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designer/emoji creator/writer
shift. ✍🏼
contextualising the present through learning about the past. based in London.
Whether it is writing on the history of Grillz or the artistic legacy of the Gorlliaz, by writing for shift , I developed a deep passion for all things culture and fashion history. Since I joined the team in March 2020, our readership has grown by 112%.
Take a look at my work and scroll to the bottom for a surprise ;)
Run-DMC and Adidas, the friendship that defined brand deals
It’s hard to think of #Run-DMC without thinking of their 1986 single ‘My Adidas’ which boasts the superstars' durability and ubiquity. The relationship between the hip-hop group and the German brand is still alive decades later, establishing much of what we know about endorsements today.
Run-DMC were hugely influential in popularising the short-lived fad of laceless superstars between ‘85 and ‘87 within the hip hop space. This look is memorialised by a simple lyric in the single: “With no shoestring in ‘em, I did not win ‘em.”
Laceless shoes were a reference to prison’s restrictions on belts or laces that cause self-inflicted harm, so self-modifying your sneakers was a statement about one’s personal toughness. Similarly, the single was a redress to another song of the time titled “Felon Sneakers,” which discouraged kids from adopting the “prison inmate look.’ Run-DMC’s #superstars are one the early examples of how sneakers have always been somehow political.
This look, although popularised by the group, has been commonplace within New York hustlers like Grandmaster Flash before their labels pushed them into more “flamboyant, post-disco gear.” To assess the profound cultural impact of this track, we turn to Adidas Executive Angelo Anastasio: “The Superstar shoe was dead. Run - DMC single handedly brought that shoe back.”
It also led to the first partnership between a musical act and sportswear brand. Anastasio was invited to the ‘86 ‘My Adidas’ performance at Madison Square Garden to witness their promotional power; on the rappers’ command, the audience would flail and flaunt their #Adidas apparel. This, alongside a broadcasted video where they shouted “Give us a million dollars!,” prompted Adidas to deliver an endorsement of the exact amount.
Through the late 80s, Adidas released an entire Run-DMC line, and a third collaboration for the shoes’ 50th anniversary is soon expected. In many ways, this union prompted a shift in the operation of both partners; sportswear brands realised the untapped potential in areas outside sports, and hip hop groups drew in more legitimacy across industries.
Run-DMC were hugely influential in popularising the short-lived fad of laceless superstars between ‘85 and ‘87 within the hip hop space. This look is memorialised by a simple lyric in the single: “With no shoestring in ‘em, I did not win ‘em.”
Laceless shoes were a reference to prison’s restrictions on belts or laces that cause self-inflicted harm, so self-modifying your sneakers was a statement about one’s personal toughness. Similarly, the single was a redress to another song of the time titled “Felon Sneakers,” which discouraged kids from adopting the “prison inmate look.’ Run-DMC’s #superstars are one the early examples of how sneakers have always been somehow political.
This look, although popularised by the group, has been commonplace within New York hustlers like Grandmaster Flash before their labels pushed them into more “flamboyant, post-disco gear.” To assess the profound cultural impact of this track, we turn to Adidas Executive Angelo Anastasio: “The Superstar shoe was dead. Run - DMC single handedly brought that shoe back.”
It also led to the first partnership between a musical act and sportswear brand. Anastasio was invited to the ‘86 ‘My Adidas’ performance at Madison Square Garden to witness their promotional power; on the rappers’ command, the audience would flail and flaunt their #Adidas apparel. This, alongside a broadcasted video where they shouted “Give us a million dollars!,” prompted Adidas to deliver an endorsement of the exact amount.
Through the late 80s, Adidas released an entire Run-DMC line, and a third collaboration for the shoes’ 50th anniversary is soon expected. In many ways, this union prompted a shift in the operation of both partners; sportswear brands realised the untapped potential in areas outside sports, and hip hop groups drew in more legitimacy across industries.
shift meets Slick Rick
Slick Rick’s flair is hard to miss: an eye patch, thick gold chains, and a crisp Kangol hat to match. His music, as punchy as his style, is continually resampled and referenced decades later.
The storyteller was born in Mitcham, London to Jamaican parents, and moved to the Bronx in 1976 at 11. His eyepatch has been inextricable from the Slick Rick identity since he was 2 when glass shattered and entered his eye.
His musical journey began in high school when he formed the Kangol Crew with one of his friends, performing at school contests. At one of them, Doug E Fresh was in attendance, and impressed by Rick’s flow asked him to join the Get Fresh Crew. This partnership gave us hip-hop’s national anthem, “The Show/La Di Da Di,” which has been reused by artists ranging from #Biggie (“Biggie, Biggie, Can’t You See..”) to #Beyonce.
