Seeing:

On Wednesday last week I was invited to a very glamorous evening at the Royal Ballet, courtesy of Métier, who had arranged for us to have a backstage tour and then watch the opening night of Wayne McGregor’s ‘Alchemies’.

The ballet was spellbinding (take that Chalamet), with costumes designed by Burberry and Saul Nash. The show also introduced me to the insanely skilled percussionist Bei Bei Wang, who leaps around bashing all kinds of drums, often with a tube in her mouth (cursory research suggests it is a talk box tube!)

The backstage tour was equally fascinating - we learned that the dancers get through 6000 pairs of shoes a season, and were shown miniature dioramas of all the stage design from previous shows (the props team make one for every production - an exact replica at 1:25 scale). Our guide also told us that the dancers only ever rehearse to live music played by an in-house pianist - chic! No BTS photos allowed, so here’s a summary of the night instead:

Because I a. thirst for knowledge, and b. forget almost everything as soon as I learn it, I immediately looked up how I could go back for a refresher course. Turns out you can book onto a tour for £25! Highly recommend.

I also visited two fashion exhibitions this month: The Antwerp Six in Belgium (which I wrote about here) and the new Schiaparelli at the V&A. I’ll cover the latter in more detail soon, but in the meantime here was my favourite staging detail. Notice how the shadows cast by these mannequins don’t match up? Surrealist perfection!

Applauding:

This month I was happy to see an artist I admire getting his flowers - Jamaican photographer Jeano Edwards, who I discovered via Ashleigh Kane’s (now discontinued) newsletter, eye spied.

He did an exquisite Wales Bonner adidas campaign a few years ago, and today I saw he shot the new Miu Miu campaign. The images have his signature hazy, ethereal quality - I recommend buying his photo book, Ever Wonderful, if you can find a copy.

Confessing:

For her newsletter, Late Filing, invited me to walk her through my fantasy weekend. I fear I was a little too honest. My opening paragraph: “On an average Friday night, I usually rip off my bra, guzzle some unhealthy snacks and lie face down on the sofa groaning for a while before doomscrolling until 1am and then dragging myself into bed. It’s the perfect adrenal car crash to round out another week of cortisol-fuelled modern life.”

You can read more of my lifestyle tips here.

Travelling:

To Belgium (per here) - a whistlestop trip, but I did have time to glance at two of the Antwerp Six’s flagship stores, Dries van Noten and Ann Demeulemeester, the latter of which has a garden in the changing room!

I also went to Morocco for a wedding, which catalysed a sequence of sartorial trial-and-error, as documented here. In Marrakech, I visited the Yves Saint Laurent museum, which had three exhibitions on show: one about Saint Laurent’s designs for the ballet (is there a hidden message behind all the dance this month??) one about the House’s ongoing collaboration with pseudo-surrealist photographer David Seidner, and one about Yves’ beloved dogs.

Watching:

Regular readers might have picked up on my love of music videos - to me, they are the perfect art form. One of my all-time favourites is Jamie xx’s video for ‘Gosh’, directed by Romain Gavras (aka. Em Rata’s new boo), who also did early videos for electro artists like Justice and Simian Mobile Disco (Gavras’ film for Justice’s ‘Stress’ actually got banned in France for supposedly glorifying gang violence.)

His new film with Yung Lean dances on a similar knife edge. ‘STORM’ follows Lean, who plays a gruff school bully, as he terrorises classmates and cooks drugs in an empty classroom. Like ‘Gosh’, the film builds dramatic tension with emotive group choreography - the guy behind it is Damien Jalet, who’s also been working on fka twigs’ ‘Body High’ tour. Because dance and Belgium seem to be April’s themes, apt that it was shot at a high school near Brussels, Cardinal Mercier College.

Speaking of YouTube videos, artist Gray Wielebinski posted on Instagram a list of shorts that immediately reduce them to tears, reminding me that I was due my annual blub-fest to the superlative film trailer, ‘Laurence Anyways’ by Xavier Dolan. Makes me bawl every time!

Gifting:

Whilst in Antwerp, I also visited the flagship store of Façon Jacmin, who I found out about via their PR, my style crush Lola Clabots. They kindly invited me to select a souvenir - I chose an off-kilter white shirt with the collar inching off the shoulder.

I also received a hypnotic blue parcel from Bibbi, a Swedish perfumer who spent three years on a remote island refining her meditation practice - something she now uses to channel new scent ideas. As evidenced by my ‘fantasy weekend’ opener, I’m pretty overstimulated and not very zen, but they do smell good! My favourites so far are Swimming Pool, Ghost of Tom and Rainbow Rose.

A final beauty note: I’ve become obsessed with straightening my hair after buying some GHDs off Gumtree for £15. My friends say it makes me look younger, but I think that’s because I look like a 2004 teenager who’s really into Avril Lavigne. Still cheaper than Botox though!

Don’t forget to catch up on the latest episode of the Threads of Conversation podcast, where I interview writer, It-girl and front row fixture Osman Ahmed. Other guests include Lyas, Brenda Hashtag, Alexander Fury and Jessica Willis.

You can also find the podcast on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts and follow along on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more episodes, essays and interviews.

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As someone who once wrote copy for a multi-brand retailer’s CRM channels, I am (unfortunately) responsible for more than one ‘best dressed guest’ email. And yet, I’ve never got high on my own supply. They’ve rendered me most-confused guest, most-overwhelmed guest, most-flabbergasted-at-the-price guest - but so far, never what they said on the tin.

Still, I felt sure that I could coax myself out of the dark Comme des Garçons cave to find something at least half-worthy of every e-commerce platform’s favourite subject line.

I knew that the solution had to come from the old school method of going, seeing, looking and feeling, so I started my search in Paris, at an archival fashion boutique called Trévise that I stumbled on en route to a fashion show in January (I missed the show because I was too busy trying things on).

There, I experimented with a few bias cut dresses from the likes of Cavalli and Galliano, before succumbing to a rail of inky darkness - a corner of the store filled with secondhand Comme des Garçons, Helmut Lang & co. Losing sight of my mission, I ended up in the changing room with an entirely monochrome selection, falling hard for this Ann Demeulemeester suit:

Cut in a light wool, the trousers sat low on the hips, whilst the waistcoat was deliberately designed so that only one button does up at the top. It’s a suit for pre-dinner bellies, which doesn’t bode well for generous wedding catering and an afternoon quaffing bubbly champagne in the sun.

I experimented with scribbling a camisole beneath the waistcoat, frantically whatsapping friends to see if any of them could be persuaded to tell me what I wanted to hear. In hindsight, it felt a bit like asking your friends for advice on a bad relationship - everyone skirting the truth, humouring your magical thinking, until you finally cave and realise: this ain’t the one.

Returning to London, I headed to Selfridges to do some fantasy shopping - knowing pretty well that I’d end up falling in love with something far beyond my tax bracket.

I was right: I fell hard at the Rick Owens concession, trying on a soft leather bustier, some satin pants and matching shirt that made me feel like I was going to a Fremen marriage on Arrakis. Formal? Yes. Wedding appropriate? Yes. Within budget? …in my dreams.

Luckily for me, Egyptian designer Nadine Mos had opened her London store a few weeks previously - a beautiful boutique that feels a bit like stepping into Cairo by way of Crouch End. Mos specializes in slinky, flattering pieces that manage to be highly sensual but also very wedding appropriate, in sandy neutrals and rich, jewel tones. Her prices are also a little bit friendlier than other designer fare. Here are a few I tried:

But my favourite things in the whole shop? Black, of course - specifically the overlocked pieces which manage to be deceptively simple whilst also incredibly supportive, hugging and cinching and lifting in all the right places.

I bought the top on the right, but upon consulting my group chats, the majority voted to avoid a black dress for a wedding. The dress in question, called the Helmi overlock dress, also comes in different colours (I love the Cerise) but due to Nadine’s popularity, her store had already sold out in all of those. A restock was en route, but sadly not in time for wedding no.1. I cycled home wondering if perhaps I would just have to accept my fate as most un-dressed guest.

The following weekend I decided to visit Rites, a rental and resale shop that specializes in guest-worthy gowns. I had settled on chocolate brown as my pantone of choice - the closest I could get to wearing black, whilst still obeying the edict of my GC.

My first option was fine, but the leg split immediately sent me catapulting back to 2014 and Angelina Jolie’s much-memed Golden Globes leg-gate.

Then I tried this slinky, slippery number, which looked good but made me feel only a whisper away from still being a potentially un-dressed guest. I don’t know how all these bias-cut Galliano-loving women do it!

Finally, I had my Goldilocks porridge moment, finding a just-right halter dress from Australian label SIR.

I took it to the register to confirm the rental (£70 for 4 days) only to be told that unfortunately, it had already been booked out on my chosen dates. However, they did have the smaller size available, which I dutifully took back to the changing room (rail still heaving with the ten million dresses I’d previously tried on), peeling my clothes off one final time to see if it fit.

I always say that the easiest way to make cheap clothes look expensive is to get them tailored (in the past I’ve taken everything from vinyl flares to adidas shellsuit pants to be altered). Similarly, the easiest way to make good clothes look cheap is to wear the wrong size. Sadly the smaller size tipped the dress over from snug and sexy territory, to a tacky, skin tight affair. I left the store disappointed - drowning my sorrows next door with the girlies’ elixir of choice: an oat matcha.

Whilst sipping on my gentle Japanese beverage, I decided to look up the dress online, and found it on sale for half price on the Flannels website. Given that I have 3 weddings this summer (with no crossover guests) I figured I could probably wear it to all of them - so I hit the button and the dress was mine.

Here’s the final outcome - worn in Marrakech with a Santangelo Somos Como Ninos necklace and Glory’s Forever waist chain, a clutch I got from a now-defunct brand I did work experience with aged 14, Port Tanger sunglasses, and high heeled sandals from a chain-who-shall-remain-nameless. (In a dream world, I would have worn shoes from Ugo Paulon instead.)

Don’t forget to catch up on the latest episode of the Threads of Conversation podcast, where I interview writer, It-girl and front row fixture Osman Ahmed. Other guests include Lyas, Brenda Hashtag, Alexander Fury and Jessica Willis.

You can also find the podcast on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts and follow along on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more episodes, essays and interviews.

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My first stop was Antwerp, where I went to see the MoMu’s new exhibition about the six Belgian designers who studied together at the city’s Royal Academy of Fine Arts in the 1980s, and were subsequently dubbed ‘The Antwerp Six’. They were: Walter Van Beirendonck, Ann Demeulemeester, Dirk Bikkembergs, Dries Van Noten, Dirk Van Saene, and Marina Yee.

The exhibition begins with an almost overwhelming room packed full of photographs, sketches and clippings documenting the designers’ early years at the Academy and explaining the cultural context of their rise.

My favourite detail in this section was the forged invites that the designers used to sneak into shows at Paris Fashion Week. Dries’ dad had a menswear store - both he and their tutor Linda Loppa would receive invites, which they’d then pass on to the designers for them to copy.

I also loved the photographs of the young designers on a trip to the World’s Fair in Japan in 1984, and the postcards they sent home to Loppa (anyone who knows me will know how much I love sending postcards).

Speaking of Loppa, she was one of a number of supporting characters who appeared in the story of The Six. Often cited as one of the world’s greatest fashion teachers (up there with CSM battleaxe Louise Wilson, who passed away in 2014), Loppa also taught Martin Margiela and Demna. (When I profiled the latter a few years ago for Vogue China, I emailed her for a quote).

Linda had trained at the Academy herself, before going on to start a retail boutique, Loppa, in 1978. She was one of the first to sell brands like Gianni Versace, Claude Montana, Helmut Lang, and Comme des Garçons in Belgium. In 1985, she took over as the head of the Academy’s fashion course, replacing painter Mary Prijot, whose traditional attitude the Six had begun to find rather dry.

Another name that popped up frequently in the exhibition was photographer Patrick Robyn, who is credited with many of the early images of the designers’ work. Robyn was Ann Demeulemeester’s husband - the two were already together when she moved to Antwerp aged 16. They also wed the day before the Six went off to Japan. “I remember very well, I married Patrick on Saturday and Sunday we left for Japan,” Ann recalls.

In 1986, Ann actually missed out on the seminal trip to London - the one where the designers acquired the moniker ‘The Antwerp Six’ - because she had recently given birth. Realising that his wife needed support, Robyn gave up his photography career to help Ann build her brand.

One more notable collaborator in the Six’s orbit was makeup artist Inge Grognard, who joined the Six in the camper van they drove from Antwerp to Florence to attend Pitti Trend fair, where they showed their Spring/Summer 1987 designs. To this day, Grognard remains a leading industry figure - she still works with Dries, and was a key collaborator with Demna during his Balenciaga reign.

The designers didn’t really intend to be packaged up as the Six, but like Telfar’s Bushwick Birkin (also not a catchphrase he chose or marketed) the name caught on. Still, seeing the designers’ work side-by-side revealed the flow of ideas amongst this tight knit - and seemingly aesthetically disparate - group.

Walter Van Beirendonck’s bright, cartoonish colours showed up on Dries’ lustrous brocades. Ann and Marina Yee shared a bohemian, tailored elegance, whilst Marina and Dirk van Saene seemed to be the conceptual magpies of the group.

Each designer had their own dedicated room in the exhibition, which they could fill any way they liked. Bikkembergs’ was primarily sports paraphernalia, whilst Dries and Ann opted for a collection of mannequins wearing key pieces from their collections. Dirk’s showed mannequins rotating on a mechanized runway for an audience with painted mask faces. I was charmed by his ‘objet trouvé’-style pieces - a radio held as a handbag, trompe l’oeil toe stockings (of course) and stilettos petrified in perspex block heels.

Similarly, Marina Yee’s immersive workshop was littered with found objects and artistic clutter, which you had to lean through a window to get a look at. Sadly, Yee died of cancer during the making of the exhibition, so her installation acts as something of a mausoleum.

Other exhibition highlights included a room with an enormous curved screen showing talking heads such as Tim Blanks, Raf Simons and Ayo Ojo (Fashion Roadman) discussing the Six.

The last section of the show brought together many of the designers’ show invites over the years - heaven for any graphic designers out there. I particularly loved the Dries van Noten ones, which celebrated his love of flowers and gardens. That last one feels particularly Margiela (Martin is often thought of as the silent seventh member of The Six).

If I had one criticism for the show, it would just be the t-shirt I saw in the gift shop before I left. As a tribute Belgium’s greatest fashion designers, it seems a bit sacrilegious to put them on such a naff item of clothing…

After seeing the show, I visited an archival fashion store nearby. The guy working there told me a funny story: apparently the only remaining posters for the exhibition around the city are the ones displayed inside glass casings. All of the others have been peeled off and stolen by fashion students. The rebellious spirit of the Antwerp Six is alive and well!

Other things I did in Belgium

The day after the exhibition, I got the train to Brussels to attend the launch party for the second edition of 2Day store, an independent pop-up boutique curated by stylist and jewellery designer Anna Santangelo and Fanny Kübler. The concept centres community and discovery, and the curation aims to bring together a variety of objects from makers around the world - ornaments, rare books, archival fashion, jewellery and more. They also donate 10% of all sales to charity.

A few items I loved were the sculptural banana holder, a Prada SS11 skirt and of course, the Santangelo jewellery!

The following day, I legged it up to Ghent before my Eurostar, on a mission to finally see my shayla aka. The Eyck brothers’ famous altarpiece, The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, housed in St Bavos cathedral. I studied this for my Art History A-Level, and its magic has haunted me ever since.

Completed in 1432, the altarpiece consists of 18 separate panels and is the most stolen artwork in history thanks to the robberies of various panels over the years (all but one have been recovered). In the central panel, the lamb of God stands on an altar, pouting slightly thanks to a confusingly yassified restoration in 2019.

Despite this, the level of detail in this artwork is completely flabbergasting - scientists have succeeded in identifying as many as 75 different plant species in the painting. As a mystic lamb mega-fan, of course I did the VR headset tour, too.

That’s all from me this week! Don’t forget to catch up on the latest episode of the Threads of Conversation podcast, where I interview writer, It-girl and front row fixture Osman Ahmed.

Explore more episodes of the Threads of Conversation podcast - previous guests include Lyas, Brenda Hashtag, Alexander Fury and Jessica Willis.

You can also find the podcast on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts and follow along on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more episodes, essays and interviews.

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Here’s what else I got up to in March:

Talking:

The main event was my event! I already wrote a whole newsletter about it, so just click that link if you want to hear more/ watch it back.

A few days later, I got my greasy paws on another mic, this time at Sarabande (the foundation set up by Alexander McQueen to support new talent). I was invited to interview the legendary Dutch couturier Iris van Herpen for their ‘Inspired’ series - we discussed skydiving (one of her hobbies) how she comes up with her futuristic ideas (she reads a lot of scientific books and doesn’t doomscroll) and whether she considers herself a feminist (yes).

We also released the final two episodes of the Beauty Briefing series I’ve been hosting and producing for Liberty. In episode 3, I chatted to the patron saint of scent Lyn Harris (of Perfumer H fame) and ex-Aesop brand savant Daniel Bense, founder of the Iliad-inspired To My Ships. Watch it here.

Episode 4 is a juicy look under the hood of how to build a beauty business (and how much it costs!) with Vanita Parti, Blink Brow Bar founder, and Charlotte Semler, co-founder of natural skincare brands Votary and Verden. Watch here.

