Comic-Con 2019: The Best Fashion Moments - Refinery29 |
- Comic-Con 2019: The Best Fashion Moments - Refinery29
- A Vogue Editors’ Guide to the Best Fashion on Gossip Girl - Vogue
- Athlete style: How arena entrance has become fashion show runway - Sports Illustrated
- Smokey Bear celebrates 75 years of fighting fire — with fashion - New York Post
- The State Of Atlanta's Fashion Scene, As Told By Its Designers | 90.1 FM WABE - WABE 90.1 FM
| Comic-Con 2019: The Best Fashion Moments - Refinery29 Posted: 22 Jul 2019 12:45 PM PDT   |
| A Vogue Editors’ Guide to the Best Fashion on Gossip Girl - Vogue Posted: 22 Jul 2019 02:11 PM PDT Xoxo! Paging imaginary alumni of Constance Billard School for Girls! It seems that those phantoms halls, prowled by the likes of Serena van der Woodsen and Blair Waldorf, will once again ring with the peals of nasty laugher, the whispers of scandalous secrets. An updated reboot of Gossip Girl, which originally ran from 2007 to 2012, is reportedly forthcoming from HBO Max! Can lightning strike twice? How much fun can we expect to have? And perhaps most importantly, what will this new cast wear? Because we certainly remember what the original characters wore—in fact, having undertaken a brief survey of Vogue.com editors, we were frankly astonished by the acute memories of our fellow staffers, many of whom could recall exact details of specific ensembles, and others who sought to recreate these outfits in their own young lives a decade ago. Staffer Allie Michler admits that whenever she would take the train from Grand Central to her childhood home in Connecticut, she would channel Serena's classic prep look; Sam Sussman confesses that her favorite outfits were the school uniforms, though she wasn't "brave enough to jazz up my own uniform to Gossip Girl level." Anny Choi says what has stuck with her is the white Marc Jacobs scallop number that Blair wore to the all-white party in the Hamptons; Christian Allaire adored Georgina's cropped fringy leather jacket, "combined with tons of rings and layered cross necklaces." Monica Kim admits that she owned "an embarrassing amount of Blair Waldorf clothing," including the little white Marc by Marc Jacobs Hamptons dress and the mint green Marc by Marc Jacobs Pilgrim heels; Janelle Okwodu lauds Serena's blingy Diane von Furstenberg gown from the Studio 54–themed party for CeCe. Ella Riley-Adams cites Blair and Serena's matching backless dresses "when they made up after a fight and celebrated with an outdoor photoshoot." Jenna Rennert says she always wanted to get married spontaneously in Central Park while wearing "some sort of fabulous couture gown like Blair's Elie Saab situation, which, of course, was finished off with the perfect crystal headband." (Her husband shot down this idea immediately.) Brooke Bobb waxes poetic on Serena's sparkly pink cage-detail lace couture dress from Georges Chakra, worn with sneakers and an oversize blazer; Lilah Ramzi declares herself a proud member of team Blair: "I loved seeing how she dressed for the home—men's silk pajamas sets, retro pearl-encrusted slips, and stockings and garter belts worn for absolutely no one." But it wasn't for no one; it was for us! Will the fashions in the reboot engender similar fierce loyalty? Who knows. In the meantime, there is good news: It turns out you can still resurrect the original GG looks, even if high school is now a distant (bad!) memory. Here, our roster of GG-worthy fashions:                                                    |
| Athlete style: How arena entrance has become fashion show runway - Sports Illustrated Posted: 22 Jul 2019 10:25 AM PDT This story appears in the July 29–August 5, 2019, issue of Sports Illustrated, which features the 2019 Fashionable 50 list, honoring the most stylish athletes in sports right now. For more great storytelling and in-depth analysis, subscribe to the magazine—and get up to 94% off the cover price. Click here for more. Dwyane Wade recognized the rituals of a fashion revolution as his teammates prepared to get off the bus before every Heat road game. The pat down of the skinny jeans. The smoothing of the blazer sleeves. The quick below-the-knee inspection to ensure that sneakers are tied, trouser cuffs break just right so those snazzy socks are visible . . . every Miami player seemed to have a checklist. "They might act like they don't care," says Wade, who retired in April after his 16th NBA season. "But when they get off the bus, they're fixing their clothes because they're about to hit that runway." The runway. The tunnel entrance. The arrival shot. Popularized by NBA stars such as Wade, LeBron James, Russell Westbrook and James Harden, the arena walk-in is now a staple of live broadcasts across all pro sports leagues—not to mention constant fodder for social media sartorialists from Miami to Milan. You know the scene: Dapper athletes strut through a cavernous hallway, headphones on and eyes up en route to the locker room as camera flashes flicker and news crews hustle to keep pace.  