a huge part of my life, and I've even managed to make a career out of it. But whether I look at bloggers on Instagram or billboards on the street, one important question has always stood out to me: I'm Indian; why don't I ever see anyone who looks like me in fashion?
Growing up, I moved over 12 times, hopping around from cities like Mumbai, New York, and Dubai. Living in these cultural meccas, I often found myself wondering why the media didn't represent the stylish Indian people I saw walking on the streets every day. When I would see an Indian person being represented on TV, I'd quickly realize that they were based on stereotypes rather than the kinds of real people I knew. I'm looking at you, Raj from The Big Bang Theory and Apu Nahasapeemapetilon from The Simpsons. (C'mon, Apu's last name is something right out of a racist joke book, don't you think?) Even as I entered my first Fashion Week, it was jarring how I could barely count the number of Indian models I saw on one hand.
Where Are We Now?
When Priyanka Chopra broke onto the scene with ABC's hit show Quantico in 2015, everyone couldn't stop buzzing about how amazing her style was. I, for one, couldn't help cheering from the sidelines, "FINALLY!" But the thing is, Priyanka's amazing style was something I already knew about and, over the years, I had kind of just given up hope that people outside of my community would take notice. It was powerful to see Priyanka make it big because it felt like Indian people were finally a part of the equation and getting some much-needed recognition. I was lucky enough to meet the actress during an event and we instantly bonded over the fact that we both love fashion and we are both Mumbaikars (which is a playful way of saying we both lived in Mumbai). I told Priyanka that it made me proud to see an Indian person making it big in Hollywood and she said that it made her happy because she too was proud to be Indian.
While it's great that Priyanka is getting the recognition she deserves, it's been three years since she broke onto the scene, and she is just one person from a country with a population over 1.3 billion. There are so many other fashionable Indian women out there like Sonam Kapoor, who has over 11 million followers on Instagram. (For scale, that's about the amount of people who live in Belgium or, to make it relatable to fashionistas, the same number of people who follow street style star Chiara Ferragni.) There's also Aishwarya Rai, who has received many accolades for her Cinderella-esque gown at Cannes Film Festival, and Bollywood actress Deepika Pudukone, just to name a few. (If you need any proof of how stylish these women are, just scroll through their Instagrams and you'll see what I'm talking about.) We should be giving more women like them a platform, because everyone's obsession with Priyanka has proved that the world is ready for it.
While it's great that Priyanka is getting the recognition she deserves, it's been three years since she broke onto the scene, and she is just one person from a country with a population over 1.3 billion.
One big missed opportunity was Vogue India's 10-year anniversary issue. Instead of choosing an Indian model or one of the many stylish Bollywood actresses, the magazine decided to "outsource" their talent (yes, I went there) by choosing American supermodel Kendall Jenner to be the cover girl. From a business perspective, I understand that it's a huge deal to land a covetable model like Kendall, but this could've been a huge moment for Indians to showcase some of the amazing, diverse talent we have in our country. It would've been inspiring to see someone Indian on the cover, showing the world that we're proud of our heritage.
Another thing that got everyone buzzing was a Business of Fashion article written by an Indian editor. I opened up Instagram one morning to see that a ton of my friends had posted a specific quote from the article that made them feel extremely marginalized, and it was easy to see why. "They [Indians] may not be the tallest or the conventionally prettiest of models," read the quote. I had many conversations that morning with others who were completely stunned by the fact that a fellow Indian could say something like that. If we perceive ourselves in this light, what stops others from doing the same? Being someone who's been called both "too Indian" and "too Americanized" my entire life, the article made me furious because that statement is so far from the truth. While the editor did apologize stating she meant "Indian models weren't perceived as 'the prettiest' by the Western-centric standards that dominate the fashion market," it still made me sad to think that these so-called beauty standards are so deeply ingrained in our society. Shouldn't every ethnicity be celebrated and considered beautiful? We shouldn't be ripping each other down; we should be embracing each and every individual for who they are, and all of the unique traits they bring to the table.
Beauty companies like Rihanna's Fenty Beauty and Huda Kattan's beauty line are breaking the mold by making it a point to include a diverse range of models in their campaigns and, more importantly, releasing multiple shades of their products. Their lines were instant successes, and people of all different ethnicities couldn't stop expressing their excitement over feeling included for once. The fashion industry should take a cue from these companies and the public's overwhelming cry for more diversity. Honestly it baffles me why designers don't even see this as an opportunity to make more sales. They're all missing out on a huge segment of the population, one that could potentially mean millions of dollars in revenue. What company wouldn't want that?
Where Do We Go From Here?
One Indian woman in the fashion industry that I admire greatly is Roopal Patel, who is the SVP fashion director at Saks Fifth Avenue. Looking at her career, it makes me proud to see another Indian woman succeeding in the industry, particularly one who is regarded so highly by her peers and designers. I admire Roopal not only because she has a lot of knowledge about the fashion industry, but also because she's managed to forge her own path as one of the only Indian woman directors of a multimillion-dollar retail company. Having even one person with a high-profile fashion job like Roopal's can help inspire a movement in the industry. I know she has already inspired me in my own career.
Even though I am just one person, I've made it my mission to do everything I can to make the situation better. Working at a place like POPSUGAR, I feel like I can voice these issues and unearth Indian brands and designers that mean something to my culture. I've been making a conscious effort to include people of all different backgrounds in my stories in the hopes of making everyone feel more included when they read an article of mine. During my first week at POPSUGAR, I was showing my team pictures from my sister's wedding and everyone was asking questions about what each outfit meant and what exactly one wears to an Indian wedding. I decided to write a couple of posts about it and, just like that, I was already writing about topics that mattered to me.
It's inspiring to see how Ashley Graham and Tess Holliday have managed to start an entire movement about the lack of curve models in the industry. Maybe we can learn from these empowering women and try to get the conversation started in the same way.
This past year has sort of been an awakening for women. There seems to be a growing platform for women of all races to speak out when they feel like they're being marginalized and underappreciated in today's society. While these strides are long overdue, we definitely still have a ways to go. Much like the body-positivity movement, it's time to call for the fashion industry to be more diverse so every young woman can feel like they are being represented in some way. It's inspiring to see how Ashley Graham and Tess Holliday have managed to start an entire movement about the lack of curve models in the industry. Maybe we can learn from these empowering women and try to get the conversation started in the same way. Whether it's by using social media like the #effyourbeautystandards hashtag and calling for Indian bloggers to band together, or simply by sharing this story to spark conversations, we can at least attempt to make a difference.
In the future, I hope to look at the runways of my favorite designers and see Indian models being included, but I wouldn't want it to end there. I would love for all ethnicities to be represented. Call it wishful thinking, but I think it can be accomplished in time. It's the best feeling in the world to see designers like Naeem Khan and Sachin and Babi Ahluwalia pave the way for other Indian designers out there. It gives me hope. After all, fashion is all about dreams. It takes a dream to start a company, it takes a dream to create a collection, and it takes a dream to make even the slightest difference in the world. Maybe one day, this simple dream will become a reality and we can finally look up at a billboard or open up a magazine, and see someone who we relate to looking back at us.
mardi 23 janvier 2018
I'm Indian - Why Don't I Ever See Anyone Who Looks Like Me in Fashion?
Fashion has always been a part of my DNA. As a child, I would spend hours dressing up in my mother's clothes, ripping out pages of magazines for things that inspired me, and drawing outfits from my favorite movies. Flash forward to today, fashion is still a huge part of my life, and I've even managed to make a career out of it. But whether I look at bloggers on Instagram or billboards on the street, one important question has always stood out to me: I'm Indian; why don't I ever see anyone who looks like me in fashion?
