Platform Spring 2023 Issue

PLATFORM

VOLUME XIII

VOLUME XIII

Table of Contents MISUNDERSTOOD, UNKNOWN, AND NOVEL

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BIOART

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RETRO FUTURISM

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ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY

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THE HEALING NATURE OF PLAYFUL CREATIVITY

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MY ALIEN HUSBAND

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EXTRATERRESTRIAL ESPOUSAL

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MOTHER MONSTER

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MEMORY IN THE AIR

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UNCANNY VALLEY

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A NEW AGE OF DRAG HERSTORY

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CUT YOUR HAIR

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THE FITTING ROOM MENTALITY

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HOUSE WINS

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MANICURES AND OTHER SHINING ARMOR

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PAINTED FOR THE BACK OF THE ROOM

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CORE

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Staff

Editor-in-Chief SARAH QUINN Creative Director KEYMONI SAKIL-SLACK Finance Co-Directors CATEY COX KATIE FINAN Writing Co-Directors ISABELLA BROCCOLO ROSA STANCIL Photography Director VY BUI Modeling Co-Directors JOSHUA BERMUDEZ BRIANNA PIERCE Styling Co-Directors DELANEY CAULDER SAMANTHA RONCEVICH Set Design Co-Directors JULIE ZHOU JANEY HARLOW Digital Co-Directors ANABEL RUSSO JELANI SEARS Design Staff RILEY BECKER KEVIN FOSTER ABIGAIL HARRIS CHANDLER LAMM MADISON MINIHAN KLOE TUCKER Writing Staff LEXI AMEDIO ELYSE BOLDIZAR KATE GOODWIN ANNA HADDAD MADDIE HALL OMIA HAROON KENNEDI HOSEY KLARISSA KRONSCHNABEL POLLY O’NEAL GABRIELLE SABIA LAUREN SLATTERY LEAH TRAN MAE WILLIAMS Photography Staff BENNETT BUTLER NATALIE FOLSOM VIOSA KOLIQI RACHEL LAMINACK SARAH LOZIER KSENIA MATVEEVA TAE PARK MAKENZIE RINK RORY SULLIVAN NAIMA SUTTON TAYLOR WITTIG

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Set Design Staff

SOPHIE DICKERSON LILO HARRIS ERIN SECOSKY EMMA SULLIVAN

Digital Staff

GLORIA CHEN CATALINA DALESSIO-SKARE ZAKARIYA EL-ATTAFI WIL KING LINDSAY LOVE ANNIE MATTHEWS AVA MCDONALD ANNIKA PILLUTLA KATIE RYDER ASHTON WALTHALL MORGAN WEINTRAUB

Stylists

AMAYA AL-MUSSAWIR AVA BRUNO MATT CHANSOMBAT JUSTUS DENIZARD HOPE SCARLETT FAIRCLOTH MEGHAN FICKLING MELIS HAFIZOGLU BRAXTON HARE OWEN JAMES RUBY JONES PRISCILLA MARTINEZ NIKKI MILLER ZOE PATTERSON MAGGIE PATTYSON MIRA PHILLIPS ETHAN SADLER ANIKA SEWARD TYLER SMITH SOPHIE TIMBERLAKE HENRY TRAN SOPHIE TREW MELISSA VALERIO MADISON WALKER KENDALL WISNIEWSKI

Models

INDIA ALLAN DOMINIQUE BELL JOSEPH BUNGER NINA BURMAN LINDSAY CARTER THERESA COGEN

JACOB DELOS SANTOS CHRISTAL DITA YSA FERRERIA NICOLE HARRIS KELLY HERNANDEZ KAYLA HILLMAN JACOB HODGES LANGSTON HUMES IMMANUEL JACKSON CORA JONES RACHEL KELLY JADYN KEOBOUALA TALIA KINTZELE GRIER LOVE JIMMY MCMANUS JAMAL MOHAMAD ELLE NEWKIRK FIDELISE PAKU STELLA PARK CLAIRE PATRICK ANIKA RAUCH HEIDI REID JULIANNA ROSELAND ANUSHNA SAHA ABBY SCHWEBKE HANNAH SIMPSON ELEANOR SLYMAN AIDEN TAMTON JENA VAUGHN JADE VOGELSONG ALANDYA WARREN LARA YASSIN

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The Directors

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Letter From the Editor I n the previous issue, I wanted you all to see who Platform is at its core by looking at our authentic selves.

However, it is not only our authenticity that makes us who we are. It is also our sense of creativity that makes this magazine truly unique. The theme of this issue, creative expression, is intended to highlight this very important piece of our identity.

Although creativity is something that comes from inside, art serves as a vehicle for expressing that creativity. It is something that is tangible and will live on beyond us. For some, this might come in the form of painting or sculpture, but at Platform, this magazine is our art.

As a work of art, this issue serves as a place for us to express ourselves without any barriers. The theme of creative expression allows us the freedom to push the limits of our imagination. It encourages us to explore things that are odd or peculiar and create avant-garde content.

When I pitched this theme, I fully expected each of us to run in completely different directions with it. Although we all brought something unique to the table, what I didn’t expect was the beautiful overlapping of these ideas. Every article, photo, and design are connected in some way to form a narrative throughout the magazine.

From aliens to drag, the ties between our ideas say something about the nature of this community. No matter how different we are, where we come from, or where we will be in 10 years, we will always be connected through this magazine and our unique sense of creativity. Although it hurts to think that the magazine I have dedicated everything to for the past four years will no longer be in my hands, this doesn’t feel like a goodbye.

I know that Platform will always be a part of my life.

I am beyond proud of the work we have done this year.

Although this issue is very different from the last, they are like two pieces to a puzzle. Together they represent who we are as Platform and the powerful combination of our authentic selves and how we choose to express ourselves creatively.

Signing off,

Sarah Quinn

Editor-in-Chief

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by Kennedi Hosey

The Connection Between the Queer Community and the Horror Genre 10

MODELS: Kelly Hernandez, Kennedi Hosey, & Immanuel Jackson PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom STYLING: Owen James, Tyler Smith, & Melissa Valerio MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir, Samantha Roncevich, & Keymoni Sakil-Slack SET: Janey Harlow & Julie Zhou

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ociety, from the beginning of time, has been chilled to the bone by things outside the norm, things that are dangerous to their way of life. From uncanny dolls to the living dead, society realizes that not only do these things not belong, but they trigger the survival instinct in the common person. Throughout Hollywood eras, directors and screenwriters have created movies that reflect and take advantage of current societal fears. John Carpenter’s Halloween soared in popularity by taking advantage of new horrors entering suburbia. It’s not a coincidence that at the same time as the movie’s release, black people were beginning to move from the cities into the suburbs, entering a space where they were perceived as a threat. White people were horrified that black people were moving next door and when that passed, well, the attention was focused on another community. Humans will forever be afraid of things that are different, unique, and queer.

Queer horror has always been around in the media, although not as directly compared to the modern day.