Melissa Majchrzak/NBAE via Getty Images  David Sherman/NBAE via Getty Images Granted, the stage often lends itself less to haute couture than hot garbage. "We're trying to dress our asses off, and there's 10 trash cans behind you when they take the picture," Wizards guard Bradley Beal laments. Consider iconic Madison Square Garden, where visiting NBA and NHL players must summit a five-story, circular truck ramp from the security gate along West 33rd Street. "You're winded by the time you get to the top," Wade says. "Might be some things running past you on the ground, too." But the concrete catwalk has become more than just a platform for athletes to express their individuality before changing into their work uniforms. It connects them to existing fans, engages new ones, attracts sponsors and even helps send messages of social good. "It's the closest thing to being in a fashion show," says quarterback Tyrod Taylor, among the NFL's sharpest dressers. "If you want to show your sense of style, the opportunity is pregame." Precompetition peacocking is hardly new. Centuries before Wade and his peers transformed the NBA tunnel, Roman gladiators paraded around the Colosseum pit flaunting purple-and-gold cloaks—or, as with second-century emperor Commodus, a lion's pelt—before trying to slaughter one another. Says stylist Rachel Johnson, "There's always some kind of entrance that a warrior makes before he goes into battle. And it's the same thing with the guys today." Johnson and a handful of other full-time athlete stylists make a career out of curating those entrances. In the early 2000s, Johnson, then a recent Florida A&M graduate who majored in English education, was helping outfit rap stars such as Jay-Z and P. Diddy when she met then Bulls swingman Jalen Rose, who introduced her to the world of NBA couture . . . or, rather, whatever passed for it. "Jalen allowed me to understand how players ended up with pea-green suits with seven buttons and crazy collars," the 45-year-old Johnson says. "The first time I went into his closet, I was like, What is this?" It wasn't that pro athletes had no sense of style. From the mink coats of Joe Namath and Walt Frazier to Allen Iverson's baggy retro jerseys, pregame fashion was always a surefire way to attract attention. But then in October 2005, NBA commissioner David Stern enacted a "casual business attire" dress code for games, outlawing chains, do-rags and other hallmarks of Iverson's street swag. "Everyone wants to be themselves and not feel like you have to fit in to a certain person's view of how you should dress," Wade says. "Even though now, if you look, [the outfits are] wilder than [they were] then." That same season Johnson began working with James, whom she met through Jay-Z. Then 20, LeBron rightfully saw the marketing potential in wearing luxury brands tailored to his 6' 8" frame. "That hadn't been done before," Johnson says. "Maybe they were getting suits from Armani or carrying Louis Vuitton luggage, but NBA players weren't wearing special-made." Above all, though, James had one mandate. "More than the latest trend," Johnson says, "it was about being confident before he hit the hardwood."  Zach Beeker/NBAE via Getty Images  Glenn James/NBAE via Getty Images  Alex Subers That is the basic goal for every sports stylist, but the process is more complicated. Take Dex Robinson, who dresses a dozen athletes, including wide receiver Marquise Goodwin, sack machine Khalil Mack and Taylor, the Chargers' backup quarterback. With his NFL clients, Robinson begins planning for the up-coming season during OTAs in June, curating potential looks based on a variety of factors. Is it a prime-time game? Who's the opponent? What would the weather likely be? Robinson then visits each player before the start of preseason, armed with dozens of shirts, pants and shoes. "Typically, three to four 70-pound bags," he says. "Gotta keep in mind, these guys are huge." Finally, Robinson returns for a follow-up fitting during the regular season, and once more if a playoff berth looks possible. "I feel like a coach," Robinson says. "I'm teaching them. I'm not just playing dress-up." Of course, not every player needs help. Westbrook and Suns swingman Kelly Oubre Jr. have cultivated two of the NBA's boldest wardrobes by shopping for themselves. The same goes for Panthers quarter-back/feathered-bowler connoisseur Cam Newton and Saints defensive end Cameron Jordan, two of the NFL's most fearless fashion plates. "When I rock heat," says Jordan, "you know the effort I took to find it." As the son of tight end Steve Jordan, who spent 13 seasons with the Vikings in the 1980s and '90s, Cameron grew up admiring players who wore "chinchilla and gator boots and big furs" for their pregame attire. Now Jordan's heat—or "drip," as stylish outfits are described—features T-shirts of superheroes (Green Lantern, Static Shock) and super-villains (Bane, the Joker), as well as a series of '80s-inspired FUBU windbreakers and Reebok pumps. "My kids are going to look back and be like, 'Yo, daddy was swaggy in the day,' " Jordan says. On June 3, a few hours before Game 4 of the Stanley Cup finals between the Blues and the Bruins, studio producer Mark Bellotti was standing near a bank of TV trucks parked inside St. Louis's Enterprise