Growing up, I moved over 12 times, hopping around from cities like Mumbai, New York, and Dubai. Living in these cultural meccas, I often found myself wondering why the media didn't represent the stylish Indian people I saw walking on the streets every day. When I would see an Indian person being represented on TV, I'd quickly realize that they were based on stereotypes rather than the kinds of real people I knew. I'm looking at you, Raj from The Big Bang Theory and Apu Nahasapeemapetilon from The Simpsons. (C'mon, Apu's last name is something right out of a racist joke book, don't you think?) Even as I entered my first Fashion Week, it was jarring how I could barely count the number of Indian models I saw on one hand.
Where Are We Now?
When Priyanka Chopra broke onto the scene with ABC's hit show Quantico in 2015, everyone couldn't stop buzzing about how amazing her style was. I, for one, couldn't help cheering from the sidelines, "FINALLY!" But the thing is, Priyanka's amazing style was something I already knew about and, over the years, I had kind of just given up hope that people outside of my community would take notice. It was powerful to see Priyanka make it big because it felt like Indian people were finally a part of the equation and getting some much-needed recognition. I was lucky enough to meet the actress during an event and we instantly bonded over the fact that we both love fashion and we are both Mumbaikars (which is a playful way of saying we both lived in Mumbai). I told Priyanka that it made me proud to see an Indian person making it big in Hollywood and she said that it made her happy because she too was proud to be Indian.
While it's great that Priyanka is getting the recognition she deserves, it's been three years since she broke onto the scene, and she is just one person from a country with a population over 1.3 billion. There are so many other fashionable Indian women out there like Sonam Kapoor, who has over 11 million followers on Instagram. (For scale, that's about the amount of people who live in Belgium or, to make it relatable to fashionistas, the same number of people who follow street style star Chiara Ferragni.) There's also Aishwarya Rai, who has received many accolades for her Cinderella-esque gown at Cannes Film Festival, and Bollywood actress Deepika Pudukone, just to name a few. (If you need any proof of how stylish these women are, just scroll through their Instagrams and you'll see what I'm talking about.) We should be giving more women like them a platform, because everyone's obsession with Priyanka has proved that the world is ready for it.
While it's great that Priyanka is getting the recognition she deserves, it's been three years since she broke onto the scene, and she is just one person from a country with a population over 1.3 billion.
One big missed opportunity was Vogue India's 10-year anniversary issue. Instead of choosing an Indian model or one of the many stylish Bollywood actresses, the magazine decided to "outsource" their talent (yes, I went there) by choosing American supermodel Kendall Jenner to be the cover girl. From a business perspective, I understand that it's a huge deal to land a covetable model like Kendall, but this could've been a huge moment for Indians to showcase some of the amazing, diverse talent we have in our country. It would've been inspiring to see someone Indian on the cover, showing the world that we're proud of our heritage.
Another thing that got everyone buzzing was a Business of Fashion article written by an Indian editor. I opened up Instagram one morning to see that a ton of my friends had posted a specific quote from the article that made them feel extremely marginalized, and it was easy to see why. "They [Indians] may not be the tallest or the conventionally prettiest of models," read the quote. I had many conversations that morning with others who were completely stunned by the fact that a fellow Indian could say something like that. If we perceive ourselves in this light, what stops others from doing the same? Being someone who's been called both "too Indian" and "too Americanized" my entire life, the article made me furious because that statement is so far from the truth. While the editor did apologize stating she meant "Indian models weren't perceived as 'the prettiest' by the Western-centric standards that dominate the fashion market," it still made me sad to think that these so-called beauty standards are so deeply ingrained in our society. Shouldn't every ethnicity be celebrated and considered beautiful? We shouldn't be ripping each other down; we should be embracing each and every individual for who they are, and all of the unique traits they bring to the table.
Beauty companies like Rihanna's Fenty Beauty and Huda Kattan's beauty line are breaking the mold by making it a point to include a diverse range of models in their campaigns and, more importantly, releasing multiple shades of their products. Their lines were instant successes, and people of all different ethnicities couldn't stop expressing their excitement over feeling included for once. The fashion industry should take a cue from these companies and the public's overwhelming cry for more diversity. Honestly it baffles me why designers don't even see this as an opportunity to make more sales. They're all missing out on a huge segment of the population, one that could potentially mean millions of dollars in revenue. What company wouldn't want that?
Where Do We Go From Here?
One Indian woman in the fashion industry that I admire greatly is Roopal Patel, who is the SVP fashion director at Saks Fifth Avenue. Looking at her career, it makes me proud to see another Indian woman succeeding in the industry, particularly one who is regarded so highly by her peers and designers. I admire Roopal not only because she has a lot of knowledge about the fashion industry, but also because she's managed to forge her own path as one of the only Indian woman directors of a multimillion-dollar retail company. Having even one person with a high-profile fashion job like Roopal's can help inspire a movement in the industry. I know she has already inspired me in my own career.
Even though I am just one person, I've made it my mission to do everything I can to make the situation better. Working at a place like POPSUGAR, I feel like I can voice these issues and unearth Indian brands and designers that mean something to my culture. I've been making a conscious effort to include people of all different backgrounds in my stories in the hopes of making everyone feel more included when they read an article of mine. During my first week at POPSUGAR, I was showing my team pictures from my sister's wedding and everyone was asking questions about what each outfit meant and what exactly one wears to an Indian wedding. I decided to write a couple of posts about it and, just like that, I was already writing about topics that mattered to me.
It's inspiring to see how Ashley Graham and Tess Holliday have managed to start an entire movement about the lack of curve models in the industry. Maybe we can learn from these empowering women and try to get the conversation started in the same way.
This past year has sort of been an awakening for women. There seems to be a growing platform for women of all races to speak out when they feel like they're being marginalized and underappreciated in today's society. While these strides are long overdue, we definitely still have a ways to go. Much like the body-positivity movement, it's time to call for the fashion industry to be more diverse so every young woman can feel like they are being represented in some way. It's inspiring to see how Ashley Graham and Tess Holliday have managed to start an entire movement about the lack of curve models in the industry. Maybe we can learn from these empowering women and try to get the conversation started in the same way. Whether it's by using social media like the #effyourbeautystandards hashtag and calling for Indian bloggers to band together, or simply by sharing this story to spark conversations, we can at least attempt to make a difference.
In the future, I hope to look at the runways of my favorite designers and see Indian models being included, but I wouldn't want it to end there. I would love for all ethnicities to be represented. Call it wishful thinking, but I think it can be accomplished in time. It's the best feeling in the world to see designers like Naeem Khan and Sachin and Babi Ahluwalia pave the way for other Indian designers out there. It gives me hope. After all, fashion is all about dreams. It takes a dream to start a company, it takes a dream to create a collection, and it takes a dream to make even the slightest difference in the world. Maybe one day, this simple dream will become a reality and we can finally look up at a billboard or open up a magazine, and see someone who we relate to looking back at us.
samedi 22 avril 2017
The Case For Becoming a More Conscious Shopper
When Vivienne Westwood declared, "Buy less, choose well, make it last," the grande dame of British fashion had a point. Our fixation with fast fashion comes at a cost - the very brands that entice us with low prices are also responsible for forced child labor, devastating environmental practices, and sweatshop conditions. When a garment factory collapsed in Bangladesh in 2013, killing more than 1,100 factory workers, it was a shocking reminder of the human price paid for our low prices. Want to become a more conscious shopper? Here are six easy ways to incorporate ethics into your everyday habits.
- Do your research
Wouldn't it be nice if clothes came with the warning "Made using child labor"? Sadly, that's not how it works. Big brands prefer you to know as little as possible about their production practices, distracting consumers instead with sparkly advertising campaigns and seriously I-can't-believe-how-cheap-that-is prices.Because the responsibility to wield spending power ethically lies with the consumer, it's time to get educated. First, use your common sense. If you're buying a t-shirt for $10, it was made at the expense of someone else. There is no way around it – those appealingly cheap prices are a surefire sign that exploitation has been ingrained into the manufacturing process. Second, start googling. Over the last decade, many major brands have been embroiled in high-profile sweatshop scandals that revealed forced child labor, wages well below the poverty line, and female workers dealing with routine sexual harassment. If none of this sits well with you, click through to see which clothing brands place principled practices at the heart of their business.
