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By: Sasha Dhesi
How many bad haircuts have you gone through before you settled on the one you currently have? If you’re anything like me, your hairstyle choice reflected something about you as you grew out of adolescence into this awkward post-child/pre-adult purgatory. The way in which we present ourselves can say a lot about who we are, after all.
I distinctly remember my first truly awful haircut. It was 2010. I had turned 13 a few months before and I had just seen (500) Days of Summer. The only thing I took from that movie was that Joseph Gordon-Levitt likes girls with straight bangs, so I decided, against my better judgment, to mimic the hairstyle. I remember looking into the mirror after the haircut, only then realizing that a simple hairstyle was not going to make me look like Zooey Deschanel, although I wasn’t going to admit that for another two years.
Whether we like it or not, we say a lot about our identities by the way that we style ourselves. After all, what are our aesthetics but the simplification of the self into a presentable, marketable thing? It’s well known that our teen years are spent developing our identities, creating the image that we feel best represents us without being alienating. Aesthetic choices are a big part of that, and the way in which we present ourselves ultimately speak volumes about the people we are.
I remember looking into the mirror after the haircut, only then realizing that a simple hairstyle was not going to make me look like Zooey Deschanel.
After that disastrous haircut, I decided to grow my hair out so I could donate it. As my hair grew, my tastes changed, and my look reflected that. Gone were the bangs and ill-fitting jeans of pre-adolescence, and in were the polka dotted dresses and acne-hiding locks. As I grew more and more fascinated with the styling of films like Amélie and the 1962 version of Lolita, my style grew into an obnoxiously cutesy fit, complete with bows, polka dots and oxfords. It’s safe to say that literally no one took me seriously from age 14 to 16.
A lot of people fall into the trap of believing that our ideas are permanent. The person you are now isn’t going to be the person you are a year, month or even a day from now. You learn new things about yourself, you encounter new experiences and you grow as an individual. Chances are that your style is going to reflect that. Don’t run from it, lean into it.
A few months before my 18th birthday, it was becoming increasingly clear that no one was going to take me seriously if I looked like an extra from a Wes Anderson movie. So I did something drastic and chopped most of my hair off and into a little chin-length bob, a harsh style when mixed with my naturally dark, straight hair. I learned two tidbits of information from this: unless you’ve done it many times before, cutting your own hair will only end badly and will require a trip to the hairstylist anyway, and your family members will freak out when they see that their almost adult relative has decided to play with scissors like a five year-old. I’m still glad I did it; the bob suits me and works well with the sleek silhouettes that I opt for now.
Our stylistic choices reflect the person we want to be perceived as, and that can say a lot about who we are. The Internet and social media add an interesting layer to this, as there’s probably a tutorial out there to perfect any look imaginable. It can be pretty frustrating sometimes seeing these 12-year-olds with perfectly curated Instagram grids, but I’ll manage. After all, in a few years, these same 12-year-olds will be berating themselves for their poor tastes as they continue to grow and evolve into the people they’re going to become.
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By: Mitali Chaudhary and Christina Ugge
Athletic sneakers vs. canvas shoes
Are athletic sneakers your thing? If so, comfort for you is obviously key. You care more about keeping your feet snug, as you choose to not jam them into a pair of strappy, pointy little heels. You might be sporty, laid back and you definitely don’t mind a little bit of travelling and exploring. Unlike your other friends, you don’t have to worry about blisters, or any other uncomfortable foot issues.
If you’re a canvas shoe person, you still care about comfort, but value aesthetics a little more. You’re a person who loves variety, and made the smart decision of buying these because they look good paired with virtually everything. You’re also on the cutesy side, and really loved elementary school. Your appreciation of pattern, colour, fabric and glitter might have stemmed from there, which is apparent from the diverse types of canvas shoes you love and wear.
Kitten heels vs. pumps
If you love kitten heels (let’s be real) you’re probably on the taller side, yet still go for the professional and classy look, since it matches your personality seamlessly. You value comfort a little more, and might think that platform stilettos is a death sentence (how does one even walk on thin sticks?). You tend to dress business casual, are focused on what you want from life and are determined to get it.
