Volume 7 | Issue 7
who’s on staff? editorial EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Natalie Guisinger CREATIVE DIRECTOR Evan Parness PRINT FEATURES EDITOR Deirdre Lee DIGITAL FEATURES EDITOR Melina Schaefer PRINT FASHION EDITORS Nick Farrugia Juan Marquez DIGITAL FASHION EDITOR Jacob Ward DESIGN EDITORS Carly Lucas Mackenzie Schwedt PRINT PHOTO EDITORS Katie Corbett Ryan Little DIGITAL PHOTO EDITOR Rita Vega STREET STYLE EDITOR Lucy Carpenter MANAGING PHOTO EDITOR Alex Andersen VIDEO EDITOR Kendall Ka
business PUBLISHER Colleen Jones MARKETING DIRECTOR Kira Mintzer OPERATIONS DIRECTOR Drisha Gwalani FINANCE COORDINATORS Alex Chessare Deesha Shah EVENTS COORDINATOR Alex McMullen HUMAN RESOURCES COORDINATOR Julia Napiewocki
DIGITAL CONTENT EDITOR Alex Sterchele
PUBLIC RELATIONS COORDINATORS Mackenzie Fleming Gillian Yang
SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR Hannah Triester
SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR Liz Haley
ILLUSTRATOR CARLY LUCAS
SHEI /’sh(ay)/ Magazine was founded in 1999 as an Asian Pop Culture Magazine and became affiliated with University of Michigan Student Publications in 2013. Our Digital Magazine, known as SHIFT at the time, was launched in 2015. Since then, SHEI has grown to campus wide recognition as a publication that students can come to for fashion, art, and culture commentary and inspiration.
who’s on staff?
contributing members DIRECTORS Tavleen Gill Isabelle Fisher Josie Burck Karly Madey Dhruv Verma STYLISTS Kailana Dejoie Peter Marcus Courtney Mass Olivia Mouradian Madison Patel Abby Rapoport Jacob Sweat Abbey Vansickle WRITERS Brooklyn Blevins Lauren Champlin Melissa Dash Tiara Partsch
PHOTOGRAPHERS Rosalie Comte Korrin Dering Hanna Dong Frances Gu Devon Kelly Youmna Khan Anders Lundin Sam Mcloed Jenna Rogind Webb Sarris Sureet Saurau Ed Tian Rithi Vaithyanathan VIDEOGRAPHERS Grant Emenheiser Madeline Kim Sam Rao GRAPHIC DESIGNERS Camille Andrew Emma Peterson Gabi Mechaber Helen Lee Sophie Levit Tung Tung Lin Taylor Silver
APRIL 25, 2021
EXHIBITION
WINTER PRINT ISSUE
in this issue
MASTHEAD 0 LETTER ASYMMET LEA ABSORPT GLIT D C
02 RS FROM THE EDITORS 08 TRICAL 12 AP 18 TION SPECTRA 20 TCHED 26 DREAMLAND 30 DECONSTRUCTION 36 TO BE A PAINTER 42 CELESTIAL BODIES 44 THE MAGICIAN’S MIRROR 50 DISPERSION: COLOR IN FASHION 52 PRÊT À PORTER 60
letter from the editor
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I have always been fascinated by the optical phenomenon of white light shining through a prism. Crystals on a chandelier cause the walls to explode with color, the corner of a glass table glints off a chromatic streak onto the floor. Observing these unexpected moments of beauty make the world appear a little more special, even precious. However, my over-romanticized–perception is subjective. One of the many philosophies of art, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, links to the idea that our eyes only discern visible light, a sliver of the electromagnetic spectrum. The perception lies within us. Just as there are many ways to perceive the beauty around us, there are numerous definitions of prism. Lauren Champlin interprets the term as one refracting into many in “Glitched”. Dismantling the limits of the body, Champlin discusses how the relationships between ourselves and the digital are boundless. Champlin contextualizes Glitch Feminism and states that “Embodying the logic of error means viewing malfunction as an invitation for new possibilities, and doing so makes it possible to experience the multiplicity of self, to reclaim what has previously been defined as faulty by dominant society.” In a figurative sense, Prism can be defined in reference to the distortion afforded by a particular viewpoint. In Absorption Spectra, our stylists utilize disco balls and tinsel to refract light to present an air of 60s mod and 70s disco. Using photo transferring
with modge podge, the model’s face is plastered onto her dress and gloves, distoriting her representation. Although prisms are capable of distorting, they can also clarify perception. In Tiara Partsch’s “Leap”, Partsch examines the cultural integration she was required to practice as she relates to her peers while growing up outside of the U.S. “The trick lies in my color palette, in my ability to mix blues and reds to create and reshape my own perspective as I wish.” In our Street Style section, we interpret prism as dispersion: each color showcased by itself. As monochrome outfits surge in popularity, we cover the homogenous looks on campus. Street Style Editor Lucy Carpenter states, “Recently we’ve seen experimentation with monochrome outfits in the world of fashion, leading to a new sense of grace and power that comes with these homogenous looks.” The dichotomy of a prism exists both separately as parts and together as a whole, and this simultaneous interpretation brings that much more beauty and lenses into perspective.
