McQueen's Sorrow

At 9:39 am my blackberry buzzed to with a Wall Street Journal news alert. At the same time, a girl in class, wide-eyed, turned to me: "Chaya! Alexander McQueen died." And sure enough, the little buzz was informing me of this very thing. As the fashion world reacted today, amidst the start of the New York shows, to the shock and sadness of this news, some in the media speculated that the death of McQueen's mother last week may be what pushed him to suicide. According to Tim Blanks at Style.com, "[The death] would undoubtedly have taken away his most vital support. It’s awful to imagine him trying—and failing—to cope, and one can only hope that, if he was looking for peace, he found it." While no one can confirm this is the case, it touches me.


I feel for his loss, and I feel for this new loss of a wildly free and innovative artist.

<3

Some last memories of Kiran...

One year ago exactly

In January, we went to Puerto Rico with my parents. In fact, my parents were just there last week and they told me that someone on the hotel staff asked about me and her. We were there last year around this time, lying on the beach, drinking daiquiris and other frozen concoctions under the sun as I spelled our love in the sand (literally, you know, "Babs + Bay Wee = <3"). We watched cheesy movies in the hotel room at night, and she always fell asleep and snored loudly. I shoved her and told her to shut the eff up. And in the car to the airport, we laughed non-stop at my parents and the ridiculous things they said. Like, "What is THAT?! A box of PIZZA??" and "What kind of light is THIS?" She'd understand why that's funny :) And for weeks after, we texted those lines back and forth repeatedly.

At my uncle's funeral in February, we cried a little together, but more welcomed the opportunity to be together, to laugh, and to share a weekend with each other and the younger cousins. We played with little Sachin and mocked my dad's concerned face. I always did things and Kiran laughed. I remember feeling the warmth of family in spite of the sadness, and I remember feeling my cousins looking up to me and her, though they made fun of us behind our backs for our ridiculous names "Babs" and "Bay Wee." And I remember she told me a secret, I wasn't allowed to tell anyone, but now I don't know what it was. It seemed important then, but now it does not.

She came back to New York in March. The weekend before she died. We went home to my parents' and sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea and making jokes with my mom. I remember saying, "This is madness," about... something, and she laughed loudly, with her mouth open. We had brunch at cozy barmarche on Spring Street and talked our usual talk. We had drinks at Thor and talked some more. I remember her vividly on Sunday morning, me looking down from the lofted bed in my tiny studio, her hair splayed out above her on the pillow, the blanket rising and falling softly, as she slept below me on the floor. She was the only person I have ever seen with my same long, thick, black hair. That is how I remember her last.

The night before she left us, she sent me a text, saying, "tell me something nice about me." I think I told her she was beautiful and funny and charming and unique and my best friend in the world. I was out at 205 Chrystie with the New York girls and some other Duke visitors. We were always in touch... But she didn't text back because she was at some underground bar with poor service, she explained in the morning. I think it was the last text she ever got from me.

I texted her on Monday evening, wondering why she hadn't responded to my emails or calls. I said, simply, "Azz?" I called her that too sometimes. She never got back to me on that one.

I think sometimes I am still waiting for her to answer me. I know I'm supposed to feel like she's here. And there are times when I'm sure she's trying to tell me not to worry and that she's watching out for me. But mostly, I am just left with memories. This is supposed to be a good thing; people say I have a lifetime of memories with her. But really, I always thought I'd just have a lifetime with her. It's really weird not having that.

Sorry for the rambling post. It's one of those weeks.

A pretty cool chick's first website

It's not done, and I'm sure it will be a work in progress for a long time, but if you feel so inclined, here is the link to my professional website, or what will ultimately be that.

http://www.chayababu.com/

For now, it's a site for a project I am doing (the one I made the timeline for, which you will see there under "chronology"), but I plan to change some things around after the quarter ends to make it have more of my work. I'm particularly excited today because I just came up with the site name and I made the header image all by myself! I know it just looks like a blog right now, but after some customization (yes, I am learning to play with back-end coding in html and css like a real tech geek hehe), it will appear more like a regular website as opposed to blog-style. Anyway, that's how that's going! I still have a ton more to do even just for that project, so as the homepage says, don't judge me!

xo

Teens too fashiony for A&F

There are a few defining things I remember vividly about ninth and tenth grade - parties in older kids' backyards, trying to go to every pop-R&B concert that came to the New York area (yea Bad Boy tour! God, we were so cool), passing one beer around under the table between 12 girls at Fridays, playing field hockey (eek, the mention of my days of pretending to be athletic make me laugh/cringe), mint chocolate-chip ice cream, those funky knit mittens and of course... Abercrombie & Fitch!

