by hoot
spring 2018
Ally Lozada, Brianna Zúñiga, Brianna Sturkey, Carolina Dalia Gonzalez, Christy Dey, Bonnie M
Is my function to reach zero and leave nothing in the way of obstructing truth? Or to tender what’s still shapeless? The baggy fit of feelings before they’ve found their purpose. How can I present what’s, for now, finished, while also taking comfort in knowing it will evolve? Durga Chew-Bose.
Follow Hoot on Instagram @hootmag Like Hoot Magazine on Facebook Send Hoot an email at hootmag@barnard.edu For more Hoot Magazine, visit hootmag.org/blog eal, Shelby Hettler, Aly Bouscaren, Sofia Smith
MacRae, Helen Branyan, Claire Lin Jenkins, Jamie Sutton, Darinelle Merced- Calderon , Emily
Kimura, Emily Mahan, Jacquelyn Klein, Jude Icarus, Kim Banks, Michelle Xu, Kira Wilson, Kyra Chen, Layla Alexander, Maria Adentuji, M
aria Gabriela Alvarez, Mia Ciallella, Paloma Raines, Rebecca Siqueiros, Ronda Kyle, Ethan O’
straightlaced directo r Shelby Hettler ph otogr aph er Shelby Hettler mod els Aly Bouscaren, Claire Lin Jenkins, Kir a Wilson makeu p Jamie Sutton assistant Mia Ciallella cloth ing s ty lis t’s ow n
nothing blue directo r Carolina Dalia Gonzalez ph otogr aph er Caitlin Lent mod el Rachel Tsuna makeu p Nikki Shaner-Br adford h air Carolina Dalia Gonzalez beau ty Captain Blakenship, Milk Makeup jewelr y Far r adas Knits
blueness writer Michelle Xu
Too often I’ve stood in line looking at chocolate bars and chapsticks (For Soft and Kissable Lips) and thought about the 7-Eleven at home with tea eggs and monolid remedies. I just wanted glittery blue stickers on my eyelids. Mom just wanted my eyes to be bigger. Someone asked: do you even have eyelashes? Mom goes to bed dreaming about trembling hands trimming lashes. Serena’s mom used kitchen scissors. Is “New Honey Flavor” supposed to itch my lips? Serena wears a yellow flannel that makes me think of cornflakes. She looks at me with her eyelashes and I feel like a droopy Eva Hesse sculpture, my organs raindrops held in nets. A sculpture staging what? In America, I feel myself get closer to the ground. I am wire-mesh, latex, fiberglass. Performance art: the creator and the created become one. I pick up a pair of scissors on the way home. This is not a ritual for the soft-hearted. A prairie of insecurities?
warp & woof I stand in front of the mirror and close one eye. All the visitors are closing in like flies. Forget it. Deny the clapping.
d i r e c t or Sloane A. Gustafson Triumph for the enemy. p h o t og r aph er Elle Wolfley styl ist Sloane A. Gustafson, Anisa Tavangar m o dels Marcu s Hogan, Sar ah Kashef, Riley Swain m a ke up Anisa Tavangar as si s ta n ts Mar ia Adetunji, Layla Alexander cl o t hing H an , Inex c ls v, an d M a t i e re
man at work directo r s Mia Ciallella, Carolina Dalia Gonzalez ph otogr aph er Ronni Kyle mod el Ethan O’Neal makeu p Carolina Dalia Gonzalez accessor ies Takesh Eyewear assistant Sophia Smith
acce$$ible auth€nticity by Maria Gabriela Alvarez
I don’t give a crap about clothes. Though, this thought is not entirely true for me,
it is what comes to mind when I begin to delve into the questions that arise around the ethics of authenticity in the fashion world. In a world where fast fashion retailers rapidly churn out trend based clothing, often borrowing from luxury fashion houses and adapting runway pieces for ready to wear, it is easy to get lost in the ethics of the mass reproduction of “auteur fashion.” If fashion is a way of self-expression as well as an art in its own right, then cost and brand-name are inherently not what define the good from the bad. If this is true, is brand-name authenticity really the kind of authenticity we should be striving for? Is the guarding of high fashion authenticity ethical in any way when t-shirts are sold for thousands of dollars? Perhaps, the reproduction of runway styles is not what we should focus on when criticizing the fast fashion industry.
