Lifestyle
You could subscribe to holiday gift-giving. Or you can move different like Goth Shakira
Goth Shakira wearing Acne Studios dress and gloves, Kachorovska shoes and Jéblanc earrings.
(Jennelle Fong and Yasara Gunawardena / For The Times)
One might follow Goth Shakira for their “whimsigoth crypto nun” looks posted from the bathrooms of Tom Bradley, for their poetic takes on digital existence, for their deep cuts of darkwave en Español and uncanny images of art, or for being an OG long-form confessional meme queen (a contribution that has garnered academic study). The digital director is known for a specific kind of output that feels uniquely Goth Shakira: one that combines an esoteric gaze with an artistic one — a sharp observation of the world around us and worlds beyond us. An Aquarius whose ultimate gifts of space and freedom can’t be bought, Goth Shakira takes her own path. The rest of us just want to follow along.
Name, occupation, neighborhood: Dre, a.k.a. Goth Shakira, digital director, Koreatown.
Ascetic, observant and karmic are three words that describe my essence.
My mantra for the end of the year is “I am.”
The gift I would buy myself that coincides with my astrological sign: The ultimate Aquarian gifts of freedom and space can’t be bought — just given or taken.
An L.A. artist whose work I want in every room of my home: My decor is very simple and minimal because I like my home to feel like a hermitage. I don’t really like having things on my walls, but I appreciate sculptures and found objects, or works made with earthen elements. A silver breastplate or lacquered body cast by multidisciplinary artist Holly Silius would be a dream, as would a work by Lizette Hernández in dissolved salts and stoneware.
The designer/brand I rocked the most this year: I’m almost always wearing a piece by Latina-owned and L.A.-based brand Gil Rodriguez. Their Trinity zippered catsuit is one of my most favorite pieces I’ve ever had — I have worn it on a 16-hour flight with slippers and to a party paired with vintage Prada stiletto boots. They’re elevated basics that I know I will own for a long time; they feel like the new vintage. The pieces are also very compatible with an L.A. lifestyle because I can wear a Gil outfit as a pool coverup or to the park, and it’s so elegant and well made that I don’t have to drive all the way home to change if I decide to go to a gallery opening or drinks afterwards.
“The ultimate Aquarian gifts of freedom and space can’t be bought — just given or taken,” says Goth Shakira.
(Jennelle Fong and Yasara Gunawardena / For The Times)
Goth Shakira wears Heaven by Marc Jacobs top, Shushu/Tong skirt, Vegan Tiger trench coat, MyUS scarf, Heaven by Marc Jacobs boots, Frou York necklace, Serpenti earrings, Jéblanc and Lilou Paris rings.
(Jennelle Fong and Yasara Gunawardena / For The Times)
The clothing item in my closet I consider high art: A vintage Comme des Garçons black wool skirt that I thrifted in Kyoto earlier this year. It has an incredible structure that allows it to transform into an off-the-shoulder dress and culottes. I travel for work and only take a carry-on, and I end up packing this piece a lot because of its versatility and masterful design. I hope to enjoy it for many years to come.
Breathwork, daily meditation, kundalini yoga, morning pages and at least seven to 10 white candles from the botánica burning in my apartment at any given time is the spiritual practice that’s grounding me lately.
The thing that has been sitting in my online shopping cart for months: This silver Ann Demeulemeester “Charliese” fingernail ring that sits above your top knuckle and looks like a wabi-sabi acrylic.
What I’m getting the people I love this season: My Aquarius placements don’t subscribe to the capitalist gifting obligations of mass holidays — because my Capricorn placements are always giving my loved ones little presents year-round. My favorite things to give are candles, books, love notes, natal chart readings, money, dinners, work opportunities, time, loyalty, space, active listening, my healing abilities and surf trips.
The one thing I wish the people I love would band together and buy me this season: OK, so I don’t subscribe to holiday gift-giving, but I might accept two things and two things only: a Moog Etherwave theremin, and the August 1995 issue of Playgirl with the Peter Steele editorial. It’s a goth girl/gay grail.
The zine/book/item on my coffee table I want people to see: “California Surfing and Climbing in the Fifties” and “AfroSurf.” The former is a rare find that I scored on eBay, and an important piece of history photography-wise, but it features all white people — despite the presence of Californian surfers of color, like the Black Mexican waterman Nick Gabaldón, who were going to great lengths to surf in Malibu during the time of beach segregation. To counter the predominantly white canon of surf documentation, “AfroSurf” is a gorgeously designed and historically rich celebration of surfing culture in Africa, including everything from photos to essays to poems to playlists to ephemera. It’s a book every creative should own.
Goth Shakira wearing Jéblanc and Lilou Paris rings.
