Lifestyle
The New York Fashion Week digicam diaries: It's 2006 again, baby
I took an old point-and-shoot digital camera to New York Fashion Week because, haven’t you heard? It’s 2006 again, baby — when I was 11, I would lock myself in my room and give myself flash blindness by taking dozens of blown-out pictures of my face on a pink Sony Cybershot that I would upload to MySpace. Fun, hazy times. You know what else was fun, hazy times? New York Fashion Week this year. The Willy Chavarria show. Eckhaus Latta’s anti-show. Seeing Offset walk Luar in a durag and structural floor-length trench coat. And catching up with Tinashe backstage at Elena Velez. Let’s review, shall we?
Area’s 10th anniversary FW24 show, 1 p.m. Sept. 6
The first stop on the trip was the 10th anniversary show of Area, an independent brand helmed by co-founders Beckett Fogg and Piotrek Panszczyk. And it was hands, hands, hands everywhere: a yellow firework of a dress that if you looked closely revealed itself to be a collection of gloves layered on top of each other; stark red handprints on a long black gown. And because it’s Area, hardware was plentiful in distressed leather jackets jangling and dripping with silver spikes and chain mail. The collection was an exercise in individuality, so said the show notes. The presentation was also sponsored by Tinder and partnered with the national abortion rights campaign Bans Off Our Bodies.
Willy Chavarria SS25 show, 7 p.m. Sept. 6
A Willy Chavarria show always feels like a holiday. Walking into the show’s location, a cavernous building on Wall Street, the first thing you noticed was a massive American flag. (Technically, the first thing you noticed were the Don Julio tequila cocktails being served in the lobby, on tables strewn with red roses, but after that: American flag.) The show, titled “América,” celebrated the immigrants, everyday people and working class that make up this country — from farmworkers to hotel staff — and took inspiration from their attire.
Yahritza y Su Esencia emerged from the darkness and started singing the 1984 Juan Gabriel classic “Querida,” and I quite literally felt like I was going to collapse, or combust, or both. The room was emo, there were tears (mine). It’s always gonna be JuanGa forever. The lighting design was pure drama, streaming through the gigantic concrete beams of the building like it was being tapped straight from heaven.
The models walked out in work shirts with squared-off shoulder pads, and there was a distressed cargo skirt suit that looked like it had been bleached by the sun. YG made his appearance in leather gloves, a tracksuit and dress shoes. Artist Delfin Finley came out in a voluminous cinched black suit that evoked a valet worker’s outfit. Chavarria took inspiration from the United Farm Workers movement, putting its logo on a sweatshirt in another look. The belt loop with keys (and a crucifix) that topped many of the looks felt on point — as though Chavarria were elevating these deeply familiar uniforms and silhouettes into new American classics.
Just when we thought the show was done, the room went dark, techno boomed through every nook and cranny and the lighting turned a wash of red. For a second, it felt like we were clubbing in Berlin. Then, Chavarria’s new collaboration with Adidas was revealed at a rapid pace — models walked out in tracksuits featuring classic Chavarria proportions, embroidered with roses. And singer Yendry came out in a cropped track jacket with princess sleeves.
The afters at the Blond — I spotted models who had just walked the show, including Joseph Rayo, Eloy and Emmanuel “Chino” Salazar. Stylist Nayeli De Alba pulled up too.
Tombogo SS25 show, 8 p.m. Sept. 6
Tombogo’s fashion week presentations are always conceptual. Who could forget the SS23 show, “For the Truant and the Fluent,” in which designer and L.A. resident Tommy Bogo created a classroom setting for his runway? This year, Image’s fashion director at large, Keyla Marquez, dubbed it “Alien Core.” But Bogo calls it “Reverse Engineering.” People in white Tombogo lab coats showed the tactical and transformative nature of the clothing, adjusting the looks of most of the models that walked on the runway, snapping on and off extra pockets and appendages to each piece.
I told you, it’s 2006 again. Back when I would use a literal beach bag from Pink by Victoria’s Secret as my everyday purse because I was obviously unwell. I got clowned, sure, but I had the foresight to know how chic a big bag is. This one, with its many, many pockets, reminds me of the multi-pocket Jil Sander bags from the early 2000s that every Depop girlie is salivating over right now. What would I put in this bag? My laptop, a pair of club kid-sized platform boots, a Buick. I love it.
