Volume 7 | Issue 2
who’s on staff? editorial EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Natalie Guisinger CREATIVE DIRECTOR Evan Parness PRINT FEATURES EDITOR Deirdre Lee DIGITAL FEATURES EDITOR Melina Schaefer PRINT FASHION EDITORS Nick Farrugia Juan Marquez DIGITAL FASHION EDITOR Jacob Ward DESIGN EDITORS Carly Lucas Mackenzie Schwedt PRINT PHOTO EDITORS Katie Corbett Ryan Little DIGITAL PHOTO EDITOR Rita Vega STREET STYLE EDITOR Lucy Carpenter MANAGING PHOTO EDITOR Alex Andersen VIDEO EDITOR Kendall Ka
business PUBLISHER Colleen Jones MARKETING DIRECTOR Kira Mintzer OPERATIONS DIRECTOR Drisha Gwalani FINANCE COORDINATORS Alex Chessare Deesha Shah EVENTS COORDINATOR Alex McMullen HUMAN RESOURCES COORDINATOR Julia Napiewocki
DIGITAL CONTENT EDITOR Alex Sterchele
PUBLIC RELATIONS COORDINATORS Mackenzie Fleming Gillian Yang
SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR Hannah Triester
SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR Liz Haley
SHEI /’sh(ay)/ Magazine was founded in 1999 as an Asian Pop Culture Magazine and became affiliated with University of Michigan Student Publications in 2013. Our Digital Magazine, known as SHIFT at the time, was launched in 2015. Since then, SHEI has grown to campus wide recognition as a publication that students can come to for fashion, art, and culture commentary and inspiration.
who’s on staff?
contributing members DIRECTORS Sophie Alphonso Josie Burck Tavleen Gill Anthony Huynh Karly Madey Claire Manor Caroline White STYLISTS Kailana Flora Dejoie Chloe Erdle Amanda Li Courtney Mass Noor Moughini Natalia Nowicka Sarah Ory Abby Rapoport Dhruv Verma WRITERS Ben Decker Neha Kotagiri Sophia Layton Patience Young
PHOTOGRAPHERS Korrin Dering Frances Gu Youmna Khan Anders Lundin Gabrielle Mack Hannah Mutz Maisie Prince Liv Pilot Paulina Rajski Eva Russa Webb Sarris Ally Vern Fern Vickaikul VIDEOGRAPHERS Sara Cooper Grant Emenheiser Macy Goller Madeline Kim Hannah Mutz GRAPHIC DESIGNERS Camille Andrew Helen Lee Sophie Levit Tung Tung Lin Gabi Mechaber Yuki Obayashi Emma Peterson Taylor Silver
MORE CONTENT | EVERY MONTH
STREET STYLE
in this issue
MASTHEA LETTER A RE JA
AD 02 RS FROM THE EDITORS 08 ANTI-HOMECOMING 12 ENTRANCE 18 KILLER QUEENS 22 OLD MUGLER 24 RETROGRADE 28 QUEER HOMECOMING 30 HOME FREE 36 COMFORT 38 ACQUEMUS AT THE STOVETOP 42 RELEASE 46
letter from the editor
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A few Fridays ago, my roommate and I ventured out to Joann Fabrics to purchase some supplies for our final Stamps thesis projects. We hopped out of the car, and I noticed that it was the first true, crisp, autumnal night of the year. What struck me the most wasn’t the coldness I was physically feeling, but rather a pang of nostalgia. I was thinking back to the chilly Friday night football games I experienced years ago, sitting on cold, aluminum bleachers, eating semi-stale popcorn, and watching the Homecoming King and Queen ceremony. The literal idea of Homecoming — football games, the popular students nominated as ‘kings’ and ‘queens,’ awkward photo shoots with huge groups of students standing on someone’s front yard, dances in gymnasiums — is embedded in America’s suburban culture It was surprising that a burst of coldness transported me into this past life, a simpler life. In this issue, our members view Homecoming as a nostalgic phenomenon. In Neha Kotagiri’s Retrograde, we look back on the past versions of our predecessors (and even ourselves) through old photos and reminisce on memories. Kotagiri states that, “though it’s completely natural for people to harbor fascination and nostalgia for the past, I think our generation especially relies on the past for something more: escapism.” Yearning for the past is a way to escape the realities we’re facing at the moment, but we can also look inwards and consider what ‘home’ means to each of us. For Patience Young in Home Free, Young describes home as “a place I’ve cultivated internally… I feel rooted in a collective tradition