Going:

I often describe myself as an ‘outside person’ because I’d probably go to the opening of a crisp packet if I was invited (maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s FOMO).

To kick off the month, I went to Brodie Kaman’s book launch - Brodie is a graphic designer whose work has appeared on album covers for everyone from Mark Ronson to Sega Bodega to Lady Gaga. The party was held at Unified Goods, a rare bookstore in Soho that also has some great vintage tees.

Afterwards, I pottered down the road to Dover Street Market for Stone Island’s launch with Dave. I forgot to take any pictures because I got completely absorbed in conversation with a Glaswegian florist about why Glasgow is so great.

One sunny Saturday I got the train to Margate, where I went to the opening of my friend Ezekiel’s new exhibition at Crate Space (remember this series we did together?) I also ate some delicious seafood at Dory’s, where the waiter sat us next to Tracey Emin. Need to see her show at the Tate.

Speaking of inimitable women artists, yesterday I peeled myself out of bed early for a breakfast at the Royal Academy, followed by a tour of their new Rose Wylie exhibition. Coincidentally, I first encountered her work at the Turner Contemporary in Margate (of which Tracey Emin is a patron - she’s originally from Margate) back in 2016.

I remember seeing a film of Rose talking about how she likes to dress - she often scrunches up newspaper and puts it in the shoulders of her jackets to give herself a more imposing shape. She also works in paint-splattered skate shoes, the kind I wore when I was 12 and obsessed with Avril Lavigne.

The show was spectacular - I love how random her references are. Nicole Kidman on one canvas, a gigantic omelette on the next. Flock Together founder Ollie Olanipekun was also there - naturally he enjoyed how many birds were in the paintings.

I also saw Ollie at my friend ’s dinner to mark 2 years of his consultancy (Dan and I met when he arranged my ToC episode with Raven Smith). I drank too many martinis and ended up at Ellie’s Bar, where Charli XCX went after getting married. Sign of a good time.

Continuining my relentless schmooze, I also attended Positive Retail’s event at their secondhand store in Dalston, in celebration of B-Corp month. I then headed over to newly-opened bookstore Studio Nocturne to raise a negroni for Camille Bidault-Waddington’s new book.

Titled ‘The Office’, it comprises a series of behind-the-scenes iPhone snaps, taken on shoots with some of the stylist’s longstanding collaborators, including former ToC podcast guest Larissa Hofmann.

Listening:

Ten years ago I got an email from i-D Japan, inviting me to interview the music icon Ryuichi Sakamoto. At the time, I didn’t even know who he was. Since that day, I feel like I’ve lived the story in reverse - Sakamoto keeps creeping into my life in different ways, always connecting me with interesting people and teaching me something new.

This time it was via an incredible documentary series called ‘A Century In Sound’, directed by New Zealand-born, Toyko-based filmmaker Nick Dwyer. I interviewed him for a piece on listening bars I wrote back in 2024, and afterwards he sent me the first episode of a 6-part series he’s been working on for over a decade, documenting jazz kissa culture in Japan.

Last week, he premiered the first 3 episodes as a film, and hosted a series of events and talks in various listening bars across London. I went to one at Jumbi (founded by DJ Bradley Zero), where Nick interviewed legendary producer Dennis Bovell about the album he made with Sakamoto, with particular focus on the track ‘Riot in Lagos’, which had a huge influence on electronic music. I also picked up a ‘Deep Dive’ zine on Sakamoto, created by DJ and mega-fan Anu. I’ve been reading it whilst listening to the accompanying NTS mix.

I’m also hunting for a gift link to read Jia Tolentino’s piece about Robyn and her new album, Sexistential. I love the creative direction by SJ Todd, definitely a talent to watch.

Reading:

“She’s a radical woman, you’ll like her” my godfather once told me, recommending a writer I might enjoy. He was right, I love radical women - especially those who write, and this month I read books by two of them.

The first was an advance copy of Lydia Pang’s new memoir Eat Bitter. It’s told via 8 recipes (mostly derived from her Chinese Hakka heritage) and it tracks the messy guts beneath her incredible career as a creative director and founder. I laughed and cried!

The second one I haven’t finished yet, but it’s Zadie Smith’s new essay collection ‘Dead and Alive’. Plenty of radical women in there - I particularly enjoyed the essays on Joan Didion, Toni Morrison, painter Celia Paul and Lydia Tàr.

I also enjoyed this quote from Martin Amis, describing his readers: “People who stare at me very intensely, as if I have some particular message for them. As if I must know that they’ve been reading me, that this dyad or symbiosis of reader and writer has been so intense that I must somehow know about it.” I’m sure that’s exactly how I’d behave if I ever met Zadie.

Wearing:

This Junya Watanabe SS13 skirt I got at one of my favourite secondhand stores in London, whose details I will one day reveal (behind a paywall).

Gifting:

Perhaps this section feels gratuitious or braggy, but I’m lucky to get sent some good stuff from brands (I always refuse things I wouldn’t genuinely wear or use - like the slimming swimsuit offered to me recently. Read the room!) I want to be transparent about getting it for free, but I also want to show you the things I like. So here goes, hope you don’t hate me.

A slinky, skin-friendly black dress from Sylva, who I first discovered when writing this piece about the growing trend for healing textiles.

My current pair of everyday black sneakers have air pockets in the sole. One of them burst, which means they now make a loud hissing noise with each step.

Luckily, Merrell came to the rescue with some aptly timed new shooz. They’re a bit like climbing shoes - the snug fit is very comfortable and makes me want to dart around like a ninja. Also when the side laces come untied, they don’t trip you up. Smart design for clumsy people! (me)

That’s all from me this month! Hope it’s sunny where you are. Feeling extremely lucky to be able to continue talking/ thinking about these comparatively trivial and joyful things when so many others don’t have that luxury right now.

Don’t forget to catch up on the Threads of Conversation podcast - previous guests include Lyas, Brenda Hashtag, Alexander Fury and Jessica Willis.

You can also find the podcast on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts and follow along on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more episodes, essays and interviews.

Subscribe now

Last thing - what’s best/ worst April Fools you’ve seen today? Can be from a brand or a person.

Leave a comment

It was a pair of designer shoes I’d been searching for for months - in good condition, my size, at a reasonable price. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to press go. The reason was the very thing that had attracted me to them in the first place - a simple logo, emblazoned on the toe.

I used to like the flash of a logo - in my early 20s I’d wear a pair of Gucci horsebit loafers* with my dishevelled thrift shop outfits, enjoying the irony of ripped tees and boudoir shorts with a fancy pair of shoes. I also used to carry a Chanel book bag I got at the Paris Salzburg show. In general, a bit of designer bling is a great way to pull together an otherwise grungy or casual look. It’s like tightening a drawstring on your outfit - or quietly saying ‘listen, I know what I’m doing here’.

But recently, my feelings have changed. I’ve developed an allergy to logos and signifiers - even the most subtle or elegant kind. A gold foil brand name on a bag makes me drop it like a hot potato, same with an embossed sunglasses arm. This change of heart goes deeper than just aesthetics. It comes from a sense of disappointment (betrayal, even**) by Fashion with a capital F.

Where luxury fashion is concerned, there used to be an invisible contract between buyer and brand. You as the buyer would pay a premium price for the goods, and in return you’d get something that adhered to the below criteria:

a. It was beautifully made, and would last for a long time

b. The item would also retain its luxury status - meaning it would remain legible as a beautiful, tasteful piece that you’d be proud to wear for years to come

c. You would own something special that not many people had

These days, that contract has been broken. We can no longer rely on luxury brands to deliver us the same quality of craftsmanship as before. And the cycle of trends, combined with flicking designers around like Subbuteo players, means that the signals get scrambled every six months.

Heidi Klum was right when she prophesied: “One day you’re in, the next day you’re out”, only those days are now ever closer together. The consolidation of the industry and the whirring social media mill has created a hypercycle of obsolescence, whereby a must-have piece will suddenly transform into a cheugy relic just a few months later. Your new designer purchase is a ticking time bomb, ready to combust into a meme at any moment.

This is one reason why wearing archival pieces is so popular right now. It’s easier and safer to take ownership of the distant past, rather than risk getting stuck in that liminal space between what was cool then (5 minutes ago) and what is cool now (5 minutes later).

There’s also the question of price. Luxury was never meant to be affordable, and yet there was a sense that at a certain point in your life, when one’s earnings and corresponding lifestyle creep reach a certain level, that perhaps you might be poised to invest in something special, for reasons a., b. and c. above.

I’d say I’ve reached that place in my life - I’m over 30, no longer cycling through different versions of myself, and I want to look sharp and presentable for both professional and personal occasions (disintegrating vintage is harder to get away with post 30). I also have a bit more disposable income to fund this pursuit, plus I work in fashion, so there’s an expectation that I should dress accordingly.

And yet, designer clothing has never felt further out of reach. Luxury goods now cost on average 1.5-1.7x more than they did in 2019. Last weekend, I went to a department store to buy an outfit for an upcoming wedding. I found a gorgeous look I loved - but it came to over £1200, not including jacket, shoes or bag.

Sure, I could just shop within my price range. But I know too much to be satisfied (ethically, aesthetically, intellectually) by high street alternatives. When I talk to my peers, many feel the same frustration. We’re primed to be enthusiastic mid-range consumers, but despite maturing obediently into this demographic, have been left high and dry.

Even on the few occasions I do consider buying into a designer brand, I feel turned off by their audacity. On that same shopping trip, I picked up a pair of designer sneakers, and counted four logos on one shoe - tongue, heel, side, sole. That’s eight in a pair. It’s too much! In an age where every surface of our existence is advertising, the last thing I want is for my body to become a billboard as well.

Another solution is to buy things on sale, or at outlets - but when 30-40% of luxury goods were sold at markdown last year, it makes one even more aware of being duped. Overproduction and excess availability are the opposite of special and unique.

Recently, fashion pundits have been skeptical about the Zara x Galliano announcement (the next in a line of legacy fashion partnerships that see the retailer pushing upmarket, away from the Sheins of the world). Regardless of my feelings around the collaboration***, its reason for being is a direct result of the disintegrating relationship between high fashion and its authentic community. And if the likes of John Galliano, Steven Meisel and Stefano Pilati (who spent 12 years as creative director of Saint Laurent) are willing to work for a high street brand, it hints that perhaps the creatives are dissatisfied with the current model, too. Sure, some just follow the money - but there’s probably also the appeal of young, excited fashion enthusiasts wearing their designs.

Despite my ranting and raving, I want to stipulate that this isn’t a sweeping annihilation of luxury brands as a whole. It’s not the individual designers or labels I feel resistance towards, but rather the system we’ve created to contain (and expand) them. As an avid consumer of secondhand fashion, these names still mean a lot to me - vintage Prada makes me sweat just as much as the next shopper. When I look at runway shows, I’m still taken by the ideas and creativity at their core.

In my mind, there’s an increasing bifurcation of this kind of excitement, and the machinations behind Luxury FashionTM. The latter is obfuscating the former, and making it much less fun. I suppose the fear is that we sell off all the most valuable parts of these brands to the highest bidders (wealthy VICs, rich tourists, billionaire businessmen), leaving the industry with a hole where its soul used to be. And fashion without true emotion is meaningless.

In the meantime, the brands I find myself gravitating towards are those that feel small, quiet, focused. Beautiful quality, exceptional design - but above all, they transmit a feeling of respect for their customer. And most importantly (for me), no logos in sight.**** Because if and when I shell out for expensive clothes, I want to feel like the person behind them considers me an intellectual equal - not a data point, or a sheep to be branded.

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*vintage, but purchased early Alessandro era

**aware that I sound a bit like Neelam Ahooja’s viral letter to The Row here

***I understand the ethical implications, but also don’t see how it’s so different to designers partnering with H&M on various collaborations over the years. The responses feel like a double standard, and I wonder if it also has something to do with the industry’s complicated relationship with Galliano the man.

**** brands that make me feel this way include Johanna Parv, Veilance, Nadine Mos, Phoebe Philo. I also admire designers like Marie Lueder, who are creating their own self-referential world, with their audience at the heart of it.

Don’t forget to catch up on the Threads of Conversation podcast - previous guests include Lyas, Brenda Hashtag, Alexander Fury and Jessica Willis.

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What do you think? Have luxury logos got out of hand? Or am I just a pretentious fashionista whining because brands don’t love me back? Would love to hear your thoughts!

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As a woman who came of age in the 20-teens, I spent those formative years being force-fed Millenial pink girlbossery, which promised that if we grafted hard enough, we’d smash through the glass ceiling and end up happily rubbing shoulders with men in the boardroom. The pay gap would snap shut and maternity qualms would evaporate; all genders would live happily ever after.

Of course, none of that happened. The girlbosses were ousted and over the past decade, progress has made a steady U-turn.

One of the most memorable relics of this era is the #freethenipple campaign, a social media movement that questioned why Instagram would censor pictures of women’s nipples, but not those of a man.

You still can’t post a nipple on the platform, but naked women’s bodies have become ubiquitous - just ask CNN’s fashion reporter Rachel Tashjian, who crowned 2025 the year of the naked dress.

Recently, I’ve also spotted nipples elsewhere in fashion - not just through sheer gowns or or on trompe l’oeil prints. Enter: the nipple heel.

Sitting at the Fashion East show last season, a new kind of footwear caught my eye. As designer Jacek Gleba’s models tottered past me past me, I realised their unsteady gait was caused by a tiny heel poking through the soft fabric of their ballet shoes. At barely over a centimetre, it was less of a heel, and more like a miniature dimmer switch, or a single football stud. An erect nipple, suspending the shoe just slightly off the floor.

These minuscule heels made me smile. Now THIS was fashion. Imaginative, innovative, impractical. What is the point of a design like this, if not to amuse? To confuse? To make us scratch our heads and hypothesise about what we just saw.

An ever-reliable source of suggestive footwear, it wasn’t long before Phoebe Philo delivered her own interpretation. Poking from the sole of her seductively soft ‘Pucker’ pumps you’ll find a pert little stiletto, standing to attention.

More nipples were on show at Milan Fashion Week recently, where Mrs Prada delivered her own version of the heel: covered in feathers, beading and ribbons, and finished with a sharply pointed toe:

Even Jonathan Anderson’s first Dior collection last season, with all its sugar-spun, ultra-feminine girlishness, delivered us a nipple heel moment in the form of his bunny-eared, jewel encrusted pumps, balancing precariously on a little pointy nub:

Whilst related to the kitten heel, nipple heels are their own genre. The characteristics are that they have to be comically small and pointy. In a best case scenario, the wearer should wobble slightly whilst wearing them, putting one foot gingerly in front of the other like a tightrope walker.

Amongst all of the nipple heel purveyors I mentioned, there’s a common thread. Each designer explores femininity in their work; investigating it from a slightly left-of-field point of view. So far at Dior, Jonathan has served sugary sweetness, but not without the odd gigantic butt pannier or two, hinting at more weirdness to come. For Prada, the ‘thinking woman’s brand’, her clothes are always an interrogation, prodding at socio-political questions via the medium of fashion.

As for Phoebe Philo, her woman is serious, austere even, but a little bit of a pervert! She wears her trousers unzipped to her bum cheeks and dangles flip flops seductively from her bare toes, often posing with her legs akimbo, ‘manspreading’ in her powerful, sharply-tailored clothes.

Jacek Gleba describes his work as ‘balletcore for boys’. Perhaps that’s also why I found his nipple heels so refreshing - seeing men take a walk in women’s shoes, even if only literally. Because there is something about these heels that feels reflective of womanhood today.

On the one hand, a low heel appears quite prim, evoking the current conservative mood. But anyone who’s worn a wincy little heel knows the experience is slightly perilous. You feel like you’re not quite standing still, never completely balanced or secure.

For some, they’re a sensible choice - the practical alternative to a high heel that you can still wear on the commute. For others, they beg the question, ‘why bother wearing a heel at all?’

Nipple heels have the aura of something slightly futile, impotent, with a whiff of something suggestive. They don’t really have the aesthetic effect of a true heel - elongating the legs, or making one taller - but they also denounce the practicality of a flat shoe. The wearer is caught in limbo - sold into a false promise by an impractical design system that’s marketed towards women, without really giving them any lift at all.

For me, these shoes feel like the perfect metaphor for the aftermath of #freethenipple and its time. A pointless, precarious souvenir for progress that never came, sending us tottering towards an uncertain future instead. The question is, will we buy into it?

A short story…

Upon publishing this piece, I thought to myself: “This feels like something [freaky shoe queen] would write”. Turns out I was right! As with many things, Liana was the frontrunner on the nipple heel discourse way back in 2024, in which she anointed it ‘bitchiest shoe’. Click here read her full dispatch.

Don’t forget to catch up on the Threads of Conversation podcast - last week’s guest was Lyas, aka. founder of La Watchparty, the free, open-to-all fashion show viewing parties that have become a viral phenomenon during fashion month.

You can also find the podcast on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts and follow along on Instagram and TikTok.Subscribe below for more podcasts, essays and interviews.

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With me on the panel are Dazed’s Fashion Features Director Emma Davidson, art director and all-round soothsayer Willy Ndatira (aka. @williamcult), plus fashion’s favourite TikTok queen Chani Ra.