#SlickRick mastered a goofy intonation that introduced sonics like the female voice and yawning as background for his picaresque adventures. Roots drummer, Questlove, explains that, "Point blank: Slick Rick's voice was the most beautiful thing to happen to hip-hop culture. Rick is full of punchlines, wit, melody, cool cadence, confidence and style.” This flow is evident in Rick’s 1988 debut album “The Great Adventures Of Slick Rick,” which jumped to #1 on Billboard Rap.
Soon after, the artist faced hurdles of legal battle. Rick was incarcerated for 5 years for attempted murder against his cousin who extorted money from the rapper and threatened to kill him and his mother. Two of those years he served for immigration issues, leading to his attempted deportation in 2001.
During periods on bail, he hastingly released two albums, “The Ruler’s Back” (1991) and “Behind Bars” (1994), which were recorded in a span of four weeks. “They were desperate, got-to-keep-your-name-relevant and keep-the-bills-paid jobs,” he explains. He acclaims his last album “The Art of Storytelling '' (1999) as one of his best, with features from #Nas and #Snoop.
The legacy the revered rapper hopes to leave behind? “That I’ve just always been honest and tried to write humorous stories that anyone can enjoy.”
The storyteller was born in Mitcham, London to Jamaican parents, and moved to the Bronx in 1976 at 11. His eyepatch has been inextricable from the Slick Rick identity since he was 2 when glass shattered and entered his eye.
His musical journey began in high school when he formed the Kangol Crew with one of his friends, performing at school contests. At one of them, Doug E Fresh was in attendance, and impressed by Rick’s flow asked him to join the Get Fresh Crew. This partnership gave us hip-hop’s national anthem, “The Show/La Di Da Di,” which has been reused by artists ranging from #Biggie (“Biggie, Biggie, Can’t You See..”) to #Beyonce.
#SlickRick mastered a goofy intonation that introduced sonics like the female voice and yawning as background for his picaresque adventures. Roots drummer, Questlove, explains that, "Point blank: Slick Rick's voice was the most beautiful thing to happen to hip-hop culture. Rick is full of punchlines, wit, melody, cool cadence, confidence and style.” This flow is evident in Rick’s 1988 debut album “The Great Adventures Of Slick Rick,” which jumped to #1 on Billboard Rap.
Soon after, the artist faced hurdles of legal battle. Rick was incarcerated for 5 years for attempted murder against his cousin who extorted money from the rapper and threatened to kill him and his mother. Two of those years he served for immigration issues, leading to his attempted deportation in 2001.
During periods on bail, he hastingly released two albums, “The Ruler’s Back” (1991) and “Behind Bars” (1994), which were recorded in a span of four weeks. “They were desperate, got-to-keep-your-name-relevant and keep-the-bills-paid jobs,” he explains. He acclaims his last album “The Art of Storytelling '' (1999) as one of his best, with features from #Nas and #Snoop.
The legacy the revered rapper hopes to leave behind? “That I’ve just always been honest and tried to write humorous stories that anyone can enjoy.”
Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums
Many of Wes Anderson’s films are instantly recognisable for their pastel tones and incredible costumes, and The Royal Tenenbaums is no different. Released in 2001, it follows the story of 3 siblings, struggling in the transition from young prodigies to a failing adulthood.
Karen Patch worked with Anderson in his first three films including “Rushmore” to curate the indie and preppy feel of the films. Wes instructed Patch not to “shop for anything --make everything.” In return for this labor-intensive task, Wes would stay by Patch’s side, ensuring everything look right.
Margot Tenenbaum, the adopted daughter in the family, was a literary genius, peaking as an adolescent. The sense of “arrested development” is displayed through her unchanging wardrobe. The unmistakable fur coat was made by Fendi by special request, and the many Lacoste tennis dresses were made by Patch and approved by Lacoste. “People think Lacoste made Margot's dresses, but Lacoste didn't make striped dresses in that style at the time—they only made solids.” She carries a Hermes Birkin, a common symbol of wealth.
Her conservative, country club aesthetic juxtaposes her rebellious demeanor, chain smoking at 12, rarely smiling, and the heavy eyeliner. Her wardrobe continues to influence many, decades later. "You don't even know how many selfies I get on Halloween of various people dressed up like Richie and Margot.”
Math whiz, Chas, grows out of his business suit uniform as a child to the cherry red Adidas tracksuit that he and his boys wear. After the passing of his wife in a plane crash, Chas trains the boys to be ready for any impending emergency. However, as much as the suits are an element of functionality, they also symbolize Chas’s need for control. Sartorially, Richie grapples with this flopped tennis career by exchanging his white tennis uniform with a caramel suit, yet still donning the headband.
