Publication Process Book by Emily Myers

SWEATPANTS FOREVER process book.

Emily Myers

VISCOM 204

Andrea Herstowski

SWEATPANTS FOREVER T

Summary.

When describing the article, words that come to mind include colorful, friendly, inclusive, and forwardthinking. The photos attached to the feature paint a playful picture of comfortable loungewear that has seen a huge increase in demand in this era of selfquarantine and social distancing. Mannequins are shown draped in colorful pairs of athleisure, likely from Entireworld, showcasing the takeover of sweats.

SOFT

his article, written by Irina Aleksander, delves into the world of fashion both before and after the arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic and examines the changes the virus made on the industry. The article is largelty tied together by an interview of designer Scott Sternberg, formerly of Band of Outsiders. Sternberg describes the infancy of Band, and shows how his failures lead to his success with his current brand of well-made basics Entireworld.

While pre-COVID fashion was defined by seasons, fashion weeks, runway shows, and buyer needs, this new era is much more erratic, with brands delaying collections and shoppers buying clothes for emotional and unpredictable reasons. Sternberg’s failures in trying to appeal to large-scale buyers and investors have shown him that designing with the customer’s needs in mind and creating manageable growth is the key to survival for smaller retailers in these difficult times.

COLORFUL PLAYFUL ENDLESS

IMAGES

THUMBNAIL SKETCHES

OPENING SPREADS Round 1

SWEATPANTS FOREVER.

SWEATPANTS

How the fashion industry collapsed.

FOREVER.

SWEAT PANTS FOREVER.

How the fashion industry collapsed.

TPANT A E SF SW O

How the fashion industry collapsed.

REVE R

EV ER

T SWEA

How the fashion industry collapsed.

TS F N A O P

FOREVER

SWEATPANTS

HOW THE FASHION INDUSTRY COLLAPSED.

SWEATPANTS

FOREVER HOW THE FASHION INDUSTRY COLLAPSED.

HOW THE FASHION INDUSTRY COLLAPSED.

SWEATPANTS

FOREVER

OPENING SPREADS Round 2

Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up? August 6, 2020 Irina Aleksander Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

Irina Aleksander

8 • 6 • 2020

Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

SWEATPANTS

How the fashion industry collapsed. Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

August 6, 2020

Irina Aleksander

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

FOREVER.

Gopher, bold, 8pt

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

FONT SPECS Old Style Serif : P22 Mackinac Humanist Sans Serif : Gopher

Gopher Bold 72 pt

It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus. That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said. Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld

was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it.

“What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.”

Gopher 20pt

Gopher, bold, 8pt

Sweat Pants Forever Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

Gopher Italic 12pt

Gopher Bold 18pt

Irina Aleksander

“Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.”

Gopher Bold 10pt

P22 Mackinac book, 9pt

It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

Gopher 8pt Sweatpants Forever, New York Times Magazine

was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it.

The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promotional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

Old Style Serif : Degular Humanist Sans Serif : Basic sans

Degular 12

Basic 20pt

Degular bold, 8pt

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

Sweat Pants Forever Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

Basic Italic

Basic Bold 18pt

Irina Aleksander

“Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.”

Gopher Bold 10pt

P22 Mackinac book, 9pt

Degular 8pt Sweatpants Forever, New York Times Magazine

the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinnytie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with selfconsciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew

As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable.

The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and

wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promotional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the highestgrossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

Old Style Serif : Didot Humanist Sans Serif : Neue Kabel

Neue Kabel Bold 72 pt

Neue Kabel

Neue Kabel, bold, 8pt

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

Sweat Pants Forever Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industr y had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

Neue Kabel 12pt

Neue Kabel Bold 18pt

Irina Aleksander

“Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.”

Neue Kabel 10pt

Didot, 9pt

tos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

Neue Kabel 8pt Sweatpants Forever, New York Times Magazine

be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promotional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

Old Style Serif : Bodoni Humanist Sans Serif : Abolition

Abolition Bold 72pt

Bodoni bold 20pt

Bodoni Italic 12pt

Bodoni 18pt

Gopher, bold, 8pt

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

Sweat Pants Forever Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up? Irina Aleksander

“Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.”

Gopher Bold 10pt

P22 Mackinac book, 9pt

Bodoni 8pt Sweatpants Forever, New York Times Magazine

Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What

do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promotional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

Old Style Serif : Didot Humanist Sans Serif : Eurostile

Gopher Bold 72 pt

Eurostile 20pt

Eurostile bold, 8pt

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

Sweat Pants Forever Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industr y had st ar ted to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

Eurostile Italic 12pt

Gopher Bold 18pt

Irina Aleksander

“Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.”

Eurostile Bold 10pt

Didot , 9pt

Eurostile 8pt Sweatpants Forever, New York Times Magazine

hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it.

“Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promotional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

Old Style Serif : Didot Humanist Sans Serif : Antique Olive

Antique Olive 72pt

Antique Olive

Didot Italic 12pt

Antique Olive Bold 18pt

Antique Olive, bold, 8pt

Photos By: Stephanie Gonot

Sweat Pants Forever Even before the pandemic, the whole fa shion industr y had star ted to unravel. What happens now that no one ha s a rea son to dress up? Irina Aleksander

“Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.”