Natalie Guisinger Editor-In-Chief
prism Prisms deal in deconstruction, not destruction. They take beauty and fragment it into more specific beauty, examine the unique parts of a seemingly perfect sum. Hidden within the limitlessness of light, lives a world of reds and blues and greens. There exists an objective reality, in which events unfold in neat, orderly sequence. But shining this reality through the prisms of individual perception reveal a product fragmented by trauma and pain, as well as hopes and passions. It’s not that these perceptions are necessarily incorrect, but rather they are unique and important pieces of the reality itself. We don’t live in a world of simple factrather it is one colored by the complex lives that these events trickle through. In this digital, the features team attempted to answer an important question: What functions as a prism in our own lives? What communities, histories and experiences inform the world and our view of it? Some might seem obvious, like race, gender and sexual orientation. However, something so simple as the language you speak can also complicate the question of reality. Just like the way the prism deconstructs, examining the prisms of our own perception deconstruct the reality that they examine. In “To be a Painter”, Brooklyn Blevins approaches gender expression through her reality as a black woman, which reveals the white biases in traditional femininity. In her piece “Magician’s Mirror”, Melissa Dash first exposes the critiques she applies to her own body before exploring the eurocentric origins of these beauty standards. By studying the pieces of identity that define your version of reality, you can learn what it might be like to peer through the complex, mirrored interior of someone else’s identity. Life bounces and warps differently in the kaleidoscope of every person, and through this digital it’s my hope that you can recognize in yourself this maze of biases, so you might better understand it in the people around you. Just like the prism that deconstructs, examining our own perspectives and appreciating the perspectives of others is the only way to truly unite across the immense differences between humans. Once we appreciate these differences for the enriching, colorful complexity that they afford the collective “us”, we can experience more fully the product of these varied experiences.
Melina Schaefer Digital Features Editor
A
SYMMETRICAL
Green Skirt With Pom Poms - made by Karly Madey Blue Sweaters With Pom Poms - made by Karly Madey Yellow Dress - made by Abby Rapoport White Jeans - made by Abby Rapoport Pink Blazer - Amanda Smith II Green Knit Sweater - Aerie Neon Skirt - Forever 21 Yellow Turtleneck Sweater - Damon
DIRECTOR KARLY MADEY STYLISTS YOUMNA KHAN ABBY RAPOPORT PHOTOGRAPHERS KORRIN DERING RITHI VAITHYANATHAN GRAPHIC DESIGNER CARLY LUCAS MODELS TOBI AGUNLOYE SHARIFA DOUDI
My first English class was in sixth grade. I was 10. Once a week, I would come into class and learn how to say Hello; I vividly remember being taught Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes. Born and raised in Luxembourg, a country so obscure even I have a hard time placing it on a world map, I grew up rubbing shoulders with many cultures. I spoke French both at home and at school, took dance lessons in German, and learnt Luxembourgish in K1. I watched Rapunzel in Portuguese, High School Musical in badly dubbed French; I never watched The Muppets. And yet English is now the language I live in: it’s the language I speak to myself every morning, the words that fuel my ink, the way I think. My sanglots have turned to sobs, and my rires to laughs; from amis to friends, and back to amis again, English is the tongue I live and breathe. As I wrapped myself in its melodies and its intricate Rs, English took on the form of a loving blanket of independence. English was something I could call my own, at a time where very few things felt under my control. I understood it as my ticket out, and I transferred to an English high school, leaping from my tender French to an entirely different world; one that would wreck me, force me out of my perspectives, and teach me more about myself than I could have ever imagined.