James Jenkins of Valancourt Books noted that “the traditional explanation for the gay/horror connection is that it was impossible for them to write openly about gay themes back then (or even perhaps express them, since words like ‘gay’ and ‘homosexual’ didn’t exist), so they sublimated them and expressed them in more acceptable forms, using the medium of a transgressive genre like horror fiction.” Gay authors, screenwriters, and directors, were hiding in the shadows and crafting their truths through the lens of fear. A lens that society could relate to because, at the end of the day, queer people were seen as out of place, a danger to human existence, a true horror.

Jennifer’s Body, released in 2009, cemented itself in the queer horror hall of fame due to its direct depiction of queer female relationships. Jennifer’s Body is a movie about dorky Needy and her preppy, gorgeous best friend turned succubus, Jennifer. Needy always ditches her side character boyfriend for Jennifer and always does what Jennifer asks of her. She even lovingly ogles Jennifer from the stands, as the object of her affections completes her cheer routine, all while Black Kids’s “I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You” rings out during the scene. Queer women could see themselves in Needy and relate to the way she silently crushed on her seemingly straight best friend. This is a common occurrence among many queer people, in the closet or not. Needy was every young queer getting a little too

‘close’ with their straight best friend, spending too much time together, or staring for a second too long. Even with the movie’s iconic girl-on-girl makeout scene, it quickly pushes past it as if nothing happened. Just like how a lot of close female relationships can be passed off as ‘that’s just how girls are.’ Jennifer’s Body takes from Jenkins’s theory, as it shows you the queerness of the film underneath the surface of a man-eating succubus. Jennifer’s Body was a win for the gays while still catering to a heterosexual audience, making it widely praised. Unfortunately, this praise is not reflected in many queer movies.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a 1970s film based on a horror musical. Although criticized for its blatant themes of sexuality and gender exploration, it’s garnered a cult following for the exact same reasons. Rocky Horror Picture Show is about the chaos that ensues after a young normie couple stumbles upon Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s mansion.

With scandalous corsets, fun dance numbers, and a whole lot of sexual references, it’s easy to see why this film gained its godfather-like status amongst the queer community. Rocky Horror was a safe space in every sense of the meaning. The normie couple, Janet and Brad, are completely out of place amongst the characters that reside in the mansion. Their pastel, conservative outfits and anxious behavior paint them as the outsiders in this new world of heavy eyeliner and bold actions. When they first meet Dr. Frank-N-Furter, Janet represents the primarily heterosexual audience looking on in horror. In this world though, the gaze from the outside is not as strong, as the queer community has found strength in numbers and a sweet transvestite mansion owner.

The queer community and horror go hand in hand.

Horror movies offer a safe space to those who are ‘othered’, a place to see ‘monsters’ thrive with little homoerotic hints hidden in the shadows. Because, for people who are so different and outcasted, what is there to be afraid of?

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B

ioscientific imageries in western culture conjure up indisputable definitions of life. Life that is carefully discovered and verified through scientific methods and processes by scientists, objective champions of technology and truth, within a sterile and self-contained laboratory. Their findings are hoisted as solutions, demanding applause for their socalled achievements. While bioscientific explanations are readily trusted and employed within society and culture, the scientists creating them are already embedded in these societies and cultures. Such a relationship generates a mutually inclusive whole, where one now does not exist without implicating the other. Great philosophical questions emerge from the crevices of unanswered, unexplained, and undone notions left in the wake of biological answers.

Headlines present a reoccurring crisis: biotechnology is growing in capability faster than these ethical questions can be answered. Upending established conceptions through narratives of art, bioart takes these queries further.

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Bioart is the use of biomaterials, such as living cells, tissues, and bacteria, and bioscientific techniques, processes, and tools, as an artistic medium. In the famous work, GFP Bunny (2000), Eduardo Kac commissioned a lab to create a rabbit born with a Green Fluorescent Protein gene from a jellyfish, rendering the rabbit, named Alba, an unnaturally bright green under a blue light. Conversations regarding the safety of genetic engineering ensued, conjured through an explicitly artistic endeavor. Anna Dimitriu’s Cholera Dress (2023) tells the story of epidemiology’s genesis, using an 1850s bodice and skirt, herbs thought to be remedies at the time, and extracted cholera DNA, all contained within the dress.

Dimitriu pays homage to not only John Snow’s tracing of the cholera outbreak, but also to the female sex workers and nurses of the time, and even the bacteria itself. SymbioticA of the University of Western Australia is a research lab that facilitates both biological researchers and artists in wet biology practices, producing many experimental works of art. With the increasing availability of biotechnologies, more artists engage with the medium for a host of purposes.

A generalized overview of the art invoked through living materials and processes is not a sufficient summary of the breadth of works it has inspired. However, bioart does decenter the use of biological science and technology as one of reserved usage and strict boundaries, allowing for indistinct exploration, released from the confines of research timelines and outcomes. Boundless play with life and life

by Omia Haroon processes easily subverts western categorical imperative, not just in bioscience and technology, but also between disciplinary lines.

Artists and scientists are imagined to operate in separate realms with entirely different goals, methods, and laws.

An artist is an expressive creator, who uses their creativity, imagination, or ideologies to make and project meaning in their work. Painting, clothing, pottery, writing, photography, sculpture, dance, animating, film, and acting are mediums readily considered art. It is a field of feeling and discussion, often incorporating experiences, agendas, and rhetoric in order to capture what the artist desires. But it occupies a domain without consequence, coupled with airs of luxury and frivolity. It can be visited, observed, enjoyed, left behind, and subsequently fastened into history. In alleged contrast, scientists are in pursuit of objective truth, human advancement, and the future. With no room for frivolity, they wield technology, time, and training in a standardized environment. Personhood and experiences are negligible, even discouraged, as scientists are striving for the same understandings and abilities. Such dichotomous views of the temporality and meaning of art and science are confronted by bio-artists.

Bio-artists using bioscientific techniques and technologies for art can orient their works into the future, the unknown, and the unfamiliar, as scientists do. For example, human cells can be combined with animal cells with no ends in mind, no transhumanist goal, but instead to open-endedly question preconceived notions in their artistic work. Art’s goal of portrayal, whether it be a feeling, moment, or idea, is fully realized in bioart. The uncertainty that is bound to bioscience and technology intensifies when an artist is employing the unquestioned vaulting of bioscience and technology into legitimacy, not in the pursuit of the betterment of biological knowledge. Coupled with experiences, agendas, and rhetoric, questions of consequence seep out of laboratories and reach far beyond their isolated discoveries and subsequent usage and commercialization in supposedly human interests.

Bioart asks the questions that are deferred or neglected in the frenzied prioritization of discovery and development: do humans have the right to manipulate pieces of beings, to extract and discipline human and non-human life, and what, or who, even makes that distinction?