Didot 10pt

Didot 9pt

Gopher 8pt Sweatpants Forever, New York Times Magazine

pening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it.

Sweat Pants Forever Heading

TOOLKITS Call out

RTVs stands for “return to vendor,” which is what it sounds like

Body

one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole

Toolkit

story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

Caption

“ ”

I was basically making stuff I didn’t like because I thought a buyer wanted it, not even the customer Quotes

How the fashion industry collapsed.

How the fashion industry collapsed. Caption

It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but

Body

March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus. That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said.

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

Call out

RT Vs stands for “return to

Quotes

vendor”

Heading

Sweatpants Forever How t h e Fashion Industry Collapsed.

Heading

SWEATPANTS FOREVER SWEATPANTS FOREVER SWEATPANTS FOREVER

Quotes

“I was basically making stuff I didn’t like because I thought a buyer wanted it, not even the customer”

RTV stands for “return to vendor” Call out

Body

How the fashion industry collapsed. Caption

PARAGRAPH BREAKS It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic

about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus. That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said.

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He

founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t

foresee that. No one did.

Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but

economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Ster-

nberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

paragraph break 7 : Triple drop cap

paragraph break 8 : Pops of color

“My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

paragraph break 9 : quote

“

”

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually

it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the

Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from

happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

paragraph break 10 : colorful quotation marks

It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic

about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March

about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emp-

tied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus.

about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emp-

tied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus.

That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying

tied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus.

That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying

awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded

That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying

two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much

cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened

two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much

wide,” he said.

people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said.

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remem-

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He

ber the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually

ber the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it

founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remem-

it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes.

grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Ster-

ber the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won

Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of

nberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of Amer-

over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes.

America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle

ica (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore

Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of

Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An

one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with

Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo

investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story.

some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice

Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle

Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t

he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee

nberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story.

Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo

foresee that. No one did.

that. No one did.

about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

paragraph break 4 : Bold beginning

paragraph break 5 :Big ideas

12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emp-

awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay

t’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic

awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay

people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said.

and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the

and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Ster-

Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

paragraph break 3 : Wide leading

paragraph break 6 : single drop cap

It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March

It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but

12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus.

March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the

That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Ange-

virus. That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of

les, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay

Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he

people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said.

have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said.

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually

Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.)

it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won

Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections

over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of

that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion

America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the

Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equiv-

alent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business.

investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story.

An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole

Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from

story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent

happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he

Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because

entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Ster-

the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel

nberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to

Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place.

say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior.

paragraph break 1 : Basic

paragraph break 2 : Indented

FULL ARTICLE SKETCHES

FULL ARTICLE Round 1

Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry

August 6, 2020

had started to unravel. What

Irina Aleksander

happens now that no one has

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

a reason to dress up?

sity in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?”

“

The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promo-

But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.

By month’s end the brand’s sales were up 66% from last year.

“

sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979

”

tional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” It wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year.

The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business. By “met,” I mean that we were in Sternberg’s backyard in chairs positioned 20 feet apart, with a setup of disinfectant wipes between us. At this point, Sternberg hadn’t been leaving the house much, instead subsisting on deliveries from BlueApron, the meal-kit service, and rationing the ingredients into multiple meals. Entireworld’s managing director, Jordan Schiff — formerly of Dov Charney’s American Apparel, whose heyday Sternberg’s line openly pays homage to — had just come down with Covid-19. But he was still tracking the numbers. Just a few days before, Schiff reported that the company

had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender

that had become unreliable (R.I.P.

women’s socks.

Barneys) or the markups required to

Sternberg was in a good mood. This

pay for it all. (Band’s shirts started at $220; Entireworld’s are $95.)

was obviously not just because of an email. Nor was it simply because

Scott SternbergStephanie Gonot for

America had settled into sweatpants for the foreseeable future. He’d

The New York Times For years, Sternberg had been saying

been laying down this groundwork

that the fashion industry was a giant

since Band of Outsiders imploded.

bubble heading toward collapse.

Entireworld wasn’t a departure in

Now the pandemic was just speed-

name only, suggesting as it does the

ing up the inevitable. In fact, it had

opposite of the in crowd. It was also Sternberg’s rejection of the tradi-

already begun. An incredible surplus of clothing was presently sitting in

tional fashion system, the one that

warehouses and in stores, some of

once vaulted him to success. No more fashion shows, no more seasonal collections, no more wholesale accounts

which might never reopen. “That whole channel is dead,” Sternberg said. “And there’s no sign of when it’s turning on again.”

Then, later: How are you going to present your spring/summer '21 collection? “I’m not sure there will be a spring/ summer ’21 collection.”

streaming live from the Mercer Hotel in New York in pearls and perfect makeup. The broadcast ran to 75 minutes in length over two different virtual events. It began on April 15, with Vogue’s Global Conversations, a series the magazine introduced to figure out how to fix the fashion industry, and continued a month later, on May 15, with Business of Fashion, the industry’s go-to news website.

