RIP New York Fashun Tweak

The back half of my NYFW 2024, feat. low degrees of separation from Hunter Biden, meeting my celebrity crushes, and styling a whole damn show for the first time!

Well, my skin is breaking out for the first time in months and I have no idea where I’ll be living two weeks from today, but in the now-finished back half of NYFW 2024 (first half recap here), I met two of my celebrity crushes within five minutes, coined a hopelessly retrograde pun that I personally think is hilarious, finally came face to face with people I’ve met before only virtually, and gave myself a pinkie toe blister I’ll likely never recover from completely.

Side note before we begin: while listening to a podcast about Hunter Biden last night, I was suddenly struck with the remembrance that my first NYFW was—er, excuse me—New York Fashun [sic] Tweak (please tell me ONE of you was there in 2015), where I “interned” for the lady who I’m pretty sure later had to testify about watching Hunter do crack to the dulcet tunes of Fleet Foxes a mere year or so after she paid me for my awful sewing services in pristinely-rolled joints. She was nice! Life is wild.

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I got this dress for $10 from, where else, L Train, and was complimented on it all day—I know it’s still kind of annoying, but I think we need to bring back the mid-20teens affect of loudly bragging about extremely cheap (**secondhand**) clothing acquisitions. Though it’s important to be normal about thrifting, e.g. not thrifting to resell at a 600% markup on Depop or clearing out plus size inventory for hackneyed “thrift flips” as someone who doesn’t need to wear those sizes, I think the pendulum has swung too far away from the days when putting together a full fit for under $50 was the pinnacle of impressiveness. Now people are feeling a bit too comfortable, in my opinion, correlating their look’s cost with its merits.

The belt was maybe $4 from a fería in Buenos Aires, the too-long but VERY high quality pants were handed down to me by a friend from her now-passed mother and I feel honored to wear them—I must get them hemmed, but knowing I would eventually made the day’s draggling feel less dire, because the worn-down part will be cut off tout de suite. Those fucking evil heeled loafers were $30 on sale at DSW and look great but made my night a living hell and incurred the only Uber trip I had to take all week, because I was not going to make it back to Brooklyn after traversing the LES in those wretched things. I don’t know what specifically made them so horrible, but I think I a) just can’t wear heels, period (sad) and b) don’t know how so many people are glomming onto this idea that less padding in footwear is a moral good—I blame Tao Lin (if you don’t know who that is, continue on your blessed path and don’t let me be the one to put you on, please). It does seem like I have something akin to Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (i.e. every bone in my body feels like it’s made of broken glass), so I guess this is a me thing, but that was the LAST last straw. I’m never playing myself like that again.

Caroline Zimbalist’s presentation was a delight, though it was mildly terrifying to squeeze into the tiny gallery that hosted it and evade the models swiftly walking up and down the same narrow staircases the rest of us had to navigate to see all the looks—a very Pac-Man feeling. Melissa did the shoes (frankly, if I see a plasticine show at a show, I feel 99% confident in ID’ing it as Melissa at this point)—that brand gets around, and I liked Caroline’s gummy wads of bioplastic that graced the top of the otherwise-unremarkable jelly sandals.

The above gown was one of my favorites—I think Caroline’s pieces are more hit-or-miss for me than most brands’ but that’s in the nature of her work, focusing more on material experimentation than rigorous, cerebral Fashion, which few take the chance to do and I appreciate greatly.

The above model was captivating, and I think hers was the look I’d most readily wear.

CZ wins this year’s goodie bag gauntlet with—available to all invited, very nice—brown butter chocolate, samples of her signature bioplastic in the form of tiny buttons, and Edie Parker weed vapes, in addition to a serviceable open bar. I had one drink and took one hit from the pen—and I am a California-bred former stoner who though they don’t smoke often anymore can hold their own with a vape—and immediately thought, while walking across Delancey Street on my way to the next show, “heh. Crossfaded on Delancey.” If you don’t understand that joke, you are either too old or too young for me. A+ pun-inducing party favors!

I liked that Diotima’s cavernous loft divided the natural light up into a “daytime” section and a “nighttime” section so we could see how garments looked across a gamut of lighting situations.

The clothes themselves were fine—I can appreciate that the label hasn’t mired itself in a stale gimmick, but I still do prefer their past seasons’ spidery crochet over these relatively staid summer knits. Nothing here feels juicy or compellingly off-kilter.

This was kind of weird given that the setting for the show seemed to reference pagan or occult practices, with little candle-and-sand shrines and piled-up tableaux of red-painted rods—I wished there’d been a bit more spooky twang in the clothes themselves.