Illustration by Kloe Tucker

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MODELS: Dominique Bell & Immanuel Jackson PHOTOGRAPHY: Rachel Laminack STYLING: Amaya Al-Mussawir & Henry Tran MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir SET: Emma Sullivan, Erin Secosky, Sophie Dickerson, & Janey Harlow

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MODELS: Kelly Hernandez & Stella Park PHOTOGRAPHY: Rachel Laminack, Tae Park, & Rory Sullivan STYLING: Meg Fickling & Anika Seward MAKEUP: Isabella Broccolo & Sarah Quinn HAIR: Sarah Quinn & Delaney Caulder

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MODELS: Nina Burman, Talia Kintzele, Fidelise Paku, & Abby Schwebke PHOTOGRAPHY: Viosa Koliqi, Tae Park, & Rory Sullivan STYLING: Owen James, Ruby Jones, Kendall Wisniewski & Braxton Hare MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir, Isabella Broccolo, Samantha Roncevich, & Keymoni Sakil-Slack HAIR: Delaney Caulder, Samantha Roncevich, Sarah Quinn, & Kendall Wisniewski

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Viosa Koliqi & Rachel Laminack

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MODELS: Anushna Saha & Anika Rauch PHOTOGRAPHY: Rory Sullivan STYLING & HAIR: Nikki Miller & Samantha Roncevich MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir & Keymoni Sakil-Slack

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by Gabrielle Sabia

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W

hen I was younger, I always envied Hannah Montana; not just because she was a world-renowned pop star that lived on the beach in southern California, but mostly because she could wear blue jeans and sequined tank tops to school. It was such a minuscule thing, but every day I still fantasize about waking up to a matching outfit laying on the foot of my bed. Instead, I was stuck wearing a stuffy, ill-fitting uniform that cost more than my parents’ grocery bills.

The common excuse for uniforms is that they have the ability to keep kids looking clean-cut and sophisticated at all times. But honestly, the monotony felt more like a cage than a lesson in maturity. And it wasn’t just a burden for the kids who wanted pink hair and nose piercings – all around me I saw girls constantly readjusting the way their skirts sat on their hips and boys pushing their hair back with headbands so they wouldn’t get dress-coded.

It really sucks feeling like you had so much to offer but nowhere to show it. And since being a kid meant minimal autonomy and maximum teenage angst, every part of that you were expected to push down always ended up coming back up, one way or another. Because when everybody looks the same, you have to do things that make you stand out; you have to talk louder and stand taller, and if you can’t do that then you have to study harder or score the most points in the championship game.

This, in combination with the normal, life-ruining complexities of individuality and identity, made me feel like I was constantly fighting an uphill battle of trying to find myself in a way that would make sure I wouldn’t get sent home with a detention slip. Back then, I knew who I thought I wanted to be, but I also knew I couldn’t actually be that. So I was left with two options – (1) convince myself that the school administration was right and the nose ring that I really want is unbecoming of a young academic like me, or (2) do it anyway, because who actually cares about that sort of thing?

principal who told me that even though I was 6th in my class, I wouldn’t be able to join the National Honors Society.

I tried not to be offended by it, because my mom was already offended enough, but it definitely stung to know that everything I worked for was immediately disregarded the second I decided to make a decision for myself.

That’s really where the issues I have with uniforms lie. Aside from being extraordinarily classist, it’s a message that tells you success and respect are given, not earned. It doesn’t matter what kind of person you are as long as you look like the kind of person that would’ve had it anyways. It devoids academics and professionalism of any sort of expression and passion, and instead, fills them with the shallow idea of conformity that sounds like it came straight out of a George Orwell novel.

I’m lucky that I’m now able to go to class feeling like I belong in my own clothes. It seems like a fruitless hill to die on when you’re on the outside looking in I’m sure, but I know now that expression is a luxury. Let’s be honest, it really is the little things in life that you have to look forward to, and having fun and being whatever the hell you want to be is the best cure for a dull life.

Illustration by Kloe Tucker

I decided to get a nose ring. Then, I got a week’s worth of lunch detentions and a one-on-one meeting with the 25

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The Healing Nature of

Playful Creativity

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by Lexi Amedio

f you could speak to the younger version of yourself for five minutes, what would you say? Personally, I would beg my younger self not to change her hair with every minor inconvenience, share with her my tips and tricks for handling adolescence, and give her a hug “with arms,” as my mom would say. Most importantly, I would tell her that, despite every selfdeprecating thought and bout of imposter syndrome, she is creative, and I hope you would do the same.

I used to blindly accept the notion that people are either creative or not. Through both introspection and interaction with incredible, unconventionally creative people, I’ve come to learn that creativity is something that each individual must define for themselves. It can mean a million different things.

Maybe your creativity is visible, or maybe it is a private outlet.

Maybe it surfaces in the routines you establish or the way you tell stories. Maybe it exists in your relationships, or in the impression that you leave, or even in the ways you handle the hard moments. It is the undercurrent of the life you are designing each and every day, and it is your job to honor whatever form your creativity manifests in. You owe it to your younger self.

As the process of growing up becomes increasingly loud, it can slowly drown out unapologetic self-expression. The kind of self-expression that your younger self never even secondguessed. Wearing your bright purple rain boots with your polka dot shirt and a neon yellow cape? A casual Wednesday uniform. Now, you might not feel the same. You don’t wear your favorite pair of pants because the color is perceived to be a little “out there” and that isn’t how people around you dress.

You quiet your brain and body because your natural energy is often misconstrued as chaos. Maybe you don’t feel like there is enough room in this world for your unique creativity.

You begin to take up less space in order to create more for others. It’s in times like this that playful creativity is not just a powerful tool, but it is needed.

Although you might not know me and I might not know you, I encourage you to wear the pants, celebrate your individuality, and love boundlessly. Make up scenarios in your head that exceed anything you ever thought could be a product of your

own imagination. Notice reactions and hopeful glances. Do headstands because the world looks cooler upside down.

Learn that there is light in everything and truly knowing yourself will be the most gratifying feat. Play “childish” games and rediscover the freeing nature of riding a bike with your legs reaching as far wide as possible. I promise it is so much fun. Wear the mismatched outfit that includes all seven of your favorite colors because you simply can’t choose just one. Take the time to create a positive impact on the people around you. Be curious and ask questions, experiment with color, try new things despite initial fear, feel big emotions and learn from them, jump in the water no matter how cold, smile at strangers, and make art for the enjoyment of the process and not the expectation of the result. Rather than stifle the behaviors that society tells you should end once you hit a certain age, celebrate them…loudly.

Living a life that would make your younger self excited to grow up is not only incredibly important, but it’s healing.

Intentionally honoring the version of you that saw the potential in everyone and everything. It might feel like that person doesn’t exist anymore, and the complexity of aging has sharpened your edges, but, I promise, they still live inside you.

If anything, take solace in knowing that absolutely no one else can be creative in the way you can.

MODELS: Talia Kintzele & Anushna Saha PHOTOGRAPHY: Bennett Butler STYLING: Justus Denizard & Mira Phillips HAIR: Delaney Caulder SET: Janey Harlow, Erin Secosky, & Julie Zhou

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lien A y M Husban d

by Elyse Boldizar

by Elyse Boldzair

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he first sign that something was different was the way he ate an orange. Instead of cutting it into semicircle slices and eating them one by one, he cut the whole thing in half and then, with a spoon, carved out the pulpy insides as if carving out a miniature pumpkin. The spoon kept slipping in his fingers, the situation quickly became a sticky mess.

I don’t know why I assumed that my first love would eat oranges normally; I guess I never thought there was any other way to eat them. But, one thing soon led to another and here we are.

