Monday, December 30, 2019
Harry Styles and Marc Jacobs Have a Cheeky Antidote to the Ugly Holiday Sweater
On paper, Harry Styles and Marc Jacobs have very different personal styles. Jacobs loves outfits that incorporate clashing prints, glitzy materials, and sky-high Rick Owens platforms. Styles, meanwhile, has more of a retro sensibility: he rocks bellbottoms, disco blouses, and loads of Gucci statement suits. Yet even though they have their own fashion flavors, the two swirled their style this week when the singer and the designer wore the exact same item just a few days apart. The piece in question? Call it the fashion guy's anti-holiday sweater.
Designed by Jacobs and the artist Magda Archer, the sweater reads “Stay away from toxic people.” A dog on the front also holds up a sign reading, “You’ve got issues.” Styles was the first to wear the sweater during an appearance on Ellen, pairing it with brown corduroy trousers and sneakers. Jacobs followed suit today, styling it with a leopard Balenciaga coat (he loves animal prints). The sweater is not your average ugly Christmas party fare, though the cheeky messaging—all about surrounding yourself with positivity in 2020—makes a festive statement.
Friday, November 29, 2019
Diplo’s Madonna Concert Look Proves He’s the Ultimate Fanboy
Diplo is a huge Madonna fan. In addition to working with the iconic pop star in the studio—he collaborated on “Future” from her new album, Madame X—the DJ-producer also attended the 2015 Met Gala with her. (They were rumored to be dating around this time.) He’s publicly declared his admiration for her on multiple occasions, once telling Rolling Stone, “She created the world we live in. It already sucks to be a woman in the music industry, but to be a boss woman is even harder.” Last night, Diplo kept up his devotion to Madge by attending her concert at the Wiltern in Los Angeles—and his concert look proved he’s the ultimate fanboy.
His outfit began with some Madonna merch: a vintage “Music”-themed tee from 2001, featuring Madonna in a blue western-inspired look. (That year was the singer's peak cowgirl moment; remember “Don't Tell Me?”) The rest of the ensemble also paid homage to the “Music” video's rodeo vibe: he wore a tapestry-style zip-up jacket, brown trousers, a huge belt buckle, and suede cowboy boots. He didn’t forget his trustee cowboy hat either—something he also wore on the 2019 AMAs red carpet.
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Kaia Gerber’s Courtside Style Is a Slam Dunk
The sight of a celebrity sitting courtside at a basketball game has become something of a fashion spectacle. Stars such as Rihanna, Beyoncé, and Kendall Jenner know they’re going to be photographed (or worse, put up on the Jumbotron!) so they choose to deck themselves out in the latest designer gear instead of expected team jerseys. Another spectator combining her love of sports with fashion? Kaia Gerber. Last night, the model attended a New York Knicks-Chicago Bulls game at Madison Square Garden. (The Knicks won.) For the event, Gerber brought her signature style to the arena.
Gerber’s go-to piece this season has been the boxy blazer. She wore the ’80s-inspired piece throughout Fashion Month, and wore it yet again last night, styling it with a black turtleneck and straight, high-waisted jeans. For a business-casual finish, she added Nike Air low-top sneakers to the look, giving her look a more dressed-down feel. (Unlike, say, Beyoncé, who often watches the games in pin-thin stilettos.)
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Meet Jennifer Vanilla, the New York–Based Performance Artist Designing One-of-a-Kind Merch
Entering the closet-size kosher diner B&H Dairy off of Saint Marks Place on a sweltering August afternoon, Becca Kauffman—otherwise known by her stage name Jennifer Vanilla—is easy to spot. Wearing a white T-shirt that says, “I’d Rather Be Jennifering,” her hair is cropped into a short bowl cut and dyed bleach blonde. Kauffman is a performer at heart: She reels off jokes in the old-timey voice of a ’40s movie actress, but within minutes of chatting, we move onto her creative process—at which point she begins speaking with the utmost care. She’s here, after all, to help me understand the link between her onstage persona as Jennifer, and as the artist Becca Kauffman.
Originally from Cambridge, Massachusetts, but now based in Ridgewood, Queens, Kauffman has spent her life deeply entrenched in the performing arts. As a child, she took dance classes, already picturing herself as an experimental artist living in the East Village. When she first graduated from college and relocated to New York a decade ago, Kauffman sang jazz standards at bars and participated in what she refers to as a “radical marching band.” Shortly afterward, she took her talents as a vocalist to Ava Luna—the Brooklyn art-rock ensemble known for, among other things, covering Serge Gainsbourg’s Histoire de Melody Nelson in full—and began writing music with the kind of intricate melodies that drop off seemingly in midair. But while on hiatus from the band in 2015, Kauffman revisited her early childhood dreams of becoming a performance artist, and Jennifer Vanilla began to take shape.