Campillo SS25 show, 9 a.m. Sept. 7
Up bright and early for Campillo — the Mexico City-based brand made its debut at NYFW on a gray morning at the Public Hotel. The presentation was framed by the sounds and silhouettes of designer Patricio Campillo’s beautiful, impeccably tailored world: Starting with the ring of chirping birds that was recorded by his mom in the country and followed up with “El Amar y el Querer” by José José. Androgynous models with slow, considered walks sauntered down the runway. (A look I’m still thinking about days later: an embossed leather suit accessorized with a statement belt buckle, a feather and a brooch.)
The collection was inspired by Mexican volcanoes and their ability to transform space, which came to designer Patricio Campillo while he was meditating: He envisioned himself sitting at the foot of a volcano where he’d also spent time physically. “For me, it was a way to bend fantasy with reality in a way that was very important,” Campillo says. “It made me think of the duality that exists between something that is very peaceful and serene, such as an inactive volcano, versus an eruption — there is a lot of violence involved in that, a lot of energy. That was how I wanted the show to feel. There is something about this Mexican dream that I’m trying to tell the story about, but then in that dream, there is also violence, there’s also eruption and explosion.” The ombré washes of some of the pieces referenced lava turning into rock.
Designer Patricio Campillo.
Campillo reminds me that his brand is based on a family heirloom: a charro suit gifted to his father by his grandfather that he inherited a few years ago. A charro suit is made using specific sartorial techniques, which Campillo applies to other garments, creating something highly specific to him, his experience and his version of the world. “Everything is very personal to me when it comes to my brand,” he says. “It’s the most personal thing that I have in my life.”
Palomo Spain SS25 show, 4 p.m. Sept. 7
Palomo Spain is so drama. Thank God. There is something so campy about being inside a church on the Upper West Side while a model struts the runway in an orange feather wig (the Fourth Universalist Society in the City of New York, to be exact). It was just extra in all the best ways: leather studded hot pants, more insanely capacious bags, floor-length leopard gowns, wispy feathers and sequins styled with knee-high boots. It gave print, shine, texture and, ultimately, a story — something to grip onto. Take this from the show notes: “Why are emotions so intrinsic to our humanity — like lust, desire and attraction — condemned with the threat of hell?” OK, go off.
Ryan Preciado’s “Portraits” at Karma, 7 p.m. Sept. 7
No, duh. We pulled up to Ryan Preciado’s show at Karma in the East Village, where Keyla helped me peel my knee-high leather platform boots off so I could step into the 12- by 14-foot architectural structure that Preciado had built inside the space — a literal home — and slide around on the pink carpet, sit on the red daybed and admire the golden bong.
Sandy Liang SS25 show, 3 p.m. Sept. 8
This is the note I was furiously typing on my phone during Sandy Liang’s presentation: “Girly pop, coquette, hot ticket — obviously. Bandannas!!!” Everyone from designer (and Vice President Kamala Harris’ stepdaughter) Ella Emhoff to Palestinian model, creator and podcaster Noor Elkhaldi were in the audience for the show, dressed in classic Sandy drip.
Eckhaus Latta SS25 dinner and anti-show, 8 p.m. Sept. 8
The email came in late the previous day: “Join us for an intimate dinner wearing your own loved, worn and archive Eckhaus Latta — all guests will play a part in this season’s dinner and a ‘show.’” NGL, as someone who has heart palpitations every time I’m in a situation where I need to go around the room and give my name and an interesting fact, I was nervous. But also intrigued. And what happened might have been the most fun, free, get-over-yourself vibe of fashion week.
Zoe Latta and Mike Eckhaus welcomed us at a loft space in Tribeca, where there were drinks and a beautiful family-style dinner by Momofuku. (I spilled a berry-flavored Ghia on my digicam when trying to take a photo of writer-director-genius Julio Torres — blame my admiration for the artist — and a couple shots later, the digicam was dead. It lived a long life. RIP.) In between bites of ginger scallion noodles and cucumber peanut salad, served family style, comedian Kate Berlant took to a microphone and revealed that the models would be none other than us — well, not all of us, but enough names that could be called in 10ish minutes. The energy in the room got cute and nervous. Berlant kicked things off with her own full-volume strut, followed by people like musician Moses Sumney, actor Jemima Kirke, artist Chloe Wise, Emhoff and culminating in Eckhaus and Latta.