I clashed violently with a culture I didn’t understand. Knock knock jokes don’t translate, and neither does verlan; I was funny in French, never in English, and the way I laughed at the wrong things gave away my foreignness before I could even speak. In an effort to fit in, I avidly picked up on cultural references I’d never heard of, and studied them at home as if they were my homework. I learned how iconic Clueless was, bought the Disney Channel shows I didn’t grow up on, and curated playlists full of classics that felt all too new to me. I used to stand in front of my mirror, forcing the “th” sound I couldn’t pronounce. Fink grew into th-thhink, into tHink. I counted out loud, studying the shape of my mouth, forcing my tongue against my teeth- one, two, thhhree. TThree. Three. It rolls off the tongue so naturally now; but threes were my enemy. I remember being given a paper back in maths class, with all my workings circled in red, crossed out. The very way divisions are written out are starkly different in both languages: while they give the same results, my English teacher assumed I had cheated because of my French way of thinking. Suddenly, I found myself existing in a world in which I didn’t belong; my logic was no longer buoyant, my thoughts, lost in translation, and my laughter, incorrect and incomprehensible. But in
LEAP this ocean of misunderstanding, in the waves and salt and tears, I had the strength to stop fighting, and I let the water take me. I learned to accept both perspectives: I learned how to laugh in English, and I explained to my maths teacher my way of doing mathematics. I learned to see double, too. As the amount of words I knew grew, as I collected street names and dictionary definitions (more often than not, Urban Dictionary’s), the world shifted from one language to the other, broadening and shrinking again. After having two words for everything, my mind chose what could exist in English, and what could exist in French. A coffee is a coffee, but I see muguets along the sidewalk, not mayflowers or lilies. I cross from one trottoir to the next and watch the cars go by, until an oiseau flies into the street, and suddenly I’m back to French. I walk, I trottine, I strut, I sautille, I leap from one to the other, instinctively. I color my circumstances in a lilac French or a burgundy English. The trick lies in my color palette, in my ability to mix blues and reds to create and reshape my own perspective as I wish. Without this intricate shade of violet, how monotone my life would have been; this leap from French to English has made me nothing short of eclectic. I find and keep objects, expressions and ways of thinking. I create
my own patchwork out of French fabric and English stitching. And so I french kiss, I fall in love with strangers in the streets, I fall in love on the first date, on the night we first meet. I don’t like. I never understood the leap between like and love in the English language. In French, everyone loves, from the awkward first date coffee- je l’aime bien, j’le kiffe, to the three year anniversary- je t’aime, ma cherie. There is no real French translation for the unnecessary distance between like and love in English- in French, we love. On aime. That’s the perspective I like to keep. Let this be my ode to leaps. To letting life wreck your initial perspectives, to letting it rebuild a new understanding. This is an ode to change, to eclectics, to loving instead of liking, to coloring your perspective in an unexpected shade: to letting life messily rearrange everything. Take it as you will.
WRITER TIARA PARTSCH GRAPHIC DESIGNER GABI MECHABER
ABS ORPTI ON SPECTRA
DIRECTOR JOSIE BURCK PHOTOGRAPHERS FRANCES GU SAM MCLOED GRAPHIC DESIGNER TAYLOR SILVER MODEL KIRA SINDHWANI
Checkered Skirt - Forever 21 Silver Heels - Steve Madden Yellow Shirt - Calvin Klein White Dress - Spiegel (altered by Josie Burck through image transfers)
GLIT GLIT What is a body? A vessel for the mind? A purely physical and organic structure? For generations brought up in the digital age, what connects the body to the machine? What makes them inseparable? It is when we attempt to define the body that we see the most racialized, classed, xenophobic, transphobic, and ableist tropes of our society become materialized—how a body should look, move, and behave in the world. By reenvisioning the body as a complex construct, we begin the process of highlighting the power dynamics associated with our imagination of the body and empowering ourselves to experience the full range of selfhood.