(Jennelle Fong and Yasara Gunawardena / For The Times)
I will never stop rocking my beloved vintage black leather trench coat with fur trim that I thrifted in pristine condition in Montreal about 10 years ago.
The cause or organization I’m supporting right now: Red Comunitaria Trans is an advocacy group for Colombian trans communities. Red Condor Collective is a Colombian diaspora initiative that secures material support for activists in Colombia, including those protesting the genocide in Gaza.
The sounds fueling my creative right now are Deftones B-sides, pretty much anything shoegaze/distorted/DIY coming out of Arizona or Texas right now (Glixen, Bedlocked, Teethe), Cocteau Twins live at Ministry of Sound in 1996, demo cuts from the Smashing Pumpkins studio sessions for “Gish” and “Pisces Iscariot,” Natalia Mantini’s “casted in caves: black moon lilith” mix for Dublab, Dungeons & Dragons ambience videos that I project on my wall, the same 20-minute Tibetan bowl sound file looped for eight hours, field recordings of waves receding over rocks at the tide pools, the sound of the little solar-powered garden fountain outside my window <3.
I’m manifesting a project in 2024 with: There’s so much amazing shoegaze/goth/darkwave/ambient/experimental music coming from Latine artists in L.A. right now — Closed Tear, Beli and Wisteria, for example. I love to see independent L.A. designers have more of a presence as well, like Latina-owned brand Siempre, a.k.a. World of Siempre. Venice local-run and -owned surf archival project and streetwear brand corelords is one of my favorite visual inspirations lately. On the wellness and skincare front, I’m really into what Latine-owned Noto Botanics does — their scrub is one of my favorites. I’ve had my eye on skinwear brand Humanoid, and they’re one of the most exciting beauty initiatives coming out of L.A. right now.
The meal I’m cooking on rotation right now: I’m on a lifelong mission to create anything that even closely resembles my abuela’s ajiaco, but I must confess that I’m a total disappointment to my ancestors in the domesticity department. At least I have the caldo from the neighborhood spot to warm my heart in the meantime.
This is the highly specific thing inspiring my style most lately: Black trans women and nonbinary people, and senior citizens. Always.
The color I’m dreaming in/obsessed with: It’s always the shade of the lipstick I’ve been wearing for about half my life at this point: Diva by MAC, a deep, cool-toned burgundy that’s almost black. It’s also the same shade that Courtney Love wore in the ‘90s. It’s so melancholic, elegant, vampiric and earthy all at the same time.
The 2023 drop I missed that still haunts me: The Stüssy x Our Legacy “Surfman” jacket that dropped earlier this year. I had it in my cart but didn’t pull the trigger in an effort to exercise restraint, because I already have a pretty robust Stüssy collection. But I think about that jacket all the time, and now it’s on resale sites for three times the retail price (and, of course, never in my size).
All of 2024 I’ll be smelling like: Byredo’s De Los Santos eau de parfum, with a bit of Hwyll by Aesop layered on top — and, inevitably, a hint of the hinoki incense and palo santo that I’m always burning in my home.
Goth Shakira’s mantra for the end of the year is “I am.”
(Jennelle Fong and Yasara Gunawardena / For The Times)
Makeup: Carla Perez
Hair: Belen Gomez
Styling Assistants: Stacey Barton, Karina Boylan, Annunziata Santelli
Lifestyle
How ‘Mile End Kicks’ Nailed the Indie Sleaze Look
At the start of “Mile End Kicks,” a film set in the Montreal indie music scene of 2011, a music critic in her early 20s, played by Barbie Ferreira, has arrived at her Craigslist apartment share fresh from Toronto. She’s promptly invited to a loft party by her Quebecois D.J. roommate. “Dress hot,” she’s told.
The camera scans the critic, Grace Pine, as she walks into the night. Brown lace-up brogues. Black socks over sheer black tights. A short burgundy corduroy skirt. A navy sweater with a white collar peeking out. A denim boyfriend jacket to finish the look. Hot? Depends on whom you ask.
“It’s a punchline to a joke in the script,” Courtney Mitchell, the film’s costume designer, said in an interview. “But there’s a genuine understanding to some audience members where that is what we felt sexy in, in a kind of nerdcore way.”
Montreal as an indie sleaze epicenter
“Mile End Kicks,” written and directed by Chandler Levack, is the semi-autobiographical story of a music writer who moves to the Mile End neighborhood of Montreal in the summer of 2011, a time when rents were cheap enough that artists could afford to live blocks from the venues where they played.
Ostensibly, she’s there to write a book about Alanis Morissette’s album “Jagged Little Pill.” But other items on her to-do list, such as “have actual sex,” take precedence, leading her to loft parties, poetry readings and a love triangle with members of the fictional band Bone Patrol.