We went to the farmers market last Thursday. There was barely anyone there since it was a Thursday afternoon but still, the people who were there all stared. I thought I had gotten used to the looks: wide eyes, mouths agape, little kids in strollers with glares that mirrored their mothers’, but I found myself shrinking away. I pretended that I was interested in buying kumquats for $4.95 just to keep some distance between him and myself, to keep their eyes off of me too.

“Ew, so weird.” I barely said it loud enough for him to hear, but he did.

He scoffed.

I tried to defend myself.

He slammed the door.

I threw the DVD in the trash.

We never watched E.T. again, never talked about that night.

Life picked back up and it was easy to pretend that everything was normal. But how normal can it really be when your lover is extraterrestrial?

I babysat our neighbor once and she screamed when he came into the living room. I tried to laugh it off, but she was so scared I had to ask him to leave.

He never told me where he came from or why he lived on Earth, so I never asked. It was a touchy subject, to say the least.

I have always hated myself for doing it. It’s their fault anyways, they’re the ones being rude. But I guess that’s what I get for marrying an alien.

Sometimes, I catch him looking at himself in the mirror. I see sadness in those big black eyes. He self-consciously touches his forehead, feeling how it balloons.

We met in college. The typical meet-cute: me on the dance floor, him by the bar. I recall him looking a twinge green when we first talked but thought it was just the lights. We were all green, then purple, then pink, then green again.

Shakira mumbled in the background, he asked for my phone number. I gave it to him and forgot about it until a few days later when I found myself across from him, sipping a cappuccino on a Wednesday afternoon.

“Baby, you are out of this world.”

From then on out it was a whirlwind. I freaked the first time I saw him in daylight, of course. Who wouldn’t when your date shows up: green, a head double in size, eyes just two gaping black voids the shape of footballs? I would have run away if he hadn’t already ordered. His impeccable style was also hard to deny. Oxfords and Ralph Lauren. Preppy has always been my weak spot.

He asked me to marry him six months later. It was the easiest yes of my life. Our wedding was small, with just a few of my friends from school and his old roommate officiating. My parents refused to come, something about needing to drive down to Georgia last minute, but I know it’s because they didn’t approve. I can’t exactly blame them.

It hasn’t all been la vie en rose. There was that huge fight a few months after getting married. It was my idea to watch E.T., a terrible idea looking back but I thought it would be fun. I forgot about that scene when E.T. gets sick. It’s always scared me, seeing him all shriveled and powdery-white.

That was the first thing he said to me after we made it official.

He made me feel so special. I was out of this world, and that was the best thing I could be.

He lit up the room. Best dancer I’ve ever seen. Heart of gold.

Unlike anyone I’d ever dated, but not just in the obvious way.

He was tender and thoughtful. Our love shined bright.

He left three weeks ago, Sunday morning. His car’s still here.

Closet full. His side of the bed perfectly made. Maybe he’ll come back tomorrow, but I doubt it.

I found a miniature pumpkin on the coffee table. The juice from the orange had made a little puddle around it. It looked almost like a small little planet.

The living room window had let in a breeze, the wind whistling like a song.

I imagined my alien husband, dancing and happy, somewhere out of this world.

MODELS: Claire Patrick & Jacob Delos Santos PHOTOGRAPHY: Viosa Koliqi STYLING: Priscilla Martinez & Sophie Trew MAKEUP & HAIR: Priscilla Martinez & Isabella Broccolo

EXTRATERRESTR

RIAL ESPOUSAL

PHOTOGRAPHY: Ksenia Matveeva SET: Sophie Dickerson, Janey Harlow, Erin Secosky, Emma Sullivan, & Julie Zhou

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MODELS: Joseph Bunger & Aiden Tamton PHOTOGRAPHY: Sarah Lozier STYLING: Braxton Hare & Melis Hafizoglu MAKEUP: Keymoni Sakil-Slack

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MODELS: Jimmy McManus, Eleanor Slyman, & Alandya Warren PHOTOGRAPHY: Ksenia Matveena STYLING: Owen James, Tyler Smith MAKEUP: Sophic Dickerson. Keymoni Sakil-Slack, Sara Quinn

MODELS: Jacob Delos Santos, Claire Patrick, Jimmy McManus, Jade Vogelsong, Heidi Reid, Lindsay Carter, Joseph Bunger, & Alandya Warren PHOTOGRAPHY: Ksenia Matveeva, Viosa Koliqi, Sarah Lozier, & Natalie Folsom STYLING: Priscilla Martinez, Sophie Trew, Tyler Smith, Zoe Patterson, Henry Tran, Matt Chansombat, Braxton Hare, & Justus Denizard MAKEUP: Isabella Broccolo, Priscilla Martinez, Sarah Quinn, Keymoni Sakil-Slack, & Sophie Dickerson HAIR: Priscilla Martinez, Sarah Quinn, Henry Tran, & Delaney Caulder

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MODELS: Jacob Delos Santos, Claire Patrick, Jimmy McManus, & Jadyn Keobouala PHOTOGRAPHY: Sarah Lozier & Ksenia Matveeva STYLING: Meg Fickling MAKEUP: Isabella Broccolo

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MODELS: Lindsay Carter, Heidi Reid, & Joseph Bunger PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom, Bennett Butler, & Viosa Koliqi

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MODELS: Aiden Tamton PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom, Sarah Lozier, & Ksenia Matveeva STYLING: Melis Hafizoglu MAKEUP: Keymoni Sakil-Slack

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MODELS: Jade Vogelsong, Jadyn Keobouala, Eleanor Slyman, & Alandya Warren STYLING: Owen James MAKEUP: Keymoni Sakil-Slack

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by Mae Williams

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ady Gaga, she is consistently breaking boundaries within fashion. Our Mother Monster is laying a blueprint for us to find our inner artistry. She is in control of her own fame and liberates herself with the ability to stand out no matter societal standards. Even when the theme of the Met Gala was camp, Gaga managed to be different by just being herself in a simple, four-piece look. It goes to show Gaga is camp, timeless irony creating exquisite art. Dismissed for being outside of the box for years, she has been curating her own unique style synonymous with her name, “Gaga.” Let’s take a look at four diverse outfits that characterize the “Gaga” style.

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Radical

Statement

Lady Gaga’s most iconic looks often thrived in controversy. I present to you the white nun outfit that debuted on her Monster Ball Tour in 2010. The album Fame Monster used many religious symbols to show a battle between good and evil. The see-through latex dress embodies the story of Fame Monster using catholic imagery to demonstrate the dark consumption of fame. Instead, it was critiqued harshly for being sacrilegious. But what people didn’t know is that Lady Gaga comes from a catholic upbringing and uses symbols with strategic intent to create analogies of the story she is trying to convey. The reactions to the radical look only promoted her more, especially at a pivotal moment in her career with the release of Born This Way that soon followed.

To announce Born This Way, Gaga shouted louder than a sheer nun look could to make a statement that the United States Government would hear. This was the infamous meat dress. Gaga was referencing the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy instituted that allowed queer people to enlist in the military if they didn’t acknowledge their sexuality. The meat symbolized the decay of civil liberties and falls in the art genre, Vanitas.