The impact of the Wes aesthetic on fashion can be seen by taking a look at the runways. In the 2015 A/W collection, at least six designers with the likes of Gucci and Lacoste cited the Tennenbaum look as an influence for their pieces
Karen Patch worked with Anderson in his first three films including “Rushmore” to curate the indie and preppy feel of the films. Wes instructed Patch not to “shop for anything --make everything.” In return for this labor-intensive task, Wes would stay by Patch’s side, ensuring everything look right.
Margot Tenenbaum, the adopted daughter in the family, was a literary genius, peaking as an adolescent. The sense of “arrested development” is displayed through her unchanging wardrobe. The unmistakable fur coat was made by Fendi by special request, and the many Lacoste tennis dresses were made by Patch and approved by Lacoste. “People think Lacoste made Margot's dresses, but Lacoste didn't make striped dresses in that style at the time—they only made solids.” She carries a Hermes Birkin, a common symbol of wealth.
Her conservative, country club aesthetic juxtaposes her rebellious demeanor, chain smoking at 12, rarely smiling, and the heavy eyeliner. Her wardrobe continues to influence many, decades later. "You don't even know how many selfies I get on Halloween of various people dressed up like Richie and Margot.”
Math whiz, Chas, grows out of his business suit uniform as a child to the cherry red Adidas tracksuit that he and his boys wear. After the passing of his wife in a plane crash, Chas trains the boys to be ready for any impending emergency. However, as much as the suits are an element of functionality, they also symbolize Chas’s need for control. Sartorially, Richie grapples with this flopped tennis career by exchanging his white tennis uniform with a caramel suit, yet still donning the headband.
The impact of the Wes aesthetic on fashion can be seen by taking a look at the runways. In the 2015 A/W collection, at least six designers with the likes of Gucci and Lacoste cited the Tennenbaum look as an influence for their pieces
The Mystery of Goyard
While luxury houses like Louis Vuitton swarmed to the digital and e-commerce space early on, Goyard shunned these marketing avenues, retreating instead to a digital silence with no advertising. Yet their reputation of prestige and quality is as alive as ever.
Since its establishment some 160 years ago, the French bag-maker has only opened 29 boutiques around the world, a stark contrast against Hermes’s 307. In a retail landscape where 25% of the U.S. population shop online, Goyard relies on its loyal clientele that includes the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and Pablo Picasso.
The allure to their mystery is explained by the brand’s spokesperson: “We believe that whispering softly in someone’s ears is not only more elegant, but also much more efficient than screaming at the top of one’s lungs.”
Goyard is able to maintain its elusiveness because it’s privately owned, and does not answer to shareholders. Instead of cutting corners in quality to satiate fiscal earnings like their counterparts under LVMH, Goyard can focus on reputation maintenance. Retail analyst Pam Danziger explains the oversaturation of Louis Vuitton have made it “less desirable,” while “Goyard holds its traditional craft-oriented roots that truly has a limited supply”
The French house’s sense of unattainability draws in appeal from rappers, with Pharrell citing the brand in his 2006 mixtape “In My Mind.” Nonetheless the brand’s mainstream entrance into hip-hop can be ascribed to Kanye showing up to the 2009 CDG fashion show, carrying a Goyard briefcase. Younger rappers like Lil Uzi Vert similarly don the chevron patterned bag, most notably in his appearance in the viral XXL Freshman Cypher video.
Despite #Goyard being a favourite among many pockets of society, do you think their digital silence will be sustainable given the ever-shifting retail landscape?
Since its establishment some 160 years ago, the French bag-maker has only opened 29 boutiques around the world, a stark contrast against Hermes’s 307. In a retail landscape where 25% of the U.S. population shop online, Goyard relies on its loyal clientele that includes the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and Pablo Picasso.
The allure to their mystery is explained by the brand’s spokesperson: “We believe that whispering softly in someone’s ears is not only more elegant, but also much more efficient than screaming at the top of one’s lungs.”
Goyard is able to maintain its elusiveness because it’s privately owned, and does not answer to shareholders. Instead of cutting corners in quality to satiate fiscal earnings like their counterparts under LVMH, Goyard can focus on reputation maintenance. Retail analyst Pam Danziger explains the oversaturation of Louis Vuitton have made it “less desirable,” while “Goyard holds its traditional craft-oriented roots that truly has a limited supply”
The French house’s sense of unattainability draws in appeal from rappers, with Pharrell citing the brand in his 2006 mixtape “In My Mind.” Nonetheless the brand’s mainstream entrance into hip-hop can be ascribed to Kanye showing up to the 2009 CDG fashion show, carrying a Goyard briefcase. Younger rappers like Lil Uzi Vert similarly don the chevron patterned bag, most notably in his appearance in the viral XXL Freshman Cypher video.