“USURP THE BODY! BECOME YOUR AVATAR!”
TCHED TCHED Since the early ‘90s, cyberfeminist artists and activists have been concerned with the ways that gender and technology interact, how identity construction was complicated by the birth and rise of the Internet. However, as the Internet expanded, new issues surrounding cyber culture came to the surface, such as the limitations to visually represent race online, identity tourism, and algorithmic discrimintation. In the new millennium, cyberfeminism as it was no longer served Black, brown, and queer individuals left at the margins of technology. Enter Glitch Feminism. In her 2020 book Glitch Feminism: A Manifesto, artist and curator Legacy Russell describes this socio-techno concept as a creative and political exploration of how the Internet can expand—or ‘glitch’—the construct of the binary body. At the crossroads of social deviance theories and disability studies’ rejection of mind/body dualism, Glitch is a uniquely Black, queer, and feminist tool for understanding the ways historically ‘othered’ bodies disrupt and transform norms on and offline.1 In a social system corrupted by racial, sexual, and economic oppression, the ‘glitched’ body—one that is cosmic rather than corporeal, one that hacks the code of gender—is not an error at all, but instead a much needed departure.
Glitch Feminism most notably argues against “digital dualism,” or the idea that life online can be considered separate or less authentic from life offline, and instead, celebrates the very real possibilities that digital spaces create for marginalized individuals. Through the material of the Internet, Russell was able to stretch the limits of her Blackness, queerness, and femmeness in ways that were not possible AFK—or “away from keyboard.”1 Embodying the logic of error means viewing malfunction as an invitation for new possibilities, and doing so makes it possible to experience the multiplicity of self, to reclaim what has previously been defined as faulty by dominant society. Several artists online and AFK have explored the ways their own glitched bodies inhabit and challenge their spaces. Drag artist Victoria Sin utilizes performance, film, and speculative fiction to deconstruct the limits of the body. In their stylized and exaggerated presentation of self, Sin becomes their avatar through, what Russell describes as, the “gloss of digital drag,” celebrating the dilemma of their queer body as “necessarily visible, fantastically femme, larger than life, and
GLITCHED GLITCHED impossible to ignore.”1 Sin’s seductive performance art is a work of science fiction fantasy, and through it, they hope to “combat and abolish the biological essentialism that plagues our understandings of gender, nature, pornography and desire.”2 Another artist creating new relationships between the body and the machine is Sondra Perry. In her work, Perry employs digital material to challenge gender, race, and their entangled presences in digital spaces and tech construction. Her 2016 installation piece Graft and Ash for a Three-Monitor Workstation combines these concerns with her own anxieties around the racialized and gendered violence enabled through CCTV surveillance and other computer vision technologies.3 Graft and Ash… situates its audience in front of Perry’s own digital avatar displayed across three screens. In creating her avatar, Perry noted the software’s inability to adjust several aspects of the simulated face, including increasing the amount of fat present, changing the shape of its teeth, and personalizing other small details that would be necessary for anyone to make it a fully realized image of the self. This project then addresses what it means to be visible—how one is read, ignored, and categorized and what consequences visibility may present.
