Tag: Madison Stephens

revisiting // junya watanabe ss ’04

Summer 2014 wardrobe oasis has been sourced- or perhaps more aptly, spotted- via time machine set to ten years past, and it’s a veritable treasure trove of dots, biker shorts, and boob seams that feel appropriately and unabashedly so right, right now that I could write a trite, borderline senior thesis on the forward thinking of the Japanese guard. I will abstain, and in lieu, I’m listening to that “new” Michael Jackson track (“Love Never Felt So...

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why not… plaster your face in papier mache?

DIRECTIONS: -Wrap head in plastic wrap. RECOMMENDED: Industrial-sized Cling Classic. -Adapt to lifestyle sans air. -Ask a discriminating preschooler to papier mache your skull. Bribe with gummy candy that you will no longer physically be capable of consuming. BONUS: Is child enrolled in Chelsea-based art daycare and/or descended from esteemed art collector/dealer? Ask for personal fingerprint indentations for investment purposes. -Let dry. -Frustrated, preferably on a gallery night Thursday, dig into papier mache just over...

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a sardonic case against “fashion girls”

My latest piece for The Style Con, in which I *satirically* expound upon the “virtues” of dating fashion girls and the absurdity of “reasons to date [romantically marginalized breed of humans]” lists- via my own top ten- poking fun at myself and every fashion fiend I know, with shout-outs to almond milk, Williamsburg photo assistants, and well liquor. My favorites? “8. Your tech start-up will gain serious traction when you’re hobnobbing, er- standing around awkwardly...

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on “je ne sais quoi” and louche-baggery

This week’s Style Con export: 500 words on the Emmanuelle Alt syndrome, re: Isabel Marant pour H&M; in which I crack jokes on sneaker wedges and Coca Light’s nutrition facts, and title it “On ‘Je Ne Sais Quoi’ and Louche-Baggery,” because c’mon, it was too easy. Superfluous excerpt, below, and please note the absence of the term “chic.” (You’re welcome.) “Do I blame Alt, or Marant, or even Christophe Decarnin? No, no, it’s not their...

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on transcendental meditation, a love story

Dollar bills as a cocktail waitress aren’t near as fun as those from 1000 words, so I present more freelance, via an essay I wrote for Refinery29 about my lifelong practice of Transcendental Meditation, because pure consciousness, diving within the depths of my being, is the most beautiful, powerful thing I have ever experienced- and I get to do it twice a day. Read it here, and learn more about the technique here. Photo by...

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