of care that leaves me feeling less like I’m homeless and more like I’m home free.” In our photoshoot Comfort, the coziness of a living room is placed into the warm, outdoor atmosphere of fall. Layered in plaids and dark jackets and pants, the androgenous clothing juxtaposes itself with the models’ poses; the traditional, family portraiture represents the familial aspect of home. In addition to all of the ways in which we view ‘home,’ we also playfully explore the conventions of the American idea of Homecoming. Undermining these traditional, heteranormative notions, many of our shoots consist of non-binary, gender-bending clothes that allow for different modes of selfexpression. Shoot Director Josie Burck voices that the Queer Homecoming photoshoot is about “the queer perspective of homecoming through Amanduh’s personal style -- ‘a whore who loves to have fun,’ but who is also very emotional. It was most important that we convey this through the shoot’s choice of clothing, and that we kept true to Amanduh’s make-up and hairstyles. Shoots that reflect a drag artist’s personal style, and also a queer person’s point of view, require close collaboration and communication so that the space created for that person is authentic and beautiful.” Whether it’s reminiscing upon past lives, nostalgic twinges, coziness, or selfexpression, the act of returning home can be interpreted in numerous ways. While we wait for the return of normalcy, let’s hope to embrace the home we made for ourselves right now. Also please vote <3.
Natalie Guisinger Editor-In-Chief
homecoming My strongest childhood memories have always been from the fall. It’s almost as if my mind wanted to file away the most poignant and bittersweet feelings, so I could revisit them forever. Walking to school with autumn leaves crunching under foot, winds of change fluttering my pink nylon jacket, and rainy halloweens full of mystery and delight. Poignant for their tininess yet infinite importance, bittersweet for the fact that I will never live them again. These days, fall means something a little different. A season so fitting for family and friends and cider mills and curling up on the couch with a warm cup of tea. What does it look like when the people we love are far, our favorite fall things are canceled or remote, and the place we’re living isn’t where we had planned to be? For so many at this time, home isn’t what we were expecting. I love fall for the changes it brings, but the changes that come with the pandemic are a little more than I bargained for. Now the shifting weather and the crisp breezes bring dread of dark and cold and cramped days. The people we thought we would build our college experience with are scattered across the country or separated by the seemingly endless distance of a computer screen. The season that normally allows me to indulge in the comforts of home has now challenged me to redefine home for myself. As you’ll see in the diversity of articles in this edition, home can mean so many different things beyond four walls and a roof overhead. Home is nostalgia, it’s warm oats on a stovetop, it’s your favorite horror movie or old photos of your parents. In a time when no one quite feels at home, I hope you can remember that we have the power to build that space around us. Yes, we might be off campus or quarentining or feeling isolated, but the things we love and share with others can be a type of home too. I’ve decided to love fall again, in different ways. Maybe home isn’t what I expected it to look like, and the changes to come are daunting. But as long as we hold the homes we’ve built within ourselves dear, I believe we can all make it through.