Despite #Goyard being a favourite among many pockets of society, do you think their digital silence will be sustainable given the ever-shifting retail landscape?
Baby Phat, the brand that defined Y2K fashion
Kimora Lee pioneered much of what we know about 2000s fashion, bringing in the large logo and puffy-jacket aesthetic. Her parents of Black and Korean-Japanese descent signed her up for a modelling agency at 14, quickly seeing waves of success and becoming a muse for Karl Lagerfeld. This, however, wasn’t her only moment with fashion.
After marrying music mogul Russel Simmons, the model created “Baby Phat” in 1999 under Simmon’s “Phat Farm,” a streetwear mens brand. “Baby Phat” was the first female line that could parallel the likes of black-owned brands like FUBU and Rocawear that targeted men. “When I created Baby Phat 20 years ago, it was because women – especially women of color – had no voice at all in the streetwear category,” Lee said. With its diamante cat-embossed velour tracksuits, baby tees, and jeans, the brand “envisioned a womanhood that was puffy-sleeved, bedazzled, and skin-tight.”
While the brand was on its way to becoming a billion-dollar success, its cultural influence permeated different parts of the hip-hop community, featuring on Ginuwine’s “In those Jeans,” and on popular TV shows like “In the House." As Lil’ Kim modeled a rhinestone bikini and faux fur for their fashion show, Jay-Z and Aaliyah lined their first row seats, signalling a shift in the relationship between high fashion and the hip-hop community.
“Baby Phat” mastered the fusion of celebrity-culture, music, and fashion. The business-mogul ventured into the world of tech, creating a pink embellished phone with Motorola -- famously seen on Cam’ron who paired the phone with a fur hoodie for the brand’s Fall 2003 show.
If Lee’s impact has yet to completely set in on you, it’s worth considering that Rihanna recently bought the entire "Baby Phat" archive, unsurprising given her brand’s own success. Kimora recently revived the brand, with her daughters, Ming and Aoki, as it's face. We look to see how they can tap into the 00s nostalgia while maintaining engagement with a newer generation.
After marrying music mogul Russel Simmons, the model created “Baby Phat” in 1999 under Simmon’s “Phat Farm,” a streetwear mens brand. “Baby Phat” was the first female line that could parallel the likes of black-owned brands like FUBU and Rocawear that targeted men. “When I created Baby Phat 20 years ago, it was because women – especially women of color – had no voice at all in the streetwear category,” Lee said. With its diamante cat-embossed velour tracksuits, baby tees, and jeans, the brand “envisioned a womanhood that was puffy-sleeved, bedazzled, and skin-tight.”
While the brand was on its way to becoming a billion-dollar success, its cultural influence permeated different parts of the hip-hop community, featuring on Ginuwine’s “In those Jeans,” and on popular TV shows like “In the House." As Lil’ Kim modeled a rhinestone bikini and faux fur for their fashion show, Jay-Z and Aaliyah lined their first row seats, signalling a shift in the relationship between high fashion and the hip-hop community.
“Baby Phat” mastered the fusion of celebrity-culture, music, and fashion. The business-mogul ventured into the world of tech, creating a pink embellished phone with Motorola -- famously seen on Cam’ron who paired the phone with a fur hoodie for the brand’s Fall 2003 show.
If Lee’s impact has yet to completely set in on you, it’s worth considering that Rihanna recently bought the entire "Baby Phat" archive, unsurprising given her brand’s own success. Kimora recently revived the brand, with her daughters, Ming and Aoki, as it's face. We look to see how they can tap into the 00s nostalgia while maintaining engagement with a newer generation.
A look at cars of the Fast and the Furious.
Without the original cast or storyline, the Fast Saga’s “Tokyo Drift” was a gamble for its creators and producers. This risk showed itself after the film became the lowest-grossing of the franchise. Nonetheless, despite “Tokyo Drift ”being allotted the spot as the black sheep of the franchise in numbers, it is loved by many for its emphasis on street racing.
Justin Lin, the director of the reboot, was approached by Universal Studios to hold reins of the production. However, Lin turned them down, unimpressed with the storyline the studio had created. "I think it's offensive and dated, and I don't have any intention of doing it." He was averse to the misrepresentation of Asians as villains. Esquire describes the early drafts of the script “read like Karate Kid 2 with an extra dose of white savior-ness”
As soon as Universal agreed to allow Lin to shape the characters and plot in his way, he removed the Geisha Girls and Buddhist Statue cliches and proceeded to craft the character of the beloved Han Lue. Similarly, he spent his time meandering through Japan’s strict film permit regulations. Unable to receive the necessary permits to film, he simply filmed without them.