The show had a live soundtrack, sung by L.A. musician Loren Kramar, whom I sat next to at dinner and chatted about, what else? L.A.
Elena Velez SS25 show, 6 p.m. Sept. 10
I picked up a new (old) digicam at a used camera shop in Midtown, and we were back in action. Backstage at Elena Velez, I realized that I not only wanted a pair of the platform Uggs they were styling all the looks with but I also needed those damn Uggs — what did I tell you about 2006? Models were eating apples and vaping while they got their hair done in tight, messy curls kept in place by Qiqi products. Key makeup artist Raisa Flowers told me that the beauty references were dark and gothic, which she interpreted into a grungy, smokey eye, using black eyeliner as a base with shadow thrown on top to achieve the feeling of coming home from a party and sleeping in your makeup. The skin was high-shine dewy — which Flowers says has been a trend this season — with a bitten lip.
I spotted musician Tinashe while she was getting her hair and makeup done, snapping photos throughout the process (which she was gracious about). It was her first time walking a fashion show and she felt a kindred artistic spirit with the designer. “Elena takes risks which I love,” Tinashe told me as stylists were snatching her into a corseted dress that looked like it was made of remixed jerseys. “It’s got this grunge-y, fun energy. She’s incorporating a lot of the energy that I’m also incorporating with my art, and I think there’s just perfect synergy there.” When asked whether Elena Velez would be considered “Nasty,” Tinashe responded: “Period. Of course.”
A Michael Anthony Hall moment.
The brand writes that the show was inspired by “renegade pageant queens and patriots.”
Luar SS25 show, 8 p.m. Sept. 10
Everything feels like it’s been building toward this moment: Luar. Yes, Ice Spice, Madonna, Bad Gyal, Gabriette, Amanda Lepore and Brenda Hashtag, the patron saint of fashion girls for whom the color black is religion, were all in the front row. It’s true. But it was the energy and excitement for designer Raul López that felt most major. There was a palpable anticipation in seeing what López would bring to the table this time in terms of the clothes, the fact that it was at Rockefeller Plaza — a dream location for him. Lopez built the collection around the Dominican saying, “En boca quedó,” which is a knowing that even after you leave a room, people will keep talking about you. It was an ode to his younger self, who was on a journey toward authenticity, toggling between ideas of purity and performance. It was anchored in the idea of transformation. The clothes: Cocooned hoods, floor-grazing trench coats with a kind of backward veil, cinched jackets with ’80s proportions in leopard-printed pony hair and an iridescent shorts suit the color of rich amber.
Amanda Lepore sighting.
Gabbriette sighting.
Kirsten Chen, a.k.a. @hotgothwriter, sighting. In a look by designer Ranxelle Soria.
The styling and beauty on many of the looks evoked, for me, the enduring influence of Black and brown aunties everywhere — the hair gelled to sculptural effect, the nails, the eyebrows.
Seeing the pieces IRL the next way, feeling the weight and appreciating the details of them, it was even clearer that this collection was rooted in metamorphosis, which crystallized when seeing many of the cocooned pieces in person. Luar presented shoes for the first time as well, including boots, loafers, clogs and kitten heels.
Rio SS25 show, 1 p.m. Sept. 11
Rio, formerly known as Gypsy Sport, re-introduced itself on the rooftop of the LilliStar in Brooklyn with its new name. As is designer Rio Uribe’s specialty: The community was in full effect. Each model brought themselves to the performance, fully, and there was a feeling of realness that was classic Uribe. When all the models paraded out together wearing remixed, upcycled Rio pieces, Duran Duran’s “Rio” played.
Lifestyle
Make Way for the Investment Bank Influencers
It’s 5:30 a.m. Allison Sheehan switches on the light in the bathroom of her New York City apartment and stretches in front of the mirror. “Welcome back to another morning in the life of an ‘investment baker,’ which means someone who works at an investment bank but also makes cakes,” she says at the beginning of the video, which she uploaded to TikTok in early 2025.