We’ll also have a secondhand fashion pop-up from my favourite curator, I Have Something Better, who I cooed over in The Face magazine last year. Come for the gossip, stay for the vintage Prada!

Get your tickets here, and use the code THREADSCONVO50 for a 50% subscriber discount.

Looking at my camera roll from February, there are a lot of photos of my shower and my boiler, both of which broke. Amongst these, some evidence of London fashion week. Here are my highlights from the latter:

My favourite shows

Lueder

Marie Lueder has a knack for saying the hard part out loud, as evidenced by the success of her ‘Men Are So Back’ t-shirt last season. This time she showed one that read ‘Sorry, No Budget’ before sending out actress and activist Rose McGowan in a bright red bomber. Rose was one of the most prominent women to speak out against Harvey Weinstein, and her appearance came the day after Prince Andrew’s arrest, and in the midst of the Epstein files muck.

Other model cameos included musician Lava La Rue, nightlife icon Princess Julia and illustrator Clym Evernden, who I recognized because he designed the Liberty Beauty Advent calendar (I worked on the campaign last year). The show was followed by a party at LN-CC, where MRWIZE and The Femcels performed in a sweaty basement. It felt like an actual party, not a fashion party. Go Marie!

Selasi

On Saturday morning I attended the Selasi show, the brand founded by photographer/ artist/florist Ronan Mckenzie. I always love her conceptual approach; this time the show was set in a gym, a nod to her reputation as ‘Queen of PE’ in high school, and also to the theme of stamina, namely the stamina it takes to survive in the creative industries. Feels like a lot of creatives are making work about how difficult it is to be one these days. A shudder of nostalgia ran through the audience when the models did the bleep test mid-show. An apt metaphor.

I spotted Henrietta Gallina amongst the cast, and on the front row were model Alva Claire and director Akinola Davies Jr, whose film ‘My Father’s Shadow’ won a BAFTA the following day. If you haven’t seen the film - it’s absolutely beautiful, although the emotional heft is like a slow-mo punch in the chest. I cried!

On each seat, Mckenzie had left a copy of Selasi Stories. After reading it, I used it to wrap my niece’s birthday present - because every 7-year-old should have strong, creative women to inspire them.

Johanna Parv

Saturday night was the Johanna Parv show, held in a brutalist basement. Johanna’s clothes are designed for an independent woman cycling around the city, and in the middle of the runway were sculptures made from rows of recycled bike seats. Surprise! I was sitting on one of them. From my tiny triangular perch, I watched Johanna’s best collection yet: technical but couture-like, minimalist but not austere. The models walking in unison reminded me of a photo I’d seen by Sarah van Rij at MEP Paris recently. Congratulations to Lisa Dymph on the excellent casting.

Chicest events

Cultured Mag x eBay

On Thursday night, I rumbled across London on the central line to a v glamorous cocktail party at Cece’s, held by Cultured Mag and eBay, and hosted by Camille Charriere and stylist Alexandra Cronan. It felt inky and velvety, with a mirrored staircase like the famous one in Coco Chanel’s rue Cambon HQ, and sexy bathrooms perfect for going to the bathroom only, obviously.

BFC Welcome Breakfast

Sipping tea in old school London elegance at The Delaunay alongside past podcast guests Lyas and Chani Ra, where we enjoyed a rousing speech from the BFC’s leader Laura Weir. LFW is back, baby!

Ewusie @ Space Talk

On Sunday I stopped by listening-bar-cum-sushi-lounge Space Talk to see a panel with designer Ewusie. It was organised by Cynthia Igbokwe, who I think has the best taste in London. She’s also the person behind experimental pianist Precious Renee Tucker’s London show (Tucker wore an Ewusie gown).

After the talks, photographer Liz Johnson Artur played some tracks on the custom Friendly Pressure soundsystem. They don’t allow photos inside, so I have nothing to show you.

What I wore

My fashion mood right now is subversive Madame, cemented by the purchase of an SS13 oil slick Junya Watanabe skirt. Each seam is a zipper which opens to reveal technical mesh beneath, an effect I added to by wearing it with fishnets. Below is me trying it on in the store (with my Vibrams, ofc), and wearing it with a bitchy heel for an event. Call me Carine etc.

What I read

I finally finished Tina Brown’s ‘Vanity Fair Diaries’. It was very 80s and very amusing - Brown’s prose has an old-school copywriter’s flair, harking back to a time when words were as bold and bombastic as the decade’s shoulder pads and hairdos. Her descriptions are very funny and very crucifying - there’s no PR pandering here. What a luxury to not worry about pissing anyone off! Some notable mentions:

“Murdoch’s face has degenerated to the melting rubber mask of a cartoon character” (Rupert Murdoch)

“He looks at me with suspicion like a manic, whiskery prawn” (Leo Lerman, ex-VF editor)

“She’s such an odd duck with her glaucoma look and total absence of conversation. But she does have a flair for a guest list.” (Alice Mason)

“Norman sat with his legs akimbo like a macho koala” (Norman Mailer)

“He still has cascades of wrinkly melted plastic neck and that maddening oldster vagueness.” (Ronald Reagan)

A final note…

Turns out cold showers are actually quite enlivening. I guess Victoria Beckham was right.

Don’t forget to catch up on the Threads of Conversation podcast. You can also find it on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Follow Threads of Conversation on Instagram and TikTok, and subscribe below for more podcasts, essays and interviews.

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My response is a little joke, because I occupy a grey area in the industry, nestled amongst the Venn diagram of traditional fashion week attendees, who can be categorized as follows:

Models: The ones who wear the clothes.

Buyers: The ones who buy the clothes and put them in their stores.

Media + Influencers: The ones who create buzz around the clothes, so that the rest of us can see them on our feeds.

As for me, I used to walk shows, but I’m pretty much retired now. I’ve never been a buyer, but I have worked for three of London’s major retailers, and now consult for various brands. I also used to write for magazines, but my main journalistic output these days is my podcast and this newsletter. As for influencing, apparently I’m deemed a ‘micro influencer’ according to industry terminology?

So you see: not a girl, not yet a model/ buyer/ journalist/ influencer. Instead, a little bit of each - an old hand in a brave new world.

The week I was in Paris was ostensibly men’s fashion week, but it’s actually one where lots of showrooms and PR agencies (mens, womens, and a lot of sportswear brands, I noticed) set up shop in the city, taking advantage of the fact that buyers and media are in town for the shows. If you’re in fashion, it makes sense to stop by; a chance to kill many birds with one stone - discover brands, do meetings, smell the vibe. In essence, the all important schmooze.

The energy is also more relaxed than women’s fashion week in February/ March, where it feels more like a manic smash and grab, with all the celebrities flying into town and brands staging their most extravagant stunts.

I arrived bleary-eyed on the 7am Eurostar, before heading to meet , who runs PRESENT. His whole ethos is around encouraging you to just do/ make the thing. I recommend his newsletter for a hit of enlightenment that always seems to arrive at exactly the right time.

Then I went to the 20th to meet Lithuanian filmmaker Rasa J. I had weird recollections of this area - I lived there with an agent during a particularly fallow period of my modelling career, not a healthy or happy arrangement. It was nice to create some new memories!

In the evening, I headed to the Très Bien pop-up (Très Bien is a chic Swedish menswear store). I spotted a calendar by one of my favourite photographers, Zoe Natale Mannella (see: the butt below) which reminded me that the calendar trend is still going strong.

The next day I visited the Veilance showroom, tucked away like a pocket of pure peace in a courtyard of the Marais, row upon row of simple, technical pieces executed in icy pantones. The only embellishment was a sweeping floral sculpture by Studio Lilo, featuring indigo fronds dripping from the walls. The whole experience made me realise how much more interested I am in smaller brands doing something careful and specific - a newsletter for another day.

One of the funny things about schmoozeathons is that you find yourself subsisting on an exclusively liquid diet - the day is blocked out with coffees, teas and matchas at appointments, and then at about 5pm you swap to wine and beers, leaving you practically afloat (and starving) by the end of the day.

That evening I met friends for (more) drinks (still no food), then headed to DSM Paris for a tiramisu tasting hosted by Apartamento and Danish chef Frederik Bille Brahe (brother of jewellery designer Sophie Bille Brahe). Unfortunately by the time we arrived, the gigantic tiramisu was gone! You schmooze, you lose…

The following morning, I met W David Marx for a coffee. You might remember him as the author of ‘Ametora’, which I wrote about last year. I’d recently finished his new book, ‘Blank Space: A Cultural History of the 21st Century’, and had lots of questions about how one goes about fitting the past 25 years into 300 pages. It’s fascinating, nostalgic ride - I highly recommend.

Whenever I’m in Paris, I always allocate a window of time to visit my favourite gallery, MEP. This time, I saw two exquisite exhibitions by a pair of American photographers, past and present: Edward Weston and Tyler Mitchell. I was chuckling at the Edward Weston captions - every few years he seemed to have acquired a new ‘muse’ who’d appear nude in his pictures. These artist dudes…

For lunch I met a friend from NYC who’s opened a luncheonette-style cafe called DAYS, where they serve delicious New York-worthy bagels.

Afterwards, I biked over to the Sanderlak showroom, hosted by New York-based communications agency Gia Kuan Consulting. Although I mostly dress like a vampire, I loved designer Sander Lak’s use of colour at Sies Marjan, the New York label he designed before its closure in 2020. His new label has the same spirit:

Interestingly, he told me that he can’t have too much colour around him in his home, as its effect on him is too profound; he becomes overstimulated by it. I’m the opposite: I dress in mostly monochrome, but my home is very vibrant.

Speaking of which - of course I made time for some vintage shopping, too. Here are some amazing vintage pieces I tried on but didn’t buy. Still thinking about the Ann Demeulemeester set on the left (if you DM me I’ll tell you where it’s from).

Then it was back to the tranquil Veilance showroom for an event. Clamouring into the main room with the other guests, we witnessed a performance by two brothers, Gaspar and Casper Clausen, who bathed the audience in sonorous music that left everyone feeling quite moved.

The following day was a disaster! A combination of hardcore procrastination and poor time management meant I completely miscalculated everything, missing all my appointments and a show. Had I schmoozed too close to the sun?

I rallied with an almond croissant and vowed to have a more successful evening - first I hit up a HOKA event organised by Lola Clabots, where I also ran into Brazilian filmmaker Limitrofe Television, who I had worked with on a project during the pandemic. Feels like 100 years ago. I drank a delicious peach juice from a slim, elegant glass, which was so unctuous and thick, it almost passed as a snack. Praise be!

Then it was time for actual food at Aux Deux Amies, a restaurant that’s as tightly packed as it is delicious. Performing my finest act of human origami, I folded myself into a seat next to the founder of Charms ice cream. With a keen eye, he pointed out the restaurant’s small-but-mighty gelato maker, perched on a counter amongst the chaos.

My final stop on the Gallic schmooze train was Espace Niemeyer - the headquarters of the French communist party, and an incredible building with a sweeping, flat facade and a sort of pregnant white hump rising from its concrete patio. That evening, it played host to an adidas Stan Smith party, the undulating green carpet and vaulted white ceiling providing a clever aesthetic mirror for the distinctive green and white of the shoe.

Speaking of the ceiling, when you gaze up at it, it gives the illusion of being covered in tiny white playing cards - further research revealed that these are in fact “thousands of suspended, thin, anodized aluminium blades” which act as acoustic sound traps and light diffusers. My photos didn’t do it justice, so here are a few I pulled from the Espace Niemeyer website:

I promised myself I’d be home at midnight, to get some sleep before my early train. So, of course, I ended up in bed at 2.30am.

Next time: Schmoozing in Copenhagen!

Don’t forget to catch up on the Threads of Conversation podcast! Last week’s guest was fashion journalist and Shop Rat writer Emilia Petrarca, who talked about loving Prada and hating flaccid totes.

You can also find the podcast on Apple, Spotify, and YouTube, and follow Threads of Conversation on Instagram and TikTok.

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I have a working theory about holiday style. I think it can be more or less categorised into the below buckets:

1. Me, but on holiday

This is the person that wants to keep hold of their existing style, but simply adapts it to the climate and surroundings they’re in. In the extreme, these are the ones who refuse to bend their wardrobe to the will of a new destination - think jeans at the beach, or Mariah Carey sinking her stilettos into the sand.

2. New me on holiday

These are the people who shop especially for a holiday. They’re ordering floaty resortwear and putting together looks, ready to step into a new vacation version of themselves. They also buy things at their destination - shopping for skimpy bikinis, airy cheesecloth dresses or a cap from the merch selection at their boutique hotel.

3. Leave me alone on holiday

This person views vacation as a chance to fully switch off, and this extends to what they wear. That doesn’t mean they look bad, it just means that any part of getting dressed that feels fussy, or like ‘work’ is abandoned in pursuit of rest and relaxation. Comfort and practicality take centre stage here; clothes are simply a vessel for the activities at hand, whether that’s functional gear for outdoor adventures, or super easy pieces for lolling on the beach.

I’d say I’m a mixture of 1 and 3. I still want to feel like I’m channeling a vibe, or that when I tell someone I work in fashion they won’t immediately think “in what universe?”

But I also want to be liberated from the pressure to pull a look. Much of what I usually wear is dictated by a need (and a desire) to look stylish, so I view holidays as a chance to switch off this brain function. Let it rest and restore, and return with (hopefully) better outfits.

I felt pretty happy with my packing formula for this trip - it’s the closest I’ve ever come to a capsule wardrobe, and one that all fit neatly into one carry-on! Here’s what I brought:

1 x pair of light pants

This was the first time I bought new clothes especially for a holiday (ok so a sliver of no.2 energy). A pair of black Havaianas flip flops (classic, useful), and a pair of CouCou’s ‘The Pant’ in cotton voile. The latter weigh nothing, but don’t feel as exposing as a pair of shorts.

1 x airy white shirt

This is a vintage one with a silky texture - great for throwing over a singlet on a cool evening. A crisp cotton mens shirt would work equally well.

3 x bikinis, 1 x swimsuit

I’ve been friends with the brand Lido since the pandemic, when I pitched them this silly video during lockdown. I’d met the founder Daria in London a few years earlier - she’s Polish but based in Venice. Lido’s swimwear is fun, elegant, and lasts for years. She kindly gifted me a few bits for my holiday (but I’d buy them even if she hadn’t).

My favourite was the Trentasei Gradient in Midnight, which easily doubles as a bodysuit. It matched the stunning sunsets, and my mood. I also got the Venti Gradient in Negroni (such a good shade name) and a classic Venti triangle in black. The difference with their triangle bikinis is that you can wear them as halter neck per usual, or have the straps running parallel like a traditional bra shape.

Lastly I got the Undici Low Waist bikini for a more sporty style. Here are some dorky shots of me looking self-conscious about the prospect of putting swimwear pics in my newsletter:

1 x waist chain

Nobody makes jewellery like Santangelo! This waist chain is called Glory’s Forever. An easy and elegant way to accessorise your swimwear.

2 x t-shirts

1 white t-shirt, I chose this Cocteau Twins one that I bought on Depop. (I was fooled into thinking it was a cool vintage tee, but turned out to be a cheesy brand new replica - I’ve been in the process of re-weathering it ever since).

Then my beloved giant purple tee which I accidentally took two quite arty close-up photos of without really knowing how. Sometimes it pays to be a dweeby Milliennial!

2 x pairs of cycling shorts, 1 x pair of baggy adidas basketball shorts

Cycling shorts + a large t-shirt = easy 90s Lady-Di-on-holiday effect. Also cool with a bikini top for a beach lunch. Baggy basketball shorts for a sk8r boi alternative.

1 x Spiral Boxer Skirt

My fave from Dauan Jacari, made from deconstructed boxer shorts. You can listen to them talking about it on the podcast!

3 x tank tops

I buy my tank tops in multipacks from Hanes - I just get the largest size I can find in the kids ones.

2 x sun hats (one wide brimmed and one cap)

I guess I am also a smattering of no.2, because I bought this hat in Palermo last year. I think the rule of holiday merch is that it only becomes charming once you leave the place where you bought it.

3 x pairs of shoes

Flip flops, trainers for walks/hikes, and of course, my toe shoes!

What about you? Which genre of holiday dresser are you? Any packing hacks we should know?

Don’t forget to catch up on the Threads of Conversation podcast! Last week’s guest was Jessica Willis, Fashion Director at The Cut and frequent Kendrick Lamar collaborator (she worked on his Super Bowl Halftime show last year - the most watched in history).

You can also find the podcast on Apple, Spotify, and YouTube, and follow Threads of Conversation on Instagram and TikTok.

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My biggest takeaway from my style choices this year was the idea of ‘permission’. On the podcast, guests often tell me about their first big fashion purchase. These are usually reckless, expensive decisions made in their twenties. I didn’t make any reckless, expensive decisions in my twenties (fashion-wise, at least). I’ve barely made any in my thirties, either. Despite working in the fashion industry for nearly two decades, surrounded by luxury clothes, I still didn’t think of them as ‘for me’.

This is partly by design - fashion is an industry built around the haughty sense that nobody is completely welcome; an emotionally unavailable lover who remains perpetually out of reach. It also comes down to money. You can only participate if you have the means, and designer fashion has become eyewateringly expensive. I’m still miles away from the income bracket of a brand’s ideal customer.