If there’s one image that I will remember from the last days of the fashion industry as it has existed for the last two decades, it’s Marc Jacobs

Why are you grieving, Marc? the moderator asked.

“I’m in the process of grief right now,” Jacobs told Vogue.

“Why? Because this is all very sad.”

‘This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.’ Jacobs had come to see his fall 2020 show as a kind of farewell. “I’ve said this to my psychiatrist, my lovely Dr. Richardson,” he told Business of Fashion, after taking a long drag from his vape pen, “that I would be very happy if that were my last show.” That collection would never be produced. Buyers couldn’t place orders, and even if they had, factories were shut down. Jacobs said he had to lay off “a bunch of people” and ask others to take pay cuts. Not that this began with the pandemic. Since 2013, Jacobs’s business had shrunk from 250 stores to just four. Speaking to

Vogue, he said, “This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.”

Purchase of

Things looked different in 2005. I’m choosing that year somewhat subjectively, because that’s when I started as an intern at Women’s Wear Daily. It was a thrilling time in American fashion. A new guard of young designers had just entered the scene, displacing the stars of the 1980s and ’90s (Donna Karan, Calvin Klein, Michael Kors, et al.) and re-energizing the runways. Interns don’t see much, but occasionally fashion week invites trickle down. My first show was Zac Posen, in something like Row 8. My second was Proenza Schouler. Those designers, along with Alexander Wang, Derek Lam, Phillip Lim, Rag & Bone, Rodarte, Jason Wu and later Joseph Altuzarra, seemed to grow into global brands overnight, with the help of store buyers and fashion editors eager to usher in a post 9/11 generation of American talent.

sweatpants spiked 80%

SWEATPANTS FOREVE SWEATPANTS FOREVE R E V E R O F S T SWEATPAN R SWEATPANNTTSSFFO E V E R O R E V E A P T A E SW Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up? It’s difficult, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus. Irina Aleksander

How the fashion industry collapsed.

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington University in St. Louis, the economist Douglass North, a professor there, won a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next

few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceiv-

By month’s end the brand’s

able. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk

sales were up

and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?”

66% from last year.

The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promo

“

But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.

”

By “met,” I mean that we were in Sternberg’s backyard in chairs positioned 20 feet apart, with a setup of disinfectant wipes between us. At this point, Sternberg hadn’t been leaving the house much, instead subsisting on deliveries from BlueApron, the meal-kit service, and rationing the ingredients into multiple meals. Entireworld’s managing director, Jordan Schiff — formerly of Dov Charney’s American Apparel, whose heyday Sternberg’s line openly pays homage to — had just come down with Covid-19. But he was still tracking the numbers. Just a few days before, Schiff reported that the company 7

Then, later: How are you going to present your spring/summer '21 collection? “I’m not sure there will be a spring/ summer ’21 collection.” ‘This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.’

In April, clothing sales fell 79% in the United States, the largest dive on record.

that had become unreliable (R.I.P. Barneys) or the markups required to pay for it all. (Band’s shirts started at $220; Entireworld’s are $95.) Scott SternbergStephanie Gonot for The New York Times For years, Sternberg had been saying that the fashion industry was a giant bubble heading toward collapse. Now the pandemic was just speeding up the inevitable. In fact, it had already begun. An incredible surplus of clothing was presently sitting in warehouses and in stores, some of which might never reopen. “That whole channel is dead,” Sternberg said. “And there’s no sign of when it’s turning on again.” 8

In April, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive on record. Purchases of sweatpants, though, were up 80 percent. Entireworld was like the rare life form that survives the apocalypse. By betting that the luxury market would fail, Sternberg had evaded the very forces that were bringing down the rest of the industry. “Because you could see the writing on the wall,” he said. “The Neimans writing on the wall, the Barneys. ... Listen, Barneys? That was not a shock to anyone.” If there’s one image that I will remember from the last days of the fashion industry as it has existed for the last two decades, it’s Marc Jacobs streaming live from the Mercer Hotel in New York in pearls and perfect makeup. The broadcast ran to 75 minutes in length over two different virtual events. It began on April 15, with Vogue’s Global Conversations, a series the magazine introduced to figure out how to fix the fashion industry, and continued a month later, on May 15, with Business of Fashion, the industry’s go-to news website. “I’m in the process of grief right now,” Jacobs told Vogue. Why are you grieving, Marc? the moderator asked. “Why? Because this is all very sad.”