Ladies who can rock pumps are fierce, and this measure increases with every extra inch added to the heel. If this is you, you’re probably outgoing, love wearing high ponytails and dressing in all black. Style matters to you more than comfort, and you look like you’ve got your shit together, also because your nails are never chipped. You’re definitely a great friend to have because you always have their back and you’re honest when they act in a less-than-intelligent manner.
Knee-high boots vs. booties
If your boots of choice are knee-high in length, you’re definitely a perceptive one. You realize that these boots are a wardrobe staple, and you use them to make dresses work in the winter, or instantly makes leggings look appropriate. You might be a little bit more reserved and uptight, but that also means you’re a perfectionist, and you get things done on time.
Booties imply that you didn’t want to commit to knee-highs, but couldn’t decide if you wanted to wear shoes either. You might be a little indecisive as a person, but having booties allow for that, and you sure are on trend. With these, you can dress on the casual side, or dress it up and can explore a variety of sartorial tastes. You also probably go to farmers markets, sip on lattes in cute coffee shops on the weekends and wear hip ripped jeans, then post it all on Instagram.
Flip-flops vs. sandals
As a lover of flip-flops, you might be classified as a little lazy since they are the easiest shoes to slip on. But you don’t care because who has so much time to think about shoes? You’re out there learning and adventuring, giving your feet some sun time and thinking about the beach. Unfortunately, all this daydreaming might be getting you late a little too often, which is why you choose to slip into your flip-flops every time you run out the door.
If you love wearing sandals of any kind (the strappier the better!), you’re a more summery and whimsical person. You probably enjoy going to music festivals, and wearing feminine dresses. As an individual, you have no problems committing to a decision; you paint your toenails regularly and upkeep them for as long as summer lasts. You’ve got your shit together too, sandal-wearers.
Ballet flats vs. toms
Is a pair of ballet flats your favourite? If so, you’re more of a gentle, old soul; you’re the quintessential girl next door. To any of your outfits, your flats provide a feminine and dainty take, which perfectly describes who you are as well. You probably enjoy all-day shopping trips, but are equally at home in a quiet library.
Do you enjoy having your feet mummified by a cute pair of TOMS? You’re definitely an individual that’s more playful, and loves to laugh and have a good time. You might be just a tad basic (but who secretly isn’t?), have many friends who love life as much as you and Snapchat a lot. Dressing on the casual side is your thing, which means you’re always ready to hit up the new sushi bar in town.
Photo Credit: Organized Chic Diva
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I’ve noticed a startling trend on Instagram recently. My blonde-haired, blue-eyed white friend began posting selfies of herself with a Sailor Moon necklace, Hello Kitty stationary and various other Asian artifacts from my childhood. While it goes without question that interests and hobbies transcend race, what alarmed me were the comments under these photos. Friends of all races and ethnicities commented about how “cute,” “cultured” and “hip” she was for wearing a pendant that belonged to my childhood hero, Sailor Moon.
On my 20th birthday in February, I will have spent two decades in Canada. My parents emigrated from Hong Kong when they were in their teens. Similar to most immigrants, they were sent over by their families with hopes for both a better education and a better life. Assimilating into the vastly different Western culture was akin to being thrown overboard without a lifejacket; they had to learn how to survive on their own. They were starting both anew and alone. The journey of immigrants is one of hardship, fortitude and, from stories about their experience, one that never really ends.
As a first-generation Canadian of parents who immigrated here at a relatively young age, I spent my childhood watching Teletoon while eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch at breakfast. Compared to many of my elementary school friends, I grew up in an environment that was fairly Westernized. My dad and I watched football together. We ordered pizza when nobody felt like cooking. My mom and I shopped at the same stores as my white friends and their moms. At the same time, my father always placed great emphasis on remembering my roots. Growing up, our home was a no-English household. I went through 10 years of Cantonese school on Saturday mornings and went to dim sum with my grandparents every Sunday afternoon. Although I did not appreciate their efforts at the time, I am now extremely grateful that my parents stood their ground and provided me with a balanced and multi-faceted upbringing. In my adolescence, however, this cultural dichotomy proved to be confusing: how could I be so Chinese and so white at the same time?