Tying an apron over her pajamas, Ms. Sheehan, now 26, proceeds to pipe lilac buttercream ruffles on a heart-shaped funfetti cake she had baked the night before.
At 6:50, she heads to the gym, filming herself doing crunches before heading home to shower, put on makeup and pick out an outfit. By 8:20, Ms. Sheehan heads to her wealth management job, at Goldman Sachs (she didn’t reveal the name of the bank in her videos while employed there).
In 2023, Ms. Sheehan, who has since made cakes for brands including Goop and LoveShackFancy as well as the model Gigi Hadid, was posting on social media as “The Investment Baker,” a persona she created for her custom-cake business, Alleycat.
On her Investment Baker Instagram and TikTok pages, Ms. Sheehan posted familiar influencer content like “What I eat in a week” and day-in-the-life videos, along with breakdowns of her corporate wardrobe. At the time, her DMs were inundated both with cake orders and with young women seeking advice on how to break into finance.
The finance industry remains one of the most sought-after sectors for college graduates. In 2025, Goldman Sachs saw 360,000 students competing for just 2,600 internships — up 15 percent from the previous year. It has also historically insisted that employees maintain a low profile on the internet. Ms. Sheehan was careful never to disclose the bank at which she worked in her videos, and she never filmed herself in the office, per her employer’s rules. In fact, she never discussed finance much at all. Still, the tension between the “two worlds of baking and being a financier was the whole allure,” Ms. Sheehan said.
Yet Ms. Sheehan was informed that her baking content was seen as a “reputational risk” for the firm. She was instructed to delete every post on her TikTok and Instagram and to change her handle so that it made no reference to the word “investment.” When Ms. Sheehan drew comparisons to the firm’s chief executive, David Solomon, who moonlights as a D.J., she was told she could not compare herself to him. She pushed back, saying that the firm’s policy should apply to everyone. “It doesn’t work like that,” she said she was told.
Like Ms. Sheehan, Sahilee Waitman, 28, used the fact of her employment at an investment bank as a hook for her TikTok videos. Ms. Waitman moved to New York City from Amsterdam to work in compliance at an investment bank in 2023. She soon started posting day-in-the-life content, detailing everything from her workouts to what she ate for lunch, with the goal of building financial autonomy outside her corporate role. Both women were clear that while they worked at investment banks, they were not investment bankers, often a point of contention or confusion in the comments section.
The New York Times reached out to many of the investment bank employees on TikTok, but they declined to comment for this article, fearing the risk to their reputation. The New York Times also reached out to 14 different banks, among them Goldman Sachs, but none responded to requests for comment regarding the matter of social media use among employees.
Despite these fears, investment banking content is going viral across social media. Nearly 60,400 videos tagged #investmentbanking have appeared on TikTok in recent years. Time-stamped 100-hour work weeks and late-night keyboard A.S.M.R. regularly draw hundreds of thousands of views on TikTok. Part of the appeal is that influencers offer a more realistic depiction of the world of work than can be gleaned from shows like “Industry” on HBO or from actual recruitment events.
Ms. Sheehan was determined to show that even bankers could have a life outside work. In October 2024, a year after posting her first video, a meeting with her manager appeared unexpectedly on Ms. Sheehan’s calendar. At first, she thought it might be good news. But the excitement was short-lived when she was greeted by three compliance officers. “We see you have an online persona called ‘The Investment Baker,’” she recalled them saying.
At present, there is no widely agreed-upon policy regarding employees’ personal social media use. The Financial Industry Regulatory Authority, the largest independent regulator for brokerage firms in the United States, and the Securities and Exchange Commission, a government agency that regulates the entire U.S. securities industry, have rules and guidance dictating that employees cannot share any information that is deemed confidential or in any way sensitive. But how firms apply their own internal policy is at their discretion.
Hannah Awonuga, the former head of colleague engagement at Barclays U.K. and a cultural transformation and inclusion consultant, sees both parties as at risk. Employees might find themselves on the wrong side of human resources. For employers, “once you allow staff to post freely,” she said, “you run the risk that they might express an opinion on a Saturday that goes against your values.”