- Support local brands
Before American Apparel dissolved in a sea of sexual harassment lawsuits, the brand proudly flew the made-in-America flag. While it may no longer exist, a host of equally stylish labels continue to advocate for homegrown production practices. From the enduring popularity of the handcrafted Red Wing Heritage boots to the poppy colors of LA-based brand FairEnds, the wide range of American-made brands means even the most demanding sartorialists will find one they like. Although the prices tend to be higher, they come with the knowledge that you're supporting American industry. - Ditch throwaway fashion buys
Fast fashion brands seem like the dream: cheap, trendy, and capable of churning out haute couture looks overnight. But according to Greenpeace, fast fashion is "drowning" the world in toxic chemicals, water wastage, and landfills filled to the brim with discarded clothing. A single t-shirt requires 2,700 liters of water, says Greenpeace, the same amount of water that an average person would drink over 900 days. Now multiply that figure by billions and you're looking at catastrophic environmental damage.Our obsession with fast fashion - coupled with an insatiable shopping appetite - is a new phenomenon. By 2007, Americans were buying 67 items of clothing every year - twice as much as they were buying 20 years prior. Worse still, the average American throws away 63 pounds of clothing a year. Low-quality, low-cost items fall apart quicker, which means they'll end up in at landfill sooner - not to mention the unethical production methods that keep their costs low in the first place.
To wean yourself off fast fashion cravings, start by questioning your impulse buys. Do you really need that new dress? Often, you'll find that you don't - and, with time, saying no gets easier. An added bonus is that you'll end up with a enviable wardrobe full of thoughtfully selected quality pieces. You may end up owning less, but you'll get a lot more from what you do buy.
- Invest in quality pieces
Now that you're impulse-buying less, you'll be pleasantly surprised by the extra cash in your bank account each month. And, when you do need a new item, you'll be better equipped to splurge on a quality piece that will earn its keep over the years.When I was 23 years old, I spent a small fortune on an army-green, wool-cashmere-blend Winter coat that I most certainly could not afford. Six years later, it's been worn to death and yet is still in beautiful condition. It's always worth applying a cost-per-wear strategy to items in your wardrobe: if you divide the total cost of the item by the number of days that you'll wear it, an eye-watering price tag can suddenly feel a lot more manageable. While you should avoid this strategy on particularly trend-led pieces and seasonal It bags, apply it to classic pieces: leather shoes and bags and Winter coats that won't date through the years.
- Buy organic
When it comes to fabrics, natural fibers like cotton, bamboo, and hemp are the best bet. However, there is cotton and then there is organic cotton. Aim to buy the latter, not only because organic materials are better for your skin but because it means that farmers aren't being exposed to dangerous pesticides and agricultural chemicals aren't polluting our water sources. Look out for organic cotton labels on your clothing - this list of organic cotton brands is a helpful resource. - Reuse, recycle, restore
Channel the eclectic styles of vintage-obsessed fashion mavericks like Kate Moss, Alexa Chung, and Kate Bosworth safe in the knowledge that your environmental credentials are on point too. The antithesis of fast fashion, second-hand clothes have endured the wear and tear of time - not to mention the whimsical turns of fashion - to remain coveted. Better yet, they don't place strain on the environment or endorse sweatshop conditions the way new clothes from high street brands do.If you've got a fashion itch that you need to scratch, stop by your local thrift store or Salvation Army to peruse the racks. Arranging clothes swaps with friends is another way to keep your wardrobe injected with "new" items that have low impact.
The Case For Becoming a More Conscious Shopper
When Vivienne Westwood declared, "Buy less, choose well, make it last," the grande dame of British fashion had a point. Our fixation with fast fashion comes at a cost - the very brands that entice us with low prices are also responsible for forced child labor, devastating environmental practices, and sweatshop conditions. When a garment factory collapsed in Bangladesh in 2013, killing more than 1,100 factory workers, it was a shocking reminder of the human price paid for our low prices. Want to become a more conscious shopper? Here are six easy ways to incorporate ethics into your everyday habits.
- Do your research
Wouldn't it be nice if clothes came with the warning "Made using child labor"? Sadly, that's not how it works. Big brands prefer you to know as little as possible about their production practices, distracting consumers instead with sparkly advertising campaigns and seriously I-can't-believe-how-cheap-that-is prices.Because the responsibility to wield spending power ethically lies with the consumer, it's time to get educated. First, use your common sense. If you're buying a t-shirt for $10, it was made at the expense of someone else. There is no way around it – those appealingly cheap prices are a surefire sign that exploitation has been ingrained into the manufacturing process. Second, start googling. Over the last decade, many major brands have been embroiled in high-profile sweatshop scandals that revealed forced child labor, wages well below the poverty line, and female workers dealing with routine sexual harassment. If none of this sits well with you, click through to see which clothing brands place principled practices at the heart of their business.
- Support local brands
Before American Apparel dissolved in a sea of sexual harassment lawsuits, the brand proudly flew the made-in-America flag. While it may no longer exist, a host of equally stylish labels continue to advocate for homegrown production practices. From the enduring popularity of the handcrafted Red Wing Heritage boots to the poppy colors of LA-based brand FairEnds, the wide range of American-made brands means even the most demanding sartorialists will find one they like. Although the prices tend to be higher, they come with the knowledge that you're supporting American industry. - Ditch throwaway fashion buys
Fast fashion brands seem like the dream: cheap, trendy, and capable of churning out haute couture looks overnight. But according to Greenpeace, fast fashion is "drowning" the world in toxic chemicals, water wastage, and landfills filled to the brim with discarded clothing. A single t-shirt requires 2,700 liters of water, says Greenpeace, the same amount of water that an average person would drink over 900 days. Now multiply that figure by billions and you're looking at catastrophic environmental damage.Our obsession with fast fashion - coupled with an insatiable shopping appetite - is a new phenomenon. By 2007, Americans were buying 67 items of clothing every year - twice as much as they were buying 20 years prior. Worse still, the average American throws away 63 pounds of clothing a year. Low-quality, low-cost items fall apart quicker, which means they'll end up in at landfill sooner - not to mention the unethical production methods that keep their costs low in the first place.
To wean yourself off fast fashion cravings, start by questioning your impulse buys. Do you really need that new dress? Often, you'll find that you don't - and, with time, saying no gets easier. An added bonus is that you'll end up with a enviable wardrobe full of thoughtfully selected quality pieces. You may end up owning less, but you'll get a lot more from what you do buy.
- Invest in quality pieces
Now that you're impulse-buying less, you'll be pleasantly surprised by the extra cash in your bank account each month. And, when you do need a new item, you'll be better equipped to splurge on a quality piece that will earn its keep over the years.When I was 23 years old, I spent a small fortune on an army-green, wool-cashmere-blend Winter coat that I most certainly could not afford. Six years later, it's been worn to death and yet is still in beautiful condition. It's always worth applying a cost-per-wear strategy to items in your wardrobe: if you divide the total cost of the item by the number of days that you'll wear it, an eye-watering price tag can suddenly feel a lot more manageable. While you should avoid this strategy on particularly trend-led pieces and seasonal It bags, apply it to classic pieces: leather shoes and bags and Winter coats that won't date through the years.
