Times Square

Totally cliche. I know. But really, there is a reason why everybody constantly photographs Times Square. Why tourists visit, why businesses pay scary amounts of rent, why everything seems to merge and branch from it: because you can get away with anything.


It doesn't matter how crazy or bizarre or uncalled for (there is certainly plenty of all the above). You will find the strangest and most diverse of people, be they from a distant country or just promoting a Broadway show. You will find the most out-of-control stores with intense decor and intenser prices. You will find seizure-inducing lights and advertisements bigger than a typical house. You can hear the voices and see the glow of Times Square at all hours of the day.


For some reason, this insanity is considered acceptable here. I'm not quite sure why, but this insanity has a certain appeal. Yes, I would like to walk into a chocolate-scented Hershey's store, or a Disney shop with a life-size princess castle in it. It's almost like a fantasy or a twisted dream.


People often associate the entire city of New York with Times Square, which rather bothers me, despite how much I enjoy the area. Not at of New York is that tacky, flashy, commercial, and tourist-filled. It's kind of like the frosting on a cupcake from Crumbs (located on Broadway just south of Times Square), giving a fantastic and attention-grabbing finish to a rich, complex cake beneath it.


The craziness that Times Square gets away with is something all designers wish they could get away with. If we did design whatever we wanted, however, we wouldn't sell very much. Times Square serves as a reminder to me when I am designing that I can envision and pen my most whimsical ideas so as not to forget them; but that I also need to consider the core of my collection, the cake of my cupcake, the real city of my New York.

The Nature of New York

Catch me on a Friday evening after getting my paycheck at Starbucks, and you will hear me roar about how many taxes are being taken out., where is the money going, why me, along with various other gripes. However, I will always say conversely that if some of my money is going towards New York City’s parks and upkeep, I will gladly pay. For how many people live in even just Manhattan alone, the city does an excellent job of providing us with nature in and amongst the most urbanized settings. It often goes unnoticed because of its subtle presence, but even little details like potted plants along Broadway in the Garment District catch my eye and uplift me.


Sometimes I choose to take the long way home from school. just to go through Bryant Park, which is my favorite. By day, the park’s trees match the height of nearby buildings and shade passer-throughs just enough. People rush by on 6th Avenue, but slow down as they pass to enjoy a moment or two of extraction from the concrete, urban world. The grand fountain entices adults and children alike to walk over and toss a coin in, perhaps to wish that all moments in life were as serene as those spent in the park.

By night, however, the park develops a new type of charm, something more unusual, sophisticated, exclusive yet inviting. A restaurant and bar opens late, illuminating the west side of the park with warm yellow lights and hanging lanterns. It quickly fills its tables with all types of New Yorkers, from couples to business men. The lawn is light by a giant set of stadium lights from atop the nearby MetLife building. People cover the lawn, some laying down, others sitting in the chartreuse chairs, others singing and dancing. The park glows with a certain chic, modern ambiance, but it is still very much so a site dedicated to nature. The tall trees encase the little glowing bubble within the midtown skyscrapers.



I love the parallels between natural life and city life, and how the two cross over so fluidly, yet only in selective locations. I also love the human ability to move between the two and embrace the aesthetic purity of both. Both the geometry of urban life and the curves of natural shapes heavily influence my designs, often both at the same time in one look or garment.



Perhaps the urban jungle and the real jungle can't truly exist side by side; but New York certainly proved that each can compromise to co-exist in a beautiful, sophisticated way.

Stary-eyed at Starbucks

I confess to being a caffeine addict. Not addict, in the sense that I can’t exist without it. I can go days at a time without any and I’m completely fine. However, I simply can’t walk past a coffee shop without going in and getting something unless I already have a cup in my hands. (Unless its Dunkin’ Donuts, which I despise.)

Not surprisingly, the coffee shop I spend the most time at is Starbucks. I have become a regular at about four Starbucks shops in midtown, and at least three downtown. I love Starbucks for many reasons, but to name a few major ones: its availability everywhere in the city; its customizablilty of drinks and consistancy at different shops; its ethical approach to purchasing and selling coffee; its urban-yet-low-key, modern-yet-classic vibes; and most of all, its high values placed on customer service.

Naturally, just buying the coffee twice a day wasn’t enough for me. I decided to get a job as a barista in the nearest Starbucks around the corner from my building. Now I got to learn about the inner workings of a company that came to define New York City’s lifestyle.



You can only imagine the excitement I had when I received my employment package: the green apron, the black logo hat, a barista shorthand dictionary, and a pound of Pike Place beans. Along with the package, I also got the serious discounts, including free beverages and pastries while at work and a thirty percent discount outside of the store and on products.

After working there for about a month, I still hold Starbucks as a gift from the gods in my mind. Their coffee rocks of course, and ambiance. That perfect organization, professionalism, and vibe continues into the workplace. I feel cool and classy as the head barista, customizing cappuccinos and prepping the pumpkin spice lattes. It amazes me how Starbucks as a brand has made itself into a cool barnd through and through. None of it comes up short. It is organized, urban, forward-thinking, and green on every level.


