Electricity

It is completely natural, and yet completes that which is completely unnatural. Electricity runs our world. We can’t have light, heat, power,
communication, just about anything without its presence. It is the juice that fuel New York City every single waking moment. It’s hard to imagine that human life existed for such a long period of time without it.


Electricity is colorless, matterless, and locationless. Yet at the same time, it can be every color, moving, and everywhere around us. It is incredible the power it holds, and yet it is generated through simply the attraction of a negative ion to a positive ion.




I love walking through the city at night and seeing the brilliant colors and life that electricity runs. Neon signs and backlit displays in stores create a distinctive ambiance, and their glow is so bright that it leaves a mark on my vision when I look away. Building churn with energy and buzz; the Empire State Building changes colors and forever has its many windows lit.


These neon colors inspire brilliant apparel. It makes perfect sense: naturally we want to look as captivating, eye-catching, and impactful as the powered lights and building around us. Designers like Michael Kors, Nanette Lepore, and Celine have incorporated these bright ideas into their current resortwear collections.

Just like electricity, I want my designs to power and inspire those who see and wear them.

Subway Submersion

I find myself on the subway most days for one reason or another, be it classes or my internship or going out with friends. Because every station is so similar and so ingrained into my routine, I barely notice my surroundings as I sit on the nearest bench and wait for the Downtown 1 train. However, today I decide to inspect my environment a little more carefully.



Subways, also so seemingly simple, are incredibly designed. Not only are they engineered to transport hundreds of thousands of people every day, they are also aesthetically considered down to every last tile. Today I stared at the geometric patterns on the terminal floor that formed zig zags. They merged into the canary yellow dotted strips alongside the tracks, marking the area as a dangerous place to stand when trains were coming in. Inside the silver train cars are carefully-placed steel poles to hold onto, accompanying the desaturated blue-violet seats. The color of the seats particularly gets me; they are such a beautiful, calming shade, one that would certainly look beautiful on a gown.

Then there are the more blatant designs. In every subway stop, there are mosaic tile designs that characterize the stop. My favorite is the beautiful and intricate ceramic tiles at the Museum of Natural History.

I love both the subtle and sleek color choices as well as the more fine arts-like mosaic work of subway stops. These characteristics in combination remind me of sportswear shown this past September by Alexander Wang and Rag & Bone.

Nerdy Bliss

This year was my first Comic Con. And I have to say, I'm sad that I haven't come to one sooner. We all have those deep, dark, secret obsessions over video games, comics, or anime. Basically everyone falls into at least one of those categories of obsession, if not more than one; if they aren't, then they would were they exposed to it. The New York Comic Con is a chance for every person to embrace that obsession with pride alongside other closet nerds. They are then joined by not-closet, more open nerds, making for quite an eclectic mob united by their obsession.


The numbers that turn out for the Con are immaculate. So many people are present, young and old, some in elaborate costumes, some decked in merch, some just dressed normally. I struggled through crowds of Pokemon and Zeldas, getting stopped repeatedly to get my picture taken. I nabbed a few shots of my own with the likes of the Silver Surfer, Wario, and some anime cosplayers. It's amazing how high the enthusiasm is, how low the shame is, how everyone is not themselves.


That element of a second, perfect identity is what gives the Comic Con its allure. The anime chicks and video game characters and superheroes are written to stand for something. They are visually trademarked, fabulously colored and styled, loved by all. And by going to Comic Con, you can get the chance to be one of them just by putting on their costume. It serves as a reminder to me of the visual and psychological power of costume and fashion in general; it changes not only who people perceive you to be, but also how you perceive yourself.

Bookworm

In order to design a collection in fashion, like any project, you have to start with an idea, or a base inspiration. So my Integrated Studio teachers tell me, assigning me homework to retreat to the New York Public Library's image library and find 10 images that resonate within our creativity. Internet research is not allowed, all images must be taken from the library.


I had always intended to eventually make it over to the library when I had free time. (Which does not actually exist for fashion students.) But now the assignment forced me to go and delve into the resources there.


One day, I headed over after class, and was intrigued by what I saw. The library's old building was statuesque and full of pride in its old age. The lions in front, the classical influence on the architecture, the location near Bryant Park -- certainly the building was a step above the skyscrapers that surrounded it.


In the newer building of the library, there is a startling number of books, more than a few lifetimes' worths of reading. Getting in and out is rather serious business with metal detectors and police officers, but once inside, you feel extracted from the city outside. There is information and imagery on every imaginable topic; in fact, the librarians are often hungry for a challenging topic to search.


My first trip to the library was on behalf of my school, but my next few trips have been on behalf of my own desire and hunger for knowledge.

Old New York

New York City: skyscrapers, taxis, tourists, Times Square, smog, trash, homeless people, traffic, delis. This is a fairly accurate stereotype of Manhattan, especially along any of the major avenues. On this particular day, I found myself walking down 7th Avenue to my History of Design class downtown, and this sensory rush was giving me a migraine. I hit the classic orange hand crosswalk light, and made a left down a side street to head towards the 12th Street building.


I quickly found myself relieved of the migraine. The cars and sounds and people were left behind me as I walked down 13th Street towards 6th Avenue. Trees were planted alongside the sidewalk and next to doorways, with black cast-iron grates artfully allowing the roots space in the pavement. The skyscrapers were replaced with older buildings, surely skyscrapers in their day but now simply aged, vintage-like residences and local businesses. The red and brown bricks had a certain indescribable warmth, something that the newer buildings lacked. Beautiful Art Noveau-like fences and doorways lined the block.

Then I was on 6th Avenue, and the stereotypes re-ensued.

While I find myself highly inspired by the modernity of New York, I also enjoy looking to the past. The vintage quality of older sections of the city possesses an authenticity that the newer parts have yet to earn.