For decades, “workism” — the belief that work is central to one’s identity — has infiltrated the American ethos, particularly for many city dwellers, whose hobbies and leisure activities can fall by the wayside. Increasingly, younger workers are pushing back, demanding a healthier work-life balance and actively working to decouple their identity from their careers.
The world of high finance is one of the last sectors to catch up. “Once you work in these industries,” Ms. Waitman said, “you’re essentially taught to choose one lane.” You are either a “serious professional,” she said, or a “creative.” “I just don’t believe those things are mutually exclusive,” she added.
Ms. Waitman, who is Black, hoped that by posting on TikTok, she would be promoting diversity in the industry. She received the occasional negative comment, insisting she must be a “secretary,” but a majority of her messages were positive, she said, and came from other women seeking her advice about pursuing careers in finance.
At the time, Ms. Waitman did not receive pushback from her employer on her videos, though she made sure to declare any outside business activity to compliance and her director. “I think firms are just now catching on to this,” Ms. Waitman said. “Once they find out, you have compliance on your neck.”
A recent glossy fashion spread in Interview Magazine entitled “Meet the Finest Boys in Finance” highlighted what can happen when young finance professionals attract the wrong kind of publicity. The designer-heavy photo shoot was mocked and meme-ified online for violating Wall Street’s sacrosanct rule against flashiness.
Across social media, some women were quick to point out the double standard at play. “But women get fired from Goldman for being influencers …” read one comment left on a TikTok video about the spread.
In fact, many of the people posting influencer-like content are young women, which is at odds with the traditionally male-dominated world of high finance.
A spokesperson for Goldman Sachs told Bloomberg that the interviews in Interview Magazine were not approved by the firm.
After the compliance meeting, Ms. Sheehan did as she was instructed and archived all her social media posts. Three months later, though, she put them back up. “I didn’t see my posts as a violation of the bylaws,” she said. Immediately, another meeting with compliance landed on her calendar. This time, her cake business was taking off, and Ms. Sheehan decided to hand in her resignation. (Goldman Sachs did not respond to requests for comment.)
As banks are forced to iron out their policies in an ever more online world, workers sharing the minutiae of their days is likely to become an increasing headache for compliance. “If you have five followers, there’s no need to make anyone aware,” Ms. Awonuga said. But, she added, “as more Gen Z’s come into the workplace and grow in their roles, I just don’t know how feasible it becomes to say you’re not allowed a social media presence.”
Ms. Sheehan, meanwhile, has no regrets. “I cannot believe,” she said, “that they were concerned about me making pink cakes when people are insider trading.”
Lifestyle
She’s the so-called Womb Witch of L.A. Here’s why her clients keep returning
Leigh McDaniel always knew she was destined to become a witch. Growing up in Hawaii, she came from a long line of “kitchen witches,” she explains — women who intuited measurements, spices and when a cake was done from the next room. “There was always a part of me that was like: Yeah, I’m a witch,” says McDaniel from her California sun-soaked studio.
Today, McDaniel — who calls herself a “womb witch”— practices a different kind of magic: pelvic care bodywork. Based in a bright studio in Glendale, McDaniel serves clients of all genders. Before each session, McDaniel invites clients to share their personal histories, and then McDaniel performs bodywork through touch as sage smoke curls in the air.
“A person who left today had their first session and was like, ‘I’m so much lighter in my body,’” McDaniel says.
McDaniel’s work is rooted in holistic pelvic health and touch therapy, which she discovered after giving birth to her second child at age 46. Before her daughter was born, McDaniel says she met her in a dream. The child introduced herself as “Luna.” The name stuck. After her birth, McDaniel theorized that her daughter had “reorganized her pelvic bowl.” When she sought out answers from her midwife and OB-GYN, they were dismissive; the experience prompted her to explore alternative care.
“It sent me down a few rabbit holes,” McDaniel says. “Previously, I had studied naturopathy with the intention of going to a naturopathic school — herbalism, Reiki and light touch therapy.”
Leigh McDaniel says that after one session her clients often feel an immediate shift in their bodies.