“

sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979

Jacobs had come to see his fall 2020 show as a kind of farewell. “I’ve said this to my psychiatrist, my lovely Dr. Richardson,” he told Business of Fashion, after taking a long drag from his vape pen, “that I would be very happy if that were my last show.” That collection would never be produced. Buyers couldn’t place orders, and even if they had, factories were shut down. Jacobs said he had to lay off “a bunch of people” and ask others to take pay cuts. Not that this began with the pandemic. Since 2013, Jacobs’s business had shrunk from 250 stores to just four. Speaking to Vogue, he said, “This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.” Things looked different in 2005. I’m choosing that year somewhat subjectively, because that’s when I started as an intern at Women’s Wear Daily. It was a thrilling time in American fashion. A new guard of young designers had just entered the scene, displacing the stars of the 1980s and ’90s (Donna Karan, Calvin Klein, Michael Kors, et al.) and re-energizing the runways. Interns don’t see much, but occasionally fashion week invites trickle down. My first show was Zac Posen, in something like Row 8. My second was Proenza Schouler. Those designers, along with Alexander Wang, Derek Lam, Phillip Lim, Rag & Bone, Rodarte, Jason Wu and later Joseph Altuzarra, seemed to grow into global brands overnight, with the help of store buyers and fashion editors eager to usher in a post 9/11 generation of American talent. 9

Irina Aleksander

8 • 6 • 2020

Even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up?

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot 2

collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did. Unlike other designers, Sternberg studied not design but economics, a major he chose in part because the year he entered Washington Univer-

Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars

Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.”

He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it.

The day we met was the highest grossing day in the company’s history.

“I’m not sure there will be a spring/ summer ’21 collection.” ‘This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.’ Jacobs had come to see his fall 2020 show as a kind of farewell. “I’ve said this to my psychiatrist, my lovely Dr. Richardson,” he told Business of Fashion, after taking a long drag from his vape pen, “that I would be very happy if that were my last show.” That collection would never be produced. Buyers couldn’t place orders, and even if they had, factories were shut down. Jacobs said he had to lay off “a bunch of people” and ask others to take pay cuts. Not that this began with the pandemic. Since 2013, Jacobs’s business had shrunk from 250 stores to just four. Speaking to Vogue, he said, “This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.”

had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender women’s socks. Sternberg was in a good mood. This was obviously not just because of an email. Nor was it simply because America had settled into sweatpants for the foreseeable future. He’d been laying down this groundwork since Band of Outsiders imploded. Entireworld wasn’t a departure in name only, suggesting as it does the opposite of the in crowd. It was also Sternberg’s rejection of the traditional fashion system, the one that once vaulted him to success. No more fashion shows, no more seasonal collections, no more wholesale accounts that had become unreliable (R.I.P. Barneys) or the markups required to pay for it all. (Band’s shirts started at $220; Entireworld’s are $95.) Scott SternbergStephanie Gonot for The New York Times For years, Sternberg had been saying that the fashion industry was a giant bubble heading toward collapse. Now the pandemic was just speeding up the inevitable. In fact, it had already begun. An incredible surplus of clothing was presently sitting in warehouses and in stores, some of which might never reopen. “That whole channel is dead,” Sternberg said. “And there’s no sign of when it’s turning on again.” In April, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive 8

on record. Purchases of sweatpants, though, were up 80 percent. Entireworld was like the rare life form that survives the apocalypse. By betting that the luxury market would fail, Sternberg had evaded the very forces that were bringing down the rest of the industry. “Because you could see the writing on the wall,” he said. “The Neimans writing on the wall, the Barneys. ... Listen, Barneys? That was not a shock to anyone.” If there’s one image that I will remember from the last days of the fashion industry as it has existed for the last two decades, it’s Marc Jacobs streaming live from the Mercer Hotel in New York in pearls and perfect makeup. The broadcast ran to 75 minutes in length over two different virtual events. It began on April 15, with Vogue’s Global Conversations, a series the magazine introduced to figure out how to fix the fashion industry, and continued a month later, on May 15, with Business of Fashion, the industry’s go-to news website.

“I’m in the process of grief right now,” Jacobs told Vogue. Why are you grieving, Marc? the moderator asked. “Why? Because this is all very sad.” Then, later: How are you going to present your spring/summer '21 collection?

FULL ARTICLE Round 2

How the fashion industry collapsed. Irina Aleksander

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

a Nobel Prize. Sternberg graduated summa cum laude. His senior thesis was about the economics of actors in Hollywood, which is how he wound up in Los Angeles in the first place. This is all to say that Sternberg knew what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promo

2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the

whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

“But for a small business

us out” — he snapped his

this is enough to take all of fingers — “in one shot.”

B y m ont h’s e n d the brand’s sales we re u p 6 6% f ro m la st ye a r.

highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business. By “met,” I mean that we were in Sternberg’s backyard in chairs positioned 20 feet apart, with a setup of disinfectant wipes between us. At this point, Sternberg hadn’t been leaving the house much, instead subsisting on deliveries from BlueApron, the meal-kit service, and rationing the ingredients into multiple meals. Entireworld’s managing director, Jordan Schiff — formerly of Dov Charney’s American Apparel, whose heyday Sternberg’s line openly pays homage to — had just come down with Covid-19. But he was still tracking the numbers. Just a few days before, Schiff reported that the company

Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars

The day we met, April 24, was the

In April, clothing

had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender women’s socks.

sales fell 79% in

the United States, the largest dive on record.