Melina Schaefer Digital Features Editor
DIRECTOR TAVLEEN GILL STYLIST COURTNEY MASS MAKEUP ARTISTS ANYA BOTHNER, COURTNEY MASS PHOTOGRAPHERS WEBB SARRIS, ALLY VERN, RITA VEGA GRAPHIC DESIGNER CARLY LUCAS MODELS PATRICK OKIMI, ANYA BOTHNER
ANTI HOMECOMING
Green Rugby Shirt - Stein Mart Tan/Brown Polo - JC Penny Pants - GAP Shoes - Doc Martens
Plaid Mesh Top - Motel Shoes - Doc Marten
Pink Skirt - Free People
CE N A TR N E
DIRECTOR SOPHIE ALPHONSO STYLISTS AMANDA LI NATALIA NOWICKA PHOTOGRAPHERS GABRIELLE MACK YOUMNA KHAN VIDEOGRAPHER GRANT EMENHEISER GRAPHIC DESIGNER GABI MECHABER MODELS RYAN MOORE LEILA SHAYE
Pink Tulle Skirt - Asos Corset - Depop
Killer I’ve lived a number of lifetimes through my favorite characters in film. I’ve given my speech at the GRAMMYS for best new artist while my husband peed his pants behind me on national television and I’ve traveled all the way to Tokyo to seek revenge on one of my mortal enemies. Yet through all of these fantasies I’ve lived, my favorite is still being the popular girl in horror films. Think Emma Roberts in her role as Chanel Oberlin from TV horror series Scream Queens. Chanel was the most popular girl on the block. President of the top sorority on campus, voted as “most classy” for her senior superlative, and probably both homecoming and prom queen in highschool. She knows how to have fun, and there was not one scene in the entire show where she had on an ugly outfit. While living this life is exhausting and I could not do it 24/7, it is nice to escape and put myself in her life for that hour-long episode. On the surface it might seem a bit shallow for me to say, but being this “homecoming queen” trope is the best case scenario in a horror film. Underneath it all, the real reason why this character is so appealing to me is because of its origin and deep roots in the 70s camp aesthetic of horror films.
Almost every horror movie from 1970-80s included 5 common character tropes: the final girl, the loner, the jock, the cheerleader, and the killer. It was up to the director of the film to decide the vision for each of these characters. They had to draw from their own experiences and people they knew to make the character fit the stereotype. Many times, directors chose to draw on strong female figures in pop culture at the time to fit the cheerleader trope. For example, the role of Chanel Oberin, Scream Queens director Ryan Murphy actually drew on Emma Roberts for inspiration of the character. As a gay man who grew up surrounded by 2000s pop cutlure influences, it is almost impossible for me not to be drawn to the female power these characters radiate. My entire childhood was dictated by Britney Spears, from how I talked to the way I dressed. Rooting for these “homecoming queens” is simply not enough. I want to feel as powerful as them. I have to live vicariously through them. Traditionally, this cheerleader is one of the main reasons for drama in the film. The character was literally invented to help build suspense for the audience. Her over dramatic behavior puts us on
Queens edge, as it is often unnecessary and dramatic. Whenever she screams, the audience screams. When she jumps, the audience jumps. She has so much power over the audience and I admire that. Another commonality within this trope is that she is always the first one to die. Since her death is first, it is usually the most dramatic because it is new for the audience. To me, a combination of drama and death is extremely camp. Camp, the aesthetic known for its “bad” taste; something that is so outrageous and extreme it becomes ironic, yet funny. The cheerleader falling to the ground while running away from the slasher, only to look back at the killer and hesitate getting off the ground... is so dramatic to the point where it is camp. To top it off, the cheerleader is always the most bold, resulting in heaps of drama when someone tries to disagree and get in her way of doing something she wants. She is so fiercely herself. I am a non-confrontational person, but I also live off of watching drama unfold in front of me. So seeing the cheerleader call out anything that makes her uncomfortable, which might cause pointless issues is a double home run for me. This drama gets me instantly hooked and makes it so
easy to transport myself into my favorite character’s shoes. However, another layer of my love for these characters comes from my own experience in highschool. Chanel Oberlin the exact type of girl who would defend me in highschool from homophobic bullies. They would be the ones who have the best stories to tell at lunch. In other words, the day would never be dull if I was having a conversation with them. When I went to the homecoming football game in highschool, these are the people I would sit next to and feel safe around. They would share their blankets with me on the metal benches while we watched the game in 40 degree weather. They were my own homecoming queens, who made it possible for me to live in comfort and protect me from the horrors of everyday life.