Vanitas works are characterized by pieces reminding the viewer of their mortality and the worthlessness of goods and worldly pleasures. The art of shock is how Gaga began her career and continues her success. The shock factor of the meat dress is an example of how camp can be used to convey a serious message. One laughs at the idea of someone wearing raw meat as a dress only to discover the tragic message behind the raw truth.

Unconventional Gaga uses the same methodology of bringing fashion and camp together in her “Telephone” music video. Camp often utilizes unconventional objects, like cigarette glasses (which look extremely comfortable). Gaga looks at fashion as art, not functional for everyday life. Consistently longing for the obscure, one might wonder where she could possibly find inspiration. The cigarette glasses align with the ideology of Pop Art, using common cultural pieces to show art comes from everywhere. Inspiration from Andy Warhol, the leader of Pop Art, is shown consistently throughout Gaga’s life as she pays credit to him for her piss-yellow hair. Another outlook Gaga shows homage to is club kid culture. This 80s and 90s New York community celebrated the unorthodox and the unordinary to extremes. An art era (pop art), a community (club kid culture), and a celebrity icon (Gaga) have one common thread, thriving in their unconventional individuality.

Trailblazer So what everyday trends have the trailblazer set for the Gaga style? Inspired by 90s scampi fashion, Gaga reemerged the baby tee and booty shorts in 2016. We can also thank her for helping our braless-baby tee become an acceptable “going out” look.

Gaga takes her fashion outside of music productions and onto the streets. Her running errands outfits are just as important as a Grammy look for Gaga. During Joanne, she didn’t leave the house without a hat on. Besides western Joanne, we have seen multiple eras from Gaga. Early in her career she explored pop burlesque and highlighted trashy glamor. She brought BDSM clothing to mainstream markets in the 2000s, and now latex and bondage can be found at your local Target for functional wear.

The blueprint has been set. Gaga’s radical and unconventional wardrobe continues to make statements and set a path for us little monsters. Our Mother Monster does not hide behind her outlandish looks, she is screaming.

Illustration by Keymoni Sakil-Slack

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by Polly O’Neal

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I

t felt like mistakenly walking into a wall built by a version of me that wasn’t even half of who I was to become. Yet, it was only the slightest smell of tea olive. But with it, the wall came crashing down bringing it all back.

Your olive skin soaking in the midday sun that would inevitably scorch me. I wouldn’t care, and neither would you.

The sounds of children and teenagers walking by on the middle-class wooden pool deck, but my drifting mind tunes out any distraction. It is fully focused on where my eyes steadily gaze. Which is you. Dark hair, green eyes softly smiling at me in a way only I can recognize. Always letting me know that none of me was too much for you. Your perfect nose with its perfect freckles. Just us, sixteen years old with not a clue of the overflowing days of unimaginable experiences that lay ahead. We both know we could sit on those pool chairs for hours just looking at each other. At least I know that. But you. You’re too fun for that. Too fun to just sit and be. So we swim, and we dance, and we eat, and we live. We do this over and over because how could it ever get boring?

How could one of us ever not want this? Life will always be this kind, this ethereal, this simple. You are home to me, my friend. I tell you this too but I am not sure if you understand what that means. Do I? Tea olive trees grow where they please. I can move on, and I can move out, but this earth will choose where that tree must be. It will always hold a power over me that I cannot outrun, cannot outwork. You see, when that smell meets me where I am, no matter where that may be, I am brought back to a time such as this. With you. Or someone else entirely, it really isn’t up to me. So as much as I progress and grow into who I am at age twenty, the movement of memory still relentlessly circulates, swirling me back to sixteen. Never allowing the thoughts of you to fully melt away. The potential for them to completely dissolve does not exist. Instead, they live as reminders to me that the joy of moments long gone are still full of life

somewhere. It must remind me as that is half of the purpose of joy in the first place, is it not?

Some for now, some for later. Would these days have even been worth it if I couldn’t experience them again, years later, in a summer that no longer revolves around you? A summer revolving around someone entirely different. Someone with different colored eyes, different colored hair, even though I know I’ll never forget yours. And it will never cease to bring me delight when its affixed scent wafts through the air. The joy from this memory moves within. Among the nostalgia, the longing, the hatred, the tenderness. I even still see pieces of you when I look at my own reflection. What I once imagined my forever looking like comes rushing to my mind as if it is in a hurry to meet me with what no longer awaits. Or exists.

Yet somehow, miraculously, to my own astonishment, I am perfectly okay with that. And I now know that romance does not only exist inward in reciprocation with another, but it also exists outward. In music, written word, strangers, eyes, mugs, clouds, curls, and the softness of a peaceful morning.

And I am okay with this.

When that smell reaches me, the emotion that wins among all the emotions stirred is fondness. The details of this memory and its accompanying emotions are in all honesty far too intricate for my novice writing skills to articulate in a way that makes sense to many. This may only make sense to a few. And I am okay with that. But I can plainly say one thing; when days like this find their way to my mind, the same lyric from Les Misérables follows, “You filled my days with endless wonder.”

That’s exactly what you did. It was everything, everywhere, all at once. Then nothing.

This is it. Love, loss, and living with the memories.

Illustration by Chandler Lamm

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A N NY C N U 44

MODELS: Kayla Hillman & Julianna Roseland PHOTOGRAPHY: Naima Sutton STYLING: Sophie Trew & Priscilla Martinez MAKEUP: Sarah Quinn & Sophie Dickerson SET: Sophie Dickerson, Janey Harlow, Lilo Harris, Erin Secosky, Emma Sullivan, & Julie Zhou

Valley

MODELS: Lara Yassin & Grier Love PHOTOGRAPHY: Makenzie Rink & Taylor Wittig STYLING: Melissa Valerio & Nikki Miller MAKEUP: Sophie Dickerson & Sarah Quinn HAIR: Delaney Caulder

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MODELS: Anika Rauch, Nicole Harris, & Cora Jones PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom, Naima Sutton, & Taylor Wittig STYLING: Madison Walker, Ava Bruno, & Hope Scarlett Faircloth MAKEUP: Sarah Quinn & Sophie Dickerson

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom & Makenzie Rink

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Makenzie Rink & Taylor Wittig

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Bennett Butler

PHOTOGRAPHY: Makenzie Rink & Taylor Wittig

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom

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A New Age Of

DRAG HERSTORY

I

by Sarah Quinn

remember the first time I fell in love with drag. It was probably seven or eight years ago that I stumbled upon a YouTube video from a series called “Beatdown.”

The host was Willam Belli, a drag queen from the show, RuPaul’s Drag Race. She was both funny and fabulous all at the same time, and I was absolutely captivated by her. Even after binging every episode of “Beatdown,” I needed more, so I started watching RuPaul’s Drag Race.

I watched all of season 4 to see more of Willam, but I discovered so much more.

Drag embodied everything that I have always loved; extravagant makeup, big hair, bold fashion, and performing. As a young teen, I would even dress up like a drag queen and do a lip sync performance for my parents in the living room. I wanted to be one of them, but there was one problem, I wasn’t a gay man. As years have passed, I return to the wild idea and question, well, why can’t a woman be a drag queen?

