FW23 by Clutch Magazine

CLUTCH

Pleasure

is the first good. It is the beginning of every choice and every aversion. It is the absence of pain in the body and of troubles in the soul.

-Epicurus

Indulgence.

STAFF LIST

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

EDITOR IN CHIEF

CREATIVE DIRECTOR ASSISTANT

EDITOR IN CHEIF ASSISTANT PR AND MERCHANDISING DIRECTOR

ALYSSA BATTLE

CROSS AYALA

DESA DRAGOVICH

ANTHONY PICCOLO

SIMONE WANAMAKER

PHOTOSHOOT DIRECTORS AVA BLACK

DALTON LAIN

ERIN BOOKER

JOSH OWENS

DIGITAL DIRECTORS ANGELIKA ZIEMECKI

ELLA DENNY

PHOTOSHOOT ASSISTANTS KATE D’AMARIO

DANIELA ASTRALAGA

SHANNON KERN

ISABELLA MANZIONE NELSON SAWYER

AMARIS FALCON

LEAH CHRISTIE EM CHAPIRO LAUREN ORIE SKYLAR EDISIS CINDY LAM

MAZZY FLINT

RACHEL SPURGEON

ANNAKATHRYN SHELTON

MARIA PENAVER

KATERINA DARDHA

BRIDGET ZIMMERMAN

RANIA BEALL

ABBY WARNOCK

JEANNA SNYDER

LOLLY COLTON

PHOTOGRAPHERS COLLIN CHEN

YAMILE (YAMI) ABUID

KEVIN FARLEY

VIDEOGRAPHERS KEVIN FARLEY

GRAPHIC DESIGNERS CYAN MOORE MALLORY REALE

LANTZ COFFEEN

STYLING DIRECTORS DALTON LAIN

AJA SOLEI

STYLISTS MAYA WEST

MARRIANA GUTIERREZ

LAUREN VIVES

LAURA GUTIERREZ

STEFANIE URBAN

CAMILE CABRERA RAMON

BEAUTY AND MAKEUP

SARAH ANDREWS MIA TULLY

MARISA VERCAMEN

WRITERS MCKENNA LINEBERRY

CHLOE HARBIN

MARLOWE MITCHELL

SARAH ANDREWS

SHELBY GRASON

GABI WRIGHT

JAYNA O ELLIE AMOS

CLARA CELEDON

JORDAN SHIRLEY

CASTING AGENTS DANIELA ASTRALAGA

JAYDEN MATHENY

SALES AND MARKETING MADDIE SHIELDS ALEXIS DELGADO

EVENT PLANNING JULIA GARAB

LEAH EXELBIRT

KATE VINIK

MADDIE SHIELDS

EMILY GARCIA

Loremipsum

Forbidden Fruit

DIRECTED BY : ELLA

DENNY

ASSISTED BY: ANGELIKA ZIEMECKI

SHOT BY: ELLA DENNY

FEATURING: KRISTEN BARNWELL & MALACHI

BOLES

I n d u l g i n g w o u l d b e e ﬀ o r t l e s s . . .

. . . o f c o u r s e w e f e e l i n c l i n e d .

Lately I’ve been looking with longing , with love in my eyes and lots to lose, and to touch might tip the test , to take would turn to torture. The air’s infused with intrigue but the issue is the cost, and I still am all too careless towards the lines I stand to cross . Before me sits my greatest bane, and beckoned by sin’s clever stain, my heightened sense stays focused on the potent prospect of profane . Just one look is all it takes. I tell myself that I must brace escape that built-up burn before temptation takes my judgement’s place . But it’s been tipped, that fickle scale, and I don’t seek to set it straight; the path of least resistance is the one I think I have to take. The room’s inflated elephant begs not to be ignored, and we’re achingly apart , but the tug is to my core . As the space between us shrinks and awareness of it grows, our unspoken common goal feels almost pointless to oppose . An easy ending’s absent and the breaking point’s in sight , now arriving at the fork of what is wrong and what is right . With what I want one reach away, the tension makes my chest go tight . Wordlessly we watch and wait , wondering, is this mine to take ? Wishing to relieve the pain , or that there was some way to tame desire’s roaring name . The consequence weighs heavy and in time we’ll bear the brunt , but for now this burden manifests as burning, nagging, want. The slinking serpent lurks between and masks our understanding. Persistent is its presence , and persuasive is the song it sings. Siren-like, I think . It’s linked up our lingering gaze , brought to light suggestions raised , presented pulsing questions and now waits for us to take the bait . My appetite’s unquenched , and the apple’s Eden-red. To take a taste is treachery, to turn away is torment . Indulging would be effortless , of course we feel inclined. So what if it means Hell on Earth for all of humankind?

- CLARA CELEDON

THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT

What does it mean to wear pearls at a fancy restaurant? To give roses at the doorstep? To pose all made-up and pretty for the camera? It means you want the approval of others – it means you crave validation. “Your necklace is stunning.” “The roses are perfect – you’re so thoughtful.” “You look so classy in these photos.” Do these words of approval move you? Are you drawn to them?