But it’s not just the numbers that have created a barrier between me and buying into the designers I admire. There’s also a psychological sense of waiting for a day where I feel ‘grown up’ enough. Perhaps this is my own Peter Pan syndrome, or a hangover of being a child who constantly grew out of things (at nearly 6 foot 2, I hope this phase is finally over).

This year I decided to take myself a bit more seriously. To commit to bigger, more confident purchases, and to wear more avant-garde designer looks (if not now, when?)

I think like many of us, I’m also chasing that holy grail of ‘the finite sense of style’. The one we’re often sold by shopping articles packed with links, promising that X or Y piece will be the final bridge to personal style nirvana. In reality, style rarely works like that - some experiments really flop!

Earlier this year, I wrote about how time is the essential ingredient for great style - both timelessness (forever pieces) and timeliness (trends). But even then, you can’t always win. Some trendier outfits don’t age well, and timeless style can be a bit of a snooze.

So in the spirit of ‘the journey not the destination’ - here’s a time capsule of what my wardrobe looked like this year.

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Great Buy 1: The Skirt

Imagine spotting someone in an incredible skirt. It’s inky black wool, gathered on one side with kilt buckles on the other, and finished with a frill. You ask them where it’s from and they reply casually: “Oh this? I picked it up at a secondhand fashion sale I stumbled upon in the Marais on a recent trip to Paris.” Don’t you just want to punch them in the face for being so smug? Well, that person is me.

The skirt is secondhand Comme des Garçons, sold cheap because it’s missing the tag. I’ve worn it non-stop since I bought it, and it’s prompted the above interaction more than once (nobody has punched me yet, though).

Great Buy 2: The Jacket

Episode 2 of this nauseating tale follows a similar trajectory. Enter: woman wearing a fantastic, unusual jacket - the kind that goes with everything, but still looks completely unique. Where did she get it from? OF COURSE she got it from an archive boutique in Berlin that only allows 4 people in at a time, and operates a ban on photos inside the store. Again, hi, it’s me.

When I walked into the shop, another woman was actually trying the jacket on. I immediately clocked it, and waited for her to take it off. As soon as she set it aside, I pounced. When I put it on, it fit like Cinderella’s slipper, if Cinderella was a 90s rave princess with a taste for technical details and zippered edges.

The shopkeeper (an iconic New Yorker who had worked for Vivienne Westwood in her World’s End store) beamed approvingly. The woman who rejected it looked pained; she realised her mistake, but it was too late. I smiled at her politely (without taking it off) and swiped my card. The jacket was mine.

It’s from a brand called Marithé + François Girbaud, whose aesthetic fits with the kind of Kiko Kostadinov-y functional goblincore vibe that’s popular at the moment. You can actually unzip the sleeves and wear it as a waistcoat, or wear the sleeves detached like a bolero. God I love it.

Great Buy 3: The Boxer Skirt

I’d had my eye on one of Dauan Jacari’s spiral boxer skirts for a year or so. When I got the designers on the podcast, I told myself I’d buy one as a ‘reward’ once the episode aired. It’s literally a skirt made from boxer shorts, and I feel like it epitomises the spirit of New York - especially the New York I lived in from 2015-2018. So when I planned my trip there in May (my first since 2019), I ordered the skirt so it would be waiting for me on arrival.

I wore the skirt almost every day that trip, and all throughout the summer after that. It’s light, easy and looks good with everything.

I love it rolled over and layered with trousers per the below pictures I saved. I tried to replicate the look but actually don’t think it worked very well - maybe the pants underneath were too wide. Let’s not even mention those fugly Zara nun shoes I panic bought before my trip (what was I thinking??) Not sure if the blue jacket works either.

I’m going on holiday next week and will be wearing the skirt with my new Lido swimsuit - exposed hips inspired by Rosalia’s chastity belt in her ‘La Perla’ music video.

Great Buy 4: The Tuxedo Trousers

Sometimes you just want to feel extremely chic. For me, the recipe is simple: high quality black separates. I have a few pieces in my wardrobe that fit the brief, but was missing a pair of slouchy wool trousers. I think I’m personally responsible for keeping Phoebe Philo’s SEO afloat thanks to the number of times I’ve opened this page on her website. Other contenders included Wardrobe NYC and St Agni, but shelling out £1000+ for a pair of pants is not realistic in my current tax bracket (St Agni’s are just under £500 - still a lot, but not as lethal).

The weekend before Christmas, I decided to take a break from gift shopping and stop by my favourite secondhand store in London.

I’ve bought a few great pieces there in the past, and also a few mistakes, where I was blindsided by the owner’s impeccable taste and momentarily forgot that I’m not someone who wears shiny crimson suit pants (even if they are Comme). The secondhand gods were smiling on me, and I found these perfect Lanvin trousers for £280.

The T-Shirt

In case you were groaning at all these smug secondhand designer finds, firstly let me remind you that there are loads of shit outfits that I haven’t included here. And secondly, sometimes an enormous purple t-shirt will capture your heart, despite your better judgement.

This t-shirt is not especially flattering, stylish, or cool. It’s so big you could pitch it as a tent, and it’s the only purple item I own. But something about it is just perfect. The cotton is thick and cosy, the neckline is wide and flattering and the colour is so unusual. The silly muscle man on the front echoes how I feel in it - powerful, puffed up, maybe a bit delusional. Sometimes you just need to lean into what feels good.

My Styling Obsession

An Easter egg you might have noticed is a styling detail that consumed me this year - skirts over trousers. I’ve always been a bit of a Shrek when it comes to getting dressed (I love onion-like layers and textures - his crumbly mud waistcoat! What a look. I digress.)

Historically, I also gravitate towards long, flared trousers. This year I discovered they look great when pooling from the bottom of a midi skirt. Also, the area from waistband to mid thigh is often the least flattering part of a pair of pants - so why not cover it up?

I even went so far as to buy a pair of leggings with a skirt built in, which leads me to my next obsession…

My Designer of 2025

Regular readers will have heard me bang on about my love of Estonian-born, London-based designer Johanna Parv. Her work is inspired by the concept of a woman cycling through the city - autonomous, fast and free.

The pieces are incredibly sleek, but also very functional, made of durable, technical fabrics with hidden zips and pockets to transform for different environments. In a practical sense, they suit my Lime-bike lifestyle. But in a spiritual sense, they remind me of the woman I aspire to be - elegant, efficient and independent.

In September I went to Johanna’s show at London Fashion Week, and wrote her show notes. I also borrowed a look to wear in October, when I hosted my first London Threads of Conversation event.

The Outfit You All Loved

You might remember this little Zac Posen jacket from my thrifting adventures in New York. Originally I thought it would look great with a pair of capri pants. Sadly I was wrong.

Luckily I found a satin Roland Mouret pencil skirt at a secondhand sale, bringing my Victoria Beckham 00s look full circle. I wore it twice, once to host a talk and another time to a friend’s wedding, and I’ve never had so much positive feedback on a look! I guess people want me to embrace my sexy secretary side in 2026.

The One That Won’t Quit

Maybe you’ve heard enough about my toe shoes, but the love affair endures (partly because I keep being tagged on Instagram by various Korean magazines alongside the likes of Jennie and Paloma Elsesser. And partly because they’ve made all my foot pain go away!)

This year I met and interviewed FiveFingers’ CMO Abby Bucknall about the shoes’ explosive success. I’ve worn my original mesh pair so much that they have (more) holes in them, and none of the shops can keep them in stock. So Abby kindly gifted me a new pair - super soft leather ballet flats that I thinkkk will be officially released next year. Keep your toes crossed…

The Return of an Icon

I call this coat the ‘influencer coat’ because it was everywhere during the fashion week street style heyday of the mid 20-teens. I bought it off a friend in New York (hello Melissa Kenny) a few years ago, wore it for a winter or two, and then set it aside for being too big and ostentatious. I nearly sold it last year, but another friend (hello Leonie Barth) urged me to keep it, so I did.

I brought it back out for a funeral, of all occasions, and realised I still love it! It has a slit along one shoulder seam so you can stick your arm out of it and have the sleeve trailing at the back. It’s Marques’Almeida, but everyone thinks it’s Rick Owens.

My Sunglasses Stack

I got roasted on TikTok this year for bringing my Dries van Noten sunglasses to Glastonbury festival, but I regret nothing. This year I rotated between three pairs of sunnies - the DVN ones (a collaboration with Linda Farrow), a pair of vintage Chanel ones and a pair of wraparound Oakley glasses for running and raving. The DVN ones are quite impractical (as many great fashion choices should be) - too tinted to wear indoors, not tinted enough to wear in the sun. They’re like my fashionable lab goggles for an experiment called life.

My Biggest Challenge

Shoes! I’m a size 41, and have to wear custom orthotic insoles to support my weak little arches (yes, you can fit them inside toe shoes). Nice shoes are so expensive these days, and cheaper ones are often poorly made. I’ve been trying to find good ones secondhand, which has led to a slew of misguided purchases. First there were the vintage Chanel heels I convinced myself weren’t too small (they were), then the 90s Puma ballet flats from Vinted that were too big. And finally, a pair of Simone Rocha fluffy clogs that make me unnecessarily tall. (The latter 2 are still available on my Vinted, FYI).

Beauty and Grooming notes

This section is a bit tentative, as I don’t use heaps of products, and most of the stuff I use is things I get sent for free. Still, my PR friends know what I like (simple, natural, an ambient avoidance of Big Pharma), and I don’t peddle products I wouldn’t use myself.

The thing I buy over and over again (no PR involvement whatsoever) is La Roche Posay 50+ moisturising cream. People tell me I look young(er) and I really believe it’s down to this. I’ve used factor 50 sunscreen every day since I was in my early 20s, after having the dangers of sun damage drilled into me during my childhood in Australia.

I’ve also been alternating between Emma Lewisham and Votary products this year - my favourites are Emma Lewisham’s Supernatural Sleeping Mask and Votary’s Rose Geranium and Apricot Cleansing oil. The latter is especially good for winter, when you don’t want to lose a drop of moisture from your skin.

I barely wear makeup, except for a daily lick of eyebrow gel. I’ve tried them all: MAC’s isn’t strong enough for my whiskers, and I find Refy’s too thick. I used Benefit 24-hour Brow before discovering the Blink Brow one. The wand is quite small, but it allows for more dexterity when shaping, and holds my brows firm all day.

On my nails, I clip them short and wear a coat of Rimmel 60-second drying clear polish to make them look clean. I still wear Glossier ‘You’ - I actually interviewed the perfumer Frank Voelkl earlier this year (he also created Liberty LBTY.’s Zephirine, one of the brands I freelance for).

As for my hair, this is a battle I’ll never win! See this section as confessional, rather than advice.

I have thick, voluminous hair that grows as much horizontally as it does vertically, especially in humidity. It’s also increasingly threaded with grey, so I’ve got to decide whether I embrace it (see: sleek Sarah Harris), or follow my own advice (see: dyeing it red).

At the moment I’m growing it out after a brief return to the bob in late 2023. To hide the awkward length, I glue it to my head using V05 mousse and about 6 hairbands. I’m historically resistant to spending money on haircare products, so it’s a very Boots pharmacy-coded routine. I probably wouldn’t recommend, tbh!

If you’ve made it this far, then tell me about what your style looked like this year. What did you wear the most? Looking back, did any patterns emerge? And did these tell you anything about yourself? I’d love to hear.

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The year is 2015, my first year of ‘full time’ modelling. I’d moved from Sydney to New York, but ended up stuck in Paris after fashion week, living in the spare room of a strange French man called Fréd - ostensibly a ‘friend’ of one of my agents.

He lived in the snooty 16th arrondissement, and was constantly eating my food out of the fridge. When I confronted him about it, he sheepishly slapped his belly and muttered “il faut que je perds des poids pour Cannes” (“I need to lose weight for Cannes”).

In order to avoid Fréd (who squeezed himself into the tiny kitchen with me at any opportunity, bursting out of his room whenever he heard the rustle of wrappers or the suction pop of the fridge door), I was spending a lot of time hanging out with a friend from Australia, Felicity. She was living on the other side of town with her French partner, and working at an agency called Ritual Projects, founded by the icy-haired PR icon Robin Meason (now PR director at Balenciaga).

It was late March, which meant a weird post-fashion month slump. I’d walked a few good shows at Paris Fashion Week - Vivienne Westwood, Yohji Yamamoto, Carven - and had a few options** on the table, but nothing was coming through. I was feeling a bit lost, shuttling from one side of the city to visit Felicity for wine after work, with a lot of aimless floating in between.

So when another friend of mine, Izzi, invited me to accompany her to a Chanel show in New York, I thought ‘why the hell not?’ Izzi was the frontwoman of an Australian rock band called The Preatures. She had shaggy black hair, a velvet voice and 60s superstar energy, so it was no surprise when she was plucked by Chanel to be their Australian ambassador.

The show was a restaging of the house’s most recent Arts et Métiers collection, originally shown in Salzburg, Austria. Izzi was invited as one of their coterie of celebrity guests, meaning she’d be dressed and seated front row amongst the likes of Beyoncé and Pharrell.

I had a job the following week, so the trip would only be two days long. It seemed a bit crazy to fly from Paris to NYC for just 48 hours, but also a very fabulous thing to do. Plus, I needed a break from Fréd and his fridge.

So I booked cheap flights via my favourite budget airline (Norwegian Air, RIP) and told Izzi I was coming. The next big question was what the hell I was going to wear. Luckily Felicity had a solution.

Ritual Projects were representing an underground fashion collective called Vetements, who had just shown their second collection at Paris Fashion Week. The previously unknown designers had recently been revealed; two brothers called Demna and Gurum, supported by a stylist called Lotta Volkova (who, incidentally, opened the show).

Felicity told me they had look 32 in the showroom, and that they could lend it to me for the event. It was an oversized grey suit jacket, worn with a red silk dress underneath. She told me the brand would soon be really big.

After bundling my ballgown into a garment bag and boarding my budget flight, I arrived at JFK, heading for the Bowery hotel, where Izzi was staying.

Her suite had been transformed into a decadent dressing room, with Chanel finery draped over the bed and armchairs. I went to get a manicure - Chanel 155, Rouge Noir - and then came back to get ready with her. The makeup artist and hairstylist had arrived, and someone was snapping photos.

Izzi asked if I wanted to borrow anything to wear. I had my Vetements look, but something about the red dress felt too formal. I still wanted to feel like myself. I picked out a metallic silver top from Izzi’s pile of Chanel options, pairing it with my old Levi’s 501 jeans and adding the Vetements jacket on top.

I’ve never been a big handbag person, so instead just carried a little leather pouch that came inside an opulent Givenchy shopper - the one I was gifted a year prior, before being cancelled for the show. Izzi, the perennial rockstar, wore an oilslick striped jacket with black jeans and red suede Dorateymur boots (also RIP).

At the venue, I was seated behind Beyoncé and Anna Wintour (the first time I’ve been sat behind The Bob, but not the last***).

From here, my memory gets a little hazy. There was a star-studded afterparty, where Cara Delevigne and Pharrell performed a duet. I remember meeting Lily-Rose Depp, who told me I was pretty (“thanks, you too”). A couple of flashy New York fashion people asked where my jacket was from. When I told them it was Vetements, they hadn’t heard of it.

We eventually ended up at The Standard Hotel on the West Side, in that opulent gold room on the top floor, the ‘Boom Boom Room’. I remember we were served mini burgers in the small hours, and Izzi accidentally smooshed one on the lapel of my jacket. Mortified, I made a mental note to deal with that before returning to Paris the following night.

After the party wrapped, we returned to Izzi’s hotel room at the Bowery, where we ordered hot chocolate from room service. It arrived in a brown enamel pot with matching mugs, my enduring memory of the only night I’ve ever spent at that hotel. We changed out of our fashionable outfits and into the fluffy hotel robes, eventually falling asleep in the gigantic cloud bed.

The following morning, I called a friend at Albright Fashion Library to ask her advice on how to remove the burger sauce from my precious press sample. I can’t remember what she recommended, and I occasionally wonder if it ever truly came out - or whether that historic collection still bears the shadow of one erstwhile model’s wild night in New York…

When I arrived at JFK (the grossest terminal with the worst food options) for my 11pm redeye, I was informed the flight was 5 hours delayed, and would now be departing at 4am. Each passenger was given a $10 voucher by way of apology, which I used to buy one of the rankest wraps I’ve ever eaten.

Exhausted, I laid my garment bag across a hard ledge in a corner of the gate, bedding down on my party outfit for a nap. A humbling end to a whirlwind 48 hours; a dream inside a dream.

*Every year since 2002, Chanel has presented a Métiers d’art collection. These celebrate the exceptional French craftsmanship at the heart of the Chanel, and are a declaration of love to the artisans who underpin the house.

**‘Options’ in modelling mean jobs you are on hold for. If you’re a model who does fashion shows, then the shows you walk during fashion week will determine the quantity and quality of your options for the season ahead. Often your agency will use these as a carrot to get you to stick around in a certain city, especially if your agency there is not your ‘mother agency’, meaning they only make money off you when you work in their region.

***

Common Threads:

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November is a cute month. She feels like the number nine, which is my favourite number. There are still a few crunchy leaves about, things are starting to feel festive, and the home run towards the end of the year has begun (without the panicked smash-and-grab energy of December).