We should question the economic inaccessibility that goes hand in hand with
high fashion authenticity. Ethical questions about the evocation of certain fashion houses’ signature styles in fast fashion retail pieces would be easy to answer if high fashion and street style existed in entirely separate realms. However, when fashion shows are live streamed, to be enjoyed and admired around the world, the emulation of these highly publicized brands is a natural side effect of the democratization of art; of the advancement of technology, of globalization.
High fashion is a form of art, that inspires and resonates not only with those who
can afford it but with a much larger demographic. This feeling of inspiration and elevation is not dependent on the exclusion of a majority who cannot afford brands like Gucci or Dior. A leather jacket that makes you feel like it was picked out for you by Yves himself transcends the socio-economic status of clothes—it metamorphoses to become a part of the larger concept of style. Whatever the price of these items of clothing may be, it is no longer a question of market value or branding. Instead, through the feelings of elevation they inspire, these pieces become a continuation of an artistic legacy, regardless of the name embroidered inside. Looking at the tension between high fashion houses and fast fashion corporations through this lens reveals a much more important truth. When we question the ethics of vigorously guarding brand-name authenticity, two points become clear: the concept of accessibility is transcendental, and our criticism of the fashion industry should focus on aspects of the industry that are detrimental to several other facets of our world.
body burn directo r Chr isty Dey ph otogr aph er Bonnie MacRae stylist Chr isty Dey mod els Helen Br anyan, Br ianna Zúñiga makeu p Br ianna Stur key accessor ies ISLYNYC
the becomings (reprise) writer Jude Icarus
As the last scattered tatters of once-nothing fervently at the penumbra of the primordial cosmic canvas, Ignited instantaneously by that recalcitrant ripple of The Becomings became.
Burned
Is,
Give way! Give way! Give Day to Night. Give Night to Dawn and Dawn to Light to Dark too deep to see but sight will only see the Was. As Is is Is is Be is was is Will is not is always. On and on along along the Long Road to Eternity. Each step the only solid ground, it crumbles at the touch, Falls into the Abyss: Ashes, Ashes; Dust, Dust. Just Dust. Every grain and granule, Every particle and fleck Coalesces to a spherical, infinitesimal speck. Uninhabitable first, save the living, breathing Rock– Boiling, bursting, bubbling as Life peeks through the lock. Knock Knock Knock the door in. It stands in the foyer, nude, Unadorned, unafraid, unimagined, And rises from the Depths to make itself at Home
by the Fire.
Onwards, ever onwards! Eyes to the Past, feet to the Future. Onwards, ever onwards! Dancing forward blindly. Onwards, ever onwards! A Forever Fetus marching towards a death that never comes. Onwards ever onwards ever onwards! Each moment Brings new wardrobe changes; New accessories and accouterments (hair here; lines there; stretching, growing, morphing)
Each moment, It tears away its new clothes, Tries fruitlessly to Strip Back Down, To once more be naked, unadorned, unafraid, unimagined. Each moment, It gazes longingly into the mirror, Looking back at past selves it’s not sure it ever was. Ever evanescent, even in its instant infancy. Isn’t it enough to be Becoming? Why must we regain what we became? Rudderless and adrift on Time’s tide– Our shed skins the flotsam and jetsam Of our unavoidable voyage into the We are inevitable. One becoming of many. It becomes us to become, and if, we become Death, Death becomes
Void.
like Oppenheimer, Us.
Death, that ultimate becoming, Wherein we Become the dirt Become the trees Become the land Become the last Become the first To Become More, For as the Sun Becomes a raging roaring wave, Consumes us all, Completes the Cycle: Cradle to the Grave, We reunite, Become the Cosmos, Only to Become again; We are part of The Becomings, And Becomings never end– They just Become. Become one, Become all, Become and see the Show, Where the one and only character’s the never-ending flow, And wherever it is going is the only place to go, And there’s no time for goodbyes because we’re busy with hellos. How noble it is To be a universal constant. How noble it is To be True. How noble it is To be Becoming. How noble to be always something New