(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)
While body wisdom and alternative healing are framed as part of the Goop-conscious modern wellness movement, McDaniel explains that these practices are not new. She cites Ubuntu, a South African philosophy that informs her healing approach. “Indigenous practices knew how to hold people in trauma,” she says. “We’re only just beginning to figure it out.”
After an explanation of the nervous system, consent and the pelvic floor, her sessions begin with McDaniel burning sage or mugwort while the client is on the table. She asks for consent before touching the client and offers a prayer or blessing. McDaniel explains she’s feeling for energy before moving on to the abdomen, where she applies various levels of pressure. She compares it to a guided meditation as she incorporates breathwork while asking clients to breathe into her fingers. She emphasizes that the client controls the pace and asks for consent at each step.
“I think consent and boundaries are so critical to taking care of your body,” she says.
The intimate nature of McDaniel’s practice has garnered attention — and occasional skepticism. Comedian Ali Macofsky, for example, says with a smile, “I go in person to this womb witch,” on “The Endless Honeymoon” podcast. The hosts are baffled and intrigued. Macofsky adds, “It feels very old school the way women have to go through things.”
Macofsky discovered Leigh through actor and comedian Syd Steinberg who highly recommended her work. “I went to help with some CPTSD [complex post-traumatic stress disorder] and TMJ [temporomandibular joint] pain and she helped,” says Steinberg. “She really is a miracle worker.”
Macofsky was intrigued by the whimsical title of “Womb Witch.” “I was like, I’ll make an appointment and see what happens.” After a phone call, McDaniel explained that she helped clients with physical intimacy and sexual trauma through bodywork. The comedian was hooked.
Macofsky notes that in a culture where female pleasure is not prioritized, it’s hard to know where to seek advice. After a session with Leigh where she discussed advocating for oneself sexually, Macofsky began to see the results take hold in surprising ways. “It’s helping me in other areas where normally I’d be uncomfortable to advocate for myself or speak up about what I want.”
Clients seek out the womb witch for a variety of reasons. Some report physical discomfort during sexual encounters, while others come after experiencing sexual assault, abuse or consent violation. At other times, clients may experience stiffness or pain that McDaniel believes may be a reaction to trauma.
Her session also focuses on sexual health. McDaniel gives her clients a tutorial on pleasure anatomy and consent, most recently teaching sexual health lessons to a gathering in Silver Lake. “I like to show a lot about the pleasure anatomy, the mobility of the uterus, and where the cervix is at different times of the month,” she explains.
McDaniel argues that pleasure is an important part of daily life. “Female pleasure is finally being noticed,” she says. “Pleasure is a birthright. There’s pleasure and there’s grief. To be full-spectrum humans, we need to be feeling pleasure.” McDaniel cites that recent studies claim the clitoris has 10,000 nerve endings.
Leigh McDaniel holds a bowl of coconut and castor oil that she often uses with clients.
(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)
McDaniel says that everyday stress — including sexual harassment and misogyny — manifests in the body, often leading to chronic pain. “In patriarchy, the comments land in your body, and you find yourself bracing every time you pass them,” she says. “They can seem so small and harmless, but even those little things add up. They’re felt. It’s part of feeling unsafe in the world.”
Though many people struggle to navigate the American healthcare system, more Americans are turning to a spiritual wellness approach. The National Institutes of Health reports that holistic care methods such as meditation, acupuncture and yoga have grown significantly in recent years. Ancient Chinese medicine techniques have gone viral on TikTok, capturing the attention of Gen Z. “People are more willing to look outside the Western medicine model,” McDaniel explains. “I have people that come here to see me because of medical trauma too.”
Dr. Tanaz R. Ferzandi, director of urogynecology and reconstructive pelvic surgery at Keck Medicine of USC, believes that holistic medicine can be a potent adjunct to more traditional remedies. She has recommended acupuncture to her patients who have experienced sexual trauma. “The whole idea of acupuncture is you’re lying there, and coming to peace with yourself and your body,” she explains. “It’s a forced therapy where you can be alone with yourself and shut out the rest of the world.”