The era, called “indie sleaze” in retrospect (but referred to as “hipster” by those who were there), with its messy, gritty-glam looks, is captured extensively in the film. “I never felt as free a dresser as I did when I lived in Montreal,” Levack said in an interview.
Head-to-toe in American Apparel
The clothing brand most closely associated with indie sleaze is American Apparel. Think deep V-neck tees, ’70s-inspired separates and ads featuring young women splayed in suggestive poses. “I was always digging something lamé out of my butt crack,” Levack said, not without a twinge of nostalgia.
To recreate the vibe, Mitchell collected more than 200 garments and accessories from the brand, including high-waisted jean shorts, shiny disco shorts, hoodies, bodysuits, rompers, bandeaus, oversized tees, jelly shoes and belts. She was adamant that the items date from 2011 or earlier to reflect that they had been in the wardrobe rotation for some years. She found them on a mix of resale sites including Facebook Marketplace, Poshmark and Craigslist, as well as at one Montreal dry cleaner that happened to have a trove of American Apparel dead stock.
And there was a personal history, too: Mitchell had worked at American Apparel stores while in high school and in college, and Ferreira modeled for the brand in 2012, when she was 16. They shared a deep familiarity with the clothes. “That really brings out an emotion, when you return to a beloved silhouette,” Mitchell said.
Homage to the ironic graphic tee
An ironic T-shirt coupled with a cardigan became a totem of indie style, thanks to icons like Kurt Cobain, who served as inspiration for Bone Patrol’s lead singer, Chevy (Stanley Simons). At his day job selling shoes at Mile End Kicks (a real store), he wears a plaid mohair cardigan over a pocket T-shirt emblazoned with “Time to Be Happy” in off-kilter print. “The slogan was Chevy’s tongue-in-cheek nod to his retail job,” Mitchell wrote in an email. “As if he is wearing a salesman costume while dying inside because he is ‘a real artist.’”
Two of the shirts worn by Grace belonged to Levack: a Spin magazine shirt she got as a summer intern at the publication, and a Sonic Youth baseball tee from a 2007 show at McCarren Pool, then an abandoned public swimming hole in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn. But the runaway star is merch from a vacuum store, La Maison de l’Aspirateur, in Mile End — a black shirt with a hoovering elephant logo worn by Archie (Devon Bostick), the lead guitarist. “It’s become an iconic shirt for the film,” Levack said. “I’m going to screenings and people in the audience are wearing the shirts.”
Hidden gems found in vintage piles
In the Mile End of 2011, vintage clothing was a fact of life for reasons of style and necessity, and it became core to the hipster aesthetic. “These aren’t characters that are buying clothes; they’re, like, finding them in the street and rummaging through the giant clothing pile at Eva B,” Levack said, referring to a Montreal vintage institution.
One of Chevy’s most lurid onstage looks is a shimmering shot silk women’s trench — worn over a pair of American Apparel briefs, of course — courtesy of Renaissance, a chain of thrift stores in Quebec. “Everyone at those shows, whether or not you were onstage or not, you felt like you were onstage,” Levack said. “People would dress up to be noticed and to outdo each other. But it was so creative because nobody had any money.”
Lifestyle
How to have the best Sunday in L.A., according to Pete Yorn
Pete Yorn moved to Los Angeles almost exactly 30 years ago.
“I remember it was May 16, 1996 — maybe three weeks after I graduated from Syracuse,” says the singer and songwriter known for his smart, tender folk-rock stylings. “Which means I’ve lived here longer than anywhere else. But when people ask where I’m from, I still say I’m from New Jersey.” He laughs. “I guess I identify very strongly with my upbringing.”
In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.
Jersey pride notwithstanding, Yorn’s 2001 debut album, “Musicforthemorningafter,” is suffused with his experiences as a young transplant moving and shaking in a busy L.A. social scene he compares now to Doug Liman’s classic “Swingers” movie — “at least if you take away the swing dancing,” he says. “But the driving around and the going to parties — it was all the same stuff.” (Yorn’s older brothers, Kevin and Rick, are both prominent players in the entertainment business.)
The singer, who’s 51, is on the road this year performing “Musicforthemorningafter” in its entirety to mark the LP’s 25th anniversary; he’s also playing songs from throughout the rest of his career, including a 2009 duo record he made with his friend Scarlett Johansson. On July 24, he’ll release his 12th studio album, “All the Beauty.” Here, he breaks down his routine for a Sunday in his adopted hometown with his wife, jewelry designer Beth Kaltman, and their 10-year-old daughter.
7 a.m. Rise and dine
I’m like a 6:45 or 7 wake up just because I’m used to driving my daughter to school every day. I like to eat right away, and I eat the same two things every day: either yogurt with frozen berries, or there’s this overnight oats called Mush. The blueberry Mush — I can’t get enough of it. That’s what I eat before my shows too. I’ll go to a venue and the people are like, “What would you like for dinner? We have this beautiful menu,” and I’m like, “I’ll just have the Mush.”