- Buy organic
When it comes to fabrics, natural fibers like cotton, bamboo, and hemp are the best bet. However, there is cotton and then there is organic cotton. Aim to buy the latter, not only because organic materials are better for your skin but because it means that farmers aren't being exposed to dangerous pesticides and agricultural chemicals aren't polluting our water sources. Look out for organic cotton labels on your clothing - this list of organic cotton brands is a helpful resource. - Reuse, recycle, restore
Channel the eclectic styles of vintage-obsessed fashion mavericks like Kate Moss, Alexa Chung, and Kate Bosworth safe in the knowledge that your environmental credentials are on point too. The antithesis of fast fashion, second-hand clothes have endured the wear and tear of time - not to mention the whimsical turns of fashion - to remain coveted. Better yet, they don't place strain on the environment or endorse sweatshop conditions the way new clothes from high street brands do.If you've got a fashion itch that you need to scratch, stop by your local thrift store or Salvation Army to peruse the racks. Arranging clothes swaps with friends is another way to keep your wardrobe injected with "new" items that have low impact.
mardi 4 avril 2017
The Case For Becoming a More Conscious Shopper
When Vivienne Westwood declared, "Buy less, choose well, make it last," the grande dame of British fashion had a point. Our fixation with fast fashion comes at a cost - the very brands that entice us with low prices are also responsible for forced child labor, devastating environmental practices, and sweatshop conditions. When a garment factory collapsed in Bangladesh in 2013, killing more than 1,100 factory workers, it was a shocking reminder of the human price paid for our low prices. Want to become a more conscious shopper? Here are six easy ways to incorporate ethics into your everyday habits.
- Do your research
Wouldn't it be nice if clothes came with the warning "Made using child labor"? Sadly, that's not how it works. Big brands prefer you to know as little as possible about their production practices, distracting consumers instead with sparkly advertising campaigns and seriously I-can't-believe-how-cheap-that-is prices.Because the responsibility to wield spending power ethically lies with the consumer, it's time to get educated. First, use your common sense. If you're buying a t-shirt for $10, it was made at the expense of someone else. There is no way around it – those appealingly cheap prices are a surefire sign that exploitation has been engrained into the manufacturing process. Second, start googling. Over the last decade, major brands such as Gap, H&M, Forever 21, Primark, and Adidas have been embroiled in high-profile sweatshop scandals that revealed forced child labor, wages well below the poverty line, and female workers dealing with routine sexual harassment. If none of this sits well with you, click through to see which clothing brands place principled practices at the heart of their business.
- Support local brands
Before American Apparel dissolved in a sea of sexual harassment lawsuits, the brand proudly flew the Made-in-America flag. While it may no longer exist, a host of equally stylish labels continue to advocate for homegrown production practices. From the enduring popularity of the handcrafted Red Wing Heritage boots to the poppy colors of LA-based brand FairEnds, the wide range of American-made brands means even the most demanding sartorialists will find one they like. Although the prices tend to be higher, they come with the knowledge that you're supporting American industry. - Ditch throwaway fashion buys
Fast fashion brands seem like the dream: cheap, trendy, and capable of churning out haute couture looks overnight. But according to Greenpeace, fast fashion is "drowning" the world in toxic chemicals, water wastage, and landfills filled to the brim with discarded clothing. A single t-shirt requires 2,700 liters of water, says Greenpeace, the same amount of water that an average person would drink over 900 days. Now multiply that figure by billions and you're looking at catastrophic environmental damage.Our obsession with fast fashion - coupled with an insatiable shopping appetite - is a new phenomenon. By 2007, Americans were buying 67 items of clothing every year - twice as much as they were buying 20 years prior. Worse still, the average American throws away 63 pounds of clothing a year. Low-quality, low-cost items fall apart quicker, which means they'll end up in at landfill sooner - not to mention the unethical production methods that keep their costs low in the first place.
To wean yourself off fast fashion cravings, start by questioning your impulse buys. Do you really need that new dress? Often, you'll find that you don't - and, with time, saying no gets easier. An added bonus is that you'll end up with a enviable wardrobe full of thoughtfully selected quality pieces. You may end up owning less, but you'll get a lot more from what you do buy.
- Invest in quality pieces
Now that you're impulse-buying less, you'll be pleasantly surprised by the extra cash in your bank account each month. And, when you do need a new item, you'll be better equipped to splurge on a quality piece that will earn its keep over the years.When I was 23 years old, I spent a small fortune on an army-green, wool-cashmere-blend Winter coat that I most certainly could not afford. Six years later, it's been worn to death and yet is still in beautiful condition. It's always worth applying a cost-per-wear strategy to items in your wardrobe: if you divide the total cost of the item by the number of days that you'll wear it, an eye-watering price tag can suddenly feel a lot more manageable. While you should avoid this strategy on particularly trend-led pieces and seasonal It bags, apply it to classic pieces: leather shoes and bags and Winter coats that won't date through the years.
- Buy organic
When it comes to fabrics, natural fibers like cotton, bamboo, and hemp are the best bet. However, there is cotton and then there is organic cotton. Aim to buy the latter, not only because organic materials are better for your skin but because it means that farmers aren't being exposed to dangerous pesticides and agricultural chemicals aren't polluting our water sources. Look out for organic cotton labels on your clothing - this list of organic cotton brands is a helpful resource. - Reuse, recycle, restore
Channel the eclectic styles of vintage-obsessed fashion mavericks like Kate Moss, Alexa Chung, and Kate Bosworth safe in the knowledge that your environmental credentials are on point too. The antithesis of fast fashion, second-hand clothes have endured the wear and tear of time - not to mention the whimsical turns of fashion - to remain coveted. Better yet, they don't place strain on the environment or endorse sweatshop conditions the way new clothes from high street brands do.If you've got a fashion itch that you need to scratch, stop by your local thrift store or Salvation Army to peruse the racks. Arranging clothes swaps with friends is another way to keep your wardrobe injected with "new" items that have low impact.
mardi 22 janvier 2019
2019's Most Wearable Trends
Gazing into a crystal ball would be fun, but the Spring 2019 runways are the surest predictors of the trends that'll line your closet. For the nostalgic type, designers revived some oldies-but-goodies with a contemporary spin - bucket hats and flip-flops, crocheted items, and sweet cardigans. And for the risk-taker, there's plenty of new fodder: a throwback to the iconic pop-star aesthetic from the early aughts - think low-slung hip-huggers and corsets, the likes of which will conjure up images from Britney's heyday. Beyond that, there's a soft new color palette to love - dreamy sorbet colors that'll deliver a much-needed spot of sunshine when your wardrobe needs it most. We know, we hate waiting, too; but get a first glimpse at what's to come when Spring 2019 hits.
- Additional reporting by Sarah Wasilak and Nikita Ramsinghani
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Surfer-Inspired
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Sorbet Colors
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Crochet
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Cardigans
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Lamé
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Early 2000s
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Hip Cutouts
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Denim Redone
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Vests
jeudi 29 décembre 2016
You Will Never Forget the Fashion Industry's Diversity Milestones of 2016
Little by little, the fashion industry has made progressive strides in featuring various body types, shapes, and models of different ethnicities on the runway and in ad campaigns. In 2016, Christian Siriano was dubbed the most inclusive of all fashion designers at Fashion Week, and models such as Charli Howard and Celementine Desseaux spearheaded a body-positive campaign called the All Woman Project. Other industry celebs who contributed to the diversity conversation include Zac Posen, Iskra Lawrence, Kanye West, and brands such as Aerie and Victoria's Secret.
According to The Fashion Spot's diversity report, the Fall '16 and Spring '17 runways were even more diverse than previous seasons. Of the 120 Fall '16 shows at NYFW, 68.1 percent of the models cast were white and 31.9 percent were nonwhite. These numbers were better than Spring 2016, where models of color only accounted for 28.4 of castings.