I think this month’s theme would probably be ‘inspiring women’ aka. my North Star. Whenever I feel a bit rudderless, all it takes is listening to some sage femme to make me feel anchored and reassured.

Talks I went to

The first brain massage came c/o and former Threads of Conversation podcast guest Sharmadean Reid, who were discussing the literature behind Sharmadean’s luxurious new bathing brand, 39BC. (If I were going to push one more podcast/ newsletter down your throat other than my own, it would be Phoebe’s ‘Deep Read’.)

If I could magically download one bit of Phoebe-Sharma software into my brain, it would be their voracious reading habits. Those women eat books for breakfast! I asked them how they did it - Sharmadean said that leaving her phone in another room whilst she reads does the trick, whilst Phoebe said that using the Opal app has revolutionised her life (she only spends 30 mins per day on Instagram!)

Feeling optimistic and inspired, I stayed up til 3am ordering secondhand books on eBay. I bought ‘Living, Thinking, Looking’ by Siri Hustvedt, ‘Bad As I Wanna Be’ by Dennis Rodman and ‘A Room of One’s Own’ by Virginia Woolf.

I also saw set designer Es Devlin (of Beyoncé Renaissance tour fame) and art historian Katy Hessel in conversation at Liberty. They were discussing Katy’s new book, ‘How to Live An Artful Life’, full of advice from artists on exactly that.

Scribbled in my notes app: Es referencing the artist Gordon Matta-Clark, saying she went on a retreat at Plum Village, and describing how she once pressed a copy of ‘The Age of Surveillance Capitalism’ into Google CEO Sundar Pichai’s hands.

Events + parties I attended

More strong women were in evidence at the launch of Dr Karen Doherty’s partnership with skincare brand Lesse, which was held at Dr KD’s eyewateringly chic HQ in Shoreditch. Imagine if Rick Owens met Phoebe Philo and then birthed a skincare clinic filled with impossibly glamorous women.

The event was also catered by culinary artist and friend-of-Threads-of-Conversation, Nil Mutluer, who created sci-fi beakers of green and yellow liquid levitating atop a lavish cheese board. I also ran into another past podcast guest (say it three times fast), Henrietta Gallina, Chief Creative Officer at Mulberry, founder of Citizen Magazine, and honestly just the epitome of the word ‘serene’.

On the other end of the spectrum, I stepped into a time capsule which hurtled me back to 2018, when I used to trawl around behind my friend Yuki’s band Bo Ningen whenever they had a London show. (I remember one time Yuki’s friend Shiori Takahashi gave him extra hair extensions for a show that were so long they got caught in his guitar. Somewhere in the internet there’s also a video of me backstage reading aloud from Otessa Moshfegh’s ‘My Year of Rest and Relaxation’ for no apparent reason.)

Yuki and the Bo Ningen guys have long been fashion favourites, shot by everyone from Harley Weir to Liz Johnson Artur. They’re also a beloved fixture on the music scene. For their first London gig in ages, they’d collaborated with Jawara Alleyne (that’s right, another podcast guest! You can also watch his episode here) to create a line of custom t-shirts, which they launched at a party hosted by An0ther magazine. I saw a lot of old friends and felt very fuzzy and nostalgic.

Back to this month’s theme, though: powerful women. I certainly felt like one as I was speeding around a sodden racetrack in a go-kart, c/o the amazing duo Babes with Blades who had teamed up with Nike to put on probably the most fun and original event I’ve attended in a while. There was also a customisation station with designer Ancuta Sarca where I stashed a pair of free socks (it’s really hard to keep up with laundry day whilst also schmoozing at all these events!)

Wasn’t I a bit tired at this point? Of course not! The opening of a can hates to see me coming.

A few other notable events included sipping a whiskey cocktail from an elegant, handblown glass at The Singleton’s Christmas drinks with Alex Eagle, and attending the opening of the gargantuan new KITH store in central London, which is like a glittering maze full of treats - both the fashion kind, and the ice cream kind, plus a surprise DJ set from Little Simz. I didn’t take any pics because I was really drunk having too much fun.

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At the risk of over-referencing my own work, remember when I wrote about how calendars are the new editorials? Well it seems I was onto something, because I also went to the launch of a gorgeous new calendar from Athlyn, a floral design studio who worked with SM Studio on a range of exquisite printed collateral. The event was organised by , who you might recognise from her 3 Minute Thread. She commissioned a beautiful black sesame and lychee cake from pastry chef Louis Thompson, who you might also recognise from his 3 Minute Thread.

Videos I watched

Would you believe that even amongst all this glitz and glamour, my favourite evening of the month was actually parking my mum (sagest femme of all) in front of YouTube after dinner one night, and forcing her to accompany me down a rabbithole of My Favourite YouTube Videos Of All Time.

The first was Jamie xx’s 2016 music video for ‘Gosh’, which was directed by a French director called Romain Gavras (he also dated Dua Lipa back in 2023 *sips tea). It’s the most amazing and surreal video, shot in Tianducheng, China - a city designed for tourists which boasts its own Eiffel Tower and Champs Élysées. AI in real life, before the age of AI.

For the otherworldly video, they cast 300 students from a nearby kung fu school, and bleached their hair with the help of a local hair salon. “There was negotiation with the the bosses of the school,” Gavras explained in this 2016 interview. “They said ‘We’ll allow you to bleach them, as long as you put them back to a dark hair colour. And you can only bleach them one day before, because we don’t want to pervert them too long.’” Obviously we had to watch the BTS video, too.

You liked that mum? Well, allow me to screen another film that blows my mind every time I watch it - director Jonathan Glazer’s 2006 Sony Bravia ad, which was shot on an estate in Glasgow rigged with 70,000 litres of paint inside balloons which were exploded in formation, and took a team of 60 people 5 days to clean up afterwards. The definition of ‘you’ve got one shot’.

Of course she was agog! How did they do it? This meant I had the green light to show her the making-of video, too, which then got us onto another of Jonathan Glazer’s early hits, when he directed the music video for Jamiroquai’s ‘Virtual Insanity’. How did he do that?? Luckily, mum, there’s a video explaining that too!

By this point, she had grown weary of my YouTube watch party, announcing that it was time for bed, but that she was grateful for all the enthusiasm I’d shared. I’m sure if you’ve read this far, that’s probably how you feel, too.

Thanks for powering through, and see you next week! When (fingers crossed) I’ll have a new podcast episode to share with you. In the meantime, godspeed with all those gift guides…

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Whilst dermatologists were quick to debunk these false promises, the stunt reflects a trend that’s been bubbling away over the past few years: textiles that deliver health benefits through prolonged contact with the skin.

Last month, Coperni (a fashion brand with a taste for hi-tech viral moments) released a new line called ‘C+ Carewear’, which claims to “deliver active skincare benefits throughout the day” via a blend of pre and probiotics embedded in the fabric. Even supermodel David Gandy is getting in on the action - in September he introduced ‘Wellwear Care’ as part of his new basics line. Apparently it “imbues the fabric with the moisturising and anti-inflammatory skin caring properties of Aloe Vera extract”.

Back in 2023, I interviewed a textile scientist called Rosie Broadhead, who’s spent the past few years researching and developing a similar technology. Her brand, Skin Series, offers probiotic base layers designed to soothe conditions like psoriasis and colonise good bacteria on the skin.

Back then, the technology was pretty new, with most embedded fabrics being used in a medical context for wound dressings or things like nicotine patches. In the years since, the beauty and wellness industry has exploded, clearing a space for these kind of textile innovations to thrive.

Beauty - once an intimate, private ritual - has become a performance played out on social media, and the perfect stage to bring wearable beauty to the mainstream. It started with the face mask, a core tenet of the K-beauty craze that had us all applying slippery, goopy fabric to our face. Then came the pimple patches, especially Starface, whose colourful zit-zapping stickers are now an everyday part of the Gen-Z aesthetic.

Undereye patches have also become status symbols, with brands like Chanel, Topicals and Rhode making the ‘eye patch’ selfie part of their marketing playbook. From there, we graduated to mouth taping, face taping and daily sheds - more materials being affixed to our faces, and peeled away to reveal ‘better’ skin beneath.

This behavioural shift means we’re much more accustomed to absorbing beauty products via stickers and fabrics worn on the skin, making cosmetic clothing a logical next step. Shifting the focus from face to body also provides a larger surface area, both for absorption, but also for hungry executives keen to capitalize on the trend.

It’s here that the technology intersects with another of today’s hottest topics: longevity. The biggest buzzword in health and wellness over the past few years, longevity tactics encourage us to ‘biohack’ our way to peak performance, avoiding inflammation and optimizing the body’s natural healing functions. (We see this in beauty, too, with regenerative medical procedures such as microneedling, skin boosters and red light therapy.)

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Going back to Rosie Broadhead’s work, her journey started when she was working for various sportswear brands. She realised that the chemicals applied to fabrics to make them antibacterial or water-repellent are often harmful to the skin’s microbiome, and increase our exposure to toxic chemicals via the skin. A lot of these technical fabrics are also made from synthetic materials, so they shed microplastics when worn and washed.

The current focus on health and longevity means consumers are also becoming more aware of these risks. The halcyon days of gorpcore are over - a high performance, hike-ready jacket might make you feel at one with nature, but not if it’s upsetting your microbiome and causing you to absorb even more chemicals.

But whilst heightened consumer awareness is a net positive, how can we be sure that these new fabric innovations aren’t all face-sculpting snake oil? Coperni’s line, for example, cites HeiQ as the company behind its new C+ technology. But what it doesn’t say is that HeiQ actually develops microbes for use in cleaning products, and that their initial textile innovations were around mattress fabrics that prevent dust mites. As for the ‘good bacteria’ they’ve embedded in the garments, these aren’t actually the same type found in the skin’s microbiome. For SKIMS, even if there was some collagen absorption from the face mask, the synthetic backing means you’re also ingesting microplastics, too.

Still, there are some companies making positive strides. Rosie cites Pangaia as a brand we should look to for performance clothing created without fossil fuel-derived fabrics. Their plant-based activewear is made using renewable raw materials, including castor beans and industrial corn, and is finished with an odor-control treatment derived from natural peppermint oil, to encourage more wear between washes.

Another smaller brand I have my eye on is Sylva, created by stylist Tallulah Harlech as an answer to her own skin sensitivity issues (she’s suffered from guttate psoriasis since she was a child). The collection currently comprises a long-sleeve top, a legging and a bodycon dress made from natural performance materials like eucalyptus and seaweed, and is designed to be anti-irritant, biodegradable and microbiome-friendly. Not to mention extremely chic!

No doubt more brands will keep popping up in the space - some with more legitimate claims than others. Whether or not these technologies will fulfil their promise of greater health and longevity is yet to be seen, but the move towards textile-based wellness signals a shift in our relationship with what we wear. Beneath our clothes lies not only the skin’s microbiome, but a petri dish of social and cultural threads, too.

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The first half of the month was absorbed with planning and hosting my first London event, a panel talk in the Selfridges Cinema where I was joined by Dazed’s Fashion Features Director Emma Davidson, curator and former podcast guest Willy Ndatira (aka. williamcult) and Beauty Editor Dominic Cadogan. We chatted about all the new creative director debuts at fashion month - it was very fun and chic. Watch it below, or listen on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.

Speaking of fashion month, I also published a v personal account of what it was like to maintain a ‘runway body’ during my modelling career 10 years ago. I’m terrified by the massive response so far, but hopefully this means it reflects a wider sentiment (as opposed to just being more weight loss porn).

Exhibitions I went to:

Mid-month, I went to see the Barbican’s new fashion exhibition, ‘Dirty Looks’. The storytelling felt a little scattergun, but there were some amazing moments in the show. I was particularly fascinated by this 20th Century Madame Grès couture gown, embellished with crystals grown from human sweat, an innovation by textile engineer Alice Potts.

I also never knew that Hussein Chalyan was such a fan of burying his clothes, a process he began for his 1993 graduate show, ‘The Tangent Flows’, where he dug up his collection right before the show. In ‘Temporary Interference’ (Spring/Summer 1995), a dress coated with copper filings was buried near the river Thames, creating an intensely pigmented, alchemically transformed green garment. In ‘Map Reading’ (Autumn/ Winter 2001), he buried four chiffon dresses. When exhumed, the fabric looked like petrified wood covered in corroded sequins.

This process of burying clothes reminded me of the Japanese-Americana artisan brand visvim, who I wrote about last year. Their ’future vintage’ aesthetic is achieved through dyeing jackets in volcanic mineral mud and burying shoes underground. “We dig a hole in the ground, and put them there for two weeks, then dig them out and clean off the bacteria,” designer Hiroki Nakamura told SSENSE.

The exhibition also got me thinking about who gets to be ‘dirty’, especially after the clean girl, quiet luxury mania of the past few years. It feels like our relationship with dirt goes a bit like this:

normal dirt: being a child, working the land

↓

cleanliness: being ‘civilized’, scrubbing up for work or formal occasions

↓

uber cleanliness: excessively immaculate, often associated with wealth and status

↓

luxury dirt: “I have transcended ordinary dirt to the extent that I can now be dirty as an aesthetic choice”

The exhibition examined the ways in which designers subvert this hierarchy, either by creating luxury from the land (mud dyeing etc.), whilst others pushed the limit on ‘luxury dirt’ to the extent that it was often indistinguishable from ‘normal dirt’ (Balenciaga’s dirty sneakers, Margiela’s stained skirt, Jordanluca’s leaky jeans).

Still, a lot of the pieces were really beautiful - intricate beading that mimicked burn marks, foliage and red wine stains. Something must have rubbed off on me, because why else would I find myself fawning over these mouldy lemons in my fruit bowl the other day…

Another exhibition I went to was a screening of Telfar’s ‘New Models’ film, part of 180 Studio’s show ‘Paradigm Shift’. The film is ostensibly a casting for an upcoming fashion show, but it’s actually the first episode of a new series on Telfar TV. In the brand’s words: “WE NEED NEW MODELS. BECAUSE THE OLD MODELS ARE KILLING US. SO WE HIT THE STREETS. YOU PULLED UP AND TOGETHER— WE MADE TV.” Of course the resulting films are as cool, clever and c*nty as you’d expect:

‘Paradigm Shift’ also features work from Swiss artist Pipilotti Rist, including the famous video of her smashing car windows with a hammer, which was replicated in Beyoncé’s ‘Hold Up’ video from 2016’s ‘Lemonade’.

I guess when life gives you lemons, you can either admire them rotting in your fruit bowl, or make a great album to get back at your cheating husband.

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Good stuff on Substack:

Speaking of female rage, I enjoyed art curator Ashleigh Kane’s sort-of-inaugural essay on Medusa, for her new Substack ‘’. She might seem like a newcomer to the platform, but Ashleigh was actually an early adopter - she used to write one of my favourite art newsletters called ‘eye spied’ back in 2021.

I can be pretty curmudgeonly about people joining Substack - it feels like everyone and their dog are starting a newsletter these days. But as any gatekeeper, brand founder or door bitch knows: there’s always space for someone really good.

is really good. The perfect Oscar Wilde-esque patter of wit and wisdom, and a romp across all the “S-words: style, sex, shopping, sanity, self, and the slippery terrain of London social life.” (Ahmed joins in the coterie of Substack writers I read to re-inspire myself when I’m feeling fed up of my own voice, or have lost track of it entirely).

Lastly, for fashion history enthusiasts, I recommend ‘’, written by Berenika Stachera, an archivist and historian who I met whilst consulting at Liberty.

Projects I worked on:

An easy segway back to my favourite topic: me! Episode 2 of Liberty’s new ‘Beauty Briefing’ podcast is now live - this time I speak to two aesthetic doctors (kind of the new plastic surgeons, as a lot of what they do is non-surgical, but still more invasive than your average facial. Think lasers, microneedling, fillers etc.) We discuss tweakments, injectables trends, and whether it’s possible to ‘age gracefully’ anymore. I learned a lot!

Random observations:

They say three’s a trend, and I’ve noticed two of these so far:

Firstly, bendy bags, the ones with wire in them so you can shape them any which way you want. As seen at Matthieu Blazy’s Chanel, and Glenn Martens’ new H&M collaboration:

Secondly, digitally-native it-girls (that phrase feels so boardroom boomer, lol) releasing physical publications. Specifically Dara (stylist, model and Warholian-muse-for-the-TikTok-generation) and Brenda Hashtag (monochrome-coded queen of Instagram).

‘Dara zine’ is a culmination of 1 year of portrait sittings by Dara and her longtime collaborator, photographer Cruz Valdez. The images are inspired by Valdez’s collection of vintage cinema pamphlets and further explore Dara’s ongoing character play, something she’s known for on social media. The zine was launched by Climax Books in New York.

, meanwhile, released her first photobook, ‘Brended’, a collection of photographs from her camera roll, and a distillation of the distinctive aesthetic she’s cultivated online. She’s since held very chic book launches in Paris and Brussels, and written more about making the book here, where she asks: “where does it all go? a hard drive once i retire this phone? what even is the cloud that i am paying for, trusting a concept i don’t even understand to hold the memories of my life”.

What does it tell us when two of fashion’s biggest online it-girls turn to print media to preserve their legacy? I’m not going to pontificate about ‘touching grass’ but it definitely says something about our growing desire to be physically connected in a time of Sora slop, loneliness and labubus.