The Internet is not the post-gender, post-racial, “colorblind” utopia that many people hoped it would be at its conception. While embracing the potential that digital technology presents for marginalized individuals, Glitch Feminism emphasizes the presence of racism and sexism in the language and architecture of technology and the dangerous side of being seen. Biases that are coded into technologies have real implications on the lives of non-white and queer individuals who are misidentifed and targeted by computer vision systems and predictive algorithms. Whether they are unrecognizable by facial recognition technologies4 or racially profiled by surveillance systems or criminal recidivism models,5 these discriminatory behaviors of technology do not occur in a vacuum; they are linked to a larger history of surveillance, anti-Blackness, and the othering of nonnormative bodies. The violence we are currently witnessing on and offline against Black, trans, and Asian bodies connects to this same notion of who does and does not fit and who is and is not defined as human. Oppressive systems operating AFK reinforce oppressive behaviors online, and vice versa. This makes it all the more important
D D for creators like Russell, Sin, and Perry to be involved in the use, critical analysis, and transformation of digital technologies, for their glitched bodies to be truly seen and not misseen. We have always been a part of social systems, witnessing the give and take, the exchange of power between us and the norms that attempt to control us. When we accept the machine as an extension of the body, the digital sphere as a space for conceptualizing the multiplicity and fluidity of self, we take the steps toward true liberation—one unencumbered by a fear of fault and empowered by error.
WRITER LAUREN CHAMPLIN GRAPHIC DESIGNER HELEN LEE
Russell, Legacy. Glitch Feminism: A Manifesto. London: Verso, 2020. Olufemi, Lola. “Victoria Sin: ‘I’m Trying to Break down the Binary of Thinking and Feeling.’” Sleek Magazine, March 11, 2020. https:// www.sleek-mag.com/article/victoria-sin-multimedia-performace-art-gender/. 3 Parker, Rianna Jade. “How Sondra Perry Turned Tech Glitches Into Art About a Broken World at the Serpentine.” Artnet News, May 18, 2018. https://news.artnet.com/exhibitions/sondra-perry-at-serpentine-1288877. 4 Buolamwini, Joy. “Artificial Intelligence Has a Racial and Gender Bias Problem.” Time. Time, February 7, 2019. https://time.com/5520558/ artificial-intelligence-racial-gender-bias/. 5 O’Neil, Cathy. Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy. Great Britain: Penguin Books, 2017. 1 2
DRE
EAMLAND
DIRECTOR DHRUV VERMA STYLIST MADISON PATEL PHOTOGRAPHER ANDERS LUNDIN GRAPHIC DESIGNER EMMA PETERSON MODEL ABBEY VANSICKLE
White top - Zara White Pants - Anthropologie Shoes - Adidas Bucket hat - Urban Outfitters White Halter Top - Forever 21 Goggles - Urban Outfitters Jewelry - Made by Madison Patel
DIRECTOR TAVLEEN GIL STYLISTS KAILANA DEJOIE COURTNEY MASS PHOTOGRAPHER ED TIAN GRAPHIC DESIGNER SOPHIE LEVIT MODEL JOSIAH RENTSCHLER
To Be a
PAINTER It was not until the moment of my birth that my gender was revealed to my mother. And there I was, a girl. Her lack of prior knowledge meant I came home from the hospital wrapped neatly in shades of green, the seemingly perfect color choice for a baby whose gender was unknown. Looking back, this seems almost ironic, as if maybe my green accessories were a sign that I was doomed from the start to never fully embody femininity. I sometimes find the colors of myself are hard to describe. As a person of color, my worldview is glossed over with a different hue than my White friends around me. This inevitably plays a role in my acts of self expression; however, there seems to be another layer mixed in. In being both a person of color and a woman, my multiple identities combine to form a new pigment: a color I find to
be underappreciated and underrepresented. The careful mixing process is too much for some to bear; I feel as though the color I embody remains untouched on the palette. While my other friends saw themselves represented in a multitude of mediums, I am not offered the same luxury. Coming to such a conclusion has led me to go through waves of love and hate for the colors I find more easily identifiable. Truthfully, I don’t think it is all that uncommon for girls to go through a phase where they hate the color pink, and I was no exception. Looking back on it, aside from the rebellious undertones of it all, a big part of this was the association I had between the “girly-girls” and whiteness. When I envisioned someone who was feminine, I thought of skirt-wearing girls with painted nails and skin just pale
