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Give Betsy Ross her flowers, because after 247 years, the American flag still hasn’t gone out of style. Whether it is a carefree Lana del Rey in her Born To Die era in her nostalgia-fueled music video for Ride, to the preppy timelessness of Ralph Lauren’s iconic flag sweater, the American flag is multi-purpose for any aesthetic, tacky 4th of July merch notwithstanding. Yet, as Conservatives adopt the American flag and its colors (red, notably), patriotism is decidedly out as a motif amongst Progressive Teens of Today – the Conservative Party has won this battle (and unfortunately, given recent events, possibly the war). 


Yet, you have to give them credit; when the category is Americana Realness, conservatives get a 10/10. Whether it’s due to an overflowing, cultish love of their chosen candidate, or just as a bid to get featured in a news article, conservatives step it up at Trump rallies. They can be seen in bedazzled red-white-and-blue cowboy hats, “Make America Great Again” rhinestoned on denim jackets. It’s overzealous (camp if you will), but it’s not just conservatives that still embrace patriotism. As Americana is favored by the right, even progressives (or those who call themselves progressive, at least) adopt right-leaning aesthetics. 



For the past few years, everyone has wanted to be a cowboy. Nearly every sorority girl has a pink rhinestone cowboy hat in their back pocket, and cowboy boots were the It Girl Shoe before moto boots took over for the season. Not to mention, as people wonder where “the scene” has gone in New York, it has sprouted in the South and the Midwest. Previously overlooked areas have produced artists inspired by their upbringing while giving their work a decidedly queer flair. You have Ethel Cain’s Southern Gothic aesthetic for her Preacher’s Daughter rollout, marrying her Baptist background with layered storytelling. There’s Chappell Roan’s loving pastiche of a beauty pageant contestant on the cover of The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. Americana as an aesthetic may not be as on-the-nose as a flag in the wind, but it still exists. 



Picture this: you’re on Knickerbocker Avenue. You spot Bushwick mullet queers in a camo baseball cap stitched with “Midwest Princess” in orange (one of Roan’s staple merch items), a muscle tank, worn blue jeans, and cowboy boots on the way to their barista shift. They look nearly indistinguishable from a blue-collar worker that pays decidedly much less rent on a house in Nebraska (see what I did there?). But that Bushwick queer, who likely grew up in liberal Northern New Jersey with an NPR-listening mother, is still willing to poke fun at red states (particularly lower-class areas) while appropriating a working-class aesthetic. 


This is just a minor annoyance, though; in some scenes, the adoption of a conservative aesthetic can quickly slide into actually purporting right-wing talking points. I’ll spare you all yet another think piece on Dimes Square, but what cannot be ignored is the transition from their reputation as the “dirtbag left” to ironic conservatism. This “scene” has sprouted creative directors with infected stick-and-pokes wearing a MAGA hat as a fashion statement, and overhearing him drop “gay” and “retarded” like a middle schooler playing Call of Duty. It’s the romanticization of Catholicism, of skinny white girls in slip dresses and rosaries smoking cigarettes and joking about becoming trad-wives that secretly dream of the day they’ll be swept away to Greenwich, Connecticut by a Man in Finance. It’s Dasha Nekrasova, host of the Red Scare podcast, having a photo op at a shooting range and fashioning the target to look like a caricature of an Arab terrorist during the height of Gaza’s genocide. This irony bears more resemblance to the modern-day incarnation of the Republican Party than I’m sure the Dimes Square crowd wants to admit; namely, the disregard for people different than themselves. 



Of course, it’s not all bleak; many people have reclaimed conservative aesthetics for their own, finding comfort in familiar motifs but putting their own spin on it. Country, a decidedly American genre, has always been revered by the queer community, from Dolly Parton to Kacey Musgraves. Recently, it has been overtaken by a small, but growing number of artists in the LGBTQ+ community. Whether that be alternative artists like Orville Peck, drag queens who step outside of the usual electronic bitch track like Trixie Mattel, to even mainstream artists coming out like Maren Morris, they all bring a perspective outside of the standard straight musician usually upheld in Nashville. These trends also allow queer people in red states, whether they move to a big city or build community within their small towns, to embrace these roots while bringing a progressive viewpoint to it. 