For Kauffman, Jennifer Vanilla became a multifarious object that allowed her to explore questions of gender, fashion, and the complexities of her own self-confidence. Jennifer Vanilla is a surrogate, or “a fake,” as Kauffman calls her. “I have to put her ahead of me to sort of clear the way, and then internally I’m making all these decisions in the moment, but through this sheen or presentation of total fluency and trust in herself,” she adds. This self-assuredness often comes from what she wears. In the past, that’s taken the form of clip-on, Ariana Grande–inspired ponytails and all-pink outfits, but Jennifer’s aesthetic has also gone down a Laurie Anderson–inspired route too. Think: Cheeto-orange hair, neon blue windbreakers, and silver bodysuits in the vein of the late noughties. Lately, however, Kauffman’s byzantine performance project has shifted, and these days Jennifer Vanilla can more often be found living backstage—metaphorically, anyway.
The change came during her second U.S. tour this past February. Kauffman notes that things began as usual: She arrived in Athens, Georgia, to headline a music festival that highlights solo artists. Then, like any artist touring the country alone, she befriended a group of students—they all had mullets, so she got one herself, marking the beginning of what Kauffman refers to as a “transformative hair journey.” As she moved across the country, her hair changed continuously. She dyed it red, then orange; later, she chopped it even shorter. By the time she returned to New York, she felt like a completely different person—and, more significantly, a different artist. “Usually, my ideas will dictate how my hair is going to change, but this time the hair changed and then dictated who I would become. The whole process had to shift as a result. I feel like there was Jennifer Vanilla before the hair and Jennifer Vanilla after,” says Kauffman.
Several haircuts and six months later, Kauffman has thought a lot about how she wants to evolve her act and her aesthetic. For starters, she’s moving away from pure performance art, and lately has opted to DJ during her sets. “The risk that I’m taking right now is learning how to DJ, and working that into my live set. [Jennifer sets are] becoming a little less performative, [and I’m] changing up [my audience’s] impression of who Jennifer is. I’m curious to find out what happens when I’m slightly more subdued,” she explains of the pivot. The result of this transitional phase is an EP titled J.E.N.N.I.F.E.R., which is a blend of techno-oriented production and Kauffman’s highly stylized and performative vocals. The first song, “Space Time Motion,” is out now along with an accompanying video that perfectly captures Kauffman’s offbeat style.
One thing that has remained constant is Kauffman’s one-of-a-kind merch. She makes T-shirts where the only parameter is that they must include the word Jennifer; to make the shirts, she’ll iron on letters individually and construct a phrase spontaneously. For custom orders, sometimes she’ll ask a little bit about the person who ordered. She almost never repeats a phrase, although when we chat she mentions that she’s making five T-shirts that say “100% Jennifer,” (long story short, the musician Jerry Paper wore a shirt with that phrase on it, then someone in the audience saw it and formed a band of the same name).
As for Kauffman’s personal style? She tells me her sartorial inspiration lies in the concept of the handsome woman: Kauffman doesn’t feel super comfortable in dresses and skirts, and prefers to err on the side of androgyny. “I’ve been somewhat liberated from the need to come across as accessibly feminine, without feeling as if I’ve failed in some way,” she adds. And even if her understanding of this alter ego has developed radically across the course of this year, it eventually comes back to her work as Jennifer Vanilla. For Kauffman as a DJ and a performer, it’s all about feeling free. By coming to terms with her own vulnerabilities, she’s finally able to make art that feels like an authentic extension of the self.
Originally from Cambridge, Massachusetts, but now based in Ridgewood, Queens, Kauffman has spent her life deeply entrenched in the performing arts. As a child, she took dance classes, already picturing herself as an experimental artist living in the East Village. When she first graduated from college and relocated to New York a decade ago, Kauffman sang jazz standards at bars and participated in what she refers to as a “radical marching band.” Shortly afterward, she took her talents as a vocalist to Ava Luna—the Brooklyn art-rock ensemble known for, among other things, covering Serge Gainsbourg’s Histoire de Melody Nelson in full—and began writing music with the kind of intricate melodies that drop off seemingly in midair. But while on hiatus from the band in 2015, Kauffman revisited her early childhood dreams of becoming a performance artist, and Jennifer Vanilla began to take shape.