10 a.m. Horsing around
Sunday is usually a day for something with my daughter. She’s taken a love to horseback riding — she’s much braver than I am — so I’ll drive her out to this barn near Bell Canyon, which my wife told me is actually in Ventura County. I said, “No way — Ventura County is way up there.” And sure enough, there’s this southern tip of Ventura that’s like 25 minutes from my house up the 101. Anyway, I’ll go and I’ll watch her ride the horse. I’ll be honest — I’m very nervous every time. But my wife grew up horseback riding, and my daughter, she just loves it. She can be very fickle, but this is one thing that’s stuck.
Now, I should say: If it’s NFL season, I can’t skip football. I’m a huge Raiders fan — it’s terrible. So if there’s an important game, I’ll have my Sunday Ticket on my phone and peek at what’s going on. But that’s fine — it’s understood.
12 p.m. Retail therapy
After the horse, we might go this place in Van Nuys called Iceland. It’s ironic because my wife, her dream trip is to go to Iceland the country, and the closest we’re getting to that right now is an ice-skating rink. Or I love going to the Fashion Square mall [in Sherman Oaks] — I don’t know if it’s a remnant of growing up in New Jersey or it just gives me the nostalgic feeling of being with my parents at the mall. I don’t even have to buy anything. I mean, I might end up getting roped into buying something — not a Labubu because that’s over but some sort of kawaii animal stuffy. I just like that the mall still exists in a time when it’s so easy for everyone to buy everything on their phone. My daughter was like, “Whoa, you can go in and touch things?”
3 p.m. Guilty pleasure
Here’s a naughty one: There’s a little bakery right off Ventura Boulevard called Schazti’s, and they have this chocolate banana pudding that is ridiculous. It comes in a paper cup.
6 p.m. Time to dine
If it’s Football Night in America, my wife and daughter would order Japanese or Chinese or Thai. They’d probably order that every day if they had their way — they’re obsessed. Sometimes I’ll just eat a bowl of cereal and call it a night. If there’s no game, a cool place to go that’s been there forever is the Smoke House in Burbank. I’d always seen it but had never been until a few months ago. Just a classic, old-school place — steak is great.
10 p.m. Slow for show
I’m early to bed because I know I’m gonna be up early to drive my daughter to school, which is my favorite thing when I’m home. I don’t want to miss it. I’m very conscious of how fast she’s growing up, and I know me — I’ll be sad when it’s over. We might watch a show or a movie but I’ll feel my eyes getting heavy after like 10 minutes. It takes me quite a few nights to get through an episode.
Lifestyle
Hunting For Lexapro Clocks, Viagra Neckties and Other Vintage Pharmaceutical Merch
Zoe Latta, a co-founder of the fashion brand Eckhaus Latta, saw the clock on Instagram and started searching for pharma swag on eBay. “It was just a hole I got in,” she said. Latta soon rounded up some examples at “Rotting on the Vine,” her Substack newsletter, describing them as “silly byproducts of our sick sad world.”
Pharma swag feels somewhat like Marlboro Man merch — “like this very specific modality of our culture that’s changed,” Latta said, adding, “At first, I thought it was ironic and cheeky. But it’s also so dark.”
In particular, swag like the OxyContin mugs that read “The One to Start With. The One to Stay With” is regarded as highly collectible and highly contentious. Jeremy Wells, a newspaper owner and editor in Olive Hill, Ky., remembered, for example, seeing the mugs sold at a Dollar Tree in New Boston, Ohio, in the late 1990s or early 2000s. “At the same moment that the epidemic is blowing up,” he said.
“You can do a chicken-and-egg argument, and I doubt very seriously that those mugs made anybody get addicted,” he said. “But I do feel like things like those mugs did add to the mystique and the aura of seduction.” (After a protracted lawsuit, Purdue Pharma, the maker of OxyContin, has been dissolved and is on the hook to pay more than $5 billion in criminal penalties for fueling the opioid epidemic.)
“I was surprised to see how much this stuff was selling for in general — there is demand,” Latta said, pointing to a vintage Xanax photo frame listed for $230. Latta said she could imagine buying it for a friend who takes Xanax on planes (“if it was at a thrift store for under $10”) or maybe a pair of Moderna aviator sunglasses that she found, which seem to nod at Covid vaccines and the signature Biden eyewear, she said.
Pharmacore — medical-branded pieces worn as fashion — has found new expression at the confluence of identity, medicine and commerce, and at a time when skepticism toward pharmaceuticals is at a high (see: the MAHA movement).
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