Simultaneously, Ferzandi believes a healthy amount of skepticism is good. “We have to stay scientific — what’s the evidence behind it? As long as women understand that we don’t know if there’s data to support some of the things they’re doing,” she says. “I’m very cautious about touting certain things that are somehow going to be a panacea.”
McDaniel’s explains its rare she encounters skeptics at her practice. “I never try to convince anyone to come in for a session,” she says. “There are scientific studies on the efficacy of different types of work that are adjacent to, or similar to what I do, but nothing exact.”
She acknowledges elements of her work are difficult to quantify. “There is also a mysterious space between bodies, the client and myself, where something happens that I cannot really explain, but it feels magical,” she says. “I don’t think any of this would convince anyone who is inherently skeptical though.”
McDaniel views her daughter Luna’s birth as the inciting incident into her true calling — becoming the “Womb Witch.” “Everything that happened to my own body after her birth, it was a calling to do this,” she says. “I’ve done so many things, and this is the first time I really feel settled in what I do.”
Lifestyle
N.F.L. Style Will Never Beat N.B.A. Style
You want to see some real fashion ingenuity? Watch the N.F.L. draft.
I’m not saying it’s all good, but where else are you going to see someone in a double-breasted suit made by a company better known for making yoga pants? Or an Abercrombie & Fitch suit jacket so short that it exposes the belt loops on the pants beneath?
On the whole, the style on display at the N.F.L. draft last night was very overeager senior formal: a lot of suits in colors beyond basic blue. The quarterback Ty Simpson wore a custom suit by the athleisure label Alo, which, I have to say, looked better than I would have envisioned had you said the words “Alo Yoga suit” to me.
I thought it might have been from Suitsupply, but the conspicuous “Alo” pin on his right lapel put that idea to rest. Simpson, smartly, unfastened that beacon before appearing onstage as the 13th pick to the Los Angeles Rams. He had, perhaps, satisfied his contractual obligations by that point.
Earlier in the evening, as the wide receiver Carnell Tate threw up his arms in exaltation after being picked fourth by the Tennessee Titans, his cropped Abercrombie & Fitch jacket revealed a swatch of rib cage. He looked like a mâitre d’ who had just hit the Mega Millions.
During the N.B.A.’s extended fashion awakening, its draft has become a sandbox for luxury brands to cozy up to would-be endorsers. The Frenchman Victor Wembanyama broke a kind of cashmere ceiling when he wore Louis Vuitton to go first overall in the 2023 N.B.A. draft.
The N.F.L. draft has none of that. The brands you see are often not brands at all, but custom tailors that reach the league’s neophytes through a whisper network among players. The draft is also a platform to raise the curtain on longer-term brand deals that better suit these rookies. We may, for instance, never see Simpson in a suit again. Nearly every photo from his time at Alabama shows him in a T-shirt or hoodie. It makes sense for him to sign with Alo.
Football is the most mainstream of American cultural entities. And it’s one that still hasn’t, in spite of the league’s best efforts, taken off overseas. Few players, save some quarterbacks and a tight end who happens to be engaged to a pop star, feel bigger than the game itself. If you’re a new-to-the-league linebacker, you’ll most likely never harness the star power to grab the attention of Armani, but you might have just the right pull for Abercrombie.
The N.F.L. draft is therefore one of the few red carpets where the brands worn by the athletes may also be worn by those watching at home. How many people watching the Oscars will ever own clothes from Louis Vuitton or Chanel? People may comment online about Lady Gaga wearing Matières Fécales to the Grammys, but how many of those fans and viewers could afford to buy clothes from it?
The Japanese designers changing fashion
Yesterday, I published a deep dive into how a newish crop of Japanese designers are soaking up all the attention in men’s fashion right now. This was a piece I was writing in my head long before I sat down and finally started typing. I remember sitting at a fashion show in Paris over a year ago — I believe it was Dior — and being asked by my seatmate if I’d made it over to a showroom in the Marais to check out A.Presse. That Tokyo-based brand is now part of a vanguard of Japanese labels that, on many days, seems to be all anyone in fashion wants to talk about. I spent months talking with designers, store owners and big-time shoppers to make sense of why these brands have kicked up so much buzz and, more than that, what makes their clothes so great. You can read the story here.
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