enough to harbor de their cheeks. They me. If that was wha girly, how would I ev gory? And thus, I tos ninity and stepped in of boy-like clothing, l of White, well-man pink frilly accessories With time, my out therefore my style a change. As I progre age years, I found m enjoy more tradition again. Like many ot to navigate through I turned to social m Instagram and Pinte of other girls for ins develop my own sty that most of the me rounded women wh me. The disconnect differing skintones, hyper aware of my o came to see the bro up my skin and ha
eep pink blushes in looked nothing like at’s supposed to be ver fit into that catessed aside my feminto a newfound light leaving behind a trail nicured Barbies and s in my wake. tlook on clothing and as a whole came to essed into my teenmyself beginning to nally feminine styles ther girls attempting such growing pains, media. I poured over erest, saving pictures spiration as I tried to yle. However, I found edia I consumed surho did not resemble came down to our and I soon became own pigmentation. I own tones that make air color as my foe,
nothing more than a tool to keep me at an arm’s length from Westernized beauty standards. I felt as though brown made all of my features so basic. What was there to find exciting about brown eyes and brown hair? After being force fed pretty pale women with long, light, and easily maintained hair, I began to feel as though dressing what I saw to be cute and trendy would not close the gap between me and my White friends. This feeling persevered for quite some time, until eventually, I aged a few years, and began to see other women of color describe experiences in dealing with the beauty standard that felt very similar to my own. It felt like for the first time I was truly seeing people who looked like me happily expressing themselves. They allowed their brown hair and brown skin to represent femininity, masculinity, and everything in between. In becoming aware of their color against my previously white background, I began to see my own racial identity in a new light. Through growth and experience, I’ve come to realize the depictions of femi-
ninity I’ve felt so disconnected from all this time are not universal. I’m freely able to express my own gender in whatever ways I see fit; the canvas is mine to plaster with hues of my choosing, nothing more required. My previous resentment for femininity simply stemmed from what I believed to be inadequacies that kept me at bay from fitting in with my peers, but I’ve come to learn it is unfair to expect myself to paint a picture identical to those around me when I have been given a different palette from the beginning. Now, nearly 19 years later, I find myself curled up in the comfort of my room, surrounded by walls of earthy green- a nice, secondary color. Some may call it sage, others pistachio, but to me, it is simply my favorite color, an extension of myself and the ways I can be expressive. If I take the time to look closely enough, I can see the parts of both my race and gender mix together to tell my story. Perhaps I do embody shades of green after all. WRITER BROOKLYN BLEVINS GRAPHIC DESIGNER MACKENZIE SCHWEDT
celestial bodies DIRECTOR ISABELLE FISHER STYLISTS PETER MARCUS OLIVIA MOURADIAN PHOTOGRAPHERS YOUMNA KHAN JENNA ROGIND HAIR STYLISTS ISABELLE FISHER JENNA ROGIND MAKEUP ARTIST ISABELLE FISHER GRAPHIC DESIGNER MACKENZIE SCHWEDT MODELS ZARA KAHN JILLIAN WANNER
Tulle Sleeves - Olivia Mouradian Gloves - Olivia Mouradian Purple Tank Top - Toppies Navy Tank Top - Babaton Blazer - Halston
WRITER MELISSA DASH GRAPHIC DESIGNER CARLY LUCAS
Mirror mirror on the wall, it screams that I could never be the fairest of them all. I stand in front of the dirtied glass, with feet pressed firmly against the wooden floorboards and arms outstretched, grasping for my paralleled fingertips. My pensive gaze follows the path of the chipped nail polish on my pointer, as it traces the outline of my figure from the round of my cheeks to the thick of my thighs. The reflecting surface narrows my inspection to the stray hair between my brows, the deepening bags beneath my eyes, and the countless other trivial physical “imperfections” plaguing my female body. Irony sets in when I begin to contemplate how uninterested I was in my appearance just moments before the looking glass caught my eye. However, that’s the power of societal pressure – it warps the seemingly suitable mirror picture, distorting the onlooker and