Despite these strides, however, no plus-size models walked the Spring '17 runways outside of NYFW, and of the top 13 most-booked models for Fall '16 campaigns, 11 were white. No one ever said change was fast (or easy). Last year we wrote about why the fashion industry needed to be more accepting in 2016, so now we ask ourselves, "Was 2016 actually diverse?" Our answer? A solid "Yes. It was." Read on to see some fashion moments that gave us a glimpse at a more inclusive industry. We can only hope 2017 will be even more diverse and positive.
vendredi 17 février 2017
81 Fashion Icons Take a Stand on Immigration in This Powerful Video
Following Donald Trump's failed immigrant ban from seven major Muslim countries, fashion industry leaders came together during New York Fashion Week to show their support. In the video made by W Magazine, 81 models, editors, designers, influencers, and photographers proudly proclaim, "I am an immigrant."
It shouldn't come as a surprise that the fashion industry is deeply upset with the decisions coming from the White House, given how many foreign designers and models work in the business. At New York Fashion Week, many brands like Mara Hoffman, Tome, Jonathan Simkhai, and Prabal Gurung decided to take a stand by centering their shows around political issues such as feminism and immigration.
It's hard to think about what American fashion would be like without these incredible designers, editors, and other industry experts. They've brought their own unique world view to their art, and just like the rest of the US, they've made American fashion a beautiful melting pot.
The political statements made within this video and at Fashion Week are indications that the industry isn't going to take the next four years sitting down. Keep reading to watch the incredible video and see behind-the-scenes photos.
mardi 26 mai 2020
Gucci Calls the Fashion Schedule "Worn Out" and Decides on Seasonless Shows Twice a Year
It's no secret that the coronavirus (COVID-19) is the push the fashion industry needed to clean up its act. Now that everything from garment supply chains to performative fashion shows are in desperate need of restructuring, who will be the voices of fashion's future? Gucci's Alessandro Michele is one person leading that conversation and thinks the annual seven-season fashion show schedule is "worn out" - we couldn't agree more.
Following Gucci's virtual press conference on Sunday 24 May, creative director Alessandro Michele took to Instagram to elaborate on how the brand is embracing a more sustainable fashion show schedule. "I will abandon the worn out rituals of seasonalities and show to regain a new cadence, closer to my expressive call," Michele muses in a poetic Instagram carousel captioned Diario. "We will meet just twice a year, to share the chapters of a new story. Irregular, joyful and absolutely free chapters, which will be written blending rules and genres, feeding on new spaces, linguistic codes, and communication platforms. And beyond. I would like to leave behind the paraphernalia of leitmotifs that colonized our prior world: cruise, pre-fall, spring-summer, fall-winter. I think these are stale and underfed words. Labels of an impersonal discourse that lost its meaning."
Ahead, Alessandro Michele's full thoughts on the future of fashion's show schedule.
Gucci Calls the Fashion Schedule "Worn Out" and Decides on Seasonless Shows Twice a Year
It's no secret that the coronavirus (COVID-19) is the push the fashion industry needed to clean up its act. Now that everything from garment supply chains to performative fashion shows are in desperate need of restructuring, who will be the voices of fashion's future? Gucci's Alessandro Michele is one person leading that conversation and thinks the annual seven-season fashion show schedule is "worn out" - we couldn't agree more.
Following Gucci's virtual press conference on Sunday 24 May, creative director Alessandro Michele took to Instagram to elaborate on how the brand is embracing a more sustainable fashion show schedule. "I will abandon the worn out rituals of seasonalities and show to regain a new cadence, closer to my expressive call," Michele muses in a poetic Instagram carousel captioned Diario. "We will meet just twice a year, to share the chapters of a new story. Irregular, joyful and absolutely free chapters, which will be written blending rules and genres, feeding on new spaces, linguistic codes, and communication platforms. And beyond. I would like to leave behind the paraphernalia of leitmotifs that colonized our prior world: cruise, pre-fall, spring-summer, fall-winter. I think these are stale and underfed words. Labels of an impersonal discourse that lost its meaning."
Ahead, Alessandro Michele's full thoughts on the future of fashion's show schedule.
samedi 2 février 2019
2019's Most Wearable Trends
Gazing into a crystal ball would be fun, but the Spring 2019 runways are the surest predictors of the trends that'll line your closet. For the nostalgic type, designers revived some oldies-but-goodies with a contemporary spin - bucket hats and flip-flops, crocheted items, and sweet cardigans. And for the risk-taker, there's plenty of new fodder: a throwback to the iconic pop-star aesthetic from the early aughts - think low-slung hip-huggers and corsets, the likes of which will conjure up images from Britney's heyday. Beyond that, there's a soft new color palette to love - dreamy sorbet colors that'll deliver a much-needed spot of sunshine when your wardrobe needs it most. We know, we hate waiting, too; but get a first glimpse at what's to come when Spring 2019 hits.
- Additional reporting by Sarah Wasilak and Nikita Ramsinghani
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Surfer-Inspired
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Sorbet Colors
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Crochet
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Cardigans
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Lamé
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Early 2000s
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Hip Cutouts
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Denim Redone
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Vests
jeudi 17 janvier 2019
2019's Most Wearable Trends
Gazing into a crystal ball would be fun, but the Spring 2019 runways are the surest predictors of the trends that'll line your closet. For the nostalgic type, designers revived some oldies-but-goodies with a contemporary spin - bucket hats and flip-flops, crocheted items, and sweet cardigans. And for the risk-taker, there's plenty of new fodder: a throwback to the iconic pop-star aesthetic from the early aughts - think low-slung hip-huggers and corsets, the likes of which will conjure up images from Britney's heyday. Beyond that, there's a soft new color palette to love - dreamy sorbet colors that'll deliver a much-needed spot of sunshine when your wardrobe needs it most. We know, we hate waiting, too; but get a first glimpse at what's to come when Spring 2019 hits.
- Additional reporting by Sarah Wasilak and Nikita Ramsinghani
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Surfer-Inspired
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Sorbet Colors
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Crochet
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Cardigans
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Lamé
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Early 2000s
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Hip Cutouts
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Denim Redone
- Spring Fashion Trends 2019: Vests
lundi 19 février 2018
I Wore Leggings to Fashion Week Because I Didn't Feel Like Dressing Up, and It Was Liberating
For fashion girls, getting dressed up for New York Fashion Week is like a rite of passage. There's pressure to look good at shows, especially if you're sitting front row, and to be harmonious with the stylish crowd. I mean, there's the chance you could potentially run into Anna Wintour! And what if that run-in feels like a scene out of The Devil Wears Prada? You know, like when Andy Sachs awkwardly meets Miranda Priestly for the first time. I kept all those notes in mind while picking out outfits for shows last year. But this season, something changed. I didn't give a sh*t about dressing up.
That's not to say I went to shows in sweats (I thought about it), but I wasn't going to stay up until midnight picking out a look or spend my weekend creating seven "Fashion Week-worthy" outfits. I decided to dress like myself this season - to be genuinely satisfied with what I already had in my closet. I did not ask designers or brands to borrow clothes, though fashion editors are notorious for doing this ahead of Fashion Week. (I did, however, borrow combat boots, only to participate in a fellow editor's photo shoot.) But I most definitely didn't buy new pieces just to wear to shows.
What was my motive? I wanted to prove to myself that my everyday style isn't "bleh" and that I don't need to dress up for shows to have fun. (If you thoroughly enjoy doing that, though, all the power to you.) I wanted to simply go appreciate a designer's collection without making the day all about me and my outfits. I think many women beat themselves up over not "having anything to wear" out of fear of repeating separates, but if you have invested in quality pieces that you feel good in, who cares if they're not statement-worthy?
So while my coworkers were asking each other "What are you wearing?" and "How should I style this?", getting excited over their new fashionable finds, I sat there, saying, "I don't know. I think I will wear leggings one day."
This idea isn't exactly out of the box if you've been following the athleisure trend. Celebrities like Kendall Jenner and other street style stars have made leggings, and by extension, joggers and track pants, trendy again, rocking them with crop tops, sweaters, and sporty sneakers. Brands like Adidas have capitalized on the athleisure uniform and labels such as Off-White and Vetements show that casual streetwear looks are now the norm, not the exception. So with the approval of these major industry players, I wore my usual attire of sweaters, jeans, and hoodies to the shows.