“Dozens of fast-fashion and high-fashion brands have appropriated traditional Asian dress. Perhaps the most prominent example is the kimono, a traditional Japanese dress worn by women of the culture on special occasions.”
Growing up, I was lucky enough to have attended institutions that surrounded me with a diverse body of students and staff. Although my group of close friends were predominantly white in high school, I also had a group of Asian friends, some of whom immigrated to Canada fairly recently. When these friends would speak Cantonese or Mandarin to each other at school, wear clothing with Asian lettering or speak about their penchant for Asian cultural icons like Hello Kitty, other kids at school would call them “FOB.” FOB stands for “fresh off the boat,” and is used as a derogatory term for immigrants. The dissonance between this reaction and the one that my white friend with a Sailor Moon necklace received is the primary cause of my concern and frustration. Why were my Asian friends berated, while my white friend was praised? How is it that society considers its white members who have a penchant for Asian culture as “cute” or “worldly,” while members of that very society are chastised for doing the same?
This fetishization and appropriation of Asian culture are evident in ways that often slip under our noses. Take fashion, for instance. Dozens of fast-fashion and high-fashion brands have appropriated traditional Asian dress. Perhaps the most prominent example is the kimono, a traditional Japanese dress worn by women of the culture on special occasions. If you search up “kimono” on Google, one of the first results that come up is a link to Forever 21. Another example is the cheongsam, a slim-fitting Chinese dress, which has been made popular by various Hollywood blockbusters and red carpets. While it can be argued that these are “just articles of clothing,” cultural appropriation isn’t confined to the act of wearing them; as an Asian woman, I can say that women of all races would look beautiful in a traditional kimono or cheongsam. The issue becomes how society perceives the wearer, and the difference in their perception based on the colour of the wearer’s skin. White women who wear cheongsam are cool and culturally-aware. Asian women who wear them are exotic. White women who decorate their Instagram posts with cute graphics, pose with peace signs, or enjoy Asian culture are adorable and desirable. Asian women who do the same are unrefined.
The issue goes far beyond Hollywood and fashion. Recently, I had to deal with someone discussing “yellow fever” in my presence. For those unfamiliar with the phenomenon, “yellow fever” generally refers to white men who have a sexual preference for women of Asian descent. My partner is white. It is a vastly ignorant and debasing phrase that reduces my interests, my personality, and my traits into nothing but my identity as a Chinese person. It bothers me when white individuals spew out their strong, rightful opinions on a bevy of racial issues, but turn to me right after and make an uneducated and insensible comment about my culture (such as this one). Championing for social justice is a noble cause. It is, however, just as important to become socially aware and responsible for your words. Do not embrace your white privilege and shout from the rooftops about how unjust the world is and then comment about the distinct shape of my eyes or voice your opinions on the “strange foods” that my grandparents eat.
The fetishization and appropriation of Asian culture is rampant in society; it can be found in pop culture, fashion and even in the discussion of relationships (#yellowfever). Its breadth is overwhelming in such small ways that, at times, even I forget that these problems exist. Although not everything is committed with ill intent, it is important to recognize this as a prominent societal issue that is just as important as any other. Anyone can like Sailor Moon — just don’t judge them differently based on the colour of their skin.
Photo Credit: Flickr Commons
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By: Jeffrey Ye
If you’ve been keeping up with brands such as Zara and H&M recently, you’ll know that their moves have been surprisingly uncharacteristic for their “fast fashion” label. What is fast fashion? Fast fashion is characterized by the strategy of the aforementioned fashion giants to rapidly incorporate (knock off may be more accurate) the latest trends from either the runway or popular culture into their stores. Their streamlined processes take as little as two weeks to go from design to delivery. So far, this approach has been extremely lucrative, with H&M and Zara operating a combined total of over 5,000 stores worldwide. To say nothing of their association with poor working conditions, why fix what isn’t broken?