Well, drag originated with men dressing in women’s clothes to play female parts in ancient Greek and Shakespearean plays. They did this out of necessity, as women weren’t allowed to be on stage at the time. Even when women started performing around the 1840s in the US, it didn’t matter, as drag had become its own entity and a novelty for entertainment in minstrel and vaudeville shows. This was the start of the drag show and its introduction to popular culture.

However, it was in 2009 with the premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race that drag was brought into mainstream culture and worldwide recognition. Not only did the show create a whole new audience for drag but it also inspired a new generation of drag queens. Today, we can see people from all different gender identities and sexual orientations becoming drag queens, not just gay men. Although these queens are out there, they face a lack of representation and acceptance in pop culture and the drag community.

This attitude is reflected in RuPaul’s hesitation to let cis and trans women on his show. He said, in a 2018 Guardian article, that if a cis-gendered woman is doing drag it “loses its sense of danger and its sense of irony.”

Illustration by Keymoni Sakil-Slack

He even said he wouldn’t accept a trans woman who had started transitioning, on the show. Although RuPaul later apologized and started to include more gender diversity on the show, unfortunately, some people in the LGBTQ and drag communities still hold this stigma. That isn’t to say that these reservations towards opening up the spotlight to queens beyond gay men aren’t without precedent.

Throughout history, the LGBTQ community and drag queens have been constantly under attack by society and politics. During the prohibition, female impersonation was banned and underground gay and drag clubs were targeted by police. This continued throughout the decades but ramped up during the 50s and 60s when people were arrested for doing drag, being transgender, and participating in homosexual acts. This came to a head with the Stonewall Riot of 1969, where the police raided a gay bar and arrested drag queens, drag kings, and transgender people. Many resisted arrest and fought back against the police.

For a long time, drag queens had to fight for their place in entertainment and for the right to express themselves. The fight continues today, as the threat and enactment of drag restrictions and bans sweep the nation. In a society that continues to target LGBTQ people for being themselves, drag was and is still a way to create a community and safe haven for queer people. And after so many years of people trying to take that community away, it’s hard to let others in. However, in order to expand the community and push the creative boundaries of this art, we have to redefine what it means to be a drag queen and look past the constructs of gender and sexuality.

Although drag started off as this illusion of a cis-gendered man that appears to be a woman, it has evolved into so much more. It has become a type of art that doesn’t need to rely on the notion of gender expectations to make a statement, but one that can stand on its own.

I believe we should recognize the queens that ran so we could all sissy that walk.

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T U C HAIR R U O Y

by Isabella Broccolo

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he decision to debut a pixie haircut when I was in seventh grade kickstarted my journey towards selfconfidence. I walked into class proudly, displaying the short haircut that I had requested from my mom’s hairdresser the day before. The results were mixed. My friends told me they thought it looked good on me, but assured me that they would never cut their hair short. The boys looked at me weirdly. I didn’t care much about what anyone else thought though, I loved my short hair! As far as I was concerned, anyone who didn’t like it could take a hike. If they didn’t like it, it didn’t matter because I liked it.

I wish I could say that I was able to keep that attitude throughout my entire life, but when I got to high school, my confidence and bravado shrank into insecurity and a desperate need for approval from my peers. Specifically, I was suddenly stricken with a need to be considered attractive by the opposite sex, the most vocal opponents of my short hair. Even at the time, I questioned why I felt this way. I identified as bisexual, but I wasn’t merely content with attracting the affection of the queer girls or non-binary kids in my school, I craved attention and validation from cis guys.

I couldn’t express it at the time, but the patriarchy had ensnared me in ways that I wouldn’t be able to articulate until much later in my life, and what did the patriarchy demand of its attractive women in 2016-2019? That they have long hair. So I waved goodbye to my pixie cut, thinking that if I shed off any of my layers of individuality, self-expression, and queerness, I could become a mere body deemed attractive enough for men to date.

And the worst thing happened: it worked.

When my hair was long, I got more attention from guys than I ever did when it was short. And even when my hair was, I thought, sufficiently long, I still went on dates where the guy sitting opposite me at the restaurant told me that it would look better if it was longer, that I would be prettier if I just let it grow a few more inches.

So I let my hair get longer. I let it get so long that it shed so much it coated my bedroom floor. It got all over my hands in the shower and it took forever to dry. I didn’t really like it, it didn’t make me feel pretty, but everyone was

MODEL: Christal Dita PHOTOGRAPHY: Ksenia Matveeva STYLING: Madison Walker MAKEUP: Isabella Broccolo SET: Janey Harlow & Julie Zhou

complimenting it. So I figured that this must be the most beautiful version of myself. A version of myself that was more of a body than it was a person. A version of myself that didn’t reflect who I was on the inside at all.

I couldn’t cut it, nobody would like me if it was short, nobody would like me if my hair reflected my real self. No, better to stay in this body that didn’t feel like it belonged to me, make the best of having long hair and try to appease the male gaze as best I could.

But one day I snapped. I needed to take myself back from the society that had taken her from me and told me that the way she wanted to look wasn’t good enough.

I reached for the scissors and I cut my hair.

“You look so much prettier with long hair!”

Snip “I think you’re so much sexier with long hair.”

Snip “Long hair is honestly one of the most attractive things about you.”

Snip “I like your long hair so much more than your short hair.”

Snip I don’t remember how long I stood there, in front of my mirror, hacking away at my hair, but I do remember that as more and more hair fell away from my head and onto my bathroom floor, the quieter the echoes of things other people had said to me became. Instead, a warm feeling rose up from the pit of my stomach and spread throughout my entire body. I looked at myself in the mirror, my hair choppy and uneven, and smiled. I felt so beautiful. But there was another feeling present that outshone all of the other emotions I was experiencing: freedom. I cut my hair, but more importantly, I also cut myself free from the shackles that had held me for so long, that had tied my worth to the opinions of the men around me.

So cut your hair.

And cut yourself free.

The Fitting Room Mentality

by Rosa Stancil

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hen I go shopping, I bring as much as I can into the fitting room. I walk into those brightly lit rooms, hands full, smile wide, excited about the possibility of everything in front of me. Eager to try on each and every item, despite not knowing what the outcome will be.

I’ve learned that this “fitting room mentality” is something special.

As a soon-to-be college graduate overwhelmed with lots of different options and possibilities, I realized I did not have the same attitude towards the upcoming years of my life as I do towards trying things on in a fitting room. Although I’m only in the second year of my 20s, I can already feel the societal pressure that seems to accompany this time of our lives.

I’ve noticed that people often treat their 20s as a waiting room rather than a fitting room. Constantly waiting for the right people, the right place, the right routine, the right job, the right time… In just my first two years, I’ve been guilty of this as well.

In a waiting room, we anxiously wait for our names to be called, for our outcome to be revealed, doing nothing productive in the process. We feel like our fate is completely out of our hands and that all there is to do is well, wait. Wait for what we believe to be our ideal outcome.

But in a fitting room, we happily try on this and that, separating the options on the yes, no, and maybe hangers situated opposite of the mirror. That shirt fit perfectly but the color was questionable. Maybe.