WRITER BEN DECKER GRAPHIC DESIGNER CAMILLE ANDREW
Jewelry - Dior + Louis Vuitton Corset - Vintage Davidâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Bridal Leather Pants - Aritzia White Button Down - ASOS Shoes - Dr. Martens Vinyl Jacket - Mango
OLD M U G L E R
DIRECTORS ANTHONY HUYNH CLAIRE MANOR STYLIST ABBY RAPOPORT PHOTOGRAPHER LIV PILOT VIDEOGRAPHER MADELINE KIM GRAPHIC DESIGNER HELEN LEE MODEL MORGAN KIM
Lacy Bodysuit - Urban Outfitters Plaid Blazer Jacket - ASOS Black Velvet Dess - Urban Outfitters
Retrograde I am so mesmerized by old photos. I often look at pictures of my parents and family, and am drawn to their effortless beauty, quirky yet charming fashion choices, and the artful fading courtesy of old cameras. My grandfather’s iconic bell-bottoms and my father’s oversized crewnecks. My grandmother and mother’s understated yet elegant saris, accessorized with timeless grace and endearing smiles. There is something so hauntingly beautiful and bittersweet about a snapshot of someone’s existence in a time when they had their whole lives ahead of them. When they were young and full of hope and at the start of their journey. This nostalgia is all-consuming, and also incredibly complex and confusing. It begs me to look at the world and culture that I live in: one with which I am dissatisfied. I am not alone in this: our generation has an obsession with vintage aesthetics, media, and music. 70s/80s/90s fashion has taken social media by storm, and we watch Friends and That 70s Show religiously. It’s cool to collect vinyl and have knowledge about obscure 80s films. Almost all of us
own a pair of “90s” mom jeans by now, and old music has forged its niche in our Spotify libraries. Though it’s completely natural for people to harbor fascination and nostalgia for the past, I think our generation especially relies on the past for something more: escapism. Granted, the late twentieth century was a time of extreme turmoil, oppression and unrest, so why do we want to escape to it so badly? What is it about our current society that fills us with such dissatisfaction to the point where we find this much comfort in the past? The answer to this lies in a myriad of things, and it’s not the same for everyone. I do know, however, that we are hyper-perceived and that our existence is astoundingly curated. Social media is now a tool for corporations. We are seen as commodities through an instagram feed, and we see through the lens of unattainable beauty standards. It’s as though we are presiding in a dimension of constant noise, absorbing a boundless stream of media and fads to the point where nothing means anything at all. I feel the need to be perfect, and warp any
WRITER NEHA KOTAGIRI GRAPHIC DESIGNER SOPHIE LEVIT
and all of my imperfections into something that is pleasing to look at. I no longer feel like a nuanced human, but as a character. We are perpetually flooded with images of impossibly beautiful people, with flawless skin and unreal features. Though it is under the guise of filters and professional lighting, we fall into it anyway. I think many of us feel empty, and look to a romanticized version of the past for comfort. We long for authenticity, to return to a time where our image wasn’t so curated, where we could take a break from the noise. I look at those old photos, I can sense them living solely for the purpose of that moment, and not to broadcast to the world. I feel as though I’m in that moment with them. I feel like I am taking a break, if only for a moment. It’s the same with fashion and film and music: I find comfort in certain aesthetics and media, because it gives me a way to breathe for a bit. Especially, as a woman of color, it gives me an opportunity to reclaim my identity through reclaiming the culture of an era that would not have accepted me. We’re well aware that the past was not the way
we romanticize it to be, but I think that’s truly all we want: a fresh breath of air from all the noise, and to reclaim our identities in an era of corporate dominion and commodification. And we do this through creativity and art. I can’t wait to show my kids photos from my youth one day. I hope they think I was effortlessly cool with a dope sense of style. I do wonder, though, if they will see someone who lived authentically for herself, and not someone who is reaching for an unattainable version of who she thinks she should be. Someone who didn’t succumb to the toxic noise of the crazy world around her. I truly hope that’s what we see when we look back at our past selves.