On one hand, Zara may be testing the waters to see if the average consumer is receptive to higher end designer styles and superior quality at an increased price point. Zara has unveiled their first male studio collection that does just that. The outerwear and knits are clearly the highlight of this line, displaying prominent check prints and using wool blends in addition to alpaca and mohair fibers. Textured turtle necks, rolled trousers and several suiting options round out the collection. The difference with this collection and the fast fashion model is permanence, both with regards to its lower turnover of pieces and reduced likelihood of clothes falling apart after ten washes.
H&M on the other hand, looks to appeal to more mature consumers who have a defined style and can afford to spend more to attain it. The company has opened new stores in Toronto and Montreal under the name of COS. Having visited the Bloor street location, I was impressed by the spacious, clean layout of the store compared to H&M’s usual cluttered racks. The pieces themselves take a minimal approach to patterns, branding, zippers, and buckles. COS instead opts for clean, monochrome styling, reminiscent of the work of Jil Sander and Lemaire. While we have come to associate fast fashion with descriptors such as cheap, poor quality and trendy, COS is far from it. The company has stated, “COS prices start where H&M’s finish,” and included in that cost is superior construction and fabrics with a recognizable aesthetic.
Both companies seem to be challenging consumers to choose quality and investment into a thoughtful wardrobe in place of cheap trends. In the words of everybody’s favorite Belgian fashion designer, Raf Simons, “Fashion became pop … And I don’t know if one should be ashamed or not to admit that maybe it was nicer when it was more elitist.” While I don’t necessarily agree with putting up barriers to people exploring fashion, I agree that things are moving too quickly. There is such a focus on hopping onto the latest trend without any attempt to get to know what’s out there and discover one’s personal style. Fast fashion feeds into this. But the fact that companies such as Zara and H&M are moving towards less volatile and more refined offerings is undoubtedly positive for promoting more thought about what we wear.
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By: Mia Kibel
In ninth grade my favorite shirt was a grey deep v-neck from American Apparel. If you are currently studying at McMaster, there is a decent chance that at some point, some variation of this shirt featured prominently in your wardrobe. In 2008 and 2009, it was not uncommon to see four or five girls wearing the same shirt in a range of different colours on any given day. In retrospect, two things become striking: one is a disturbing adolescent penchant for uniformity, but the other is the fact that on Oct. 5, American Apparel filed for bankruptcy.
The company is well known for its commitment to “sweatshop-free” clothing. It is one of the only mainstream clothing companies manufacturing its product in North America, specifically in Los Angeles. American Apparel pays its employees minimum wage, and according to their website offers comprehensive healthcare and benefits. This is not to say American Apparel does not have labour rights issues — they have been accused of aggressive anti-union behavior, immigration entanglements, and sexualized hiring practices by the former CEO Dov Charney. But despite this, because they produce in America, the company still has a better human rights record than its counterparts.
In 2013, the Rana Plaza garment factory in Bangladesh made headlines when it collapsed, killing 1,100 workers (mostly women). There were no fire exits, no adequate air supply, and the women were forced to stay and work even when they noticed cracks in the foundation. The Rana Plaza factory and others like it are associated with Zara, H&M, Uniqulo, Forever 21, and many more of the world’s largest brands. Despite the news coverage, we continue to shop exhibiting a profound collective amnesia surrounding garment worker rights. In comparison, American Apparel is looking pretty good.
Unfortunately, it is not a coincidence that American Apparel is the one going bankrupt. Minimum wage for workers in California is $1,440 a month, compared to $68 in Bangladesh. These high production costs mean that American Apparel is not able to compete with “fast-fashion” like H&M, Zara and Forever 21, because producing ethically costs too much money. However little we like to admit it, we as consumers agree. I have walked into American Apparel, looked at a $24 shirt, thought, “this is too expensive” and walked out. The past five years of American Apparel sales show that a whole lot of people are doing the exact same thing. Fast fashion — dependent as it is on the mistreatment of workers — is really cheap. The cheapest plain jeans at American Apparel are $78.00, compared to $9.99 at H&M, $10.90 at Forever 21, and $29.90 at Zara. Human rights are out of my price range.