To take the work out of creating outfits, I even let my boyfriend dress me for a day, thanks to a genius plan devised by my fellow editor, Nikita. I also repeated clothes and accessories and didn't give that a second thought. In fact, I wore the same Topshop coat so much, our photographer politely suggested that maybe I leave it out for our final round of outfit photos. I nodded and LOL-ed to myself.
My looks were admittedly not the most exciting to street style paparazzi, hungry for those "OMG" outfit shots - they let me walk on by without taking a single snap - but that was completely OK with me. I still felt confident, happy, and at ease as I walked alongside ladies who were definitely dressed to impress in the latest designer gear. I felt liberated to be wearing whatever I wanted and I rode that high every day to shows.
On one of the final days of Fashion Week, I did wear my Zara leggings, as promised, with a black sweater and a leather jacket. I rocked this outfit while sitting front row at Anna Sui and I have never felt more comfortable at a show than I did then.
The best part? I don't think anyone remembered the outfit I wore. (Granted, I wasn't someone of Blake Lively's caliber sitting front row, though I'd challenge her to rock leggings to a show one day, too.) All the guests busily 'grammed Gigi and Bella Hadid on the Anna Sui runway and were too enamored by the Fall '18 collection to notice a girl in the front row wearing leggings. In my opinion, that's the way it should be.
mercredi 28 février 2018
I Wore Leggings to Fashion Week Because I Didn't Feel Like Dressing Up, and It Was Liberating
For fashion girls, getting dressed up for New York Fashion Week is like a rite of passage. There's pressure to look good at shows, especially if you're sitting front row, and to be harmonious with the stylish crowd. I mean, there's the chance you could potentially run into Anna Wintour! And what if that run-in feels like a scene out of The Devil Wears Prada? You know, like when Andy Sachs awkwardly meets Miranda Priestly for the first time. I kept all those notes in mind while picking out outfits for shows last year. But this season, something changed. I didn't give a sh*t about dressing up.
That's not to say I went to shows in sweats (I thought about it), but I wasn't going to stay up until midnight picking out a look or spend my weekend creating seven "Fashion Week-worthy" outfits. I decided to dress like myself this season - to be genuinely satisfied with what I already had in my closet. I did not ask designers or brands to borrow clothes, though fashion editors are notorious for doing this ahead of Fashion Week. (I did, however, borrow combat boots, only to participate in a fellow editor's photo shoot.) But I most definitely didn't buy new pieces just to wear to shows.
What was my motive? I wanted to prove to myself that my everyday style isn't "bleh" and that I don't need to dress up for shows to have fun. (If you thoroughly enjoy doing that, though, all the power to you.) I wanted to simply go appreciate a designer's collection without making the day all about me and my outfits. I think many women beat themselves up over not "having anything to wear" out of fear of repeating separates, but if you have invested in quality pieces that you feel good in, who cares if they're not statement-worthy?
So while my coworkers were asking each other "What are you wearing?" and "How should I style this?", getting excited over their new fashionable finds, I sat there, saying, "I don't know. I think I will wear leggings one day."
This idea isn't exactly out of the box if you've been following the athleisure trend. Celebrities like Kendall Jenner and other street style stars have made leggings, and by extension, joggers and track pants, trendy again, rocking them with crop tops, sweaters, and sporty sneakers. Brands like Adidas have capitalized on the athleisure uniform and labels such as Off-White and Vetements show that casual streetwear looks are now the norm, not the exception. So with the approval of these major industry players, I wore my usual attire of sweaters, jeans, and hoodies to the shows.
To take the work out of creating outfits, I even let my boyfriend dress me for a day, thanks to a genius plan devised by my fellow editor, Nikita. I also repeated clothes and accessories and didn't give that a second thought. In fact, I wore the same Topshop coat so much, our photographer politely suggested that maybe I leave it out for our final round of outfit photos. I nodded and LOL-ed to myself.
My looks were admittedly not the most exciting to street style paparazzi, hungry for those "OMG" outfit shots - they let me walk on by without taking a single snap - but that was completely OK with me. I still felt confident, happy, and at ease as I walked alongside ladies who were definitely dressed to impress in the latest designer gear. I felt liberated to be wearing whatever I wanted and I rode that high every day to shows.
On one of the final days of Fashion Week, I did wear my Zara leggings, as promised, with a black sweater and a leather jacket. I rocked this outfit while sitting front row at Anna Sui and I have never felt more comfortable at a show than I did then.
The best part? I don't think anyone remembered the outfit I wore. (Granted, I wasn't someone of Blake Lively's caliber sitting front row, though I'd challenge her to rock leggings to a show one day, too.) All the guests busily 'grammed Gigi and Bella Hadid on the Anna Sui runway and were too enamored by the Fall '18 collection to notice a girl in the front row wearing leggings. In my opinion, that's the way it should be.
mercredi 5 avril 2017
One Editor's Lifelong Love/Hate Relationship With Fashion
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
I remember loving fashion early on. If you want to fact check that, you could ask my parents about their daughter who coined the term "fashionating" as a 4-year-old watching them get dressed up for dinner. I studied my mom as she slipped into her heels and fastened a necklace, and the word spontaneously formed itself in my mouth.
I lived for these moments - the times my mom got ready for a fancy dinner or party, when I could help choose her outfits. After school, I'd get dressed up as a fashionable teacher (usually a maxi skirt and vest from our costume box) just to do my homework. I invented occasions daily to change my outfit when it was time for dinner, a chance to run to the grocery store with Mom. Sometimes, I just changed for the hell of it, maybe just to watch TV.
See, I loved fashion then. I loved it wholly and blindly. I never thought about "what looked good on me," what size my clothes were, or what was designer and what wasn't. Like any little kid playing dress up, I was just in love with the fantasy.
All grown up at 30 and I'm a fashion editor, someone who presumably gets to play in that world as an adult. It should be a dream - and so often it is, but there are days when it's not all it's cracked up to be. There are a lot of days when loving fashion without any pretenses or self-consciousness really is a fantasy.
Somewhere along the way, the real world hit me - seemed to run me over, actually - I think they call it puberty. I have an older, beautiful sister (and a tall, handsome brother too), who couldn't gain weight if she tried (my mother did, with ice cream after school and plenty of carbs at dinner). I, on the other hand, rounded out quickly. My curves seemed to fill out overnight in the sixth grade, while my older sister stayed straight and narrow through high school and pretty much to this day. I noticed the differences in our bodies immediately and constantly. Clothes we had shared didn't fit me the same way, and I rapidly outgrew the costumes and hand-me-downs we played with together. I think that's the first time fashion wasn't fun for me. Actually, I can pinpoint it.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
For my dad's 50th birthday party, my mom took us each to find a special outfit. My sister went to a kids-only boutique and walked away with a champagne-colored silk shell top and floor-length skirt set. It was 1997 and she looked exactly like a young Gwyneth Paltrow, with the same long blond hair. I loved that look, only I had outgrown the children's sizing at the same store. At 12, my mom took me to the "Miss" section of the department store. I tried on lots of outfits that puckered or hung in all the wrong places, made me look too adult, and felt truly awkward. I settled on a black and white checkered shift dress with a subtle daisy print (settle being the operative word). I didn't hate it, but I didn't really like it either. I was indifferent, and that was worse for a kid who had grown up enamored with clothes.
When I was younger, I got caught up only in the details of the garment: how fabrics felt, and how prints and colors looked, or how to channel the look of a certain celebrity or time period. I got carried away with the characters I could be just by changing my clothes. The "fashionating" child in me would have lived for this moment, but my adolescent body got in the way. That feeling would come again and again, even into adulthood, often at college wishing I hadn't squeezed into the jeans I was wearing, or later at work events, watching the room full of stylish editors and quietly wishing I'd chosen something more exciting to wear.