QUEER
DIRECTOR JOSIE BURDICK STYLIST SARAH ORY DHRUV VERMA PHOTOGRAPHERS EVA RUSSA PAULINA RAJSKI MAISIE PRINCE VIDEOGRAPHER MACY GOLLER GRAPHIC DESIGNER EMMA PETERSON MODEL LANCE SCHWIDERSON
HOMECOMING
Blue Dress - Alice (Paris) Red Dress - Windsor
home I had always been close to my dad. My mom was an addict and wasn’t really present with me and my brother. But my dad, he was my hero. He drove me to school on his motorcycle and took us snake hunting every spring. He was an angry guy, too. A poor heroin junkie who got knocked up at 19. He taught me to defend myself. He taught me to drive. He also molested me. He took away my autonomy over my body and burdened me with his shame. He shattered me and my understanding of home. Once after, as if offering solace, he told me a story about being molested as a toddler, passed around a party by his drug addict parents. I came to understand my place in a cycle of trauma I was doomed to repeat. There was nowhere I could feel safe. When the state placed me with my mom she overdosed. When they placed me in foster care my foster dad tried to molest me. I never knew a secure home until I moved in with an older boyfriend at 16. He was kind to me, and we’d move to Arizona and get married. It wouldn’t last but given the situation I was coming from I was lucky that a
free good person wanted to take care of me and love me unconditionally. I never cut ties with my dad. He always understood me. We could talk on the phone for hours. I hated him for how fucked up I was, but I couldn’t let go of him. I left my husband and moved home. I met some urban farmers at a poetry open mic. They brought me into a close-knit community of queers and freaks, activists and artists. We believed in radical vulnerability and creating the kind of world we wanted to live in. I found myself at magical parties where people were giving from their souls. Humble musicians that toured for the love of it and not for profit. Volunteer bartenders slinging cheap drinks for one cause or another. Homegrown sous chefs cooking up delicious treats. People working together to create these wholesome do-it-together environments that fostered connection. The parties were almost always fundraisers, for bail, rent, radical newspapers, abortion funds, and activist organizations. Slowly I was inducted in this community that came together to meet each other’s needs.
Comprised of queer, artistic, and working class there was a shared understanding of ways the system had failed us and a desire to fill those gaps ourselves. We were bound by our beliefs in a better world where the wealth gap was smaller, where queers and people of color didn’t have to fear for their lives, where we were free to control our bodies and minds. I moved into collective housing and found the first place in my life that felt like home. There were 10 of us in a run-down mansion, a situation I would find myself in again and again. We shared meals and labor, shoulders and tears, drinks and dances. It was like real family, complicated and beautiful. We had our disagreements and sometimes falling outs, but the community at large stayed together and strong. Finally having a solid foundation of people to rely on and turn to I found the strength to cut ties with my dad. To his credit, in the five years since I’ve done so he’s only tried to contact me once. It hurt then, and it hurts now. I wonder how he’s doing. I sit alone in a college bar and watch kids with their parents imagining
how my dad would make fun of the whole scene if he was here but be crazy proud of me anyway. But I also feel free, like I’m escaping the cycle. I walk a tightrope. I have no empire to fall back on, no place to retreat to. There’s no parent’s fridge to raid, no basement to leave a few boxes in. Home is a place I’ve cultivated internally, and with the community I’ve built I know I always have a safe place to lay my head. I still go home to my family in Detroit, bask in their presence and glory until it fills me up. When I need something, they are there. Whether it’s a ride to the doctor or a fundraiser for my cat’s teeth, my community rises to the occasion. I feel rooted in a collective tradition of care that leaves me feeling less like I’m homeless and more like I’m home free.