The sweaters, the long-sleeve cotton t-shirts that said "varsity" on the chest, the checked and striped button-downs (not flannel; flannel was sooo 7th grade), and more sweaters. We lived for this. By "we," I mean the Briarcliff girls, but I know this was also broader trend. Ladies, you know who you are. We'd talk on the phone and describe the new Abercrombie sweaters our moms bought us, and we'd plan to wear them to the next party in someone's backyard with our Sutters jeans (had to give Sutters a shout-out). The clothes even had a smell. It was woodsy and wintery and, let's be honest, it made us feel really cool. And occasionally, one of us would have the same item as some senior girl, and while this was a high school faux pas, it was inevitable because Abercrombie was probably the only place the entire school shopped. With the exception of Havana Jeans :)

Anyway, my point about all this is related to an article in the Wall Street Journal today about Abercrombie & Fitch's steep declines in revenues due to, well, their product. For Fiscal 2009, the Company reported a net sales decrease of 16 percent to $2.977 billion from $3.540 billion last year. Comparable store sales decreased 23 percent for the fiscal year. You don't have to know business to know that's bad.

I always find it interesting when a clothing brand begins to suffer after years of success because of a changing market. Although I'm out of their target age, I still have an inkling, when I walk past their New York store with bare-chested men standing at the entrance, that the brand and it's grand, dimly-lit Fifth Avenue home feels out of place. I think the sex-appeal marketing still has something to it, since sex never goes out of style, but it's their clothing that's off - no pun intended - as simple as that sounds.


Kids these days know and care more about fashion. Not just style (we all cared about our appearances starting at a very young age) but high fashion. I think younger and younger segments are conscious of what's on the runway, even if only subconsciously, from shows like Project Runway and The Hills. As it becomes more in vogue for mass audiences to be in the know about fashion, people overall want to have clothes with a bit more edge. And this applies especially to the teen market who was Abercrombie's bread and butter, the teen market in places like Westchester. At the price point they maintain, Abercrombie's worn-denim-and-threadbare-shirt kids are going elsewhere for their more sophisticated wares.

We watched Dawson's Creek; they have Gossip Girl

It's part of a larger trend in our economic times, in my opinion, with the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. When I was in high school, the Westchester Mall still had The Limited and Guess? (no, not Guess by Marciano, just Guess?), but now it has Barneys CO-OP, Burberry, and theory, just to name a few. It also had Abercrombie and we loved it. But today when the moms take their 14-year-olds to the mall, what's it gonna be: Abercrombie or Vince and 7 for all mankind? Kids know what's up, and that ain't Abercrombie anymore.

To circle back, I remember when I visited Briarcliff High School circa 2003 and Meri Lewis was wearing jeans low on her waist, her thong showing, and carrying a designer bag that I guarantee you I still would not be able to afford. We carried backpacks. And we wrote on them with white-out pens.

Things change fast; I'm surprised Abercrombie has sustained their momentum for even this long without evolving their look much. I think with the unfortunate numbers, they are rethinking how they do things over there. So maybe we'll see a more mature brand in the near future. And then the question will be who bites!

Moroccan Oil

Okay, so you should know by now that no matter how much I love to shop, I am generally not a product pusher. But I have to promote this stuff (the original oil). I came upon it by chance as I don't really spend that much time, money, or attention on beauty products, but this came in a gift bag at some event. I wasn't going to use it because I thought it was weird to put oil in my hair, but really it's so awesome with a little dollop (I love that word, and I never say it since my hair has never needed only a dollop of anything!). It adds softness - something that is not inherent whatsoever to my hair type - and shine. And if you, like me, have wavy hair but don't like using heavy, sticky hair products like gel or mousse or whatever, seriously, it's great. And it has a very unique, tropical-y smell; not coconut, but something that makes you feel like you're on the beach in some place like... Morocco. It adds a little exotic to my day. And no, I don't mean exotic in an idiotic racist way. Try the oil! And then thank me.

Chicago Fashion: A Snapshot of History

Hey people, I busted my little tush for three days straight on this timeline of fashion in the Second City. Please take a peek into the city's couture culture :) I plan to have the timeline live on the website I'm making in class, which will be ultimately be my professional portfolio site, but since I'm quite excited about this comprehensive look at history, I decided to just post it!

chaya b. on Dipity.

The majority of my research was done at the Chicago History Museum and through the Chicago Historical Society. The photos of dresses are credited to Irving Solero and the information about the pieces from the Museum’s Couture Collection is thanks to Timothy A. Long, curator and fashion guru. Other photos, since taken before I was born, are from credited sources in the timeline.

The pieces featured are part of the museum’s couture collection and were just a fraction of more than 60 pieces on display at the “Chic Chicago: Couture Treasures from the Chicago History Museum” exhibit. Worn by some of Chicago’s most prominent women in society, business and philanthropy, these dresses are significant to city’s fashion and cultural past.

PS – you can view it in full screen if you click "view in dipity" and then "full screen" once you get there. and the little "+" signs at the bottom of the timeline indicate that you should click to expand… so do it!

"In spite of its sinister reputation, Chicago is one of the most poetic cities in the world." -Christian Dior