"I wanted to shoot in Shibuya, ... the most crowded place in Tokyo. The cops, they're all so polite, so it takes ten minutes for them to come over and kick you out." In those ten minutes, he managed to get the shots, but at the cost of his arrest. “Another guy stepped up and said, 'I'm the director.' I found out that it was his job to take the fall for me. He went to jail for the night and I'm forever grateful.”
The film also stood out for its unexpected features like rapper Bow Wow. After poor test screenings, the studio returned Vin Diesel for a short cameo, shocking viewers. The most significant yet subtle cameo of all is of “The Drift King” himself, Keiichi Tsuchiya, a professional race car driver who brought drifting to the public.
This cameo alongside the several drifts, skids and slides all convey the “purity of the driving and the culture,” which is perhaps why the third installment of the film is loved particularly by car enthusiasts.
Justin Lin, the director of the reboot, was approached by Universal Studios to hold reins of the production. However, Lin turned them down, unimpressed with the storyline the studio had created. "I think it's offensive and dated, and I don't have any intention of doing it." He was averse to the misrepresentation of Asians as villains. Esquire describes the early drafts of the script “read like Karate Kid 2 with an extra dose of white savior-ness”
As soon as Universal agreed to allow Lin to shape the characters and plot in his way, he removed the Geisha Girls and Buddhist Statue cliches and proceeded to craft the character of the beloved Han Lue. Similarly, he spent his time meandering through Japan’s strict film permit regulations. Unable to receive the necessary permits to film, he simply filmed without them.
"I wanted to shoot in Shibuya, ... the most crowded place in Tokyo. The cops, they're all so polite, so it takes ten minutes for them to come over and kick you out." In those ten minutes, he managed to get the shots, but at the cost of his arrest. “Another guy stepped up and said, 'I'm the director.' I found out that it was his job to take the fall for me. He went to jail for the night and I'm forever grateful.”
The film also stood out for its unexpected features like rapper Bow Wow. After poor test screenings, the studio returned Vin Diesel for a short cameo, shocking viewers. The most significant yet subtle cameo of all is of “The Drift King” himself, Keiichi Tsuchiya, a professional race car driver who brought drifting to the public.
This cameo alongside the several drifts, skids and slides all convey the “purity of the driving and the culture,” which is perhaps why the third installment of the film is loved particularly by car enthusiasts.
Patrick Kelly, the designer who reclaimed Blackface
Patrick Kelly was a fashion designer that carried his eponymous brand to success in the late 80s. His energetic designs were inspired by the Black women he grew up with as a kid in the South. Before receiving acclaim in Paris, he struggled with the racism and homophobia that pervaded much of American society.
At 6, his Grandma showed him a magazine she brought back from a “white lady’s house.” When he realised there were no photos of black women, his Grandma responded: “Nobody has time to design for them.” Decades later he would do just that: design for Black women, who he turned to for inspiration. “At the black Baptist church on Sunday, the ladies are just as fierce as the ladies at Yves Saint Laurent haute couture shows.”
In 1972, he received a scholarship to study at Parsons School of Design. Yet, the racism within the South carried itself up North. “Once the dean of Parsons discovered that 'Patrick Kelly,' wasn't an Irishman, he refused to give him the scholarship.”
He dropped out and applied to jobs within the industry but faced multiple rejections. “They couldn't believe an African American would be applying for a fashion design job,” Bjorn Amelan, his boyfriend explains. After moving to Paris, his work appeared in Elle magazine and the orders poured in. His tight black dresses with mismatched buttons appeared on Princess Diana and Grace Jones.
His collections were also a tool for him to explore anti-black stereotypes. He stirred controversy for sending dresses embossed with golliwogs and making the face his logo. It was a way for him to “neutralize racist imagery by reappropriating it into fashion.” Maya Angelou criticised these attempts, explaining that “poison no matter what kind of crystal bottle you wrap it in, it’s still poison.”
In 1990, Kelly passed away from AIDS-related causes. He trailblazed the path for 90s brands like FUBU and the techniques of Jeremy Scott. He shared an experience that many black creatives face today, where their talents are often dismissed or boxed into the streetwear genre.
At 6, his Grandma showed him a magazine she brought back from a “white lady’s house.” When he realised there were no photos of black women, his Grandma responded: “Nobody has time to design for them.” Decades later he would do just that: design for Black women, who he turned to for inspiration. “At the black Baptist church on Sunday, the ladies are just as fierce as the ladies at Yves Saint Laurent haute couture shows.”