Theoretically, we have the ability to make consumption choices that protect human rights, but for a lot of people, especially students, those choices aren’t affordable. Not to mention any shopper who wears a size larger than XL lacks even the semblance of a choice, because American Apparel sizes don’t run that high. This exclusivity in socially conscious fashion isn’t unique. If you google “socially conscious clothing” the first hit is a list of 30 brands. There were only four brands that earned a single “$” rating on the website, and they only had “cheap” designations because they sold less expensive items such as underwear and accessories. People with less disposable income are excluded from whatever “socially conscious corporate economy” exists.
Financial critics of American Apparel are taking its bankruptcy as evidence that young people “don’t care where their clothes are made,” but I do not think this is true. Anyone who has ever had to meet a budget knows that sometimes you do not get to spend your money on what you want — the choice is made for you. By connecting cheap clothes to human rights abuses, the fast fashion industry is implicating all of us in the gross mistreatment of thousands of people around the globe. Not enough people would or could pay the price they set on human rights, and American Apparel’s case proves that even an approximation of human rights is not possible or profitable. Within the corporate garment industry, there is no such thing as a socially conscious consumer.
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By: Sasha Dhesi and Jennifer La Grassa
Turtlenecks
Quick, tell me one thing that all these people have in common: Audrey Hepburn, Michel Foucault, Steve Jobs, Zayn Malik and Carl Sagan. Nationality? Nope. Ideology? Probably not. Love of turtlenecks? Check!
What is it about a turtleneck that makes it so appealing? It seems as though they’ve never really fallen out of fashion. And how did these sweaters win my heart over every other type of sweater? I remember finding a picture of my dad from his mid twenties, wearing a light blue turtleneck and tweed blazer. Maybe it’s in my genes to like them.
Turtlenecks have long been associated with new ideas and innovation. During the 1950s they were adopted by the beatniks who challenged societal norms with their art. Likewise, in the 1980s they became associated with the late Steve Jobs and his strides in technology through his fledgling company, Apple. They’ve also been a staple in the fashion world, from Twiggy’s teenybopper editorials to Comme des Garçons’ brutal anti-fashion 1992 Fall/Winter collection. The unisex simplicity of the style allows it to be worn and appropriated by many different crowds, arguably making it the most versatile piece one could own.
Either way, turtleneck season has arrived, and with Drake now endorsing them via a cameo in his “Hotline Bling” video, it will only be a matter of weeks before every fast fashion boutique worth anything is brimming to the seams with oversized turtlenecks emblazoned with spikes and slogans. With so many options it may seem impossible to pick, but here are my top choices for those who adore the cozy, sleek look that a turtleneck affords you.
Boots
I love my Steve Madden combat boots as much as I love life itself. It’s been two years since we found each other, and I can’t imagine what fall would be like without them. They go well with all my leggings and jeans. The only downfall to their worn leather brown exterior and cloth laces is their lack of durability and warmth during the winter months; I tend to wear them up until the first decent snowfall, and then tearfully put them away for the year.
Shifting from fall to winter boots is not only an emotional struggle, but a financial and fashion one as well. Finding a boot that looks, feels, and functions well is hard to come by when the amount of snow we get begs for snowshoes. Throughout high school I refused to wear the boots my mom suggested. I wanted boots that made me feel mature. This change of heart sacrificed both my bank account and fragile toes, forcing me to quickly realize that winter fashion came at a cost and that cost was quality.
Last winter, I was due for new boots and because school was a 15 minute walk away and the thought of my toes falling off from frost bite, I allowed my mom to help me shop for a pair of boots. Even though they made me look like a child and the fierceness created by my Steve Madden combat boots melted away a little more each time I wore them, they kept me warm and had good grip, which is all I can ask for when trekking to school in a blizzard.
For those of you searching for the shoe that will get you through winter, these high-quality boots will help you survive the winter in style. Forewarning: Winter boots are costly, but if they are of good quality and proper care has been taken, they’ll last; don’t let the prices scare you away.