For Kauffman, Jennifer Vanilla became a multifarious object that allowed her to explore questions of gender, fashion, and the complexities of her own self-confidence. Jennifer Vanilla is a surrogate, or “a fake,” as Kauffman calls her. “I have to put her ahead of me to sort of clear the way, and then internally I’m making all these decisions in the moment, but through this sheen or presentation of total fluency and trust in herself,” she adds. This self-assuredness often comes from what she wears. In the past, that’s taken the form of clip-on, Ariana Grande–inspired ponytails and all-pink outfits, but Jennifer’s aesthetic has also gone down a Laurie Anderson–inspired route too. Think: Cheeto-orange hair, neon blue windbreakers, and silver bodysuits in the vein of the late noughties. Lately, however, Kauffman’s byzantine performance project has shifted, and these days Jennifer Vanilla can more often be found living backstage—metaphorically, anyway.
The change came during her second U.S. tour this past February. Kauffman notes that things began as usual: She arrived in Athens, Georgia, to headline a music festival that highlights solo artists. Then, like any artist touring the country alone, she befriended a group of students—they all had mullets, so she got one herself, marking the beginning of what Kauffman refers to as a “transformative hair journey.” As she moved across the country, her hair changed continuously. She dyed it red, then orange; later, she chopped it even shorter. By the time she returned to New York, she felt like a completely different person—and, more significantly, a different artist. “Usually, my ideas will dictate how my hair is going to change, but this time the hair changed and then dictated who I would become. The whole process had to shift as a result. I feel like there was Jennifer Vanilla before the hair and Jennifer Vanilla after,” says Kauffman.
Several haircuts and six months later, Kauffman has thought a lot about how she wants to evolve her act and her aesthetic. For starters, she’s moving away from pure performance art, and lately has opted to DJ during her sets. “The risk that I’m taking right now is learning how to DJ, and working that into my live set. [Jennifer sets are] becoming a little less performative, [and I’m] changing up [my audience’s] impression of who Jennifer is. I’m curious to find out what happens when I’m slightly more subdued,” she explains of the pivot. The result of this transitional phase is an EP titled J.E.N.N.I.F.E.R., which is a blend of techno-oriented production and Kauffman’s highly stylized and performative vocals. The first song, “Space Time Motion,” is out now along with an accompanying video that perfectly captures Kauffman’s offbeat style.
One thing that has remained constant is Kauffman’s one-of-a-kind merch. She makes T-shirts where the only parameter is that they must include the word Jennifer; to make the shirts, she’ll iron on letters individually and construct a phrase spontaneously. For custom orders, sometimes she’ll ask a little bit about the person who ordered. She almost never repeats a phrase, although when we chat she mentions that she’s making five T-shirts that say “100% Jennifer,” (long story short, the musician Jerry Paper wore a shirt with that phrase on it, then someone in the audience saw it and formed a band of the same name).
As for Kauffman’s personal style? She tells me her sartorial inspiration lies in the concept of the handsome woman: Kauffman doesn’t feel super comfortable in dresses and skirts, and prefers to err on the side of androgyny. “I’ve been somewhat liberated from the need to come across as accessibly feminine, without feeling as if I’ve failed in some way,” she adds. And even if her understanding of this alter ego has developed radically across the course of this year, it eventually comes back to her work as Jennifer Vanilla. For Kauffman as a DJ and a performer, it’s all about feeling free. By coming to terms with her own vulnerabilities, she’s finally able to make art that feels like an authentic extension of the self.
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
The Story Behind Leon Bridges’s Show-Stealing Afropunk Look
A few days before Afropunk took over Brooklyn’s Commodore Barry Park this past weekend, singer-songwriter Leon Bridges stopped by designer Emily Bode’s sun-dappled Chinatown studio to pick out the perfect onstage look. Bridges first discovered Bode when he was getting a suit tailored at Martin Greenfield a few years ago, and spotted one of her shirts hanging in the shop. “I had never seen anything like it,” says Bridges. “I thought it was such an interesting piece.”
The musician’s style has evolved over the years, and Bode has played a central role in that transition. “I started out with a very specific ’50s, ’60s kind of thing—suits only—and the more I’ve grown and matured, I’ve wanted to keep that same aesthetic, but do it in a more modern way.” When it came to updating Bridges’s wardrobe, Bode was the obvious answer. From the day he first laid eyes on Bode’s work, the pair have developed a fruitful working relationship: Bridges memorably wore a custom mustard yellow Bode suit—covered with hand-drawn references to Bridges’s home state of Texas—to the Grammys this past year. Surprisingly, perhaps, the two have only recently met for the first time in person.
Bridges, dressed in an olive green bowling shirt, flared black pants, and gold-accented Gucci loafers, carefully combs through the racks of Bode’s historically grounded handiwork. “The foundation of the brand is domestic textiles that are female-centric in nature, so quilting, mending, appliqué,” Bode says while Bridges picks out three pieces that exemplify this ethos. First, there’s a linen jacket made in India emblazoned with a classic tiger patch, which Bode recreated from the central emblem of a ’50s sports sweater that she originally bought while at college. Then, Bridges sets aside two different shirts made from souvenir tablecloths: typically purchased by World War II soldiers who were stationed abroad, one is more sheer than the other. “They purchased them for their wives or their girlfriends who were back home,” Bode says. “I have one from my grandfather. You see it a lot in vintage stores—sometimes they’re table runners, or sometimes they’re silk underwear from the ’40s that are too delicate to be touched.”