In 1972, he received a scholarship to study at Parsons School of Design. Yet, the racism within the South carried itself up North. “Once the dean of Parsons discovered that 'Patrick Kelly,' wasn't an Irishman, he refused to give him the scholarship.”
He dropped out and applied to jobs within the industry but faced multiple rejections. “They couldn't believe an African American would be applying for a fashion design job,” Bjorn Amelan, his boyfriend explains. After moving to Paris, his work appeared in Elle magazine and the orders poured in. His tight black dresses with mismatched buttons appeared on Princess Diana and Grace Jones.
His collections were also a tool for him to explore anti-black stereotypes. He stirred controversy for sending dresses embossed with golliwogs and making the face his logo. It was a way for him to “neutralize racist imagery by reappropriating it into fashion.” Maya Angelou criticised these attempts, explaining that “poison no matter what kind of crystal bottle you wrap it in, it’s still poison.”
In 1990, Kelly passed away from AIDS-related causes. He trailblazed the path for 90s brands like FUBU and the techniques of Jeremy Scott. He shared an experience that many black creatives face today, where their talents are often dismissed or boxed into the streetwear genre.
Alex Prager’s Photographs
Through her photographs and films, Alex Prager reimagines a sinisterly magical LA that simultaneously merges hyperreal and fictive elements. The LA native developed a fascination for photography after viewing Eggelston’s exhibition in 1999. In the same week, she bought a camera, and began her journey as the “torchbearer of American magical realism.” The social landscape of the city was a huge influence in her work, describing LA as having “a strange light, a promise of perfection. People go there because they have dreams to change their lives to be something they're maybe not.” She strikingly portrays this glossy veneer of the city by juxtaposing it against its more unsettling side.
Prager’s cinematic shots are no small feat both logistically and creatively. Her staged scenes require hundreds of extras, a Hollywood sound stage, makeup artists and costume designers. Whether the set transforms into a cinema or a beach, the guaranteed constant is Prager’s use of “one camera and one lens,” usually a Contax 645. The viewer is exposed to a different angle of the American Dream, forced to settle into a scene’s emotional and physical chaos. Prager uses melodrama, just as noir films did: using caricature in lighting and costumes to ease us into a much darker conversation.
Solidifying her already distinctly American work, she integrates iconic symbols of 1950s America and the golden age of Hollywood — think red lipstick, teased hair, and old taxi cabs. These exterior displays comment on the relationship between the individuals and others. In her piece “Face in the Crowds,” we can pick out each character’s individual narratives and peculiarities. Yet, examined against the crowds, they grow disconnected from each other, becoming mere subjects for the viewer’s surveillance.
It is clear that Prager does not care for representing reality itself, but our perception of it. "I'm interested in combining the worlds of the extraordinary and the mundane, then living in the middle of those two places.When looking at my work are people seeing something fantastical and artificial or real and raw that reflects who they are as a human?"
Prager’s cinematic shots are no small feat both logistically and creatively. Her staged scenes require hundreds of extras, a Hollywood sound stage, makeup artists and costume designers. Whether the set transforms into a cinema or a beach, the guaranteed constant is Prager’s use of “one camera and one lens,” usually a Contax 645. The viewer is exposed to a different angle of the American Dream, forced to settle into a scene’s emotional and physical chaos. Prager uses melodrama, just as noir films did: using caricature in lighting and costumes to ease us into a much darker conversation.
Solidifying her already distinctly American work, she integrates iconic symbols of 1950s America and the golden age of Hollywood — think red lipstick, teased hair, and old taxi cabs. These exterior displays comment on the relationship between the individuals and others. In her piece “Face in the Crowds,” we can pick out each character’s individual narratives and peculiarities. Yet, examined against the crowds, they grow disconnected from each other, becoming mere subjects for the viewer’s surveillance.
It is clear that Prager does not care for representing reality itself, but our perception of it. "I'm interested in combining the worlds of the extraordinary and the mundane, then living in the middle of those two places.When looking at my work are people seeing something fantastical and artificial or real and raw that reflects who they are as a human?"
History of the 5th Avenue Apple Store
pple’s Glass Cube quickly grew to become an icon for the Apple brand, but where did the concept for this architectural marvel start?
In 2003, real-estate mogul Harry Macklowe purchased the GM building for $1.4 billion. Despite this success, developers were discouraged to invest in the property because of the awkwardly structured plaza in front of the building. It was described as “too big for a simple plaza but too small to build another skyscraper.” Its sunken structure similarly made it difficult to attract pedestrians and new businesses.