Center. When he joined NBCSN in 2010–11, it hardly mattered to NHL broadcast crews when players arrived. "We cared in the sense that we might have a pregame interview scheduled," Bellotti says, "but never found any other reason to cover that." Now? When Boston's team bus backed into the loading dock at 4:15 p.m., five TV cameras and two still photographers scuttled into position, near a bank of portable toilets and a sign that read: hazardous material. Lenses trained on the door, they followed Bruins captain Zdeno Chara (dark suit, purple tie), center Patrice Bergeron (ditto) and winger Brad Marchand (navy, windowpane-patterned three-piece ensemble) as the team entered the building. Asked how he'd react if his crew missed out on these shots, Bellotti admits, "I would feel like a little panicked. It has become that much a part of the show." This obsession with pregame walks actually originated with postgame press conferences. The shift, at least according to NBA players and stylists, came during the 2012 playoffs, when Westbrook went viral answering questions in red, lens-less glasses and a short-sleeve Lacoste polo printed with big, colorful fishing lures. "We didn't really start seeing the tunnel look until the past couple of years," says stylist Megan Wilson, a former sports-fashion blogger whose clients include Pistons big man Andre Drummond. "The podium game came first."  John Russell/NHLI via Getty Images Perhaps the best reflection of the increased buzz can be found at a home office just 10 express stops north of Madison Square Garden. Each night during the NBA season, Jamaal Rich analyzes and reposts arrival shots from team photographers on his sports-fashion blog, More Than Stats. The site's accompanying Instagram account boasts more than 55,000 followers; a similar page titled League Fits, a Slam magazine subsidiary, has nearly 300,000 followers. "Looks create conversation," Rich, 31, says. "Fans are well-engaged in player fashion today. Either they're critiquing the athlete's style, or they're inspired to dress different." NHL defenseman P.K. Subban recalls the endless flak he got for a "glistening burgundy sharkskin suit with a cougar-patterned inside lining" as a Canadiens rookie in 2011–12. "Now I'm seeing guys walk into games with hats on and checkered suits," he says. "It's another way to show personalities without hearing them speak." Like a picture, an outfit is often worth a thousand words. It can hint at team unity, like when Beal suggested that the Wizards wear all-black suits to a mid-January 2017 tilt against the Celtics—"Because it was a funeral game," he explains—or when LeBron purchased gray Thom Browne suits for the entire Cavs roster in the '17–18 postseason. Other messages are much more personal. Before Game 4 of the 2019 NBA Finals, Raptors guard Jeremy Lin arrived in T-shirt adorned with a quote credited to actress Sandra Oh: it's an honor just to be asian. And every single ensemble worn by Rockets point guard Chris Paul in the '18–19 regular season and playoffs featured at least one item from an African-American designer. "This is an opportunity to use style as a vehicle for a social message," says Paul's stylist, Courtney Mays.  Ned Dishman/NBAE via Getty Images  Brian Babineau/NBAE via Getty Images Whereas once, not that long ago, WNBA players were asked to sit through hair and makeup classes at rookie orientation, now they are free to express their style as they want. They can, as a New York Times op-ed put it, "celebrat[e] and showcas[e] androgynous swag." "People showing their personality is an amazing thing," says Courtney Williams, guard for the Sun, who calls herself "one of the flyest" dressers in the WNBA. "It's dope that we're actually getting this recognition for how we dress, and not being put into a box where women have to dress a certain type of way. "Swag is swag. Drip is drip." The summit was held in a private room at L'Avenue, a swanky French restaurant tucked near the Seine in central Paris. At the invitation of Johnson and fellow stylist Kesha McLeod, an all-star roster of modish athletes had gathered on the first night of men's Fashion Week in mid-June: Newton, Taylor, Victor Cruz, P.J. Tucker, Rudy Gay, Travis Kelce and more. Midnight passed. Dinner turned into drinks. Group pictures were taken, the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop. "There is an unsaid competition among stylists, and an unsaid competition among athletes," Johnson says. "But us all being in Paris was a special moment. These guys would've never made the trip without having fashion as an anchor." When Johnson blazed a trail from the music industry to sports, luxury designers were paying little attention to athletes. "The fashion houses didn't think that gentlemen of that size could represent their brand aesthetic," she says. "Didn't care if they had the money or not, didn't care about the sport, didn't care where they came from." But the game has forever changed. Harden regularly turned heads last season for wearing fresh-off-the--runway ensembles. Westbrook has released two collections with Barneys and created his own line, Honor the Gift, while Eagles safety Malcolm Jenkins was the brains behind a custom-suiting store in Philadelphia. And in January 2014 designer Riccardo Tisci themed an entire Givenchy menswear show around basketball, complete with court markings on the runway, a scoreboard, Nike hightops and jackets that featured basketball-like seams. So, what next? Cruz, the salsa-dancing former Giants receiver and a Johnson client since 2012, has an idea. He is picturing a stage at Fashion Week built to resemble a stadium tunnel, models spilling off a bus and sashaying through metal detectors. Maybe there will be portable toilets. Or 10 trash cans. "Honestly," says Cruz, "the bowels of an arena don't have to be that different from a runway in Milan."  |