that had become unreliable (R.I.P. Barneys) or the markups required to pay for it all. (Band’s shirts started at $220; Entireworld’s are $95.) For years, Sternberg had been saying that the fashion industry was a giant bubble heading toward collapse. Now the pandemic was just speeding up the inevitable. In fact, it had already begun. An incredible surplus of clothing was presently sitting in warehouses and in stores, some of which might never reopen. “That whole channel is dead,” Sternberg said. “And there’s no sign of when it’s turning on again.” In April, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive on record. Purchases of sweatpants, 8

though, were up 80 percent. Entireworld was like the rare life form that survives the apocalypse. By betting that the luxury market would fail, Sternberg had evaded the very forces that were bringing down the rest of the industry. “Because you could see the writing on the wall,” he said. “The Neimans writing on the wall, the Barneys. ... Listen, Barneys? That was not a shock to anyone.”

sort of make you look like a cross between

If there’s one image that I will remember from the last days of the fashion industry as it has existed for the last two decades, it’s Marc Jacobs streaming live from the Mercer Hotel in New York in pearls and perfect makeup. The broadcast ran to 75 minutes in length over two different virtual events. It began on April 15, with Vogue’s Global Conversations, a series the magazine introduced to figure out how to fix the fashion industry, and continued a month later, on May 15, with Business of Fashion, the industry’s go-to news website. “I’m in the process of grief right now,” Jacobs told Vogue. Why are you grieving, Marc? the moderator asked. “Why? Because this is all very sad.” Then, later: How are you going to present your spring/summer '21 collection?

Teletubbie,

Ben

Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979 “I’m not sure there will be a spring/ summer ’21 collection.” ‘This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.’ Jacobs had come to see his fall 2020 show as a kind of farewell. “I’ve said this to my psychiatrist, my lovely Dr. Richardson,” he told Business of Fashion, after taking a long drag from his vape pen, “that I would be very

happy if that were my last show.” That collection would never be produced. Buyers couldn’t place orders, and even if they had, factories were shut down. Jacobs said he had to lay off “a bunch of people” and ask others to take pay cuts. Not that this began with the pandemic. Since 2013, Jacobs’s business had shrunk from 250 stores to just four. Speaking to Vogue, he said, “This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.” 9

SWEATPANTS FOREVER SWEATPANTS FOREVER R E V E R O F S T N WEATPA R E V SWEATPPA E R O A F N T S S F O T R E N V E R T A E SW

even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up? how the fashion industry collapsed.

IT’S DIFFICULT, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus.

Irina Aleksander

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

what uncertainty does to consumer behavior. “What was going through my head was: Man, I don’t know how big businesses are going to deal with this,” he said. “But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” As it happened, it was the giants who would fall first. Over the next few months, J. Crew, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers and J.C. Penney filed for bankruptcy. Gap Inc. couldn’t pay rent on its 2,785 North American stores. By July, Diane von Furstenberg announced she would lay off 300 employees and close 18 of her 19 stores. The impending damage to small businesses was inconceivable. The next morning, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promo

That evening, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said. Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion 4

world with self-consciously preppy clothes. Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America (C.F.D.A.) awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars. He posed for photos with Kanye West. Michelle Obama wore one of his dresses. He opened stores in Tokyo and New York. Then, in 2015, to everyone’s surprise, Sternberg announced that Band was going out of business. An investment with some Belgians had gone bad, but that didn’t feel like the whole story. Sternberg knew the whole story. Every choice he made at Entireworld was to prevent it from happening again. Now a global pandemic had hit. He couldn’t foresee that. No one did.

“But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.”

tional emails, a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.” IT wasn’t long before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year. The day we met, April 24, was the

Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars

By month’s end the brand’s sales were u p 6 6% from last ye a r.

Just a few days before, Schiff had reported that the company had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender socks Just a few days before, Schiff had reported that the company had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender socks

In April, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive on record.

had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender women’s socks. STERNBERG was in a good mood. This was obviously not just because of an email. Nor was it simply because America had settled into sweatpants for the foreseeable future. He’d been laying down this groundwork since Band of Outsiders imploded. Entireworld wasn’t a departure in name only, suggesting as it does the opposite of the in crowd. It was also Sternberg’s rejection of the traditional fashion system, the one that once vaulted him to success. No more fashion shows, no more seasonal collections, no more wholesale accounts that had become unreliable (R.I.P.

Barneys) or the markups required to pay for it all. (Band’s shirts started at $220; Entireworld’s are $95.)

minutes in length over two different virtual events. It began on April 15, with Vogue’s Global Conversations, a series the magazine introduced to figure out how to fix the fashion industry, and continued a month later, on May 15, with Business of Fashion, the industry’s go-to news website.

FOR years, Sternberg had been saying that the fashion industry was a giant bubble heading toward collapse. Now the pandemic was just speeding up the inevitable. In fact, it had already begun. An incredible surplus of clothing was presently sitting in warehouses and in stores, some of which might never reopen. “That whole channel is dead,” Sternberg said. “And there’s no sign of when it’s turning on again.” In April, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive on record. Purchases of sweatpants, 8

THINGS looked different in 2005. I’m choosing that year somewhat subjectively, because that’s when I started as an intern at Women’s Wear Daily. It was a thrilling time in American fashion. A new guard of young designers had just entered the scene, displacing the stars of the 1980s and ’90s (Donna Karan, Calvin Klein, Michael Kors, et al.) and re-energizing the runways. Interns don’t see much, but occasionally fashion week invites trickle down. My first show was Zac Posen, in something like Row 8. My second was Proenza Schouler. Those designers, along with Alexander Wang, Derek Lam, Phillip Lim, Rag & Bone, Rodarte, Jason Wu and later Joseph Altuzarra, seemed to grow into global brands overnight, with the help of store buyers and fashion editors eager to usher in a post 9/11 generation of American talent.

Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and sort of make you look like a cross “I’m not sure there will be a spring/ summer ’21 collection.” ‘This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.’ Jacobs had come to see his fall 2020 show as a kind of farewell. “I’ve said this to my psychiatrist, my lovely Dr. Richardson,” he told Business of Fashion, after taking a long drag from his vape pen, “that I would be

very happy if that were my last show.” That collection would never be produced. Buyers couldn’t place orders, and even if they had, factories were shut down. Jacobs said he had to lay off “a bunch of people” and ask others to take pay cuts. Not that this began with the pandemic. Since 2013, Jacobs’s business had shrunk from 250 stores to just four. Speaking to Vogue, he said, “This has been a very difficult business to be in for a long time, I think.”

between

Teletubbie,

Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979

JUSTIFICATION SETTINGS Use your body text font for this exercise. Hyphenation ON Duplicate page and change the font to see how it changes. Repeat 4 x

keep track... word spacing: letterspacing

85% 0%

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target was three-, four-, and five-year-olds. Her agent of infection was television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run five days a week, and the hope was that if that hour was contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes a leg up once they began elementary school, spreading prolearning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. * By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people, very easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Harvard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was first asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much into fitting how you teach to what you know about the child,” he says. “You try to find the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s profile.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box. * But Cooney and Lesser and a third

the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much into ﬁtting how you teach to what you know about the child,” he says. “You try to ﬁnd the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the

partner— Lloyd Morrisett of the Markle Foundation in New York — set out to try anyway. They enlisted some of the top creative minds of the period. They borrowed techniques from television commercials to teach children about numbers. They used the live animation of Saturday morning cartoons to teach lessons about learning the alphabet. They brought in celebrities to sing and

kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s proﬁle.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box.

dance and star in comedy sketches that taught children about the virtues of cooperation or about their own emotions. Sesame Street aimed higher and tried harder than any other children’s show had, and the extraordinary thing was that it worked. Virtually every time the show’s educational value has been tested — and Sesame Street has been subject to more academic scrutiny than any television show in history — it has been proved to increase the reading and learning skills of its viewers.

100% 5%

120% 10%

Use your body text font for this exercise. Hyphenation ON Duplicate page and change the font to see how it changes. Repeat 4 x In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target was three-, four-, and ﬁve-year-olds. Her agent of infection was

tagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes a leg up once they began elementary school, spreading prole-

watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. * By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people,

was three-, four-, and ﬁve-year-olds. Her agent of infection was television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run ﬁve days a week, and the hope was that if that hour was con-

arning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people, very easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Har-

vard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was ﬁrst asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much into ﬁtting how you teach to what you know about the child,” he says.

“You try to ﬁnd the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s proﬁle.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box.

But Cooney and Lesser and a third partner— Lloyd Morrisett of the Markle Foundation in New

keep track... word spacing: letterspacing

85% 0%

100% 5%

120% 10%

television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run ﬁve days a week, and the hope was that if that hour was contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes a leg up once they began elementary school, spreading prolearning values from

very easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Harvard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was first asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much into fitting how you teach to what you know about the child,” he says. “You try to find the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s profile.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It

uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box. * But Cooney and Lesser and a third partner— Lloyd Morrisett of the Markle Foundation in New York — set out to try anyway. They enlisted some of the top creative minds of the period. They borrowed techniques from television commercials to teach children about numbers. They used the live animation of Saturday morning cartoons to teach

lessons about learning the alphabet. They brought in celebrities to sing and dance and star in comedy sketches that taught children about the virtues of cooperation or

about their own emotions. Sesame Street aimed higher and tried harder than any other children’s show had, and the extraordinary thing was that it worked. Virtually every time the show’s educational value has been tested — and Sesame Street has been subject to more academic scrutiny than any television show in history — it has been proved to increase the reading and learning skills of its viewers.