While Steve Jobs was deliberating the location of Apple’s flagship store, their retail success caught Macklowe’s attention, prompting him to set up a meeting with Jobs. “He is solely responsible for the cube,” Macklowe recounts. “His cube was somewhat different than what it is now, but it’s Steve Jobs’s idea,” which was structurally perfect. The cube would proportion well against the plaza and make use of the sunken structure by placing the retail space in the basement.
However, Macklowe recognized a flaw with Jobs’s proposal — the suggested height was simply too big. It would obstruct the GM building and create zoning issues. Aware that Jobs would not be receptive to this critique, Macklowe let Apple discover the issue themselves. He set up a scaffolding mock-up of the cube and met with Apple executives who recognised its impractically. Grinning, Macklow knocked down the model only to unveil the smaller cube he had built underneath it. The glass through the exterior allows light to shine directly into the store, elegantly blurring the boundaries between private and public space. The two subsequent renovations reduced the cube’s glass paneling from 90 to 15 and built the stairs out of chrome to reflect the store’s greenery.
In 2006, it’s opening year, it attracted 50,000 visitors and generated $1 million in profit per day, shattering both Jobs’ and Macklowe’s expectations. As described by Observer, the store unsurprisingly became a “shrine to its creator” with the passing of Jobs.
In 2003, real-estate mogul Harry Macklowe purchased the GM building for $1.4 billion. Despite this success, developers were discouraged to invest in the property because of the awkwardly structured plaza in front of the building. It was described as “too big for a simple plaza but too small to build another skyscraper.” Its sunken structure similarly made it difficult to attract pedestrians and new businesses.
While Steve Jobs was deliberating the location of Apple’s flagship store, their retail success caught Macklowe’s attention, prompting him to set up a meeting with Jobs. “He is solely responsible for the cube,” Macklowe recounts. “His cube was somewhat different than what it is now, but it’s Steve Jobs’s idea,” which was structurally perfect. The cube would proportion well against the plaza and make use of the sunken structure by placing the retail space in the basement.
However, Macklowe recognized a flaw with Jobs’s proposal — the suggested height was simply too big. It would obstruct the GM building and create zoning issues. Aware that Jobs would not be receptive to this critique, Macklowe let Apple discover the issue themselves. He set up a scaffolding mock-up of the cube and met with Apple executives who recognised its impractically. Grinning, Macklow knocked down the model only to unveil the smaller cube he had built underneath it. The glass through the exterior allows light to shine directly into the store, elegantly blurring the boundaries between private and public space. The two subsequent renovations reduced the cube’s glass paneling from 90 to 15 and built the stairs out of chrome to reflect the store’s greenery.
In 2006, it’s opening year, it attracted 50,000 visitors and generated $1 million in profit per day, shattering both Jobs’ and Macklowe’s expectations. As described by Observer, the store unsurprisingly became a “shrine to its creator” with the passing of Jobs.
YSL and the 1998 World Cup⚽
As much as the 1998 World Cup Final is remembered as a sports victory for France, it was also a memorable moment for the French house Yves Saint Laurent. To celebrate Saint Laurent’s forty year history in design, a mesmerizing runway show was held, compiling 300 looks from the brand’s past collections.
Stade de France’s transformed its pitch into a catwalk that displayed a whimsical mirror of the sky, soon embossed with the iconic YSL emblem in bold red. Despite the show only lasting 15 minutes, it required immaculate organization, which is why alongside the 300 models (representing the 5 continents), there were 130 dressers, 200 technicians, who made up the 900 person backstage team. Most incredible of all is that it took the show’s choreographer, Olivier Massart, more than a year to plan for this short spectacle. Nonetheless, with approximately a billion people watching, these efforts and costs were quickly compensated.
“After holding out stubbornly against the multimedia age, Paris haute couture has finally embraced the small screen,” writes The New York Times. This moment was a catalyst to introducing fashion to the general public because soon after the “French fashion's formerly stuffy ruling body” approved a two-hour film on ABC that displayed the shows of luxury houses like Chanel and Dior.
The show consisted of six themes including pop art, Eastern influence, the arts, and glamour, where Mondrian dresses, Picasso dresses, and tuxedos grace the runway as models follow a ribbon-like formation. Instead of only French and Brazilian flags, the 80,000 person audience carried placards in shocking orange, pink and yellow, YSL’s colors. Winning 3-0 and claiming the championship, there was no doubt that July 12, 1998, celebrated everything French.
Saint Laurent’s recalls the extraordinary fanfare, "I felt a really powerful emotion, seeing all those spectators and looking at the colors unfurling across the stadium — it was an extraordinary moment."