Bridges knew that he wanted to wear one of Bode’s standout pieces to Afropunk. It’s partly thanks to her breathable pieces being capable of withstanding the New York City summer heat, but also because the festival shifted his understanding of his audience in a crucial way early on in his career. “I played Afropunk Paris when I released my first album, and it was a beautiful experience—just beautiful black people. At that time I had the perception that my music wasn’t reaching the black community in a way, but that [performance] totally squashed that perception.”
By the time Bridges takes the stage at the festival itself, he’s narrowed down his selection to the more lightweight shirt of the two: embroidered with miniature trees and pagodas, it serves as a neat reminder of the textile’s WWII-era origins. Bridges has worn two jackets from Bode in that same silhouette in the past. “It’s kind of cropped—soldiers would take military shirts and crop them themselves and have them embroidered, so that’s the idea that we translate into our classic silhouettes,” Bode says.
It’s this preoccupation with the past that is woven through both Bode and Bridges’s work, making their partnership feel completely natural. “I feel like with our brand, the goal is to have shapes that are classic and materials that are comfortable and historic,” adds Bode. “You can take one of our garments and put it in a photograph and not really know what period it’s from. I think Leon’s music speaks to that as well.” She’s right: the very same could be said of the sight of Bridges onstage at Afropunk. Dressed in that sheer shirt and classic blue jeans, his outfit feels somehow both utterly timeless and perfectly of the moment.
The musician’s style has evolved over the years, and Bode has played a central role in that transition. “I started out with a very specific ’50s, ’60s kind of thing—suits only—and the more I’ve grown and matured, I’ve wanted to keep that same aesthetic, but do it in a more modern way.” When it came to updating Bridges’s wardrobe, Bode was the obvious answer. From the day he first laid eyes on Bode’s work, the pair have developed a fruitful working relationship: Bridges memorably wore a custom mustard yellow Bode suit—covered with hand-drawn references to Bridges’s home state of Texas—to the Grammys this past year. Surprisingly, perhaps, the two have only recently met for the first time in person.
Bridges, dressed in an olive green bowling shirt, flared black pants, and gold-accented Gucci loafers, carefully combs through the racks of Bode’s historically grounded handiwork. “The foundation of the brand is domestic textiles that are female-centric in nature, so quilting, mending, appliqué,” Bode says while Bridges picks out three pieces that exemplify this ethos. First, there’s a linen jacket made in India emblazoned with a classic tiger patch, which Bode recreated from the central emblem of a ’50s sports sweater that she originally bought while at college. Then, Bridges sets aside two different shirts made from souvenir tablecloths: typically purchased by World War II soldiers who were stationed abroad, one is more sheer than the other. “They purchased them for their wives or their girlfriends who were back home,” Bode says. “I have one from my grandfather. You see it a lot in vintage stores—sometimes they’re table runners, or sometimes they’re silk underwear from the ’40s that are too delicate to be touched.”
Bridges knew that he wanted to wear one of Bode’s standout pieces to Afropunk. It’s partly thanks to her breathable pieces being capable of withstanding the New York City summer heat, but also because the festival shifted his understanding of his audience in a crucial way early on in his career. “I played Afropunk Paris when I released my first album, and it was a beautiful experience—just beautiful black people. At that time I had the perception that my music wasn’t reaching the black community in a way, but that [performance] totally squashed that perception.”
By the time Bridges takes the stage at the festival itself, he’s narrowed down his selection to the more lightweight shirt of the two: embroidered with miniature trees and pagodas, it serves as a neat reminder of the textile’s WWII-era origins. Bridges has worn two jackets from Bode in that same silhouette in the past. “It’s kind of cropped—soldiers would take military shirts and crop them themselves and have them embroidered, so that’s the idea that we translate into our classic silhouettes,” Bode says.
It’s this preoccupation with the past that is woven through both Bode and Bridges’s work, making their partnership feel completely natural. “I feel like with our brand, the goal is to have shapes that are classic and materials that are comfortable and historic,” adds Bode. “You can take one of our garments and put it in a photograph and not really know what period it’s from. I think Leon’s music speaks to that as well.” She’s right: the very same could be said of the sight of Bridges onstage at Afropunk. Dressed in that sheer shirt and classic blue jeans, his outfit feels somehow both utterly timeless and perfectly of the moment.
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