And! in case you thought I skipped an opportunity to direct you towards more of my endless glut of content, no I didn’t! You can watch/listen to Dara on the Threads of Conversation podcast on YouTube, Apple Podcasts or Spotify, and you can find Brenda’s episode here!

That’s all from me today, see you on Wednesday for the next 3 Minute Thread.

Have you listened to the Threads of Conversation podcast? You can also find it on Apple, Spotify, and YouTube. You can also follow Threads of Conversation on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more podcasts, essays and interviews.

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Over the next few months, I went on a weight loss crusade, reducing my calories to the bare minimum, and undertaking a strict routine of Bikram yoga that saw me spending up to 6 hours in the hot room every week. (In one class, a teacher told us that “sweat is fat crying”.)

At first, I looked fantastic. My skin glowed from all the sweating, and my smiley cheeks hollowed into sharp, photogenic angles. My agents were delighted, congratulating me during my weekly measurements at their office. One of them even started doing Bikram yoga, too.

They sent pictures to an agency in Paris, and I got signed. I’d been living in Sydney and doing cheesy denim commercials, but suddenly fashion week was within reach.

In the lead up to my departure, I kept up the routine, diligently shaving off even more weight. My boyfriend was getting worried, but I shrugged off his concerns. Didn’t he know how important this was for my career?

Every Sunday I’d allow myself a ‘treat day’ where I could eat whatever I wanted. I distinctly remember stuffing down a nutella crepe, despite the fact that I was already uncomfortably full - and I don’t even like nutella crepes that much? It was like a Cinderella game show, eat as much as you can before the clock strikes 12 and you turn back into a hungry pumpkin.

When I arrived in Paris, the agency cooed over my ‘perfect’ body. They sent me off to castings and I started picking up bookings immediately. I found a Bikram studio and started doing classes in French, where the instructor enthusiastically told us to “poussez les hanches, poussez les hanches, pousse, pousse, pousse!”

Outside the hot room, I was living my fashion dreams, whilst subsisting on a diet that involved a lot of black coffee and cigarettes. “This is how you do it,” I thought. “I’m so cool.” A small voice in my head whispered that perhaps this was unsustainable.

I went for test shoots where random photographers took pictures of me in their apartments in high contrast black and white, an aesthetic designed to emphasize bony angles and gaunt, ‘rock’n’roll’ bodies (see also: Hedi Slimane). I stripped down into a nude bodysuit in some guy’s home, because apparently my agency needed ‘bikini shots’.

At show castings, I sat on the floor with dozens of other skinny girls. Everyone talked about their favourite foods and restaurants and what they liked to cook. I later found out that this correlates to a medical trial called the Minnesota Starvation Experiment, performed at the University of Minnesota in 1944.

The study was designed to determine the physiological effects of severe and prolonged dietary restriction. Their findings showed that as the subjects began to starve, they became more and more obsessed with food, talking excessively about it and gravitating towards cookbooks and other food-related literature.

I remember a Russian girl saying loudly at a Dior casting ‘I’m not going to get booked because I ate pizza last night’. She was angrily shushed by an assistant, who was working for the casting duo who booked all the most important shows. They were known for keeping models waiting for hours for no reason, often in windowless rooms with no food or water. Rumour had it they even made models clean up their lunch sometimes, before the castings could begin.

On the first day of Paris Fashion Week, I opened and closed the Jacquemus show. After the show, I found out I’d booked an exclusive for Givenchy, which meant I wasn’t allowed to do any other shows for a week. My agent suggested I was looking quite thin, so I should probably lay off the yoga for a bit. How about just one class? I wheedled, fantasising about the fat crying.

When I got to the Givenchy fitting, the skirt was too big. I’d lost so much weight that I was too small, even for Paris. I was cancelled on the morning of the show, and my look went to another model instead. I had the Chanel fitting the following day, so I shovelled down some cookies in the afternoon, as if that might prevent it happening again. Luckily my look was a large woollen coat, so the fit was fine. Two days later I catwalked through a supermarket filled with fake food.

When I returned to Sydney, my friends were concerned by my appearance. My face and arms had begun to get fuzzy, which happens when your body overcompensates for a lack of fat (I’d cried it all away in hot yoga). I told myself that my periods weren’t coming because I had an IUD, not because my BMI was on the floor.

Because of my success in Paris, every client back home in Sydney wanted to see me. I drove around to castings but didn’t book any jobs, because I looked too scary for the mainstream Australian market. My agent told me it was time to get my ‘commercial body’ back, and that I could return to being skinny for couture. She seemed as obsessed with my weight as I was.

Soon after, I was blind booked on a denim campaign in Melbourne. When I arrived, I could hear the team whispering behind my back. I felt so embarrassed - they’d been hoodwinked by my agents into hiring a skeleton. I looked like a Halloween costume, not a model.

On one job, I got fired on the spot. The designer sent me away after seeing how awful I looked in her clothes. On another, a shoot for an indie brand, I lost my fee because they had to spend so much extra on retouching. The client called my agent and told her she thought I needed help. The whole thing was stressful and humiliating.

Eventually I went to see a dietitian, who put me on an intense calorie gain plan. She told me I needed to reboot my metabolism or risk messing it up forever. I followed her orders, and essentially went on a sanctioned binge for a few weeks.

At first nothing happened, then suddenly my cheeks filled out and the weight jumped on. On one shoot, the stylist was visibly shocked by my newly round face, and taped my temples to give me cheekbones again. My agents panicked and told me to stop seeing the dietitian. She said if I didn’t continue on her plan, that my weight would nosedive again, but that eventually my metabolism would permanently slow down, leading to long term weight gain. I was caught in a tug of war between these outsiders, all of whom wanted control of my body.

Then, it was time to go back to Paris for the couture shows. I stayed with my agent, who leased me his own bedroom for an extortionate price, whilst he shared his flatmate’s upstairs. I lay in bed feeling miserable and trapped, hearing their murmurs in the room above.

My four-year relationship was also breaking down, not helped by the fact that I was about as attractive as a table leg. The energetic, charismatic girlfriend who loved beers and ice cream was now a fuzzy, sad, lonely girl in Paris. My weight slid back down again. My face stayed round, though, something my agent commented on. Now I had the worst of both worlds - my body was too thin, my face was too fat. I couldn’t do commercial work, but I didn’t have the angles for editorial either.

By now the story begins to tell itself. I stayed on the rollercoaster for a while, before deciding to sort myself out once and for all, after a model I knew got diagnosed with early onset osteoporosis. The dietitian had warned me this could happen - body fat produces estrogen, and estrogen is what maintains bone density in women. Without it, your bones become brittle and break.

Writing this account, I feel very emotionless. I no longer relate to that version of myself, and I rarely talk about this phase (like certain unpleasant public figures, I think that airtime often gives these things more power). I also don’t want to suggest I’m any kind of example, nor trigger anyone with the details of my experience.

But occasionally, I feel very angry about it all. Opening up Vogue Runway to look at pictures from fashion week, and seeing the same twig limbs sticking out of all of the clothes, just like 10 years ago. When I click on the ‘details’ shots and can see the downy hair on models’ arms and shoulders. Hearing designers talk about ‘the woman’ when what they actually mean is ‘the 12-year-old girl’. (It’s giving Humbert Humbert, guys). When people say things like “yeah, but they’re naturally that way”. (Some are, but most are on a diet, or haven’t hit womanhood yet).

I have seen a few models I know from ‘my era’ suffer the consequences that the dietitian told me about. Their metabolism slowed down and caused them to gain weight. I’ve heard stories of peers who have fertility issues from remaining thin for so long.

I wish casting directors spared a thought for these things when deciding their ‘look’ of the season. (And no, putting one plus size model in your line-up isn’t progress - it’s tokenistic and humiliating for the model in question, and highlights the lack of size diversity elsewhere).

Perhaps this is all a rant, but I thought that now might be a useful time to share this story. After a season where models, once again, seem to disappear amongst the clothes - maybe this will give a little insight on what actually goes into maintaining this ‘aspirational’ body, and the long term effects of this type of beauty standard. Especially as it bleeds from the runway into real life via GLP-1s.

I’m not trying to corral sympathy, nor suggesting I’m representative of ‘normal’. I’m aware that even at my natural size, I am a slim person. Rather, if someone like me, and many of the models I met (all of whom fit neatly into society’s beloved boxes) have to do this for fashion, then what message does that send more widely? As women, we deserve better.

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I started September full of hubris - chest puffed, ready to launch the next podcast season and start work with a new freelance client. September 1 had my name on it, with all the auspicious energy that a Monday-on-the-first-of-the-month suggests.

But instead of attacking H2 with gusto, I spent 1.5 weeks spluttering, dripping and generally feeling like someone had stored an old sock in my frontal lobe. A foggy start to September, that’s for sure.

Still, I managed to string a few cogent thoughts together, and feed my culture diet with something other than Strepsils. Here’s what I got up to:

An exhibition I saw

After my sickness subsided, I crawled out of hibernation to see Bernice Mulenga’s brilliant show, ‘LMK WHEN YOU REACH’. Bernice’s images capture a halcyon era of queer London nightlife; the sweat soaked dancefloors, pulsing music and the thriving community born from nights like PDA (the birthplace of a lot of London’s fashion talent, which three Threads of Conversation guests have namechecked in their interviews! Producer Claire Burman, designer Jawara Alleyne and agent Sam Ross.)

The second room was dedicated to Mulenga’s ongoing archive project, #friendsonfilm, which comprised three large plexiglass mounts covered with photos. Stepping behind them, you could read the annotations on each, naming who, where and when each shot was taken.

The photographs reminded me a bit of Christian Stemmler’s photo book. But whilst Stemmi’s archive is a window onto a chapter of history since closed, Mulenga’s work gave me the sense of touching the past in real time. I recognized people in the pictures - some friends, and some from the wider London creative community. The feeling was both beautiful and uncanny; bearing witness to a body of work that will be studied in years to come, just like Derek Ridgers’ punks or Sanlé Story’s musicians.

Fashion Week bits

Of course, the dominant theme of the month was fashion. In case you missed it, here’s what I got up to during London Fashion Week.

I also went to Milan, not for fashion shows, but to interview two guests for the podcast. The trip was the perfect example of Instagram vs. reality - anyone following me would think I had a gorgeous day jetting off to Italy, swanning around the Duomo and twirling pasta in a fancy restaurant.

In reality, I woke up blisteringly early at 4am, headed straight from the airport to a windowless, subterranean conference room where we shot for 5 hours before escaping the bunker for dinner and a few hours of sleep before another 4am alarm, a delayed flight, and a slew of cancelled trains that almost caused me to miss a family funeral.

Enough of this ‘poor me’ energy though, the recordings were great, I’m so lucky to do this, and I can’t wait to share the results!

Things I watched

During my convalescence, I finally watched the first season of The White Lotus (S2 is still my fave). Then yesterday, I watched Demna’s film for Gucci, ‘The Tiger’, which felt like a page out of the same book. Wealthy, beautiful, discontented people in stunning locations, who take psychoactive substances and glamorous chaos ensues. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who felt this way:

Turns out the music on ‘The Tiger’ was also created by The White Lotus’ composer (yes, the guy who invented the ‘ooh loo loo loo’ theme), Chilean composer Cristóbal Tapia de Veer. Who, incidentally, won’t be returning for Season 4, after serious creative disagreements with Mike White.

‘The Tiger’ also reminded me of Margaret Qualley’s iconic Kenzo World ad from 2017 (one of my absolute favourite ads ever). Not surprising, given that both were directed by Spike Jonze, and both feature women trapped in the gilded cage of wealth and high society.

‘The Tiger’ begins with Demi Moore jerking around uncontrollably in a troubled, nightmarish state. In the Kenzo ad, Margaret Qualley is similarly posessed by strange, writhing movements. To see the similarity for yourself, watch this from 0.14 - 0.48:

Now watch this from 0.59 onwards:

There’s also the eerie link between Margaret Qualley and Demi Moore - who play one another’s alter ego nemeses in last year’s smash hit ‘The Substance’. An Easter egg for the real heads, surely? (*Pats self on back*).

Interesting also, to consider how ‘The Tiger’ fits into the canon of rich people lifestyle porn that we’ve become addicted to in both TV and fashion. It started with Succession, which catalysed Quiet LuxuryTM, which then metabolised into this sort of Hamptons country club aesthetic we’re seeing everywhere from J Crew to Céline.

Speaking of September, fashion, and things rich people like, the US Open final really reminded me of Jacquemus’ La Montagne FW21 collection:

(Although that seems like 100 years ago already.)

The other trend I’ve been noticing at the shows is bags hanging open, usually dangling from a single handle.

Proper fashion month analysis coming soon thoug, with some very special guests, too. Stay tuned…

I’ve veered a bit off topic from what I watched (although technically all of the above I witnessed via a screen). I also saw a non-fashion week film c/o one of my earliest Threads of Conversation podcast guests, the incredible DJ and producer HAAi (listen to her episode here).

In celebration of her new album, HUMANiSE, she collaborated with filmmakers New Visions to create a performance film of the album in full, featuring appearances from collaborators like Jon Hopkins and Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor. The film was shot at London superclub Drumsheds, and set in a chaotic retro office environment littered with papers, keyboards and synth processors. HAAi wears an outfit from the Japanese brand Toga, my favourite part of which were the subversively sexy little sock suspenders.

Watching/ listening to the album in this format was immersive and emotional - as the filmmakers say in their bio: ‘Art not Content’. Truly.

Things I worked on

Two projects I worked on came out this month!

The first was Liberty’s new Beauty Briefing podcast, where I interviewed Yasmin Sewell (formerly an iconic fashion buyer, now founder of fragrance brand Vyrao) and Kate Neale (another ex-fashionista-turned-beauty-founder, her brand is called Commune) about creating intentional brands and resisting the pressures of a super commercial industry.

The second is a campaign for Berghaus’ new ZonalAdapt leggings. As a fashion girlie, it’s rare that I get excited about activewear - but I was actually super impressed by these. It turns out that most leggings are built on a menswear model, meaning they don’t accommodate for the fact that women bloat far more than men, or that our movement pattern is completely different. (That’s why leggings are historically so uncomfortable and poorly fitting).

The all-female innovation team at Berghaus spent 2 years developing a legwear technology that would adapt to a woman’s changing body, resulting in leggings that promote lymphatic drainage, and don’t cut into your stomach when you bloat. Here’s a film I directed to explain it better:

And if you think I’m just drinking the client Kool Aid, think again - after spending a day wearing them on the shoot, I actually bought a pair last week.

Where I shopped

Speaking of stuff I bought, just before I visited Bernice’s show, I made another pilgrimage to my new favourite secondhand market, I Have Something Better. I love it so much, I even banged on about it for The Face:

Unlike my previous visits, I came away empty handed. I do regret not getting this double-layered Margiela bodysuit, (she was kinda spenny though):

I also got two new pairs of shoes - the Adizero running shoes, to replace the ones I got gifted on the trip last year which I’ve now worn to death (to clarify: I bought these ones myself). I thought an all black ninja look would motivate me to keep jogging, even as winter creeps in. Results TBC but the shoes are very comfy.

I also got a new pair of leather FiveFingers, kindly sent by the brand’s CMO, Abby Bucknall (but you know I’d buy them if I could). Here they are with the first signs of autumn.

As for my old ones, here’s a styling idea you probably haven’t thought of (genius or grotesque, I’ll let you be the judge):

I think that’s enough from me now. This month I’ll try to do less shopping and more reading, seeing and doing. See you on Wednesday for 3 Minute Threads, and next week for a new podcast episode.

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What did you get up to this month? What was on your mind? Any recommendations on things I should see, watch, listen to or do?

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It also felt like there was more attention from the industry at large, likely as a result of Laura Weir’s agenda. She’s the new head of the British Fashion Council, who was appointed back in January (also, coincidentally, my former boss).

She’s doing a great job so far - she managed to get Anna Wintour and Jonathan Anderson to host a swanky dinner with lots of celebs, Miu Miu had a party for their Miutine fragrance, and The Cut held a surprise talk where my fave podcaster/ writer interviewed EIC Lindsay Peoples Wagner.

Only in London could this happen on the same day:

Another punk move by a non-Brit: French creator (and former Threads of Conversation podcast guest) Lyas hosted the first ‘La WATCHPARTY’, a viewing party for the Dilara Findikoglu show, held at a pub in Shoreditch. Tickets were free, with the only condition being that attendees had to wear all-black. A radical move in an industry that loves to talk about democratisation, but still operates a strict policy of who is and isn't welcome at fashion week.

As for me, I occupy a strange space between softcore socialite, semi press person and retired model (‘I’m not a journalist, not yet an influencer’ as Britney once sang), which means it’s always interesting to see what I get invited to. Fashion week invitations and show seating are as easy way to see where you fall in the industry’s pecking order.

Speaking of seating, the thing that always tickles me is how cryptically they write the seat numbers - it’s like being at the dentist when they’re trying to tell the technician you have a cavity in your back tooth, so instead they mutter something like: ‘she’s got a an X1 on 3B’. At fashion week, you’ll get allocated a seat number like DD-1-4, a code which deliberately obfuscates whether your seat is a good one or not. This prevents a. People kicking off or b. People not showing up because they don’t want to sit in a bad seat.

