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.

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.