| Smokey Bear celebrates 75 years of fighting fire — with fashion - New York Post Posted: 20 Jul 2019 12:27 PM PDT Feeling hot? Outdoor brand Filson launched a Smokey Bear-themed collection Friday, commemorating the 75th anniversary of the iconic firefighting mascot. Filson — once the official manufacturer of uniforms for the US Forest Service — is offering up a smokin' range of stylish items, including T-shirts ($45), a Smokey-emblazoned baseball cap ($36) and a set of camp-friendly throwback enamel pins ($12). Rounding out the wholesome capsule collection is a campfire appropriate shirt ($85) and matching boxers ($45) as well as a heat wave-friendly water bottle ($20). Check out the commemorative looks:         |
| The State Of Atlanta's Fashion Scene, As Told By Its Designers | 90.1 FM WABE - WABE 90.1 FM Posted: 22 Jul 2019 08:50 AM PDT Atlanta is bursting with culture. From its dining scene to its breakout performers and tech landscapes, Atlanta is on the map — and other big cities are paying attention. But with all the strides we've made, there's one industry the city has struggled to get a firm foothold in: fashion. "Fine fashion" has a presence here, sure — you can throw a rock in Buckhead and hit a dozen luxury boutiques, from Gucci, Dior and Céline at Phipps Plaza to Tom Ford and Hermès at The Shops at Buckhead Atlanta. (Chanel recently added a new boutique to this roster, albeit in Alpharetta.) And the city doesn't lack for style. There is a Fashion Week. A handful of locals make a strong showing throughout various seasons of fashion design reality show Project Runway. The city boasts both a Savannah College of Art and Design campus along with the 10,000-square-foot SCAD FASH museum. Yet, with all of the talent coursing through the city, it hasn't reached the level of reverence — and support — that other creative industries have. "Locally, it's tough, to be honest," says Charlene Dunbar. The Liberia-born fashion designer and former product developer created her own fashion line, Suakoko Betty, in 2010 as a celebration of the colors and patterns of her homeland. While she manufactures her clothes locally, she finds it easier to shop online for the fabrics and patterns she's looking for. Dunbar says it seems as though Atlanta is more likely to throw support behind our burgeoning music and tech scenes, "but for fashion designers? Not so much."
The contrast is clear when you look at the plentiful resources for industries like tech in Atlanta, with their multitude of hubs, investment groups, meetups, networking opportunities, and more. It can also be seen when you realize that, not only do events like New York Fashion Week bring in an international roster of press and buyers, but potentially hundreds of millions of dollars to the city's economy. To overcome the deficit, Dunbar has taken the trial-and-error route of talking to peers and finding out how they navigate similar issues, from budgeting and material sourcing to sales and marketing. "Typically, the biggest struggle is sales and marketing," she explains. "I feel like it's easier to find resources in the beginning stages for things like setting up your website and other entry-level things. After that, it becomes more difficult." While more grants for designers would be helpful, she says the real gap is with lack of mentorship. "Frankly, a lot of us rise and fall on what you don't know and can't see." Sponsored Content In 2013, Rosa Thurnher and Regina Weir attempted to bridge the resource gap they saw when they founded the fashion incubator Factory Girls. Their goal was to be a one-stop shop for high-end apparel designers in the Southeast, providing them with studio space, pattern and sample makers, production resources and more. Shortly after launching, they created an IndieGogo campaign to help them raise $50,000 (they ended up getting 11% to their goal). Factory Girls shuttered in 2016. Felicia Loewry, a former partner at Factory Girls and showroom manager at AmericasMart, went on to launch the locally based Assembly Line, a full-service consulting agency for fashion designers. "No one else does what we do," Loewry says. "There are companies that do product development and manufacturing, but with us you get someone to hold your hand and give you resources throughout the entire process." Along with development and consulting, Assembly Line offers classes and workshops to help designers build their brands and establish their businesses.