Those pants were just completely wrong. No. That jacket was perfect. Yes. We leave with the jacket.

Happy with our decision.

It was fun trying on everything, even the things we didn’t end up getting. However, after a while, we hate the jacket and we can’t stop thinking about the fit of that shirt. So we go back and exchange the two, just like that. We don’t give ourselves a

hard time for making a different decision at first because we know we can just exchange them.

Although the decisions we will have to make in the upcoming years of our lives may not seem this simple, they can be. If only we allow ourselves to think of these years as a fitting room rather than a waiting room.

If we look at this season of our lives as a fitting room, we can open ourselves up to a more forgiving and exhilarating exploration of opportunities that will come with these years. Try different cities, people, routines, and jobs with the same excitement and attitude we take into a fitting room, leaving any waiting room behaviors behind.

Yes. You’ll try on a hideous dress that looked better on the rack, jeans that were almost right, the most perfect vintage leather jacket that you left behind and can’t get over, but you’ll also try on a tee shirt that will be a staple in your wardrobe for years, a purse that you loved but was too pricey, shoes that are supportive and others that aren’t (I’m not just talking about clothes here).

Despite the uncertainty that comes with trying things on, applying this mentality to our lives will enable us to enjoy the unknown of the years to come. Learning, growing, and redefining our ideal outcome as we go.

Try different places, hobbies, relationships, jobs… as much as you can carry into these years. Luckily, there is no item limit to life, no numbered tags here. See for yourself what works and what doesn’t.

Maybe you’ll make the wrong choice at first and have to exchange choices later. But that is okay, because life is meant to be a fitting room, not a waiting room.

So, whether you’re graduating college, or another chapter of your life, I encourage you to approach the next one with a fitting room mentality and leave that old stuffy waiting room behind.

Illustration by Keymoni Sakil-Slack 59

HOUSE

PHOTOGRAPHY: Taylor Wittig SET: Emma Sullivan, Erin Secosky, Janey Harlow, Julie Zhou, Lilo Harris, & Sophie Dickerson

WINS

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MODELS: Christal Dita & Jamal Mohamad PHOTOGRAPHY: Tae Park STYLING: Mira Phillips & Matt Chansombat

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MODEL: Ysa Ferreria PHOTOGRAPHY: Taylor Wittig STYLING & MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir

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MODELS: Langston Humes, India Allan, Jacob Hodges, & Jena Vaughn PHOTOGRAPHY: Ksenia Matveeva & Natalie Folsom STYLING: Ethan Sadler, Anika Seward, Tyler Smith, & Kendall Wisniewski MAKEUP: Keymoni Sakil-Slack HAIR: Delaney Caulder

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Natalie Folsom & Rachel Laminack

MODELS: Christal Dita & Jamal Mohamad PHOTOGRAPHY: Tae Park STYLING: Mira Phillips & Matt Chansombat MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir

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MODELS: Theresa Cogen & Rachel Kelly PHOTOGRAPHY: Taylor Wittig & Natalie Folsom STYLING: Hope Scarlett Faircloth & Delaney Caulder MAKEUP: Sarah Quinn HAIR: Samantha Roncevich & Delaney Caulder

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MODELS: Elle Newkirk & Hannah Simpson PHOTOGRAPHY: Rachel Laminack STYLING: Maggie Pattyson & Sophie Timberlake MAKEUP & HAIR: Sarah Quinn

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Ksenia Matveeva, Taylor Wittig, & Natalie Folsom

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Manicur

by Leah Tran

I

don’t remember a time when my mother’s hands were not clean, nails well-painted. They never reflected the harsh work she had devoted 29 years of her life to: cutting big orders of labels for pharmaceutical and liquor companies.

Her hands worked with bulky machinery for twelve hours a day from Monday to Friday. Then on Saturday and Sunday, those same hands would care for the hands of others at the nail salon she worked at part-time.

“Keeping your nails clean and done is important,” she would tell me and my sisters in Vietnamese. “You have to care about it. You can’t go out with dirty hands like that.”

It didn’t take much for me to willingly sit down with her to do my nails. I wanted my nails to look just like hers.

Strangers complimented the pretty flowers and shining rhinestones. They never took notice of the roughness of her hands from the heavy work she did so that my hands would never endure the same.

My sister and I would go to her salon a couple of times a month. Sometimes, this was to have our nails done because that week, she hadn’t had time to do them at home. So my stepfather would drive us out to her. I looked forward to it.

Her coworkers and customers would see us: these young, Vietnamese girls walking in leisurely. We could sit in one of the beige massage chairs or go into the back room to eat the stored snacks without permission. It was as if we were more important than the customers who rarely looked like us.

My mother would tell her clients and coworkers about our achievements. Whether it is how well our grades were or how tall we were growing, she wanted to tell them about it.

To tell them that maybe she didn’t get to live out the dreams she came here with, but she made us and made the money for us to achieve our own dreams.

Now that I’m older, I realize that my mother was trying to teach me something bigger than just having pretty nails.

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It was about looking like you belonged in the world, or at least, here in this country, where my Asianness seems to equate to something small and strange.

Maybe I only realized that lesson days before moving away from home, to start a new chapter of my life at university, where I knew there weren’t many people who looked like me. My mother sat me down in her room, to do my nails one last time. She gave me as much of the same manicure experience she had given to her customers, with the lavender-scented lotion and scrubs.

“Này,” Now. “Let’s get you ready for college,” she told me as she pulled out the white nail polish.

Eventually, my nails would chip away and become thinner from my long days of classes, my hours at my internship, and my minutes spent making a quick meal. My mental, emotional, and physical health would wear thin

res

and Other Shining Armor Illustration by Riley Becker

as well. All I wanted during those moments was to be a little softer. To shed off some of those heavy layers of armor: the carefully curated outfits, the sharp eyeliner, the painted nails.

To bask in the relief I felt in simply being me. Sometimes I allowed for that, but most of the time I pushed through it because I wanted to show up for myself, for my dream.

I can’t go back home very often to see my mother, so we rely on phone calls.

She rarely asks whether my nails are wellkept but rather if I am. And I tell her “Yes, I’m okay,” whether it is true or not. I tell her about all the things that I have achieved here, to show her that I am trying my best.

She called me one time, the morning of my wisdom teeth procedure, a week before the new semester would start. I knew I would inevitably struggle for the next two weeks of putting on that curated armor–my nails wouldn’t be painted and my outfits would be sweats. I had no choice but to value my comfort above all. I wasn’t used to that. But she called to see if I was prepared for the surgery, and I told her “Yes, I’m prepared,” “Okay baby, good luck,” She replied. The noises of running machinery filtered through the phone before she rushed to say, “I showed Sybil your magazine article, she loved it so much. She said it was good. I’m very proud of you.”

I lay there, bare and without my armor, letting her words sink softly into my body.

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PAINTED FOR THE BACK OF THE ROOM

by Maddie Hall

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MODELS: Joseph Bunger & Theresa Cogen PHOTOGRAPHY: Rachel Laminack STYLING: Ruby Jones MAKEUP: Maddie Hall HAIR: Samantha Roncevich

U

nique makeup looks and campy fashion have become increasingly popular in the mainstream and on runways. While some people explain these trends away as symptoms of social media or high fashion, they are actually built upon years of influence from the drag community.

