Garb Writing Team’s weekly blog!!! This stop… Heatwave City???

7 SHOWS LATER.. (Non-Influencer Edition)

Something that I’ve come to terms with since coming to college is realizing the importance of comfort over style, or even stylish comfort, instead of just style. In high school, I didn’t have to take into account long walks, or different weather because my walks between classrooms were probably 4 minutes long, and really just cared about how my outfit looked, to myself and to my friends.

Thom Browne’s latest collection was hosted again within The Shed in Hudson Yards. This marks a return to the site where Browne’s previous show, inspired by "The Little Prince," enraptured audiences with his usual whimsical charm. This year, Browne once again taps into the literary world to make his first foray into darker themes. Drawing inspiration from the haunting verses of Edgar Allen Poe’s "The Raven," this show is rooted in the macabre beauty of Poe’s world.

 Loud music, stained makeup, bruised shoulders—this is what I recall from a recent hardcore show I went to. Beyond the destructive chaos of the mosh pit and the ringing in my ears between songs, what I recall the most is the smoke breaks I took in between sets, swimming in the seemingly endless sea of black shirts and white skirts that caught my eye.

In the past couple of months, Saltburn has taken the world by storm. Not only are we all swooning over Jacob Elordi and his mysterious eyebrow piercing, but Gen Z is obsessed with the overall aesthetic of the masterpiece as a whole.

It is a fashion statement, a social statement, and a visible means of protest against misconceptions. It’s never too late to say something, you and your experience matter regardless of whether you speak of it or not.

   Remember the Coastal Grandmother? Somewhere in Nantucket, she lies, adjacent to a shingled summer home, in a muted tone tomb. May she rest in peace. The microtrend hungry grandchildren of today must not fear though, because a new grandparent is in town, the “Eclectic Grandpa,” as the fashion community has coined it. 

You’re 7 years old, and your parents are about to drag you to the closest regional park for a good old family bonding hike. Look down at your clothes, what are you wearing?

It is 1991. 

You’re sitting in the front row of the Versace Fall runway show. 

You glance away for a second, inspecting the venue, but are pulled back by the booming waves of George Michael’s song “Freedom.”

“Of course I need Hairspray!” This was my honest reaction to the note at the end of our first Unit 3 meeting that by using extensive hairspray in the dorm room, the fire alarm would go off. I looked around at the other girls on my floor who seemed unphased about this insane regulation.

I spend my life mimicking people. And coming up with poetic first sentences.

The elusive life of a fraternity boy has never been appetizing to me – an almost silly charade of smelly men, beer, and boat shoes with no socks. I understood the intrigue, yet the frivolity surrounding the actual reasons I would join deterred me, and I gladly resigned to a geed experience within my first few days here at Berkeley.

My first love… Oh how fondly I remember. I was sixteen—ugly, broke, and rocking Nike running shoes… out of the house. I had nowhere to go but up. Fate would guide me to the one place that would transform into my most committed and beneficial relationship—even if we have to persevere through long distance.

I remember Freshmen year when I was applying to Garb—which I got rejected from at the time—I was asked to describe my style in one sentence. To my best recollection, I put something like “a kindergartener that dresses themselves without any understanding of color theory and spends most of their time in the dirt.”

Welcome everyone to ON THE FRINGE! Yay, I am so excited for this to finally materialize, or rather, appear in front of you