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Summer Capsule: Linen
Linen began not as luxury, but survival. Long before it softened into breezy trousers and coastal summer dresses, it was woven from the fibers inside the flax plant, one of the oldest cultivated textiles in human history. Archaeological discoveries of dyed flax fibers in Georgia’s Dzudzuana Cave suggest humans were manipulating wild flax as far back as 30,000 BCE. By ancient Egypt, linen had transformed from practical material into a cultural symbol. Its whiteness and breathability made it ideal for desert climates, but it also became associated with purity, ritual, and status. Priests wore linen for religious ceremonies, the dead were wrapped in fine linen for mummification, and the “Fine Linen of Egypt” circulated as both a luxury and a diplomatic offering among monarchs.
Its path from field to fabric partly explains why linen carried prestige for centuries. Unlike cotton, flax demanded an intensely laborious process: pulling the plant from the ground to preserve the fibers, retting the stalks to loosen their woody exterior, scutching to separate premium fibers from rougher tow, and carefully spinning the threads in humid conditions to prevent breakage. Linen production spread throughout Europe during the Middle Ages, becoming essential for undergarments, bedding, and household textiles because it tolerated frequent washing and heat well. Yet the Industrial Revolution shifted the balance. Cotton, accelerated by mechanized production and the cotton gin, became cheaper and easier to scale. Linen slowly retreated from a mass-market staple into something more selective—valued less for convenience than for craftsmanship, texture, and refinement.
And still, linen endured. Part of its lasting hold comes from physics as much as aesthetics. Linen absorbs moisture without immediately feeling damp, conducts heat away from the body efficiently, and remains remarkably durable despite its softness. Its wrinkles, once treated as an imperfection, eventually became part of its appeal: visible evidence of movement, wear, and ease rather than rigid polish. Linen became synonymous with summer because it breathes when heat settles against the skin. It softens with time rather than resisting it while carrying an effortless looseness that synthetic fabrics continue trying to imitate. In fashion, summer dressing has long been tied to the illusion of ease, and few fabrics embody that illusion more convincingly than linen.
I couldn't help feeling that Shane Gillis's monologue on the October 10 episode of Saturday Night Live was a stab at the alleged victim of the Cornell University gang rape case and the uproar surrounding it. Of course, I have no idea what he intended, other than to be funny, when he said, “I haven't been to the gym in so long, I didn't know women just dress like whores now?” But the joke played into a familiar narrative, one in which women's clothing and sexuality become measures of their character, and sometimes even their credibility. With Jane Doe and her attorney reportedly receiving death threats amid the controversy, the timing struck me as particularly distasteful. at LACMA Perhaps my problem is that there was simply nothing funny about it. Not because he called women whores, but because the joke failed to land. Strip away the provocation, and what remains? A rather pedestrian observation about women's gym attire, masquerading as comedy. Very weak. I get...
Whoever coined the phrase “bigger is better” clearly never consulted a five-foot-three-inch woman. I have long maintained that fabulousity often comes in small packages. There are exceptions, of course, and Haemul Pajeon, the Korean Seafood Green Onion Pancake, makes a rather delicious case for abandoning my principles. When it comes to this Korean favorite, thickness is everything. Packed with shrimp, squid, green onions, zucchini, and yellow onions, these savory pancakes are a glorious celebration of excess, at least where ingredients are concerned. While many recipes favor thinner pancakes or arrange the ingredients neatly on top, there is a reason the thicker, generously stuffed versions served at Korean restaurants have gone viral. With their crisp, deeply browned exteriors giving way to tender, seafood-packed interiors, they deliver a combination of flavor and texture that thinner versions simply cannot match. Sometimes, bigger really is better. Or, in this case, thicker. INGREDI...
Somewhere in my closet is a black cashmere sweater I picked up at a sample sale well over a decade ago. It is asymmetric, beautifully understated, and now held together in a few places by my own handiwork: a needle, black thread, and the firm conviction that some things are simply worth saving. I have mended it rather than replaced it, not because black cashmere sweaters are particularly difficult to find, but because this particular one is impossible to replace. at The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA At this point, it has become something of a comfort sweater. The sort I reach for when I want to feel entirely like myself, without the fuss of getting dressed and with all the pleasure of looking effortlessly put together. Fashion has a remarkable talent for convincing us that last season's treasures are this season's embarrassments. My old cashmere sweater has spent more than a decade making a rather persuasive argument to the contrary. It has survived changing trends, wardrobe purg...
I spent yesterday afternoon at the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art. Newly opened last month after years of anticipation, it was a visit I approached with some hesitation. My disappointment with LACMA's David Geffen Galleries earlier this year had yet to settle. I felt as though I had wandered into a fabulous space where art and artifacts had been arranged without much intention, without stories to tell, rather like an art fair with booths. I carried that impression with me as I prepared to visit the Lucas Museum. After the Prom by Norman Rockwell I knew I would be mesmerized by its architecture. What surprised me was the storytelling within. I hadn't expected Norman Rockwell's gallery to captivate me quite as much as it did. There was something profoundly beautiful about the smallness of life he portrayed, the ordinary moments of family, childhood, and everyday rituals elevated into something worthy of our attention. Rockwell's America was often idealized, certainly, bu...