Photo Credit: Nate Greenberg
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By: Sasha Dhesi
With cultural diversity growing in the West, our media is slowly but surely also becoming more diverse. Minorities have carved out their spots in most forms of media, whether it be music, dance or television, but there is one part of the art world where diversity has plateaued: the modelling world.
Diversity in the modelling world is abysmal: the FashionSpot, an online fashion magazine, reported that during February’s New York Fashion Week, the shows were overwhelmingly white, at 77 percent. Of the remaining 23 percent, 8.7 percent of the models were black, 8.5 percent were Asian, 3.5 percent were Latina and the remainder were composed of other ethnicities too small in percentage to list.
Even when ethnic minorities are included, they tend to be gimmicks, something to lure consumers in by their momentary diversity only to fall back into their usual homogenous white blur the next season. More often than not, companies will throw in one non-white model and consider their job done, because apparently every ethnic group darker than “NW15” is the same. Ethnic minorities are considered a monolith that can be used at random to improve a company’s PR at the drop of a hat. Consider H&M’s recent fall campaign, which included a woman wearing a hijab. While it is a huge achievement in our current society, I found it a little too convenient that the company decided to do this now following scandal after scandal that they endured over their incorrigible working conditions in a mostly Muslim country.
And this isn’t a trend exclusive to racial minorities. Despite being over the so-called “heroin chic” of the 1990s, the modelling world is still hesitant to use anyone who doesn’t fit this waif criterion. There has been the occasional editorial where a plus-size model will be used, but once again, it tends to be a gimmick meant to reflect well on the company over actually celebrating body diversity. For the most part, companies still manage to only use women with flat stomachs and hourglass figures. The stereotypical model is still thin, white and young. Anything else must be explicitly stated: the trans model, the plus-size model, the model of colour.
You may ask, why any of this is important? Does it really matter? And my answer is yes, it does. Modelling is a big part of how we establish beauty standards, and by continually using a very specific mould, companies insinuate that there is only one “look” that is noteworthy. Even when fashion houses decide to use a minority en masse for a campaign, it tends to be in an insultingly obsessive way, like the way the fashion world is currently uncomfortably obsessed with the genitals of trans models. Although helpful in representation, the obsession does not equal celebration.
This isn’t to say that there isn’t variance in the modelling world: after all, some of the most popular supermodels have been women of colour. But they are exceptions to the rule, who often had the good luck of being in contact with the few progressive designers that are willing to hire them, which was the case for model Naomi Campbell, who credits her career to Yves St. Laurent’s willingness to use black models during the 1960s and 1970s.
Lucky for us, things are slowly changing. Although mainstream designers like Chanel and Dior stick to their blur of lily white waifs, up-and-comers like French brand Koché are making waves through their mix of high couture and sportswear, and use a mix of minorities in their shows to reflect the diversity of Paris’ underground scene, away from the Disney illusion that North Americans have come to know. And who could forget Kanye West’s Yeezy x Adidas collection, or his more recent surprise Yeezy 2 collection, both of which included an array of minorities in nude bodysuits? The rules of modelling are slowly being challenged, arguably not fast enough, but challenged just the same.
Models like Neelam Gill, Fei Fei Sun and Joan Smalls, to name a few, are examples of the elegance that is left untapped by our society because some are uncomfortable changing their notions of beauty. But to do so, minorities have to be used in shows and campaigns in a genuine manner, and not as tokens so the brand can improve its street cred, something very doable. A celebration of the beauty should be inclusive of all beauty, not just one. Once established, the fashion world can grow and change like the rest of the world.
Photo Credit: AFP Photo/Joshua Lott
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Disclaimer: I hate wearing jeans. I also don’t have a boyfriend. However, I promise that I am not just being bitter when I say that I dislike the new trend in denim of “boyfriend jeans” for women.
Sharing clothing with someone you are dating is intimate. It implies shared property ownership, or at the very least, the promise that you will see that person again before laundry day. Maybe it is something you wear to remind you of your partner throughout the day, or maybe it has been borrowed after spending the night; either way, this romantic exchange of clothing is something that the fashion industry has decided to cash in on. The benefit is that these jeans — and all the associations that come along with them — can be purchased without the prerequisite of an actual boyfriend.