On the night of the party, I lived vacariously through my sister, soaking up the compliments as if they were my own and watching her long skirt float around the room as she moved. That look, I loved.
That's the trouble with fashion, and maybe caring about it too much. On our best days, it makes us feel just like my sister Alle at the big birthday party or the way I did pulling vintage pieces out of our dress-up box after school; or else it's your worst enemy, putting your insecurities on blast: your boots look old next to this season's style; that dress doesn't fit, must mean you got chubby. On those days, I see only the exclusive parts of the industry - beautiful, perfect people with glamorous closets that remind me of what I don't have or what I don't look like. The truth is that fashion spotlights gorgeous things and newness, and that superficial world can be a scary place to make your livelihood in.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Benjamin Stone
If you're wondering, "where's the romance in that?", it's a fair question. It doesn't seem like there's much to love, but there's always something that pulls me back in. As an adult, who's mostly overcome my adolescent insecurities, style is the way I express myself. I obsess over new shoes and handbags (too much, for my husband's taste), and I probably get too excited about new collaborations, runway shows, and the fancy occasions I get to get all dolled up for, but the truth is, I can't love fashion wholeheartedly anymore. I've learned to dress the body I have and appreciate the trends I can't wear from the sidelines. It's still a place to play in and be inspired by, whether through a beautiful magazine spread or a little retail therapy, but I tune in and out as I please.
I spend my time turning my closet into my own adult dress-up box with clothes that truly bring me joy; I look to the designers and fashionable women that speak to me, and accept the rest of the industry as a mostly beautiful, fascinating world that's not my whole world. Today, I love fashion with my eyes open, knowingly and for exactly what it is.
dimanche 9 avril 2017
One Editor's Lifelong Love/Hate Relationship With Fashion
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
I remember loving fashion early on. If you want to fact check that, you could ask my parents about their daughter who coined the term "fashionating" as a 4-year-old watching them get dressed up for dinner. I studied my mom as she slipped into her heels and fastened a necklace, and the word spontaneously formed itself in my mouth.
I lived for these moments - the times my mom got ready for a fancy dinner or party, when I could help choose her outfits. After school, I'd get dressed up as a fashionable teacher (usually a maxi skirt and vest from our costume box) just to do my homework. I invented occasions daily to change my outfit when it was time for dinner, a chance to run to the grocery store with Mom. Sometimes, I just changed for the hell of it, maybe just to watch TV.
See, I loved fashion then. I loved it wholly and blindly. I never thought about "what looked good on me," what size my clothes were, or what was designer and what wasn't. Like any little kid playing dress up, I was just in love with the fantasy.
All grown up at 30 and I'm a fashion editor, someone who presumably gets to play in that world as an adult. It should be a dream - and so often it is, but there are days when it's not all it's cracked up to be. There are a lot of days when loving fashion without any pretenses or self-consciousness really is a fantasy.
Somewhere along the way, the real world hit me - seemed to run me over, actually - I think they call it puberty. I have an older, beautiful sister (and a tall, handsome brother too), who couldn't gain weight if she tried (my mother did, with ice cream after school and plenty of carbs at dinner). I, on the other hand, rounded out quickly. My curves seemed to fill out overnight in the sixth grade, while my older sister stayed straight and narrow through high school and pretty much to this day. I noticed the differences in our bodies immediately and constantly. Clothes we had shared didn't fit me the same way, and I rapidly outgrew the costumes and hand-me-downs we played with together. I think that's the first time fashion wasn't fun for me. Actually, I can pinpoint it.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
For my dad's 50th birthday party, my mom took us each to find a special outfit. My sister went to a kids-only boutique and walked away with a champagne-colored silk shell top and floor-length skirt set. It was 1997 and she looked exactly like a young Gwyneth Paltrow, with the same long blond hair. I loved that look, only I had outgrown the children's sizing at the same store. At 12, my mom took me to the "Miss" section of the department store. I tried on lots of outfits that puckered or hung in all the wrong places, made me look too adult, and felt truly awkward. I settled on a black and white checkered shift dress with a subtle daisy print (settle being the operative word). I didn't hate it, but I didn't really like it either. I was indifferent, and that was worse for a kid who had grown up enamored with clothes.
When I was younger, I got caught up only in the details of the garment: how fabrics felt, and how prints and colors looked, or how to channel the look of a certain celebrity or time period. I got carried away with the characters I could be just by changing my clothes. The "fashionating" child in me would have lived for this moment, but my adolescent body got in the way. That feeling would come again and again, even into adulthood, often at college wishing I hadn't squeezed into the jeans I was wearing, or later at work events, watching the room full of stylish editors and quietly wishing I'd chosen something more exciting to wear.
On the night of the party, I lived vacariously through my sister, soaking up the compliments as if they were my own and watching her long skirt float around the room as she moved. That look, I loved.
That's the trouble with fashion, and maybe caring about it too much. On our best days, it makes us feel just like my sister Alle at the big birthday party or the way I did pulling vintage pieces out of our dress-up box after school; or else it's your worst enemy, putting your insecurities on blast: your boots look old next to this season's style; that dress doesn't fit, must mean you got chubby. On those days, I see only the exclusive parts of the industry - beautiful, perfect people with glamorous closets that remind me of what I don't have or what I don't look like. The truth is that fashion spotlights gorgeous things and newness, and that superficial world can be a scary place to make your livelihood in.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Benjamin Stone
If you're wondering, "where's the romance in that?", it's a fair question. It doesn't seem like there's much to love, but there's always something that pulls me back in. As an adult, who's mostly overcome my adolescent insecurities, style is the way I express myself. I obsess over new shoes and handbags (too much, for my husband's taste), and I probably get too excited about new collaborations, runway shows, and the fancy occasions I get to get all dolled up for, but the truth is, I can't love fashion wholeheartedly anymore. I've learned to dress the body I have and appreciate the trends I can't wear from the sidelines. It's still a place to play in and be inspired by, whether through a beautiful magazine spread or a little retail therapy, but I tune in and out as I please.
I spend my time turning my closet into my own adult dress-up box with clothes that truly bring me joy; I look to the designers and fashionable women that speak to me, and accept the rest of the industry as a mostly beautiful, fascinating world that's not my whole world. Today, I love fashion with my eyes open, knowingly and for exactly what it is.
One Editor's Lifelong Love/Hate Relationship With Fashion
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
I remember loving fashion early on. If you want to fact check that, you could ask my parents about their daughter who coined the term "fashionating" as a 4-year-old watching them get dressed up for dinner. I studied my mom as she slipped into her heels and fastened a necklace, and the word spontaneously formed itself in my mouth.
I lived for these moments - the times my mom got ready for a fancy dinner or party, when I could help choose her outfits. After school, I'd get dressed up as a fashionable teacher (usually a maxi skirt and vest from our costume box) just to do my homework. I invented occasions daily to change my outfit when it was time for dinner, a chance to run to the grocery store with Mom. Sometimes, I just changed for the hell of it, maybe just to watch TV.
See, I loved fashion then. I loved it wholly and blindly. I never thought about "what looked good on me," what size my clothes were, or what was designer and what wasn't. Like any little kid playing dress up, I was just in love with the fantasy.
All grown up at 30 and I'm a fashion editor, someone who presumably gets to play in that world as an adult. It should be a dream - and so often it is, but there are days when it's not all it's cracked up to be. There are a lot of days when loving fashion without any pretenses or self-consciousness really is a fantasy.