Here’s a rundown of what I did, saw, wore, some trends I noticed, plus a quick interview with one of London’s most exciting new designers.

Friday

I started with the Fashion East show. Fashion East is a support programme run by Lulu Kennedy and Raphaelle Moore, widely regarded as the incubator for the UK’s best designers. Alumni read like the real British royals: J Dubs himself, queen Martine Rose, Simone Rocha and Maximilian (currently creative director at Ferragamo).

This season, they’re celebrating their 25th anniversary, so the show was accompanied by an exhibition at the ICA (where the show was also held). The three designers on the schedule were Mayhew, Nuba and Jacek Gleba.

Mayhew’s collection reminded me of what it might look like if someone went mudlarking on the banks of the river Thames, and then made clothes out of their findings. Their pieces felt like a collection of found objects and materials, including a rustling, paper thin skirt that might have been made from actual paper.

Nuba’s collection was slinky, sinuous and sensual (more on that later) whilst Jacek Gleba showed some stunning craftsmanship, including suspenders that were stitched into trousers, and appeared to hover weightlessly between the seams. I was very charmed by the shoes - models wobbled down the catwalk in tiny kitten heels that poked out of ballet shoes like silly little nipples - just the kind of creative, slightly tongue-in-cheek humour that characterizes London and its wit.

I was also a little starstruck, as I was sitting opposite Adrian Joffe, co-founder of Dover Street Market and husband to Comme des Garçons founder Rei Kawakubo. I just kept thinking how he must be the only person in the world who gets to see her doing anything remotely quotidian, like paying a council tax bill or accidentally getting yoghurt on her pajamas.

After that I stopped by the Arctery’x store in Covent Garden to try on some Veilance pieces - their PR had kindly offered me some gifting, and I ended up choosing this waterproof skirt:

By this point my phone was running low, so I hit the Apple Store to charge it and have a play with the new iPhone Air. It seems even our phones are on Ozempic now.

After that I headed to West London, World’s End to be precise, right where Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren opened their boutique back in the 70s. It was here that her punk legacy was revived not by a British brand, but an American one. Former Threads of Conversation podcast guests Dauan Jacari returned to London for a second time, this time staging an off-schedule fashion show-cum-play at the Chelsea theatre.

It was called ‘The Royal Court’ and the concept was ‘a rehearsal for a play that never happens’. First, each model had their moment on the stage, strutting around and drawing cheers and claps from the crowd. One model emerged in a wet skirt which she then wrung out on the stage whilst she was wearing it. The clothes were great too - the show featured cloche hats, bumless jeans, and onesies which looked like trousers that had been pulled up past the wearer’s chest.

After the runway part, a few characters reappeared, lounging around the stage reading lines from scripts, rehearsing a Shakespearian-sounding scene that centred around a jilted lover and the baddie who snubbed him. At the end, Ryan and DJ (the designers) emerged for an on-stage party with the whole cast. It was joyful, innovative and euphoric - definitely worth the long journey home. I also saw another former podcast guest there - Willy Ndatira aka. williamcult. If he’s there, you know it’s going to be good.

Saturday

In the afternoon I headed to the NEWGEN show space at 180 Strand to see my friend Marie Lueder’s show (remember her?) Over the past couple of years, Marie had carved out an aesthetic that’s so uniquely her own - a kind of medieval-inspired uniform that skews both ravey and tailored (Marie studied tailoring). I always love seeing her crowds of disciples wearing the Healer knits, Spiral jackets and Chaperon hoods.

The concept behind the brand is ‘mental armour’, and her shows always have this defiant energy, like the models are fighting through something difficult, but determined to make it to the other side.

The makeup in particular is always sinister and stunning - this season the models’ faces were pearly and luminescent, as if bathed in the light of a full moon.

In the evening, I was too tired to party, but managed to chisel myself off the sofa for half an hour to attend the launch of stylist Jamie Maree Shipton’s new Pull Letter magazine. One of the covers was a group shot, and as part of the launch, Jamie was auctioning off all the full looks on eBay. She also had colouring stations where you could illustrate your own version of the magazine cover.

I spent most of the time talking to a musician about the difference between composing and arranging, and how he gave up drinking only to acquire a late-night Temu habit instead.

Sunday

On Sunday I got up (relatively) early to see Johanna Parv’s show. Regular readers will know I love her work - she’s an Estonian designer who creates incredibly chic, technical clothes inspired by the concept of a woman in the city on a bike. Everything is sharp and clever - skirts have slits so you can put your handbag handle through them and lift the hem to avoid it getting caught in your wheels, whilst other pieces are replete with secret pockets, panels and hoods hidden inside collars.

I guess the message must have got out, because her team got in touch and asked me to write the show notes. When I was talking to her about her work, I realised why her pieces resonate with me so much. It’s not just because they’re sleek and often black (a perfect fit for 1/2 of my style personalities) - it’s because she designs to genuinely empower women. Her pieces aren’t cumbersome, ornamental clothes. They enable an active, independent lifestyle, whilst still looking chic as shit (I expressed this much more poetically in the show notes).

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Monday

Just one last show for me on Monday, Conner Ives, best known for his ‘Protect the Dolls’ tee, sales from which have raised over $600,000 for the Trans Lifeline charity. There I bumped into yet another Threads of Conversation guest, Raven Smith, and saw another one on the runway - Alva Claire. At this point I’m beginning to wonder whether London fashion week is in fact some secret Threads of Conversation meet-up organised in my honour.

The show was opened by rapper Cortisa Star, and featured a cast of gorgeous women, both trans and cis, including writer Osman Ahmed, who received whoops and cheers from the crowd.

Cortisa also wore a pair of orange visor sunglasses, not dissimilar to the Maustein ones from Marie Lueder’s show. This feels like the next iteration of the Phoebe Philo giant sunglasses trend perhaps?

What I wore

I usually find one or two pieces I love and wear them over and over til I get sick of them. At the moment those are my Johanna Parv one-shouldered top, my Comme ruffled wool skirt and my secondhand Marithé + François Girbaud jacket which I got in Berlin recently. Pick your fighter etc.:

Left to right:

• Johanna Parv top, Comme des Garçons skirt (secondhand), Jacquemus pants, Ann D boots.

• Marithé + François Girbaud jacket (secondhand), Lueder trousers, FiveFingers shoes (yes I got the leather ones - thank you Abby Bucknall), COS bag.

• Chanel sunglasses (vintage), Yohji knit (secondhand), Atsuro Tayama trousers (secondhand), Kara bag, Ann D boots.

A Chat with Nuba

On Saturday morning, the day after Fashion East, I got on the phone with creative director Cameron Williams, whose brand Nuba was one of the three showing with Fashion East. This was Cameron’s final season in the programme, and as one of their star talents, I was excited to learn more about his work.

Can you tell me about your design process?

I think there's a lot of elegance in the street that we don't necessarily consider to be ‘true fashion’. I think it comes from a lot of other cultures, other places. A lot of women and men that I take photos of, they've come here from Caribbean, West Africa, East Africa. And there is a very distinct way in which they combine a traditional piece with a puffer jacket, for example.

My process is taking pictures and then bringing them back and turning them into a design. But I don't necessarily want to copy it one-for-one. I think it's about copying the inner essence of these people.

A lot of what you see in the collection is taking that into the studio and playing around with what looks fresh and what looks interesting in different materials. If it’s a reference of someone wearing a jacket or a windbreaker, then how can we reduce that down into a t-shirt or a tank top? And then the other way round, if someone’s wearing a t-shirt that has a really low neckline, how can we turn that silhouette into a jacket?

I want to ask about a couple of the details. I feel like there was a lot going on in the crotch area. You had a sort of thong detail, and then the front of some of the pants were almost exploded open, as if the tailoring was revealing itself. Can you talk about where those came from and what you were expressing through that?

So the drape that kind of goes up the crotch and then into the shirt - it comes all the way from the hood at the back of the top and then goes down the back and then up the crotch and then back into the shirt.

When I first did that, I actually was like, I don't know if I should do this. I feel like some people might find this a bit aggressive, but after like speaking to my girlfriend and a couple of friends and also my mum - my mum was like, “Oh my God this looks so sexy, I would wear this on the beach in Jamaica.”

The pants link back to a previous trouser that we’d done where it wasn’t burst open, but it was like you were wearing two trousers layered on top of each other, and they were zipped up. I made the models put their hands in like in between the two layers so it looks like they had their hands in their trousers, which was a reference from growing up on the estate. That's just how guys would be, with their hands in their trousers chilling in summer.

Can you tell me a bit more about the top you put your hands into. How you develop that design and what was the reference for it?

That was from a photo of a woman I saw in Walthamstow actually, and she had her hands in her jacket in that sort of way. And I quite liked how vulnerable it looked, but also she felt like she had like a quiet confidence.

I think the image that I took, it was during winter. So it was like a lightweight windbreaker. And so I thought, why not do that as a simple top that has a bit of tailored energy to it? Add the sensuality to it, add the confidence to it.

I think this piece and also other pieces in the collection are really also just about having a quiet confidence about yourself. A quiet confidence in your style and in your sexuality.

One final note…

Since when did high contrast black and white OOH advertising become such a trend?

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Which were your favourite shows at London fashion week? And what are you looking forward to for the rest of the season?

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I also got my first fashion show invite from a French comms agency, which can only mean one thing: The OOO season is drawing to a close, and its time for those Europeans to peel off their salty swimsuits and stub out their languorous cigarettes. Back to work, bébé!

As a swan song to the halcyon days of summer, here’s everything I got up to in August.

[Housekeeping: This piece might get cut off in your inbox. Click ‘read in browser’ or ‘view full message’ to see the whole thing.]

Places I went

I began the month in Tbilisi, Georgia. I’d been wanting to go for years, and not just for selfie opportunities (although of course I took a lot of photos of things with my name on it). From a fashion perspective, I remember in my first job at Browns Fashion, we carried some great Georgian brands including Materiel and Aleksandre Akhalkatsishvili. David Koma is also from the region, as is Situationist. And of course, Demna.

The trip wasn’t very fashion-focused though - instead we spent most of the time exploring the city and its fabulous architecture. I’d read a lot about this in one of my favourite coffee table books, ‘Cosmic Communist Constructions Photographed’, which documents many of the civic buildings which were constructed across the region during the Cold War period. To paraphrase the book’s introduction, Soviet architects were unable to study classical models, so instead they looked to space travel and sci fi for inspiration. This resulted in some completely unique buildings, which even today have an incredible retro-futuristic feel.

I did stumble across one great boutique, a shop called Archived where they had a lot of vintage Christian Lacroix, Chanel suiting, and then a smaller selection of 90s/00s favourites like Ann D, Marc Jacobs and Comme.

At the end of the month, I also visited my friend Leonie in Berlin. She took me to a cute store called RDV in Mitte where they stock Sari’s jewellery brand, Räthel + Wolf. I also discovered some beautiful ceramics by Jana Francke - the one below reminded me of the Comme des Garçons lumps and bumps collection.

I also caught up with photographer Bastian Thiery, who told me he was just starting to cast his 2026 ‘Dogs of Weserhalle’ calendar. I asked him what he looks for in his models and he told me: “First I‘m looking for that sparkle in the eye and dogs with an attitude. I also try to find a diverse range of dogs. But we believe all dogs are good dogs so it’s hard to make the cut.”

I also really enjoy Bastian’s newsletter, ‘’ where he talks through the process behind his creative projects.

Whilst I really really want to gatekeep this one, in the spirit of this newsletter I must share one of the best archival fashion spots I’ve visited in a while. It was recommended to me by my friend Anna Santangelo, jewellery designer and person with the best taste ever (also archive fashion queen - you can shop her finds via Hot Dips).

The store is called Pineapple Factory Express. Only four people are allowed in at one time, and you can’t take photos. I wasn’t intending to shop, but two pieces stole my heart - a chunky cropped Yohji knit and a technical jacket by Marithé + François Girbaud. I convinced myself they were winter essentials, and walked out with both. It helped that they also had a copy of Christian Stemmler’s book on their shelf - a sign, surely?

A weird trend I noticed

I know I’ve featured a lot of pregnant women on 3 Minute Threads lately, but I also keep seeing fake pregnancies everywhere…

First there was Anitta’s music video for her song ‘Sao Pãulo’, then FKA twigs pulled a similar stunt for her new video. I also spotted one on Jordanluca’s feed, followed by Anna Malygon’s Britney-esque take. Then there was this weird wedding picture on Artifaxing and MSCHF’s teaser for their latest artwork. I know there’s a think piece in here (I just don’t have time to write it… yet.)

Where I partied

Anyone who knows me knows that nothing makes me happier than setting my nearly-6-foot-2 of limb loose on a writhing dancefloor. For anyone keen to dismiss club culture as simply a sport for hedonists, I encourage you to read Sharmadean Reid’s essay about why these spaces and communities are so important. (Whilst you’re at it, why not listen to her Threads of Conversation podcast episode?)

One of my favourite New York DJs, Akanbi, played an amazing set at the Colour Factory in Hackney Wick. He also runs a party called Groovy Groovy which has a great logo and merch. I got these shorts:

I also returned to a festival I went to last year called Field Manuevers, whose tagline is ‘worst rave ever’ (lol). It’s always the best for costume-watching - and I’m not talking the kind of unicorn-coded Coachella glitter girls or Burning Man Mad Max cosplay.

FM’s outfits are hilarious, silly and above all, completely committed. One group all dressed as Transport For London staff, including custom hi-vis. I also saw a guy dancing in a full nightgown and matching nightcap, inexplicably holding a giant spoon, plus a girl wearing a bra and earrings made of a desktop keyboard. My favourite surprise was meeting Dale, who recognized me from this newsletter I wrote last year. Long live the Threads of Conversation meet cutes!

Honourable mention to a super chic new clubhouse bar, Roses of Elagabalus, where I caught up with fellow Substack gal . She writes a great newsletter called ‘’ full of juicy gossip about the intersection of fashion and food. I sipped a dark chocolate cocktail and tried some tomato and olive oil ice cream from the BaoBae pop-up.

Speaking of food and fashion, I also attended the opening of ’s new office space, which was catered by Nil Mutluer aka. HealGoblin (regular readers will also recognize the work of MØRNING mother Lydia Pang). Nil served us a suitably glamorous, gothic affair, documented beautifully on her Instagram here. By the time I arrived, the spread had been demolished - which kind of made it even better?

What I read

I wrote these reviews on my Instagram and saved them in the ‘BOOKS 2024’ highlight. But if you have really good eyesight then I’ve screenshotted them below!

1. Outline by Rachel Cusk:

2. Orbital by Samantha Harvey:

What I watched

On Friday night I ordered a pizza and watched Tom Ford’s 2009 directorial debut, A Single Man. My friend described it as ‘architecture porn’ and she was right. Here’s an article about George’s insanely beautiful mid-century house.

Meanwhile, I got her up to speed on last year’s Tom-Ford-the-brand /creative director tea. In short, when Tom Ford announced he was retiring from fashion to focus on film, he promoted his long-time design director Peter Hawkings to lead the brand. Hawkings had spent 25 years as Ford’s right hand man, and so it felt like he was the natural heir. But alas! Never a dull moment in fashion land. After less than a year, Hawkings was ousted, and now Haider Ackermann has taken his place. Rumours started swirling when Tom Ford showed up at the 2024 Met Ball wearing Saint Laurent by Antony Vacarello, instead of Hawkings’ design.

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Projects I worked on

Most excitingly THE NEW SEASON OF THE THREADS OF CONVERSATION PODCAST!! First episode drops tomorrow, I really hope you love it. All episodes will be video (unless I run out of money in which case they will go back to being audio, hehe. Email me if you want to sponsor the pod! georgia@threads-of-conversation.com.)

I also spent the summer running around London with the Liberty’s iconic Beauty Advent Calendar, creating a teaser campaign ahead of the official launch. The calendar needs time off, just like the rest of us, so we captured it making a splash at Tooting Bec Lido and rowing in Battersea Park. Stay tuned for more…

The final major project I completed this summer sits closest to my heart. My brother and I spent months planning a very special evening for my beloved godfather, an actor and director called Giles Havergal.

From 1969-2003, Giles was the artistic director of one of Scotland’s most legendary theatres, The Citizens in Glasgow. There, he was part of a creative triumvirate which included designer Philip Prowse and playwright Robert David MacDonald. The productions they put on were radical, stylish, and daring. The trio were renowned for their reinvention of classic European plays and their spectacular costumes and stage design - all of which they executed on a limited budget.

The evening was a celebration of Giles’ life and work. My brother and I interviewed him on stage for an audience of friends, colleagues and fans, and Giles also performed monologues from two of his most famous shows. Even aged 87, he still had us in the palm of his hand.

The evening was not intended to be a living memorial for Giles, but tragically that is how it will be remembered. Whilst I was in Berlin, I got the news that Giles had died suddenly, just a few weeks after the event. Needless to say I was, and am, devastated. Giles was a central character in my life - witty, stylish, charming and inspirational beyond measure. Whilst no words can do him justice, I would encourage you to read the two brilliant obituaries published this week - the first in The Guardian, and the other from The Scotsman.

Here is a photograph from that evening:

I suppose it makes sense to briefly touch on what we are wearing, as each outfit has a story to tell - that is the ethos of this newsletter after all.