Trends will always skyrocket when New York takes notice. But they aren’t only found in big cities; it’s a sunburnt uncle in his pick-up or your sassy Southern grandma, and their descendants who are building their own identities from where they came from. 


Written by Ava Sharahy

Photographer: @_.rubbertoe

Director, Production Manager: @dreamingofceleste

PA: @_.amanddaaa

Talent: @katieschieble & @chloe.kaleah


Fur has been a part of clothing and fashion for a long time, but as clothes became mass-marketed, the process of procuring fur became less and less ethical. In the past few decades, there has been more of a push against the use of real fur in fashion due to its cruelty. The animals used for fur are kept in small, dirty cages and are abused, and their deaths are wasteful. In many cultures throughout history, fur has been used for clothes and bedding, but there was always an emphasis on using every part of an animal. In the modern fur industry, animals are treated carelessly and without respect, being used purely for quick profit. According to the Humane Society International, “25 countries have either voted to ban [fur farming], have prohibited the farming of particular species, or have introduced stricter regulations that have effectively curtailed the practice” (2024). Because of this, there has been a rise in the use of faux fur. 



Faux fur has long been used as an alternative to real fur, and it is often significantly cheaper. While it is preventing the use of fur farms and limiting animal cruelty, there are still environmental challenges. The majority of fake fur is made with synthetic materials that are not biodegradable, like most fast fashion. They use lots of energy and produce harmful emissions from the factories in which they’re created, too. Moreover, these products are of a much lesser quality, which leads to them being disposed of more routinely than real fur items tend to be, contributing to the vast amounts of clothing waste, overcrowded landfills, and pollution. 



The solution for all this is similar to a lot of sustainable fashion conversations: investing in higher quality clothes made with less synthetics and plastics, or reusing and thrifting older pieces. I’ll start with the more expensive first option. Brands are coming out with semi or fully-biodegradable fur alternatives, which can reduce the energy used and emissions from production or can be composted after use (Collective Fashion Justice). Other alternatives include recycling methods, such as using recycled plastic from the environment or old denim to create faux fur (Collective Fashion Justice). 



The cheaper option is thrifting! While you really shouldn’t buy new, real fur–unless you’ve found a business dedicated to more traditional fur procuring practices and limiting waste–there’s nothing stopping you from buying old fur. Clothes made out of real fur generally are of much higher quality and can hold up far longer than their plastic-ridden mimics, so it might take a little refurbishing, but you can probably find decent-quality fur in a good thrift store. There’s also just thrifting regular faux fur; although it’s nonbiodegradable, it’s way better than contributing directly to fast fashion companies. There are even some businesses dedicated to reusing and repurposing old fur products that might have degraded in quality over the years, that way they’re relying on natural materials but are encouraging sustainability (Sustainable Fur). 



As per most conversations around environmental consciousness and sustainability, research is important. The biggest environmental problems will always be caused by major companies and billionaires, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help to benefit the environment in day-to-day life. It can be more taxing having to research the ethics behind your favorite clothes brands, but it will be worth it to move forward knowing that you’re part of a move towards a kinder and more environmentally friendly world. 


Written by Alec Conwell

Photography by Francesca DiMiceli

Styling: Diamond Durant

Movement Director: K Pereira

MUA: Marlie Kaye

Production: Mark Bluemle

PA: Daniella Fishman

Talent: @shanial1nn , @xman0228 , @luciesreese

Sources:


Everything You Need to Know about Natural Fur and Sustainability. (2020, July 9). Sustainable Fur. https://www.sustainablefur.com/


Fur alternatives — Collective Fashion Justice. (n.d.). Collective Fashion Justice. https://www.collectivefashionjustice.org/fur-alternatives


Stone, K. (2024, September 30). The fur trade. Humane Society International. https://www.hsi.org/news-resources/fur-trade/





We live in two societies, reality and digital. One, where we are constantly perceived in the digital landscape, moments, and outfits, forever immortalized. We fear our digital footprints, including our digital lookbooks.