Somewhere along the way, the real world hit me - seemed to run me over, actually - I think they call it puberty. I have an older, beautiful sister (and a tall, handsome brother too), who couldn't gain weight if she tried (my mother did, with ice cream after school and plenty of carbs at dinner). I, on the other hand, rounded out quickly. My curves seemed to fill out overnight in the sixth grade, while my older sister stayed straight and narrow through high school and pretty much to this day. I noticed the differences in our bodies immediately and constantly. Clothes we had shared didn't fit me the same way, and I rapidly outgrew the costumes and hand-me-downs we played with together. I think that's the first time fashion wasn't fun for me. Actually, I can pinpoint it.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
For my dad's 50th birthday party, my mom took us each to find a special outfit. My sister went to a kids-only boutique and walked away with a champagne-colored silk shell top and floor-length skirt set. It was 1997 and she looked exactly like a young Gwyneth Paltrow, with the same long blond hair. I loved that look, only I had outgrown the children's sizing at the same store. At 12, my mom took me to the "Miss" section of the department store. I tried on lots of outfits that puckered or hung in all the wrong places, made me look too adult, and felt truly awkward. I settled on a black and white checkered shift dress with a subtle daisy print (settle being the operative word). I didn't hate it, but I didn't really like it either. I was indifferent, and that was worse for a kid who had grown up enamored with clothes.
When I was younger, I got caught up only in the details of the garment: how fabrics felt, and how prints and colors looked, or how to channel the look of a certain celebrity or time period. I got carried away with the characters I could be just by changing my clothes. The "fashionating" child in me would have lived for this moment, but my adolescent body got in the way. That feeling would come again and again, even into adulthood, often at college wishing I hadn't squeezed into the jeans I was wearing, or later at work events, watching the room full of stylish editors and quietly wishing I'd chosen something more exciting to wear.
On the night of the party, I lived vacariously through my sister, soaking up the compliments as if they were my own and watching her long skirt float around the room as she moved. That look, I loved.
That's the trouble with fashion, and maybe caring about it too much. On our best days, it makes us feel just like my sister Alle at the big birthday party or the way I did pulling vintage pieces out of our dress-up box after school; or else it's your worst enemy, putting your insecurities on blast: your boots look old next to this season's style; that dress doesn't fit, must mean you got chubby. On those days, I see only the exclusive parts of the industry - beautiful, perfect people with glamorous closets that remind me of what I don't have or what I don't look like. The truth is that fashion spotlights gorgeous things and newness, and that superficial world can be a scary place to make your livelihood in.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Benjamin Stone
If you're wondering, "where's the romance in that?", it's a fair question. It doesn't seem like there's much to love, but there's always something that pulls me back in. As an adult, who's mostly overcome my adolescent insecurities, style is the way I express myself. I obsess over new shoes and handbags (too much, for my husband's taste), and I probably get too excited about new collaborations, runway shows, and the fancy occasions I get to get all dolled up for, but the truth is, I can't love fashion wholeheartedly anymore. I've learned to dress the body I have and appreciate the trends I can't wear from the sidelines. It's still a place to play in and be inspired by, whether through a beautiful magazine spread or a little retail therapy, but I tune in and out as I please.
I spend my time turning my closet into my own adult dress-up box with clothes that truly bring me joy; I look to the designers and fashionable women that speak to me, and accept the rest of the industry as a mostly beautiful, fascinating world that's not my whole world. Today, I love fashion with my eyes open, knowingly and for exactly what it is.
mercredi 5 avril 2017
One Editor's Lifelong Love/Hate Relationship With Fashion
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
I remember loving fashion early on. If you want to fact check that, you could ask my parents about their daughter who coined the term "fashionating" as a 4-year-old watching them get dressed up for dinner. I studied my mom as she slipped into her heels and fastened a necklace, and the word spontaneously formed itself in my mouth.
I lived for these moments - the times my mom got ready for a fancy dinner or party, when I could help choose her outfits. After school, I'd get dressed up as a fashionable teacher (usually a maxi skirt and vest from our costume box) just to do my homework. I invented occasions daily to change my outfit when it was time for dinner, a chance to run to the grocery store with Mom. Sometimes, I just changed for the hell of it, maybe just to watch TV.
See, I loved fashion then. I loved it wholly and blindly. I never thought about "what looked good on me," what size my clothes were, or what was designer and what wasn't. Like any little kid playing dress up, I was just in love with the fantasy.
All grown up at 30 and I'm a fashion editor, someone who presumably gets to play in that world as an adult. It should be a dream - and so often it is, but there are days when it's not all it's cracked up to be. There are a lot of days when loving fashion without any pretenses or self-consciousness really is a fantasy.
Somewhere along the way, the real world hit me - seemed to run me over, actually - I think they call it puberty. I have an older, beautiful sister (and a tall, handsome brother too), who couldn't gain weight if she tried (my mother did, with ice cream after school and plenty of carbs at dinner). I, on the other hand, rounded out quickly. My curves seemed to fill out overnight in the sixth grade, while my older sister stayed straight and narrow through high school and pretty much to this day. I noticed the differences in our bodies immediately and constantly. Clothes we had shared didn't fit me the same way, and I rapidly outgrew the costumes and hand-me-downs we played with together. I think that's the first time fashion wasn't fun for me. Actually, I can pinpoint it.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Hannah Weil McKinley
For my dad's 50th birthday party, my mom took us each to find a special outfit. My sister went to a kids-only boutique and walked away with a champagne-colored silk shell top and floor-length skirt set. It was 1997 and she looked exactly like a young Gwyneth Paltrow, with the same long blond hair. I loved that look, only I had outgrown the children's sizing at the same store. At 12, my mom took me to the "Miss" section of the department store. I tried on lots of outfits that puckered or hung in all the wrong places, made me look too adult, and felt truly awkward. I settled on a black and white checkered shift dress with a subtle daisy print (settle being the operative word). I didn't hate it, but I didn't really like it either. I was indifferent, and that was worse for a kid who had grown up enamored with clothes.
When I was younger, I got caught up only in the details of the garment: how fabrics felt, and how prints and colors looked, or how to channel the look of a certain celebrity or time period. I got carried away with the characters I could be just by changing my clothes. The "fashionating" child in me would have lived for this moment, but my adolescent body got in the way. That feeling would come again and again, even into adulthood, often at college wishing I hadn't squeezed into the jeans I was wearing, or later at work events, watching the room full of stylish editors and quietly wishing I'd chosen something more exciting to wear.
On the night of the party, I lived vacariously through my sister, soaking up the compliments as if they were my own and watching her long skirt float around the room as she moved. That look, I loved.
That's the trouble with fashion, and maybe caring about it too much. On our best days, it makes us feel just like my sister Alle at the big birthday party or the way I did pulling vintage pieces out of our dress-up box after school; or else it's your worst enemy, putting your insecurities on blast: your boots look old next to this season's style; that dress doesn't fit, must mean you got chubby. On those days, I see only the exclusive parts of the industry - beautiful, perfect people with glamorous closets that remind me of what I don't have or what I don't look like. The truth is that fashion spotlights gorgeous things and newness, and that superficial world can be a scary place to make your livelihood in.
Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Benjamin Stone
If you're wondering, "where's the romance in that?", it's a fair question. It doesn't seem like there's much to love, but there's always something that pulls me back in. As an adult, who's mostly overcome my adolescent insecurities, style is the way I express myself. I obsess over new shoes and handbags (too much, for my husband's taste), and I probably get too excited about new collaborations, runway shows, and the fancy occasions I get to get all dolled up for, but the truth is, I can't love fashion wholeheartedly anymore. I've learned to dress the body I have and appreciate the trends I can't wear from the sidelines. It's still a place to play in and be inspired by, whether through a beautiful magazine spread or a little retail therapy, but I tune in and out as I please.
I spend my time turning my closet into my own adult dress-up box with clothes that truly bring me joy; I look to the designers and fashionable women that speak to me, and accept the rest of the industry as a mostly beautiful, fascinating world that's not my whole world. Today, I love fashion with my eyes open, knowingly and for exactly what it is.
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