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target was three-, four-, and five-year-olds. Her

Her target was three-, four-, and five-year-olds. Her agent of infection was television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run five days a

agent of infection was television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run five days a week, and the hope was that if that hour was contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes a leg

week, and the hope was that if that hour was contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disad-

up once they began elementary school, spreading prolearning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching

vantaged homes a leg up once they began elementary school, spreading prolearning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show.

the show. * By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people, very easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Harvard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was first asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much into

By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of

fitting how you teach to what you know about the child,” he says. “You try to find the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand

people, very easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Harvard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was first

the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s profile.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box. * But Cooney and Lesser and a third partner— Lloyd Morrisett of the Markle

asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much

Foundation in New York — set out to try anyway. They enlisted some of the top creative minds of the period. They borrowed techniques from tele-

into fitting how you teach to what you know about the child,” he says. “You try to find the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individ-

vision commercials to teach children about numbers. They used the live animation of Saturday morning cartoons to teach lessons about learning the alphabet. They brought in celebrities to sing and dance and star in comedy sketches that taught children about the virtues of cooperation or about their own emotions. Sesame Street aimed higher and tried harder

ual kid’s profile.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the

than any other children’s show had, and the extraordinary thing was that it worked. Virtually every time the show’s educational value has been tested — and Sesame Street has been subject to more academic scrutiny than any television show in history — it has been proved to increase the reading and learning skills of its viewers.

keep track... word spacing: letterspacing

85% 0%

100% 5%

120% 10%

Use your body text font for this exercise. Hyphenation ON Duplicate page and change the font to see how it changes. Repeat 4 x

keep track... word spacing: letterspacing

85% 0%

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target was three-, four-, and ﬁve-year-olds. Her agent of infection was

contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes a leg up once they began elementary school, spreading

from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. * By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people,

prolearning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people, very

easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Har-

them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s proﬁle.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It

“You try to ﬁnd the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you

lessons about learning the alphabet. They brought in celebrities to sing and dance and star in comedy sketches that taught children about the virtues of cooperation

can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s proﬁle.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box.

or about their own emotions. Sesame Street aimed higher and tried harder than any other children’s show had, and the extraordinary thing was that it worked. Virtually every time the show’s educational value has been tested — and Sesame Street has been subject to more academic scrutiny than any television show in history — it has been

But Cooney and Lesser and a third partner— Lloyd Morrisett of the Markle Foundation in New

proved to increase the reading and learning skills of its viewers.

100% 5%

120% 10%

Use your body text font for this exercise. Hyphenation ON Duplicate page and change the font to see how it changes. Repeat 4 x

keep track... word spacing: letterspacing

85% 0%

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic.

In the late 1960s, a television producer named Joan Gantz Cooney set out to start an epidemic. Her target was three-, four-, and ﬁve-year-olds. Her

Her target was three-, four-, and ﬁve-year-olds. Her agent of infection was television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run ﬁve days a week,

agent of infection was television, and the “virus” she wanted to spread was literacy. The show would last an hour and run ﬁve days a week, and the hope was that if that hour was contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes a leg up once they

and the hope was that if that hour was contagious enough it could serve as an educational Tipping Point: giving children from disadvantaged homes

began elementary school, spreading prolearning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. *

a leg up once they began ele mentary school, spreading prolearning values from watchers to nonwatchcrs, infecting children and their parents, and lingering long enough to have an impact well alter the children stopped watching the show. By any measure, this was an audacious

By any measure, this was an audacious idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people, very easily and cheaply. It entertains and dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Harvard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was ﬁrst asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skeptical. “I had always been very much into ﬁtting how you teach to what you

idea. Television is a great way to reach lots of people, very easily and cheaply. It entertains and

know about the child,” he says. “You try to ﬁnd the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid

dazzles. Bui it isn’t a particularly educational medium. Gerald Lesser, a Harvard University psychologist who joined with Cooney in founding Sesame Street, says that when he was ﬁrst asked to join the project, back in the late 1960s, he was skep-

them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s proﬁle.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.” Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box. * But Cooney and Lesser and a third partner— Lloyd Morrisett of the Markle Foundation in New York — set out to

tical. “I had always been very much into ﬁtting how you teach to what you know about the child,”

try anyway. They enlisted some of the top creative minds of the period. They borrowed techniques from television commercials to teach children about

he says. “You try to ﬁnd the kid’s strengths, so you can play to them. You try to understand the kid’s weaknesses, so you can avoid them. Then you try and teach that individual kid’s proﬁle.... Television has no potential, no power to do that.”

numbers. They used the live animation of Saturday morning cartoons to teach lessons about learning the alphabet. They brought in celebrities to sing and dance and star in comedy sketches that taught children about the virtues of cooperation or about their own emotions. Sesame Street aimed higher and tried harder than any other children’s show had, and the extraordinary thing

Good teaching is interactive. It engages the child individually. It uses all the senses. It responds to the child. But a television is just a talking box.

was that it worked. Virtually every time the show’s educational value has been tested — and Sesame Street has been subject to more academic scrutiny than any television show in history — it has been proved to increase the reading and learning skills of its viewers.

100% 5%

120% 10%

FINAL SPREADS

SWEATPANTS FOREVER SWEATPANTS FOREVER R E V E R O F S T N A SWEATP R E V SWEATPPA E R O A F N T S S F O T R E N V E R T A E SW even before the pandemic, the whole fashion industry had started to unravel. What happens now that no one has a reason to dress up? IT’S DIFFICULT, in retrospect, to pinpoint when exactly panic about coronavirus took hold in the United States, but March 12 stands out. Stores ran out of canned goods. Streets emptied of cars. Tom Hanks had just tested positive for the virus.

how the fashion industry collapsed.