As I traverse through SoHo, my journey is all but smooth as I encounter sidewalks obstructed by long lines for stores like “Edikted” and “Brandy Melville”. I see brown paper shopping bags that make me think that the brand iconography printed on it might as well say “We just sold you the illusion of sustainability”. Every day, there are more fast fashion clothes rotting in landfills, than there are in stores, on racks, in closets, or on bodies. You might as well use that same brown shopping bag to throw away that “must-have” $50 top (that you’re only going to wear to one concert), at least then you would be reducing, reusing, and recycling. In a world where second-hand luxury is called “thrift” despite the price tag being higher than what I have in my bank account, the actual current thrifting state is fast fashion’s rest stop before its final destination, the landfill. How do we combat over-consumerism in this all consuming world of late-stage capitalism? What is the answer to keeping clothes out of landfills and achieving sustainable and affordable fashion? Have we had these answers all along? 



The fast fashion industry, according to the UN Environment Programme, makes up 10% of global carbon emissions and is the second largest consumer of water. Fast fashion production emits as much carbon as the 27 European Union countries. Without interventions, by 2030 the rate of emissions is said to increase by 60%, according to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change. Boston University, reports that Americans discard more than 34 billion pounds of textiles, which is equal to 100 pounds of textile waste per person.



Additionally, people of higher socioeconomic standing are 76% more likely to waste clothes compared to people of lower socioeconomic status. The clothing of rich people ends up in landfills that are 2.8 times more likely to be located in proximity to BIPOC, marginalized, and/or lower socioeconomic communities, who are at greater risk of suffering adverse health outcomes from the decomposition of wasted clothing. The impact of fashion waste is more than just clothes ending up in landfills. Communities, wildlife, and the environment are curdling and collapsing right before your eyes as you decide to blindly throw away your clothes. You can’t be an “overconsumption, micro trendy, cutesy, fashion person” when the globe is so deleteriously warmed to the point where you can’t wear any clothes. The good news is, you already have everything you need to become a more sustainable fashionista. 


The fear of impending doom because of climate change is more rational than the fear of being labeled as an outfit repeater. Take a moment, and reflect on these questions: What is truly stopping you from wearing an outfit again, even though there is a picture on Instagram showing you have already worn it? 


Outfit repeating is the first step towards living a more sustainable life. Wearing and appreciating the clothes that you have is an act of sustainability. Every time you resist the urge to fall victim to a mindset that clothes can just be discarded, you resist the urge to fall victim to overconsumption. We must tune out the noise from an industry that upholds unsustainable and unethical production practices. I am a huge proponent of creating multiple outfits using one piece of clothing. Be creative and have fun when repeating or recreating, and feel that you are making a difference in the environment, and in your wallet. Make attempts at trying to shop slowly, strategically, sustainably, and ethically. Buy clothes that will be able to stand the tests of time so that you can wear them for years to come. Outfit repeating doesn’t have to be boring and it doesn’t make you any less fashionable.


We could all be a little like the queen of outfit repeating herself, Lizzie McGuire, and internalize, the real weirdos are “outfit rememberers.” If an outfit rememberer tries to clock you, don’t feel ashamed because by repeating that outfit you are saving the Earth one repeat fit at a time. That is something to be very proud of. 


Written by K. Pereira

Photography: Roberto Meadows

Director: Chloe Kaleah Stewart

Production: Jazzi Almestica & Chloe Kaleah Stewart

PA: K Pereira & Amanda Manson

🍃 Skirt Designed by Mark Bluemle

Talent: Ximena Aguilar Arroyo & Analise Von Stackelberg

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