So what exactly is the issue with this trend? Jeans cycle through fads faster than our wardrobes can keep up, meaning that this style isn’t guaranteed to stick around. Other trends such as bellbottoms or boot cuts were perfectly innocuous, so why should we care about this one in particular?
The reason is the gender dynamics that have been explicitly incorporated into your clothing. Since these pants are not marketed as “men’s slouchy jeans for women” but as “boyfriend” jeans, they assume certain things about their audience, primarily that they are heterosexual. The sharing of clothing is also not reciprocal. I have never seen a “girlfriend jean” for men, or any other form of female clothing designed for boyfriends, meaning that the denim industry is only comfortable with cross-dressing when it can’t in any way be construed as emasculation or in any way disturb the gender binary.
These jeans also dictate what your relationship should look like. The design leads us to believe that girlfriends are supposed to be physically smaller — both shorter and skinnier — than their boyfriends. The jeans are intended to be baggy with a rolled up cuff, since your imaginary boyfriend ought to physically outstrip you. Standing at five foot ten, I promise you that none of my previous boyfriends’ jeans would have fit me at all, let alone in an artistically baggy fashion. I can’t help but feel I’m somehow the “wrong” size when these jeans are just a small part of a larger message to women that we are supposed to shrink ourselves to fit into our interpersonal relationships.
Perhaps more concerning about the boyfriend jean is its function as a sartorial “no homo.” As of late, women’s fashion trends have been embracing what were previously seen as men’s styles. By labelling a jean as a “boyfriend” cut, you allay the fears of the heterosexual female shopper worried about venturing into “butch” territory. Worried that people might assume you are gay based on your pant selection? Don’t worry, your jeans are just as heterosexual as you are!
In keeping with traditional gender dynamics and inequalities, it should not shock you that your boyfriend jeans can cost you more than your actual boyfriend’s jeans. The cheapest pair on the Levi’s website clocked in at 98 dollars, while the male counterpart cost ten bucks less. (I for one resent the fact that men’s jeans were not only cheaper, but also free of stylized holes.) While this may not seem like much, when every piece of clothing that you are buying is around ten percent more expensive, it starts to add up.
It’s not news that the fashion industry has its problems, but while there has been a push in the past decade for the industry to do away with some of the more blatant issues, the banal ones remain. Do I think abolishing this style of jean will singlehandedly bring about gender equality? Not at all. But do I think this fashion trend is symptomatic of larger issues to do with heteronormativity and body expectations? Absolutely. Break out the ice cream and Netflix, because it is time for us to dump our boyfriend jeans.
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By: Sonia Leung
“Five colours to wear this fall!” “Biggest trend of the season!” These headlines (and their variations) make their way around the fashion magazine circuit year-round. Magazines and similar media are quick to prescribe a trend to track, a culture to associate yourself with, and rules to abide by.
There is nothing wrong with these trends or adhering to a culture of following fashion guidelines. After all, they only become widespread as more and more people appreciate the proposed aesthetic. At the same time, there is nothing wrong with pushing boundaries, testing the waters and seeing what works for you even if this may means you’re the only one swimming against the current. As much as I love seeing the analogous colours of autumn as fall trends make their way into the fashion zeitgeist, other colours need some love too.
If you are a utilitarian, kudos to your practicality! But if you are like me, clothing possesses a dual purpose — it is an outward expression of your inner reality. For me, attire is a mood ring of sorts, an in-a-nutshell approximation of the uniquely intricate properties that make you, you (or of the thoughts and emotions that morning when you got dressed up.)
If I wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy, I’m likely to be sporting a vibrant colour or bold print. On a dull uneventful day of hiding under readings and paperwork, I may be spotted with a more demure ensemble to reflect my state of hiding. When a day rolls around where I don’t feel as conversational as I usually do, I may wear a purple or black lipstick. If I find myself hankering to wear a colder-coloured lip gloss but still come off as inviting and approachable, I consciously smile more and adjust my body language to appear more open to counter the bold choice of makeup.