Well, I say, that’s shallow. Words of approval are ﬂeeting. In a year, will those people even remember the pearls, the fancy restaurant, the roses at the doorstep? Or will they ask you for something more, and something more, until you are left drained? I’m warning you, be careful – if you pose for the camera too often, you’ll end up slumped on your bed, panting, hand covering your eyes dramatically as you wish away your existence. See the problem?

Thankfully, I have arrived at a solution.

Fall in love with yourself. No, that’s not right. It’s not love, it’s obsession. No, it’s more than that, too. It’s an all-encompassing passion for yourself that will drown out all the words of validation or ridicule that your lover or the paparazzi could ever say.

And I’m not talking about love for your personality or your good heart, or any of that. Your looks. Fall in passionate, all-consuming obsession with your physical appearance. The shape of your nose, the color of your eyes. Stare at yourself in the mirror for hours each day. If you don’t do this for hours, you won’t internalize this obsession. And then you won’t be able to tune out all of the validation or jeering that the worthless people try to impose onto you.

The longer you stare at yourself, the more in love you will become with yourself, but also – be warned – the more in love with the mirror you’re using for this process. Soon, this will expand into a deep, passionate hunger for any mirrors. You will wander around your house from mirror to mirror. When you aren’t in your house with easy access to such mirrors hanging on the walls, you will feel withdrawal. It will start small, and then it will grow within you, until you are forced to shatter your mirrors at home and carry the shards in your pocket, your purse, up your sleeve, tucked in your belt or shoe. The shards will hold you over until you can return to a large, beautiful, perfect mirror to resume your staring.

Let’s say you don’t live alone. Let’s say you have a partner, a roommate, multiple roommates, dogs, cats, or even ﬁsh. Let’s say you have a maid that cleans your house on Sundays. Let’s say you have a mailman or some kids that come by on Halloween asking for candy. If this is the case, you will begin to dread the sight of any other being looking at you. You are in love with yourself, remember, and as this love grows, it pulls you farther and farther from connection with anything else. You have no room in your heart to interact amicably with anyone but your own reﬂection.

This is when you will retreat to an abandoned building at the edge of town. You will take your pearls, your roses, your large mirrors and little shards there. You will drag a mattress to this building and claim it as your home. No roommates, mailmen, or colorful ﬁsh here to stare at you and get in the way of your relationship with yourself. Now, you can spend all day, every day, staring at yourself in peace.

-Ellie Amos

FIVE TO NINE

DIRECTED BY: Anthony Piccolo, Desa Dragovich

ASSISTED BY: Isabella Manzione, Daniela Astralaga, Bridget Zimmerman

SHOT BY: Layla Mathews

FEATURING: Shannon Mckelvey

STYLED BY: Dalton Lain, Lauren Vives

BEAUTY: Marisa Vercamen

WRITTEN BY: Ellie Amos

I know nothing of pain; My body contorts and there is pleasure. The tears from my eyes Are just another accessory, So I look into the lens, The blinding light of the flash, The hands directing me how to turn Where to go, how to breathe –And I am calm.

I am fully myself, knowing this Is all I can ever be:

Pleasing in my creation of fantasy. I am eternal, ever-giving

Of my body, my spirit, my strength of mind –

And I am expansive;

Out over the world, my beauty will bleed. I am my body, but my body is not me.

I am the girl in the photographs, Not the one curled up in bed Gray and cold, flaws unseen.

But such is the life of fame. I grow stronger even as my life drains away, Living forever on the magazine page.

I can’t wrap my head around it, you. How you’re still stuck in my head. Eating at the walls, pulling me back. This little piece of me so soft, is gullible to you. Yet I smile more. Happier. I’ve never heard my laugh more. Just till you creek in; with the past, with the roses you never bought me, and the sweet glimpse of your eyes when we meet. I fall. To the thought of you.

I was consumed in hatred. So soaked in the misery, I never got dry. It seemed to follow me, but I was the follower. I let it in. I knew better. It was so easy. Eye catching. It was all I watched yet I despised it. The withering away of one’s life. Trapped under barricaded sheets. Sure, it was tempting with its promises, but none ever came true. The precious past was full of lies. She had me under for a while but now I breathe to not be like her.

Shelby Grason

DEVOUR

models: alyssa battle, isabel choi assistants: em chapiro kate damario leah christie photographer: lalo ambris makeup: kristina ronan

director: dalton lain

How many will hurt me till one doesn’t?

I’ve tried to stand tall, resilient to them. I look them in their eyes fearlessly, but they see through. Striking at my vulnerability. That one fragile piece of me they thought to play, toy with. Twisting my perception that they all know too well. The kisses of my weakness, the spark in their eyes, their easy made smile, all at a price.

Another strike at my fragile heart