While perhaps not on the same scale as bigger metropolitan cities, local resources for designers do exist — if you know where to look. Ragtrade Atlanta's membership program (which runs between $25 and $225 a year) offers designers free access to monthly meetings and members-only events, networking and mentorship opportunities, reduced fees for workshops, and promotional opportunities for their brands. The nonprofit organization Dream Warriors Foundation recently hosted a showcase of slow-fashion designers at the Atlanta Contemporary Arts Center. The National Black Arts Festival (NBAF), an organization based in Atlanta, offers various programs and awards to nurture nascent African-American talent. Additionally, SCAD and The Art Institute of Atlanta both offer alumni-centered career-building services, job placement support, advising and more. While support is one thing, community is another.  "I feel like the designers of the city truly support themselves," says Brittani Bumb, owner and head designer of local pattern-making brand Untitled Thoughts, which focuses on Parisian-inspired sustainable garments. She's also a manager at fabric, pattern and sewing outpost Topstitch Studio & Lounge. "Every event I have ever gone to revolving around fashion has been out on by some of the most hardworking and dedicated people I have ever met." For proof it's possible to survive — and even thrive — as a local fashion designer, look no further than Megan Huntz. The Atlanta native studied industrial design at the Pratt Institute before spending about a decade abroad in Europe. She studied fashion at the Domus Academy in Milan, then entered the denim industry before pivoting from that career trajectory to launching her eponymous fashion label back in her hometown. Sponsored Content Huntz manufactures her pieces locally and runs her own Poncey-Highland boutique — she sells her collections at trade shows in New York twice a year. "I have some great retailers I work with, and that's a good percentage of my business," says Huntz. "I opened the store in fall 2018, and the retail is almost outpacing the wholesale at this point, which is really cool. I wanted to come back home because I love my life here. I have the freedom to do this in a way I wouldn't if I was in another city." Cedric Brown agrees. "You want to come up in the city you're from," says the accessories designer behind Cedric Brown Collections.  He launched his brand in 2015 at age 22 with his own funds and $1,510 from a successful Kickstarter campaign. Since then, he hasn't slowed down. Brown — who looks up to fellow Southern designers like Billy Reid — sells his wares via his website, pop-up shops, trunk shows, art festivals, and through boutiques from Inman Park to Charleston, Chattanooga and beyond. He took part in Operation HOPE, a local (and free) 12-week entrepreneur training, and he makes use of other local resources such as Ragtrade, the U.S. Small Business Administration's Atlanta office, and NBAF. "In New York and D.C., they have fashion and business grants," Brown says. "I feel like that or a residency could be helpful here in Atlanta." He adds that an off-season fashion event that draws big retailers and media coverage could also help build relationships and "let them know we're upcoming in fashion." That relationship-building seems to be a crucial piece of the design scene here in Atlanta. From sharing ideas and swapping supply resources to collaborations and more, there's an overtone of camaraderie that runs through the city.  "It's a really small network compared to New York and LA, but I think because of that, everybody knows each other and is trying to help each other out," says Hannah James, a designer and Decatur native. After studying textile design at the University of Georgia, James' eponymous hand-dyed line was born when she accepted a 100-piece order from The Beehive boutique in Edgewood in 2017. Since then, she's been part of pop ups at shops like Coco + Mischa, Citizen Supply, and Trinity Mercantile & Design. "I feel like everybody's trying to give a spotlight and space to designers to grow and connect," she adds. "It's been very helpful for me." Thanks to the opportunities afforded by online retailers and e-commerce, designers no longer have to rely on local support to succeed — though it never hurts. "I would just love to see more of an awareness in the city of the importance of locally designed and produced clothing," says Laurel Thompson, a resident of Avondale Estates who runs the sustainably minded kids clothing brand Beya Made. "I would love to see more of our local boutiques buying from local designers and getting behind our fledgling scene in a big way." What Atlanta may lack in comparative resources and support, its designers are more than making up for through scrappiness, creativity, and coming together. "I feel like it's an open opportunity here — you go to LA and NY and it's so competitive," adds Brown. "They have resources, but it's harder to get opportunities. I was in New York and I felt like, even if I became a big designer, I wouldn't be happy there. I like the way of life here. I wanna be part of that."  |
| You are subscribed to email updates from "fashion" - Google News. To stop receiving these emails, you may unsubscribe now. | Email delivery powered by Google |
| Google, 1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, CA 94043, United States | |
0 Yorumlar