toying with the very concept of reality. It’s as if there is a tiny magician hiding within the glass, acting as the spokesperson for beauty from its comfy home. The magician manipulates and highlights my features with an enchanted wand. This action proves dangerous, for a split occurs – separating the true version of myself from the standards outwardly imposed on me. Prior to my confrontation with the mirror, I remained naive to the expectations placed upon my body. Yet once I am forced to face the magician, the ideals of society come flooding back and I watch as my body physically contorts. The figure behind the glass now exists as a reflection of my distorted reality, projecting a misrepresented and flawed image. As I walk away from my reflection, I can’t help but internalize its existence. Nonetheless, I push the negative thoughts aside and continue on with my day. I stroll the inviting streets of Ann Arbor, as the unexpected sun warms the nape of my neck and frees my arms from my fleece-lined corduroy jacket. As I pass each storefront display my gaze catches my reflection yet again. When my eyes dart down to my grandmother’s watch, I see their hazel hue staring back in the band. While I follow my gait in scattered restaurant windows, I am confronted with how often I see my reflection. In the black screen of my powered off television, the silverware I unload from the dishwasher, the puddle of water on the shower tile – I am unable to escape the implications of the mirror. It follows me wherever I go, stalking my movements and hijacking my mind. Even when I am seemingly free from the frame, it still haunts me. It’s presence looms over my body, like a shadow resting behind my backside although there is no light in sight. Back home with lungs recovering from my long walk, I sink into the couch and catch my breath. My eyes wander down to the coffee
table in front of me where a stack of fashion magazines is fanned for ambiance. I pick up the February 2021 issue of Vogue and outline my fingertip around Vice President Kamala Harris in her dark jacket, cuffed pants, converse, and layered pearls. I narrow in on her skin color, noting how it looks significantly lighter than any photograph I had seen of her before. I scan the other two covers on the table, Bazaar and Elle, and find four more under the bathroom sink. Each image smooths the model’s skin, freeing them of cellulite, stretch marks, body hair, and acne. Photoshop constricts their waists, enhances their breasts, and slims their thighs. And most disturbingly, editors are seen playing into racist tropes, whitening the skin of minorities and subjecting them to stereotypical shoots. Flipping through the magazine pages I recognize that the mirror reaches far wider than my own distortion. The unrealistic representation of the female body warps the original image, recreating the mirror effect I witnessed just mere hours prior, but now on a wider scale. Whether it be the glorification of unobtainable and twisted body ideals, the fake façade that is social media, or the lens through which we view oppressed communities, the mirror’s representation distorts reality. Reflection is a falsified concept–just like the mirror, we expect the imitated image to be a paralleled one. However, through societal distortion of reality, that reality ceases to exist. We can no longer place blind trust in the coffee table magazine cover, an updated Facebook profile picture, or even our own mirror, to spit out the authentic truth. For our “truth” is not merely a representation of our reflection, but rather we have allowed the magician and it’s unrealistic standards to take over, selling deformity in place of reality. And, until we break free of the society’s grasp, we will forever be stuck in the mirror’s warped frame.
C O L O R I N FA S H I O N
As light passes through a triangular prism, it is separated into component colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. This process, known as dispersion, makes up the visible light spectrum that we often recognize as the rainbow. Recently we’ve seen experimentation with monochrome outfits in the world of fashion, leading to a new sense of grace and power that comes with these homogenous looks. This month, the Street Style team explored the intersection of color and style as we photographed an array of monochromatic styles on campus.
PHOTOGRAPHER DEVON KELLY MODEL ELLEANNA CASTERLINE GRAPHIC DESIGNER CAMILLE ANDREW
PHOTOGRAPHER SUREET SAURAU MODEL CHRISTINA LULAJ
PHOTOGRAPHER LUCY CARPENTER MODEL BETSY STUBBS
PHOTOGRAPHER LUCY CARPENTER MODEL LIZ COLYER
PHOTOGRAPHER & MODEL ROSALIE COMTE
PRÊT À PORTER
DIRECTOR JACOB WARD STYLISTS JAKE SWEAT PHOTOGRAPHERS HANNA DONG WEBB SARRIS RITA VEGA VIDEOGRAPHER GRANT EMENHEISER GRAPHIC DESIGNER TUNG TUNG LIN MODEL CAMILLE CUMMINGS
Red & Blue Jacket – Jules Miller Solid Red Jacket – Sag Harbor White and Yellow Earrings – Eat Da Rich
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