In a world where advertising is ubiquitous and there are constantly messages competing for your attention, we are conditioned to make split second judgments on what we see. Like it or not, this is the paradigm in which we live. We are required to form impressions quickly; we judge books by their covers. Of course, there are intellectually stimulating books with uninviting covers and vice versa. Covers aren’t always a fair preamble to the content lying thereafter, but in an ideal world, they would be.
Every action is a message. The absence of actions is also a message. Your attire and the way you carry yourself is a message and first impressions matter. Whether the messages you send are intentional or not, they are undeniably received by your peers. The way you present yourself may affect how others are primed to expect, think of, and interact with you.
Your appearance is not a testament of your character or personality just as covers are not a good measure of how fascinating a book is, but a book with a cover composed with care and intention would definitely invite more readers to read it.
Be bold, try a new colour, and redesign your cover.
By: Jeffrey Ye
Streetwear started out as a simple idea, but grew increasingly broad and complex beyond the word’s dictionary definition. When we think of streetwear, the words “hype” and “exclusive” often come to mind. We think of brands like Supreme that take influences from skate, hip-hop and various other youth subcultures, all combined to make a potent mix of nostalgia and on-trend styles that makes hype beasts foam at the mouth. However, these notions of streetwear represent only one aspect of the word that seems so difficult to define these days.
In the past few years, an incredible number of youth are embracing streetwear without having any connection to the various subcultures that shaped it. Look at me: someone who didn’t have the faintest interest in hip-hop, skate culture or even fashion growing up, but now streetwear is one of my biggest interests. It’s a topic that I love sharing and learning more about. What is it about streetwear that draws millions of kids like me around the world to it – kids who have no connection whatsoever to streetwear culture?
For one, I think attitude plays a large role in the appeal of streetwear. Streetwear is expressive and personal, almost an escape from the path that I personally rarely ever stray from. Growing up as a first generation immigrant, there is a lot of pressure to work hard and find success quickly. There are times when I feel like I not only carry my own goals and expectations, but those of my parents as well, who left their previous lives for me. Similar themes of familial pressure and expectation are present in the backgrounds of many of my friends.
Some grew up in religious families, private education and generally the farthest things from what is traditionally considered streetwear culture. Attitude is taking a step away from the pressure and knowing what it means to be an individual. I’m not saying streetwear is a way of giving the finger to one’s upbringing, neither is it disdainfully stating, “You can’t tell me what to do.” What I feel streetwear represents is a medium to experiment and express yourself however you want to.
The second reason may come as a surprise, but I think that the endless possibilities of streetwear are key to its popularity. You might be thinking, “Wait, there’s more to streetwear than bogo tees and Jordan’s?” Yes, because streetwear isn’t just exclusive drops and the hype-beast uniform. Perhaps even deeper than its roots in skate/surf culture, streetwear embodies a haphazard melting pot of the myriad fashions on the streets. These other aesthetics range from high fashion looks inspired by streetwear (“Raf Simons, Rick Owens usually what I’m dressed in,” A$AP Rocky), to Japanese streetwear (Visvim, Undercover), to what seems like an entire cult dedicated to biting off Kanye’s latest fits. The point is that there isn’t really a particular look or wardrobe that you need in order to get into streetwear. You can really experiment with whatever you already have, take inspiration from magazines, blogs, or people, and build your wardrobe from there. This is a powerful idea and part of the reason many prefer streetwear over the uniformity and rigidity of classical menswear—don’t forget to leave the bottom button unbuttoned!
It seems now prudent to address the issue of cultural appropriation and whether or not taking pieces of basketball history (or any other subculture) such as Chuck Taylor’s, and turning it into a fashion statement dilutes the significance of the object. I can relate this to seeing others adopting aspects of my own culture, but as long as it’s not done in a mocking manner I personally cannot see any harm. Hopefully that doesn’t stop anyone from experimenting and developing their personal style.
Sometimes I look back and see how different I look and feel since I got into streetwear, even if I’m the same kid trying to decide what looks good and what looks bad. As Rachel Zoe said, “Style is a way to say who you are without having to speak.”
