When season one of “Euphoria” released in 2019, everyone was obsessed with the makeup. The inclusion of vibrant colors, elaborate glitter and elusive crystals sent the world running to copy its looks. Now, everyone is obsessed with mimicking the show’s fashion.
The theme’s usage of the word lexicon is ironically apt, considering that the majority of the looks that ascended the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s steps require some sort of tool other than fashion as language to decode their substance and raison d’être. Perhaps a better theme for the amalgamation of fabric and stitches donned that night would be: “In America: A Lexicon of Confusion and Calamity”.
My mom is my best friend. We have been compared to Lorelai and Rory of the TV show Gilmore Girls (we are both blue-eyed brunettes with coffee addictions, what can we say!) and talk every day of the week, multiple times a day. While we are similar in many ways (like how we both agree Nick is the hottest Jonas Brother), we have our differences… our styles being one of them.
Within the fashion industry, many factors cause anxiety or worry in consumers. Some stores only cater to a specific body type or a small size range. Brands like Lululemon, Torrid, Victoria’s Secret and more are blatantly geared towards specific women and they prove it through their marketing and models.
Increasingly though, since his death, I have begun to associate him with my clothing infatuation, and some of my most vibrant memories connected to clothing come from during his battle with stomach cancer.
The 2000s are right now’s fashion moment. As the industry is abruptly forced to reflect on itself, it must emerge from the pandemic in a direction that innovates Y2K modes with contemporary creativity.
Being deemed fashionable relies on outside perceptions of your clothing. How do you look wearing those Nike shorts? Do they make your butt perky? Are they, God forbid, stained? As society progresses, one’s clothing becomes less about intrinsic comfort and more about the desire for external validation.
The reasoning behind Wintour’s sudden sympathy for Black people is allegorical to what some claim is the bedrock of fashion: trend.
Beyond my superficial connections to the former creative director of Vogue, my admiration for Talley comes from the respect I owe him for existing in an industry that has historically had little-to-no room for men who look like me. However, what is even more important to me is Talley’s permanence as a cautionary tale about the whims and woes of the fashion world for Black people and, more specifically Black men.