My brother Ivo is dressed in orange, because he is a comedian, and his new show (debuted at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival earlier this month) is called ‘Orange Crush’. As part of the bit, he began wearing exclusively orange clothes in the lead up, and even dyed his hair. When I asked him if he was planning to wear orange to Giles’ event, he said “yes, but a more muted orange”. I think he looks great, but he regrets not letting me steam his shirt before the show.

As for me, I wanted to do justice to the Citizens’ legacy, particularly designer Philip Prowse’s fabulous costumes. I wore a satin Zac Posen jacket that I’d bought at Beacon’s Closet in New York earlier this year, paired with a Roland Mouret pencil skirt I got at a secondhand market here in London.

The outfit was a nod to The Citizens’ famous 1970 production of Hamlet, which caused a huge uproar, horrifying and delighting audiences in equal measure thanks to its nearly-nude, all-male cast, homoerotic undertones, and its seductive stage design, made entirely of black parachute silk.

As for Giles, he looks crisp and dapper as ever. Perennially chic, never overdone, always the most elegant and interesting person in any room. Just as I will always remember him.

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What did you get up to this month? Let me know in the comments.

Have you listened to the Threads of Conversation podcast? You can also find it on Apple, Spotify, and YouTube. You can also follow Threads of Conversation on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more podcasts, essays and interviews.

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When you’re young, you usually have time but no money. That’s how my love of vintage began. I’d trawl charity shops and thrift stores for hours, unearthing gems which I’d purchase with a few pounds of pocket money. I also used to customise my clothes, chopping up a pair of jeans only to painstakingly piece them back together with safety pins.

These days, I have a bit more money, but I rarely have time to shop. Riffling through the racks of a local vintage store has become a luxury I treat myself to every few months. That said, my budget is bigger than it used to be.

This means I tend to shop at curated secondhand stores, where the work has already been done for me. I know I’ll find a tight edit of good pieces, and the prices reflect this - the time put into the sourcing and curation means they’re more expensive than your average pre-loved fare.

I started thinking about this time/money equation again when those pictures from the Carolyn Bessette Kennedy TV show did the rounds. When Ryan Murphy released the sneak peek of Carolyn’s outfits, the comments section was ablaze. Fans identified her bag as the wrong Hermes style (and empty, to boot), her hair the wrong shade of blonde. The uproar was deafening.

For me, the pictures reminded me of a vibe I noticed when I’d go on shoots in location houses. The interiors would be staged much like those mansions on Selling Sunset; embellished with expensive things but devoid of personality. I call it the ”bought-all-at-once” aesthetic, because that’s exactly what it looked like. Someone with a big budget has gone into a fancy store, and said “I’ll take the lot.” The feeling of time spent choosing and collecting each piece was tangibly absent.

Luxury fashion houses understand the correlation between time and value. That’s why they’re always so keen to tell us how many years of heritage they have, or how many hours of craftsmanship went into each piece. The irony is that the “classic” pieces sold by many of these houses only become really unique when they’ve been worn and used for a long time. You can buy a beautifully-made handbag, but it’s only when you’ve filled it and battered it like Jane Birkin (whose bag sold for 8.6 million Euros in the recent Sotheby’s auction) that it becomes truly chic.

“I think time is the one true luxury in this world,” said Ilona Hamer, stylist and founder of resortwear brand Matteau. Hamer’s aesthetic focuses on the classics, and Matteau’s pieces reflect this. “Our inspiration is always from the past. We know when something is good if it feels like we’ve already made it. It has a level of familiarity and ease to it, and I think that’s when things feel very right. That just comes with knowing yourself and your customer more as the years go on.”

“I think character and personality are two of the key elements to great style, and these things take decades to mature and ripen,” she continues. Hence the uproar at Ryan Murphy’s empty Hermes handbag. It lacked the patina of taste that comes with spending time learning who you are and what you like to wear.

That’s not to say that only ‘classic’ clothes equate to style. This aesthetic is often referred to as ‘timeless’ - but on the flip side, the right kind of timeliness is a powerful tool when getting dressed.

Here we enter the mercurial world of trends. Unlike ‘timeless’ style, there’s a specific place and time for a trend. Too early and it doesn’t resonate - too late, and the edge is lost. Navigating trends requires confidence, instinct and a clear sense of what feels relevant now; a type of cultural fluency that can only come from spending time understanding the zeitgeist.

Speaking of the zeitgeist, it’s ironic that as today’s technology hurtles towards ever greater efficiency, time continues to elude us. As put it: “everything just exists in the flatness of the internet which means a constant influx of everything at all times… the feeling that your plate (your time) is the same size but is increasingly piled with food.”

We crave time for ourselves, away from the internet, the kind of gentle, uninterrupted ease that might allow us to read a book, play a leisurely game of sport, or perhaps even take a nap. Is it surprising then, that fashion is reflecting these desires?

Last year’s literature boom was an indicator of this, with brands like Miu Miu making books and reading clubs central to their strategy. Cult bookstores like Climax have become a hotspot for fashion influence, and a new print magazine seems to launch every week.

Tennis, a game traditionally enjoyed by the leisure class, is getting lovebombed by fashion (much like racing before it) - with brands clamouring to align themselves with the sport. Last month, Business of Fashion reported that sleepwear is booming, stating that “sleep is becoming the ultimate status symbol.” Fashion knows we crave time to think, relax and rest, so it’s started selling it back to us.

Our ongoing appetite for nostalgia also plays a role here. We can’t catch hold of the present, so instead we luxuriate in the past, fantasising about a world where things were slower and more intentional; when ideas and clothing weren’t driven solely by the bottom line.

I think the NYT’s viral piece about how thinking is becoming a luxury good also relates to this. Whilst it’s true that the internet is eroding both our attention spans and our critical thinking skills, the response to this fear has been to valorize traditional values and education. We’re seeing this bubbling up via what I call the ‘country clubification’ of fashion; this kind of preppy, private school aesthetic (or blue genes, as Sydney Sweeney would say). Think chinos, boat shoes, crisp shirting and bourgeois accessories.

As I wrote in this piece about the fashion spelling bee trend last year, education is always a flex. Knowledge (and the time to meaningfully accrue it) is the ultimate status symbol. It’s not surprising that fashion has continued to align itself with this mentality, and the aesthetics around it.

The irony is that the brands want us to buy into these trends, when actually the true luxury is to turn our attention away from their marketing efforts, and reclaim these activities for ourselves. The luxury of time does not lie in buying it in its commodified form. Conversely, it means spending it for ourselves.

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Threads of the week

Not a very summery look, but I’ve been keen to try styling this vintage Roland Mouret slip dress I picked up at I Have Something Better secondhand market. Belt is a Santangelo waist chain, trousers are from Jacquemus, jacket from adidas, glasses Dries van Noten and boots Ann Demeulemeester. (Regular readers will recognise all these pieces already.)

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If you love interiors, great writing, and an original point of view, may I point you in the direction of Nora Taylor’s work.

A sexy summer tune.

I feel so Millenial sharing this, but I felt very seen by this cartoon:

(Books I’m currently carrying around include Orbital and Outline.)

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What’s your relationship with time and fashion? How do you find that time shows up in what you wear? Tell me in the comments.

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I’m sitting next to my phone, waiting for Demna to call. The black mirror lights up and I see a Swiss area code (I’m surprised it’s not a private number.) The designer apologises for being a few minutes late, a polite gesture from someone who is a. much busier and more and more important than me, and b. tells me that he doesn’t believe in time.

“You know, I never owned a watch in my life, because I’ve always kind of hated the idea. The concept of time itself, I find very... I just didn’t agree with it.” Demna explains. “Reality is so important for me.” Sometimes I think of him as doctor Demna, his finger placed firmly on the pulse of society; a creative ECG machine whose readings show up on the catwalk in the form of clothes. More than anything, Demna’s work reflects the experience of existing in the modern world - the eerie multilayering of reality that defines our digital age. Everything happening everywhere, all at once.

“I think Demna's reinvention of Balenciaga will be relevant 100 years from now thanks to its radical ambition and relentless nowness,” says Suleman Anaya, a writer who has interviewed the designer an impressive 4 times since his appointment at the house. “Demna has a rare, uncanny grasp of the Zeitgeist and willingness to embrace it. He turned the brand into an evolving, all-encompassing mirror of the moment, a place where elite fashion rarely dared to go.”

Under Demna’s creative direction, the fabric of time is unravelled, reconstituted into futuristic neoprene suits, polyurethane helmets and bulbous rubber clogs. He’s the conceptual risk taker with a Midas touch, overseeing a period of massive growth for the brand and fostering a generation of Balenciaga disciples dripping in his signature hoodies and sneakers. Last year, he revived the house’s couture offering, the ultimate synthesis of Balenciaga’s past, present and future.

Despite his aversion to the concept, a certain amount of time travel has been necessary for the designer over the past few years. “I had to go back a lot in time to repeat these moments in my life; in my adolescence, in my childhood, to find answers for certain things for which I need answers today, being 41. So, time has become more and more important to me in terms of understanding myself,” he muses.

Demna’s origin story has become the stuff of fashion legend - his family fled their home in Georgia to escape the civil war, settling in Germany as refugees. After training to become a banker, he quit to pursue his love of fashion, a journey which culminated in his appointment at Balenciaga in 2015.

Back then, many were sceptical about Kering’s choice. Known for his iconoclastic, streetwise collections at Vetements, the designer seemed a surprising match for a house steeped in couture history. But whilst his aesthetic might have been a shock, Demna clearly holds a deep reverence for the name above the door. “I need to go back in time to try to understand the mindset of Cristobal Balenciaga for example, and what he was doing with his house in order for me to know what I have to do today,” he explains. “It’s almost like the same way that I had to go back into my childhood to find answers to some issues, personal issues that I have today, being an adult.”

Demna has mentioned that his oversized aesthetic comes from his Georgian upbringing, where clothes were bought too big in order for children to grow into them. I’m interested in this as a metaphor for his Balenciaga tenure. What were the things that he was growing into? And now, after 8 years, does he feel like these pieces finally fit? “When I started at Balenciaga, I had no clue what I was starting!” Demna laughs. “Looking back now, I didn’t know what I wanted to grow into, but I knew that I wanted to grow.”

“Earlier in my career, I was more stressed about what message I would send out. I thought more about other people, especially within the industry. How my work would be seen, understood, etcetera.” After almost 10 years, it’s clear that Demna has outgrown this second-guessing.

“I feel much more sure and convinced about certain ideas that I have, and I don’t put them through this filter of how other people would judge them, or would they like them? I also accepted the fact that not everybody is supposed to like or not like [my work]. Maybe it’s part of learning how to let go.” Rumination has also been removed from his creative vocabulary. “The more I let myself do things without strategizing about it or overthinking, the more they work, actually. I’ve noticed that with experience. That the more it is instinctive, in my case, the better it is. So I just let it happen.”

Speaking with those close to him, it’s clear that Demna has undergone a creative metamorphosis during his time at Balenciaga. “I have seen Demna grow and transform enormously over the years,” says Martina Tiefenthaler, the brand’s Chief Creative Officer, and one of Demna’s most trusted collaborators. “He works hard on himself and has gained more and more confidence. He has always dared to run risks, but now he does that without compromises.”

This unwavering vision is also noted by Demna’s former tutor, Linda Loppa, the legendary fashion educator who schooled both Demna and Raf Simons. “Recently he is so confident that Balenciaga is very much his own interpretation of what fashion represents for a generation close to him,” she tells me. “The fun factor is becoming his playground, and the structure of the Balenciaga brand in the Kering company is giving him the space to use the playground in an amazing way.”

Still, whilst he might have grown in confidence as a designer, his steady ascent into the world of celebrity surely adds a different kind of pressure. In December 2021, he rebranded as Demna, dropping his last name altogether, and his use of masks suggests someone attempting to resist the glare of the public eye. I ask Demna how he feels about his growing fame. “I don’t really feel this celebrity of mine to be honest,” he responds. “Even if I have a contact for like, global celebrities in my phone, it doesn’t change anything. I’m still as I was when I was 7 or 8 years old, a kind of weirdo in my family.”

What about the ‘yes men’ I probe? I’m talking about the people who gather around those in power, telling exactly what they want to hear in order to remain in favour. “It’s actually kind of the opposite - I have more of the ‘no men’ than the ‘yes men’ in my team,” Demna says. “Because people know how I am, that I'd rather have a truthful no than not-such-a-truthful yes.”

He describes his process as very collaborative, seeking opinions from those around him. “I ask an intern in my design team for their opinion during the fitting, because I need to absorb those opinions in order to make mine,” he explains. “Very often I’ve changed my opinions because of what other people said to me, because I found some logic in it... that’s the only way to also be objective, and not to drown in some kind of deluded truth that you create yourself.”

His research process, however, is a solitary affair. At the time of our interview, Demna is about to embark on holiday, taking with him “about 10 boxes of books and magazines that I’ve acquired.” He’ll spend every day going through these, absorbing visual material which he then combines with screenshots from the past 6 months, creating moodboards which become the basis for future collections. “I feel really exhausted at the end of each day when I do that. It’s like watching 50 movies, that’s how it feels, because you absorb so much visual information.”

I ask him what he’s taking with him this time. “I just bought a whole collection of this old French magazine called Point de Vue from the 80s and 90s, because I’m doing a lot of research on the French bourgeoisie and how they dressed.” He tells me that he loves the work of Martin Parr, the British social photographer. “I have a very anthropological approach to my research, and for example Martin Parr’s photography is like that. He’s just capturing a moment of somebody’s life, and that’s why, when I go through these books, it can be very emotional... You almost see a movie of these people’s lives and imagine who they are, why are they dressed like this, what are they doing. It’s really straining your imagination in a very intense way.”

Indeed Martin Parr is a photographer whose work evokes the same feeling as Demna’s. Both men explore the banality of human existence, a paradoxical place where bright, saturated colours meet a darker, comic edge. Their work is sentimental and yet cynical; deeply felt yet dystopian. This brings us to the topic of humour, a Demna hallmark, and one which never fails to stir up controversy.

“I like to have a good laugh.” He tells me. “I have a sense of humour, I love to talk to people who also have a sense of humour. It’s just a part of human interaction, and it’s impossible for me to exclude it from my work.” (Later in our conversation I test this by pretending I don’t know who Kim Kardashian is. This makes Demna laugh.)

“Often it is some kind of comment on something - it’s just questioning things, but in a way that can be seen as funny but dark at the same time. It can be quite conceptual. Some funny things I did people found offensive, almost. You know, like taking something from a very mundane, daily context and putting it into the luxury brand vocabulary. People find it offensive. They’re like: ‘Oh, I can buy that for $5’. But you never thought to do that, until I put it there and made it very, very expensive.”

Here Demna could be talking about any number of items he’s created in recent years. Perhaps it’s the lookalike IKEA tote, retailing for around 2000 times the price of the original. Maybe it’s the latest evolution of this, the trompe l’oeil leather trash bag released a couple of weeks after our interview (it boasts a similar price tag to its predecessor, and was met with a similarly divisive reception.)

I ask him how he feels when people react this way. “Oh, I love it!” He responds. “Every time there is a reaction there is action.” I joke that his comments remind me of a poster I once saw that read: “Modern art = my kid could have done that. Yeah but they didn’t.” Demna laughs. “I did the DHL t-shirt years ago out of personal reasons to be honest. It was very dark humour on my part, and people were going crazy. “How come there is this t-shirt for 700 Euros?” But after that they started to produce them, and then you could buy them on Etsy for 5 dollars, but it didn’t happen before! Nobody wore a t-shirt that had a logo of a delivery service,” he recalls. “I love those triggers.”

Returning to the theme of time, I’m keen to ask Demna whether he ever considers his legacy? “You know, I go on the street and I see young kids wearing their clothes - which are not Balenciaga... but the way they put them together, the silhouettes and all of that, I see myself in there you know? In this kind of aesthetic,” he replies. “I started to notice that a year ago or something. On the street, on teenagers, and I thought: “This is my legacy.””

Somewhere inside Demna’s parallel universe, I hear the sound of an iPhone alarm and realise I’ve lost track of time. It feels fitting - with Demna, you’re never anywhere other than the here and now.

Have you listened to the Threads of Conversation podcast? You can also find it on Apple, Spotify, and YouTube. You can also follow Threads of Conversation on Instagram and TikTok. Subscribe below for more podcasts, essays and interviews.

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Threads of the week

Annual birthday bikini pic - Cancers love the beach! I’m wearing swimwear from Lido (the top is from the Tredici set and the bottoms are from the Venti.) I’ve worn these every summer for years and they still haven’t worn out! The body chain and necklace are by Santangelo and the sunglasses are vintage Chanel.

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Social media writer ’s latest trend report is as thorough and thought-provoking as ever. Although her work is focused on social media, it shows us how these channels are a lens on culture, not just platforms ‘over there’ where ‘content’ happens.

Yay for Laura Weir, the new CEO of the British Fashion Council, who announced some super exciting changes to London Fashion Week. Can’t wait to see London back in the spotlight.

Anyone got $6 million dollars to buy the new Threads of Conversation HQ?

We’re chatting all things pigmentation over on TikTok.

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What were your feelings about the final Balenciaga couture collection? Any Demna Gucci predictions? Leave your thoughts in the comments! And hit the heart button if you made it this far.

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