When Coco Chanel introduced her little black dress in 1926, she did more than offer women another wardrobe option. She helped transform a color long associated with mourning and solemnity into a symbol of modern elegance, independence, and sophistication. American Vogue famously compared the deceptively simple design to Ford's Model T, recognizing its potential to become a universal fashion essential. Nearly a century later, the little black dress remains indispensable, although Chanel deserves credit not only for perfecting the little black dress, but for recognizing that its greatest luxury was its simplicity. Women in Tub by Wayne Thiebaud Black's relationship with fashion, however, stretches much further back than Chanel's timeless silhouette. During the Renaissance, achieving a rich, consistent black required expensive dyes and considerable craftsmanship, making the color a conspicuous declaration of wealth and privilege. European monarchs and aristocrats adopted black...
Long before leather became synonymous with rebellion and sex appeal, it was a marker of wealth and social standing. In eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Europe, finely crafted leather gloves were indispensable accessories for women of privilege, signaling refinement and the luxury of hands unaccustomed to manual labor. How amusing that a material once associated with proper etiquette would eventually become one of fashion's most provocative expressions of independence. Leather, it seems, has always understood the importance of making an impression, even as its definition of good manners has changed rather dramatically. Paris, France By the twentieth century, leather had shed much of its polite disposition. Yves Saint Laurent brought motorcycle-inspired rebellion into the hallowed world of Christian Dior in 1960, while Vivienne Westwood later embraced leather's more subversive possibilities through punk and fetish-inspired fashion. Azzedine Alaïa sculpted it around the femal...
A few years ago, I worked as a Project Manager for a marketing agency. What most people did not know was that I wasn’t simply managing marketing projects. Part of my job was to conduct root-cause analysis and privately address what I found with the VP of Operations. The agency was losing clients, and part of my assignment was to conduct root-cause analysis within the PMO. No one ever told me the two were connected, but I wondered whether leadership believed they might be. Ganna Walska Lotusland I worked alongside another Project Manager, a smart guy with a project management certification whose vertical happened to be one of the problematic ones. He didn’t know that evaluating his project pipeline was part of my assignment. His failure to follow project management best practices had already been escalated. He also had reluctance to escalate problems early enough to keep them from affecting clients. One Client Success Manager was a recurring problem. She routinely failed to turn in ...
For a while, I restrained myself from using salt and pepper in my cooking, partly because I had come to think of them as the two most overused seasonings, capable of keeping a dish from becoming more interesting than the obvious. At one point, I even wondered whether I had developed a sensitivity to salt; the slightest over-seasoning began tasting bitter to me. Salty filets at Michael Mina at Bellagio and Delilah at Wynn Las Vegas last year did little to repair the relationship. Trust me, an overly salted filet at an upscale restaurant is its own particular trauma, quite different from realizing the horrible flavor of McDonald’s new limited-edition Spicy Chicken McNuggets. I never abandoned salt entirely. I continued using it to enhance other spices and ingredients, but deliberately salty flavors, even those built around soy sauce, became increasingly rare in my kitchen. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. Until recently. No Rice, No Deal Stir-Fry Bowl is deliberately veg...
It has been difficult to watch as the alleged Cornell University gang rape saga unfolds. I am not minimizing what allegedly happened. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and domestic violence as an adult, I do not take what allegedly happened lightly. What happened to Jane Doe, I know she will never be able to escape—physically, mentally, or emotionally. I know her thoughts must take her to the darkest and cruelest moments, moments that at times must feel as though they will never end. I have learned to accept those moments myself, the shame and rage turning so rapidly that eventually they become numbness, until something triggers them again. I have also learned that the numbness is when it becomes dangerous, when the conflict that keeps us “feeling” is subdued and settles into an acceptance: I am damaged. Forever. So I know it is difficult—nearly impossible for some of us, and for legitimate reasons—to leave our emotions out of what allegedly happened beginning on October 19, 202...
My first real memory of fashion begins with boots. I was still in elementary school, before my family immigrated to the United States, when my mom had a winter suit custom-made for me: dark red, two pieces, a blazer paired with a pleated mini skirt. Then came the styling decision that mattered most to me, a pair of red knee-high boots. For a little girl, the look was rather fashion-forward, and I adored it. I wore those boots practically everywhere, long after the suit had ceased to be the point. I have insisted on boots ever since, with a fairly consistent personal rule: the longer, the better. at Donum Estate, Sonoma, California There was, as it turns out, some fashion logic behind my childhood obsession. Boots have always carried more weight than most shoes, literally and symbolically. Born from utility, riding, military dress, and protection, they became increasingly expressive as women’s fashion changed, particularly in the 1960s, when rising hemlines gave tall boots new authority...
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