Starbucks seems disconnected from my true career goals as a fashion designer on the surface. But if you look carefully, there are ties: handcrafted designs, agility, charisma and likability, maintenance of a certain indescribable "cool." I want these qualities in my design work as well as my beverages.

Urban Geometry

Sprinting around the city from task to task is what I do everyday. It is my routine, regular and perfect and repeated (with the exception of occasional interruptions like hurricanes). In my own schedule pattern, I began to look around my terrain and notice the city’s patterns. Of course, there are scheduled trains, stoplights, store openings, trash removals, all somehow syncing perfectly with each other and the city’s inhabitants. But there is also an aesthetic schedule: a subtle yet distinct pattern of all the concrete panels and painted details and building silhouettes. I started photographing some of the most intriguing patterns, such as the subway tiles on the right, which I saturated to bring out
the interesting tones in the cement.


It’s almost hilarious how I complain about measuring everything and account for details, when New York’s amazing patterns and geometry are all a direct result of this exactness. The buildings, the street panels, the road lines, it’s all based on design precision and perfect repetition. Seeing the immaculateness and scale of this design perfection makes me realize the importance of all the little details.


In a way, the geometry in the city’s design inspires my own design, both in graphics and in fashion. The clean contrast and sharp lines represent the ideas of a modern, advanced age.


I also am in love with the cohesiveness of all the shapes and patterns, as if they were all looks from New York’s latest collection. They all seem to blend together into one large, continuous machine. The mix of perspective,texture, and muted color undeniably stand for an urban lifestyle. In my own work, I strive to keep this same modern feel pulsing through my aesthetic.


Though I may not be an architect, landscaper, or
engineer, I can certainly still appreciate and take from the designs I literally walk over everyday of my life.

Looking back, moving forward

What is design? Design is a series of aesthetic choices meant to satisfy a presented problem. Too easy, the administration has pounded that question and answer into our heads since day one. I know what design is, I know that I'm at design school.


Then, what is art? Art is a series of aesthetic choices also, but they aren't meant to satisfy any presented problems aside from the commissioner or artist's own mental state. Once again, too easy. All Parsons students are made aware of this distinction, and they are kept aware of it every semester in their History of Design lectures.


So what is original design? Now we get into more intellectually difficult matters. Our school stimulates us to keep asking this question at every moment, but it certainly does not provide us with an answer, nor any guarantee of ever finding one. I suppose the journey for this answer is the narrative of every designer's story. And it is doubtful whether the answer to this question is ever truly and completely answered.


As a designer, I have of course progressed along my own narrative. I have loved art and drawing since picking up a pencil at age 4, probably due to having a father who filled our house with paintings, art supplies, and comic books. During my early years, most of my work pertained to video games, superheros, and manga. As I grew into fashion design in high school, I again designed and produced garments that were based on pieces I had seen and liked. I thought nothing of how I designed until I got to Parsons and was introduced to a new level of innovative thinking.


I am naturally a very competitive person. Being around other designers during foundation year who were able to think so uniquely and create with such precision and craftsmanship almost scared me. It made me question my own ability. I knew I had the capability to imagine and conceptualize just as much as others, but I need to learn how to truly tap into my deepest level of thought to uncover the essence of my own unique ideas.


On my journey, I have repeatedly experienced a harsh truth: design that is original in every way does not seem to exist. All design is derived from some source of inspiration or memory. Just as in the movie Inception, true inception is impossible without the use of technology to break into a person's inner conscience. This is true outside of design as well; organisms, chemicals, languages, everything seems to have a core or skeleton that underlies every components' structures.

However, what isn't the same every time is the thought and emotion behind the design. There are certain visual triggers that evoke memories and emotions from deep within us, and no two people respond in the same way. Not just design can do this, but also art, music, smells, tastes. These stimulations not only evoke feelings, but also were created with those feelings in mind. This once again proves that no design is based off of nothing at all, but it does allude to a different theory: that designs can be original based on the unique combinations of emotions that have inspired them.

In my own design style, I love to depict women that are beautiful and powerful. From a young age, I have been an avid video gamer, particularly of Tomb Raider. Lara Croft to this day is one of my greatest inspirations, a woman with wit, wisdom, beauty, and as much strength as she believes in herself to have. Also, action movies with female protagonists (e.g. Kill Bill, Sucker Punch, Aeon Flux, True Grit) inspire me. I want to be these women, and I want to possess their strength of mind, body, and most of all, self-faith.


This desire of mine always underlies my designs. My foundation year body of work, particularly in the second semester, all stems from this idea teamed alongside other connotations and emotions for viewers. Connotations stem from past experience and are familiar, but new combinations of these connotations can establish an entire new experience. Like a new recipe or pair of Jeffrey Campbell wedges, I like to mix up the unexpected to create originals from classics.


Is my investigation thus far into design answer the question of the existence of original design? Probably not, but it gives me yet another clue to the end solution.