Irina Aleksander

Photos by: Stephanie Gonot

THE NEXT MORNING, a Friday, Sternberg drove to Entireworld’s offices in Koreatown. He sat down at his desk and began drafting an email: “Wow. I mean, WTF.” He didn’t run the email by his staff. There was no meeting about it. He just sat down and wrote it. “Am I sick already? Can I leave my house? What do I tell my employees? Will my mom be OK on her flight home today? Can Zod” — Sternberg’s dog — “get coronavirus? Did I buy enough T.P.? How long will this last? Who’s in charge? What’s next?” The email went out to the brand’s 30,000 subscribers on Sunday, March 15. It was, in a sea of daily promotional emails,

THAT EVENING, Scott Sternberg, a fashion designer, was lying awake at home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles, thinking about Entireworld, a line of basics he founded two years earlier. Would people still buy clothes? How much cash did he have to keep going? When would he have to lay people off? “My Band of Outsiders battle scars just opened wide,” he said. Band of Outsiders was Sternberg’s previous company. He founded it in 2004 as a line of slim shirts and ties. (Remember the skinny-tie boom? That was Sternberg.) Eventually it grew into full men’s and women’s collections that won over the fashion 4

Sternberg took home two Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards, the industry’s equivalent of the Oscars

“But for a small business this is enough to take all of us out” — he snapped his fingers — “in one shot.” 5

a distinctly human one. But this was still a promotion: for a sweatsuit, the brand’s top seller, a “hero item” in

The day we met, April 24, was the highest-grossing day in the company’s history. A new shipment came in

industry speak. Inspired by a French children’s film, Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and, in Sternberg’s vision, “sort of make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.”

that morning and promptly sold out again. Entireworld had now grossed more in two months than in its entire first year in business.

IT WASN’T LONG before Sternberg’s employees began texting him happy-face emoji. On an average

day, the brand — still in its nascent stage — sells 46 sweats. That day they sold more than 1,000. When they ran out of sweatsuits, shoppers moved through the T-shirts, socks and underwear. By month’s end, the brand’s

meal-kit service, and rationing the ingredients into multiple meals. Entireworld’s managing director, Jordan Schiff — formerly of Dov Charney’s American Apparel, whose heyday Sternberg’s line openly pays hom-

sales were up 662 percent over March the previous year.

age to — had just come down with Covid-19. But he was still tracking the numbers.

Just a few days before, Schiff had reported that the company had sold out of 600 pairs of lavender socks

By month’s end the brand’s sales were u p 6 6% from last ye a r.

America had settled into sweat pants for the forseeable future.

In April, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive on record.

Sternberg was in a good mood. This was obviously not just because of an email. Nor was it simply because America had settled into sweatpants for the foreseeable future. He’d been laying down this groundwork since Band of Outsiders imploded. Entireworld wasn’t a departure in name only, suggesting as it does the opposite of the in crowd. It was also Sternberg’s rejection of the traditional fashion system, the one that once vaulted him to success. No more fashion shows, no more seasonal collections, no more wholesale accounts that had become unreliable (R.I.P. Barneys) or the markups required to pay for it all. (Band’s shirts started at $220; Entireworld’s are $95.) For years, Sternberg had been saying that the fashion industry was a giant bubble heading toward collapse. Now the pandemic was just speeding up the inevitable. In fact, it had already begun. An incredible surplus of clothing was presently sitting in warehouses and in stores, some of which might never reopen. “That whole channel is dead,” Sternberg said. “And there’s no sign of when it’s turning on again.”

IN APRIL, clothing sales fell 79 percent in the United States, the largest dive on record. Purchases of sweatpants, though, were up 80 percent. Entireworld was like the rare life form that survives the apocalypse. By betting that the luxury market would fail, Sternberg had evaded the very forces that were bringing down the rest of the industry. “Because you could see the writing on the wall,” he said. “The Neimans writing on the wall, the Barneys. ... Listen, Barneys? That was not a shock to anyone.” If there’s one image that I will remember from the last days of the fashion industry as it has existed for the last two decades, it’s Marc Jacobs streaming live from the Mercer Hotel in New York in pearls and perfect makeup. The broadcast ran to 75 minutes in length over two different virtual events. It began on April 15, with Vogue’s Global Conversations, a series the magazine introduced to figure out how to fix the fashion industry, and continued a month later, on May 15, with Business of Fashion, the industry’s go-to news website.

Entireworld’s sweatsuits come in a prism of cheery colors and make you look like a cross between a Teletubbie, Ben Stiller in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums,’ and a J.C. Penney ad from 1979.

JACOBS had come to see his fall 2020 show as a kind of farewell. “I’ve said this to my psychiatrist, my lovely Dr. Richardson,” he told Business of Fashion, after taking a long drag from his vape pen, “that I would be very happy if that were my last show.” That collection would never be produced. Buyers couldn’t place orders, and even if they had, factories were shut down. Jacobs said he had to lay off “a bunch of people” and ask others to take pay cuts. Not that this began with the pandemic. Since 2013, Jacobs’s business had shrunk from 250 stores to just four. 9