Although drag, a gender-bending art form, has existed for centuries, it was further propelled into the public eye in the 1990s as RuPaul gained fame. She became the first drag queen to be a spokesperson for MAC Cosmetics and she had her own talk show on VH1. In 2009, she completely shifted drag culture and its acceptance with the debut of RuPaul’s Drag Race. The show gave an unprecedented national platform to drag queens across the country on live TV. The show has not only introduced many to the art form but has provided an example of the infinite and transformative possibilities of makeup. Drag has always been at the forefront of pushing the limits of what people do with makeup and fashion.

The last ten years of makeup trends have been defined by full coverage foundation, color correction, thick eyebrows, cut creases, baking, contoured cheeks and noses, excessive highlighter, overdrawn lips, and false eyelashes. While more recently makeup trends have included the no-brow look, graphic liner, overindulgent blush, drawn-on lower lashes, and experimentation with colors.

All of these trends, new and old, can be attributed to drag queens.

Before social media and makeup influencers, many of these makeup techniques were employed by queens in their dressing rooms. The purpose of the makeup was to completely transform typical male facial features into something female-presenting.

In a similar fashion to theater makeup, the looks also needed to stand out in the stage lights to be seen by the audience in the back. This is how the terms “paint for the back of the room” and “beat face” came to be. The makeup needed to be exaggerated.

Full coverage foundation and color correction were used to cover facial hair shadows. Contour was used to transform masculine noses and jawlines while highlighting was used to emphasize cheekbones. Baking was used to ensure a performance-proof look. Cut creases, eyelashes, and big lips were used to further effeminate the face. This was the generational makeup knowledge that was passed down from drag mother to daughter and among peers, all by word of mouth.

The “Instagram Baddie” and “snatched” styles became a major staple in pop culture makeup because of heightened online exposure. Yet, unbeknownst to many of their followers, and even the creators themselves, drag informed many of the looks that dawned during the makeup tutorial era of the 2010s: especially the cut crease eyeshadow and arched thick brow look.

Just as much as “Instagram” looks have taken from drag, so have the avant-garde semblances. We continue to see many celebrities, influencers, and makeup artists pulling from drag with the popularization of the no-brow look, graphic liner, aura blush, and experimentation with bright colors and placement.

These were all concepts explored by Club Kids.

The NYC drag scene of the late ‘80s through ’90s was strongly correlated with the Club Kids who pushed the boundaries of queer aesthetics. Moving beyond female impersonation, Club Kids like Leigh Bowery, Waltpaper, Jennytalia, It Twins, and Richie Rich created extremely imaginative looks. Their campy aesthetic broke many of the social constructs that modern fashion and makeup are beginning to question, presenting many new possibilities for self-expression.

Famous makeup artists like Pat McGrath and Peter Phillips have pulled inspiration from these times. McGrath, arguably the most famous makeup artist, lived through the Club Kids scene of London. In 2015, she did a Kellogg’s Diner takeover to launch her new campaign where she cited their makeup as a major influence on her looks. While Phillips, creative and image director of Christian Dior makeup, actually created makeup looks for a 2021 editorial photo shoot in V Magazine, titled “Club Kids Revisited,” also exploring similar ideas.

Drag and the Club Kids era have influenced many aspects of popular culture, and as they continue to make significant waves in modern beauty and fashion, the artists are starting to be credited for their work. While we all don’t paint for the back of the room every day, it’s important to acknowledge those that created and refined the craft.

However, many in the drag community reflect that the acknowledgment of the technique isn’t fully there. Most people still credit the contouring-baking-highlighting technique to Kim Kardashian and her makeup artist– who have both since expressed their inspiration from drag.

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D

igital discourse is exhausting. Across all media platforms, it seems increasingly impossible to consume something positive or hopeful. Historically, media holds a predominantly nihilistic stance when expressing popular notions of purpose. The outpouring impression of loneliness, depression, anxiety, and overall lack of direction and meaning verbalized as a common subject matter within this digital bubble serves as a time capsule of popular philosophical thought. This speaks to the overwhelming human condition– and we are tired.

Nihilism is the thought that life is meaningless and that our scope of knowledge and creation is unattainable. A breaking point has been reached as the collective thought process has grown fatigued of loathing and yearning for something greater. Through contemporary media presentation, we can watch in real-time as popular philosophical thought shifts and evolves within our online bubble to reflect an anti-nihilistic movement. This is pertinent as new notions of life and purpose discovered online often permeate into everyday life. This transformative era of democratized media mirrors the historical progression of philosophy within an accelerated digital bubble. It is best exemplified by ‘core-core’ or ‘hope-core’ trends that often display the triumph of mundaneness and the resilience of the human spirit.

The difference between core-core, hope-core, and other media presentations I would describe as anti-nihilistic is that they are constructive. Even in our programmed solitude, we are connected by our want and need to share experiences with each other. An anti-nihilistic wave of digital media presentation has elemental implications for increased freedom of artistic expression through a new pathway of creative thought. Anti-nihilism is categorized by philosophically rejecting the notion that life is meaningless and therefore has no purpose. Instead, the purpose resides in the finding and creating of one’s own individual morality, values, and direction. This accounts for the monumental shift in popular online narratives and trends.

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cor

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The concept of core-core and hope-core is hard to articulate as it is primarily expressed visually and auditorily. These compilations can be described as cathartically aesthetic experiences that take random videos about the reality of living and match them with an emotional response that reflects the world around us. It primarily speaks to the determined journey and destination of life and purpose which is connection. As bare-plate as it might sound, the most relieving part of life is realizing that the journey really is the destination (who knew?). The anti-nihilism trend in new media is almost cleansing as content is purging itself of its disdain for life by creating positivity out of the industrially depressing modern human experience.

Aside from hope-core and core-core, this can be seen in online discourses surrounding self-care, meditation, mental health, and holistic medicine. It is also pertinent in recent discussions that involve dismantling unattainable beauty standards like drawing attention to photo and video editing, embracing ourselves and our bodies, and finding purpose and meaning through hobbies, connection, creation, and bottom line ourselves.

The digital bubble can be an echo chamber of desperation for something more. Nihilism feeds the fire by chaining the mind to the meaningless rabbit hole. The antinihilistic movement best represented by elements of hopecore and core-core content not only frees us from the pit but from ourselves. Acknowledging that life is meaningless is the easy way out; finding and creating personal meaning and order, or lack thereof, makes the life. So clean your room with the window open, watch the clouds float by, appreciate the way the sunlight hits the bricks on campus, and spend time with those you hold dearest. Perspective grants the agency to experience– and that’s about all that life has to offer.

Illustration by Kevin Foster

by Kate Goodwin 75

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MODEL: Nina Burman PHOTOGRAPHY: Vy Bui STYLING: Delaney Caulder & Samantha Roncevich MAKEUP: Amaya Al-Mussawir HAIR: Julie Zhou

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MODEL: Fidelise Paku STYLING: Delaney Caulder & Samantha Roncevich MAKEUP: Sarah Quinn

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