The clothes were also, IMO, outshined by the excellent glam, specifically the models’ layers upon layers of white…

…or crimson mascara. I love the treatment of clumping as a feature instead of a bug, and I’d recently been thinking about how much I hate traditional dark mascara, but this show has definitely piqued my interest in testing out some lighter shades. If I ever do, I’ll probably order from Sunset Makeup, a brand run by a vocally pro-Palestine nonbinary person who posts tons of product demos and look ideas on their Instagram. I have to say, it was funny when the initial “activation”/catwalk ended and the models broke to roam free amongst us lumpen masses—another Pac-Man moment as I scurried away from the long-limbed talent.

Mila Sullivan was all right (my most notable memory is meeting a British TikTok celebrity sat in the front row who desperately did not want to talk with me but every time I tried to excuse myself, she’d ask a banal new question out of what I can only assume was colonial politesse). The best part of the show for me was that the entire room was intentionally saturated with the soothing scent of tropical sunscreen—I think more designers should play with olfactory elements in their shows! Lots of spray-painted lace and clothes I can only imagine models wearing.

I like the above silhouette, but I couldn’t help but think how much more I’d liked SC103’s similar raglan-ish sleeves. I guess I’m just not the target audience for this more feminine, frilly take on summer sport style.

I do love a peplum, and no amount of gender dysphoria can take that away from me. I also appreciated the subtly smarmy color palette going on with the pilly lilacs butting up against craggy crimsons.

On the last official day of NYFW, I wore the $40 Marni coat and $30-something Yang Li dress I scored on TheRealReal the other week, plus a brimmed cap I found at L Train for a grand total of $6. It didn’t really fit any vibes of the day, but I was running out of clean clothes to wear, and it ended up working just fine.

At Presley Oldham’s presentation, I met the genius behind accessory brand Vada, Katie Vada, wearing Vada sunglasses and the friendliest face I ever did see (Vada sunglasses were featured in several NYFW shows, including this one). We’ve been internet pals for years now, and her coming up to me as I blinded myself looking at the sun’s reflection off the Hudson was a highlight of my week (I also took her to one of my most infamous haunts, Art Bar, after the show—those who know will know, and Katie gave it a good review). She told me all about the genesis of Vada (its initial launch party was literally scheduled for March 13, 2020—yikes), and I just had a ball listening to her insights, though I was deeply humiliated to be wearing a somehow simultaneously sticky and loose pair of secondhand shades I got in BsAs for $3 that I doubt even have UV protection while we chatted. I need some Sirens.

Presley’s show was the most star-studded I attended, filled with models who, once upon a time, did NUMBERS on Tumblr, plus guests like Amy freaking Sedaris (whom I calmly and respectfully approached to express my delight at hearing her voice in person—she was very, very nice, thank god). I liked the reintroduction of crowns into a more casual sartorial vernacular…

…as well as the mixes of plasticine florals and chunky gems. The Standard’s elevated bar got WARM in the late afternoon sunlight, but these pieces would not have packed as much of a punch in darkness, so the location was an astute choice by Presley.

The way my eyes probably bulged out of my skull when I clocked that my other celebrity crush, Cole Escola, was walking in the show—they were so deeply cool and kind and they have the same kind of almost-scary blue eyes that make people on TikTok tell dog owners they should get their pup brown contacts (complimentary).

A great souvenir—these little keychains (not sure where the tooth motif ties into the collection).

Lastly, the day after NYFW I was lucky enough to get to style Sour Dice’s first show—KC and I worked together for over a month, and our night was essentially seamless. I felt so proud of our diligent prep (especially hers—a seriously, remarkably hard worker) and was stoked to style some leather pieces by Katy McRoberts, an accessories designer I’ve been head-over-heels for for a few years now. I pulled the above harness for completely selfish try-on reasons…

…but four of her ruffs made it into the show. These things are incredibly sturdy, weirdly comfy, and the models (and audience!) loved them.

My favorite last-minute decision I made was to put this braided hood KC and I conceptualized on the final model, giving her this epic triple braid… another Tumblr-bait moment for the books.

Everything came together so well, I actually cried seeing it all as a unit. Tovya Goodwin did ridiculously cool things with the florals, and—ah—it just couldn’t have gone better. I felt like I facilitated KC’s vision to the best of my ability while honoring my own creative impulses, and everyone was so game and had great attitudes. I love working with younger, less jaded artists who are just plain kind and excited about fashion. I want more.

KC let me raid the merch bar, where I got some pieces including this polo that instantly turned me into a frat pledge named Jeremy, and the Bug Guts necklaces we commissioned specially for the show turned out lovely—I want this light-beaded one that disturbs my tattoos perfectly.

That’s a wrap on NYFW 2024! I hope I get to do this again next season and am so grateful to everyone who showed me kindness or lent me inspiration this past week.

<3 ESK