Stade de France’s transformed its pitch into a catwalk that displayed a whimsical mirror of the sky, soon embossed with the iconic YSL emblem in bold red. Despite the show only lasting 15 minutes, it required immaculate organization, which is why alongside the 300 models (representing the 5 continents), there were 130 dressers, 200 technicians, who made up the 900 person backstage team. Most incredible of all is that it took the show’s choreographer, Olivier Massart, more than a year to plan for this short spectacle. Nonetheless, with approximately a billion people watching, these efforts and costs were quickly compensated.
“After holding out stubbornly against the multimedia age, Paris haute couture has finally embraced the small screen,” writes The New York Times. This moment was a catalyst to introducing fashion to the general public because soon after the “French fashion's formerly stuffy ruling body” approved a two-hour film on ABC that displayed the shows of luxury houses like Chanel and Dior.
The show consisted of six themes including pop art, Eastern influence, the arts, and glamour, where Mondrian dresses, Picasso dresses, and tuxedos grace the runway as models follow a ribbon-like formation. Instead of only French and Brazilian flags, the 80,000 person audience carried placards in shocking orange, pink and yellow, YSL’s colors. Winning 3-0 and claiming the championship, there was no doubt that July 12, 1998, celebrated everything French.
Saint Laurent’s recalls the extraordinary fanfare, "I felt a really powerful emotion, seeing all those spectators and looking at the colors unfurling across the stadium — it was an extraordinary moment."
Kriss Kross and Backward Fits
Wearing clothes backward was a short-lived fad popularised by hip hop duo Kriss Kross, who went by the names Chris “Mac Daddy” Kelly and Chris “Daddy Mac” Smith. In 1990, the 13-year old friends were discovered by producer Jermaine Dupri duo at an Atlanta mall, while shopping for sneakers.
Mac Daddy - “It was kind of a collective idea. We was all just sitting around thinking of something to do different. It probably could have been Jermaine that said, “Hey let’s put our pants on backwards.” I was the first one to do it, and I’m still the last one to still be doing it. We went to the mall and got so much attention. We was like, ‘Ok, this is it.’ And it just went from there”
Soon after, the duo launched into stardom after releasing their debut single “Jump,” from their album “Totally Krossed Out.” Dupri’s moment of inspiration for song came at a concert: “I watched the crowd. I watched how people were just jumping," he said. "Rappers had been doing it and I said we should make a record like this.”
The song’s title brought in some luck as it reigned the Billboard Hot 100 soaring from No. 61 to No.3, and dominating the spot for 8 weeks, becoming the first rap song to hold the record. It sold over four million copies and was certified double platinum in the US. Taking inspiration from the duo’s style and flair, teens around the world started wearing their t-shirts and jeans backward. Dupri’s father, an executive at Columbia Records, dubbed the group as Kriss Kross after Dupri promoted their look of wearing baggy clothes backward. The trend swept schools across the States that some had to implement dress code policies against it.
On their 20th Anniversary in 2013, they reunite and perform for their former label, planning a comeback. Unfortunately, on the eve of the tour Chris Kelly, at 34, died from an accidental overdose. Honoring his legacy, mourners, including Smith and Dupri, wore their trousers backward at the service.
Mac Daddy - “It was kind of a collective idea. We was all just sitting around thinking of something to do different. It probably could have been Jermaine that said, “Hey let’s put our pants on backwards.” I was the first one to do it, and I’m still the last one to still be doing it. We went to the mall and got so much attention. We was like, ‘Ok, this is it.’ And it just went from there”
Soon after, the duo launched into stardom after releasing their debut single “Jump,” from their album “Totally Krossed Out.” Dupri’s moment of inspiration for song came at a concert: “I watched the crowd. I watched how people were just jumping," he said. "Rappers had been doing it and I said we should make a record like this.”
The song’s title brought in some luck as it reigned the Billboard Hot 100 soaring from No. 61 to No.3, and dominating the spot for 8 weeks, becoming the first rap song to hold the record. It sold over four million copies and was certified double platinum in the US. Taking inspiration from the duo’s style and flair, teens around the world started wearing their t-shirts and jeans backward. Dupri’s father, an executive at Columbia Records, dubbed the group as Kriss Kross after Dupri promoted their look of wearing baggy clothes backward. The trend swept schools across the States that some had to implement dress code policies against it.
On their 20th Anniversary in 2013, they reunite and perform for their former label, planning a comeback. Unfortunately, on the eve of the tour Chris Kelly, at 34, died from an accidental overdose. Honoring his legacy, mourners, including Smith and Dupri, wore their trousers backward at the service.
SURPRISE
My article, "Nike's Relationship with Contemporary Arab Artists" caught the eye of singer Rita Ora, and she loved it so much that she shared it to her 16 million followers on Instagram!
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