A Letter to Virgil

Dear Virgil Abloh,

I wish this was a letter I could actually send you. Maybe it would end up somewhere between sketches, playlists, and the endless ideas you always seemed to have. But since it can’t, this is just my way of saying thank you.

Not just for the clothes, and not even just for the moment you became the menswear artistic director at Louis Vuitton. What I’m really thankful for is the way you helped people see culture differently. You showed the world that the things so many of us grow up loving, music, sneakers, street style, graphics, aren’t small or unserious. They’re art.

For a long time, fashion felt like a world that wasn’t built with people like us in mind. At the same time, Black culture was constantly shaping what the world actually looked like. The influence was obvious, but the recognition didn’t always follow. You saw that clearly. And instead of trying to separate street culture from luxury, you treated them like they belonged in the same conversation. When you created Off-White, it felt like you were translating something that had always been there. Suddenly the visual language that came from street culture, bold graphics, sneakers, industrial details, was standing confidently in spaces that once acted like it didn’t belong. You didn’t ask permission to bring that energy into fashion. You just did it.

One thing you said that really stays with people is that everything you created was for the seventeen-year-old version of yourself. I think that’s why your work resonated with so many people. It reminded us that the things we care about when we’re young, the music, the clothes, the creativity we grow up around, aren’t things we have to abandon to be taken seriously.For a lot of young creatives, especially young Black creatives, seeing your success meant something powerful. It showed that the culture we come from already has value, even if institutions take time to recognize it.

So this letter is really just a thank you.

Thank you for believing that creativity rooted in everyday life, music, and community deserved a place in spaces that once felt unreachable. And thank you for reminding a whole generation of artists, designers, and dreamers that the culture they come from already has value.

Even if the world takes a little time to catch up.

With admiration and gratitude.

Girlhood, but make it NYFW: How Sandy Liang has transformed the runway.

Bows, ballet flats, and suburban softness are suddenly high strung, high fashion.

In a fashion week that often prides itself on spectacle and razor-sharp reinvention, Sandy Liang’s Fall/Winter 2026 show oddly felt like a warm exhale in your hometown neighborhood. Cozy, nostalgic, and delightfully suburban, Liang once again proved that comfort doesn’t have to mean compromise — and that whimsy, when handled with sincerity, can be quietly radical on a New York runway.

The collection opened with her signatures: ballet flats reimagined in furry textures, bows perched unapologetically on everything from sweaters to outerwear, and coats so oversized they could double as tarps. However, her unabashed embrace of domesticity was the standout for expectations with this collection. Imagine muted pinks,  pastel cardigans layered over silky nightgown-slips, wide headbands paired with corporate-gray trousers, and quilted jackets that look straight from a childhood snow day in suburban Albany— sensible, safe, yet brow raised?

Liang has always mined memory for inspiration, pulling from school uniforms, mall culture, and Y2K teen-girl aesthetics. But in 2026, the references feel less like irony and more like reclamation, maybe even recreations of Pinterest boards with soft girl tags on them. Where some designers chase futurism, Liang leans into the familiar. In doing so, she reminds us that coziness is not the enemy of fashion’s edge — it’s the counterpoint.

Callbacks and eclectic trendspotting were woven throughout the collection, not as kitsch, but as quiet reinvention for the designer’s new season. The models, with flushed cheeks and soft hair bows, could have been walking straight out of a family photo album. Yet the tailoring — sharp blazers, pleated skirts with unexpected slits, satin dresses spliced with athletic stripes — kept it from tipping into costume. This balance between memory and modernity has become Liang’s signature, and it’s what cements her as one of NYFW’s most distinctive voices.

More importantly, Liang’s work is carving out space for sensibility in a landscape that often

demands shock. In a week where metal hardware, dystopian silhouettes, and conceptual deconstruction dominate the conversation, Sandy Liang dares to say: what about softness? What about the suburban girl in ballet flats who never felt represented in the pages of Vogue?

Countrification: The New Wave of Fashion?

If you adhere to the yeehaw agenda, 2025 is your year — which is why I’m having my hay day (pun intended). If you have eyes or an Instagram account, you’ve surely noticed Western wear on the rise, from last year’s runway looks forecasting 2025 to the current New York Fashion Week trends. Big-name brands like Ralph Lauren, Miu Miu, and Prada have all put their boots on the ground, subscribing to the country-inspired wave of fashion now hanging on racks across the U.S.

So, who (or what) is responsible for the “countrification” of designer and showroom outfits? Perhaps it’s the fact that Western wear has always balanced affordability and history — a style equally at home on the farm or in the club, where a bolo tie feels just as welcome as a cocktail dress. Utility may be its biggest flex: denim providing both functionality and flair; flannels offering weather-proofing and layering options; and cow-sourced leathers or furs functioning as protectants and statements.

Across Southern, Western, and Midwestern subcultures, these staples have evolved into aesthetics that now feel elevated, urbanized, and freshly provocative. Some have even dubbed the trend “cunt-ry” or “flex-patriotic” — catchy but accurate descriptions for a look that feels both traditional and subversive at once.

Provocative yet traditional all at the same time, how could we begin to talk about Western wear without the mention of Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter tour, which has featured some of the most iconic concert costumes. From a studded, floor-length denim gown that braved torrential rain in New Jersey, to an all-white, fur-accented leather ensemble at her Christmas halftime show during the NFL’s so-called “Beyoncé Bowl.”

This album, and the resounding effects it has left beyond the Beyhive, seemed to be one domino that fell in a string of pop culture moments with Western inspiration. Sabrina Carpenter’s “Manchild” single leaned into honky-tonk beats and Dixie-inspired desert visuals, while Chappell Roan’s “The Giver” gave sapphic reinvention to the archetypal working man, pairing two-step sounds with cheeky, everyday Americana visuals.

In Houston, Nashville, or Santa Fe, cowboy hats and Ariats have always been closet staples. But now that these elements are marching down New York, LA, and even London streets (gasp), Americana feels more radical than ever. You may point to rebranded patriotism as a big cause of what’s been a long-standing trend on both ends of current politics in the U.S.: the pride of hyper-traditional American-isms, and the response of raised, authentic ideas of what country really means.

Whatever the significance, as a Texan-turned-New Yorker, I declare my pride for this movement into the 2026 fashion season, and as an ill-fashioned American, I intend to hold on tight to the aforementioned yeehaw agenda until every item is checked off.