WRITER PATIENCE YOUNG GRAPHIC DESIGNER TAYLOR SILVER
c o m f o r DIRECTOR CAROLINE WHITE STYLISTS NOOR MOUGHINI PHOTOGRAPHERS ANDERS LUNDIN FRANCES GU VIDEOGRAPHER SARA COOPER GRAPHIC DESIGNER TUNG TUNG LIN MODELS JACK NICHOLSON MADISON PATEL
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Beanie – Carhartt Shoes – Doc Martens
Jacquemus At The Stovetop
You’re sitting in a rattan chair. A cool zephyr flips your hair through open patio doors. Your elbow rests on a sanded corner of a creamy cypress tabletop. In the window frame, a sheer silhouette dances to the faint tune of Zou Bisou Bisou playing on a stereo in the other room. There’s a buttery fragrance in the air because steel cut oats are cooking slowly in an ambrosia enamel pot. Standing at the stovetop is Simon Porte Jacquemus. This scene is the ambiance Simon has cultivated as his brand matures. Flush with sensuality, nuance, and authenticity, I like to imagine that his last three shows, Valensole, L’anee 97, and L’amour could all be folded into a perfectly tended bowl of steel-cut oatmeal. Oats are sensuous for their soft chewiness, especially when they are first toasted in butter. The texture is more mature and complex than a pudding, but eating it can feel equally indulgent as any chocolate mousse. Oats are also marvelous for their capacity for nuance: top them with a baked pear, a drizzle of honey, or even crumbly bits of bacon. It is for this simple but versatile deliciousness that I admire steel-cut oatmeal and Jacquemus. Jacquemus presents us with something we want to savor. The creamy beige tones in Lanee 97, the swaying wheat stalks in L’amour, and the bobbing tan brims of the hats in Valensolel are perpetually delightful to watch. And in the way a perfectly creamy and al dente bowl of steel-cut oatmeal takes time and finesse Simon delivers a product that displays both his craft and his heart.
Whereas much of the fashion industry might taste hasty, forgettable, unoriginal, overdone, or underdone, Simon wants his clothes to speak to pure and honest minimalism. For the Fall 2021 Ready to Wear collection, Lannee 97, Jacquemus ordered only ten fabrics. The collection is remembered for its ingenuity and versatility. The transformation of fabric to sensuous garment and essential crop to scrumptious oat is equally remarkable to me. Artists, chefs, designers, and home cooks alike are all imbued with the ability to transform and transcend the materials of this world. A tender appetite becomes difficult to quel. Watching his pieces float through lavender and wheat fields, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s easy to feel that we are indulging in the labors of his heart. His family and hometown are the roots of his inspiration. Lanee 97 was solely inspired by the first skirt Simon made. A 7-year-old Simon used his momâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s window curtains to sew a skirt for her while she was out shopping. Imagine the curiosity and passions of his young mind buzzing, swaths of fabric laid around him, light from the naked window illuminating his workspace. Imagine his mother coming home and rather than being mad at the mess, put on the skirt and told him she loved it. Sincerity is food for the soul. She passed away when Simon was 19, impelling him to forgo fashion school and launch his brand independently. He has worked unceasingly to realize his dream ever since. Comparing him to a bowl of oatmeal is also an effort to participate in the edible ruminations that have cropped up in his recent shows. Gold pasta bracelets, fried egg boxers, nougat earrings, etc. add a delectable whimsy to his collections. For those who pay close attention to the nuances of their surroundings and experiences, food and fashion are a perfect medium for cultivating our existence. Might I suggest we join Jacquemus at the stovetop.
WRITER SOPHIA LAYTON GRAPHIC DESIGNER YUKI OBAYASHI
R E L E A S E
DIRECTOR KARLY MADEY STYLISTS KAILANA DEJOIE CHLOE ERDLE KARLY MADEY PHOTOGRAPHERS KORRIN DERING FERN VICKAIKUL VIDEOGRAPHER HANNAH MUTZ GRAPHIC DESIGNER MACKENZIE SCHWEDT MODEL AUDREY BRANDES
White Blouse - Apostrophe
Silver Pants - David David Black Bodysuit - Yinggeli
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