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10 queer humans who do fashion differently

Fashion

because style is for everyone

I've been desperately trying to put together the right words to explain why I didn’t feel like myself until very recently, even though I was so openly queer. After giving it a lot of thought, it seems like it has to do with style: I’ve always been into the idea of fashion, but nothing hit home. I was barely interested in women’s fashion, and I didn't (and still don't) feel comfortable in suits.

That being said, I have (with the help of Tumblr and Instagram) really figured my shit out in the past year and a half. So, I wanted to speak with other people who love fashion but went on a journey to get to where they are today. And, since yesterday was National Coming Out Day, I also took the opportunity to ask them about why it's important (if at all) to be out and open about their sexualities and gender identities. Click through the slideshow to get to know 10 queer humans through their very real talks on fashion. 

Photo via Ari Fitz

Ari Fitz runs TomBoyish on YouTube. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter.

Identifies as: Ari Fitz
Pronouns: she/her

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I'll always experiment with my personal style, so I'll never reach that "place." That said, the constant is that I now allow both sides of me, the masculine and feminine, to come alive and breathe through every outfit. It took time to find that balance. What matters most is putting something on and knowing that there's no comment, no insult, no jab that can change the way I feel about myself. As a perceived queer woman of color, it gets hard out there and people can be definitively ignorant. So, protecting myself through my style is how I manage.

Plus, you're right. I'm not reflected in media. People like me are not reflected in media. Part of why I started TOMBOYISH, (my androgynous style channel) was just that. I never see people who dress like me anywhere not on YouTube, not on TV, not anywhere. There are literally millions of beauty channels on YouTube and hundreds of millions of dollars invested into this industry and I'm pretty much the only one tackling androgynous beauty and fashion. That's strange AF. But that doesn't mean we don't exist. I get letters and emails and tweets and comments from people everywhere, queer and straight, who want more ambiguous, more genderless, less-restricting fashion. That's why I do it.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable?
Not sure I think it's important to "come out" at all. We're slowly moving away from a world where being definitive about the way you love and the way you identify is important. There's so much ambiguity in gender expression and romantic preference that explicitly saying anything is somewhat unnecessary to me. I don't have to call myself queer to be queer. I can just love openly and freely, and let that be that. The one thing I admire about a "coming out" experience is you typically find community through being explicit. Yet, we can do this in an even more inclusive way if we didn't require a name badge (e.g., the difference between "Hi I'm Ari, I'm a lesbian and I'm here to join the other lesbians," and "Hi, I'm Ari. I love people and wear androgynous clothing. What about you?").

Why is style important? 
Getting dressed in the morning as a queer person is, unfortunately, like putting on armor and preparing for battle. The right outfit ensures you can take on anything that comes your way with please-try-me confidence.

Photographed by Catie Laffoon

Julia Nunes is an indie-pop musician residing in Los Angeles, CA. Her new album Some Feelings is available on iTunes. Follow her on Instagram andTwitter.

Indetifies as: Female + not-straight
Pronouns: She + Her

Being out in fashion is very different from being out in most industries. Can you tell us about that?
Stepping out of someone's expectation can feel really vulnerable, whether that be their assumption about my wardrobe or my sexuality. Trying out something new usually incites some questions which can feel aggressive by the time the fourth person says, "You trying to be a hipster today?" or "When did you turn gay?" I had to get comfortable with that before I could experience the freedom on the other side. Fear of being judged definitely held me back. I used to dress in basically a uniform of skirts and dresses. I wanted to be considered feminine and cute. I never wore anything too attention grabbing or fashionable, and I was careful not to look like I was trying too hard.

*Side note: I used to hang out with some pretty judgmental people who would laugh at anyone for wearing anything out of the ordinary, and I definitely soaked that shit up like a sponge. It requires confidence and bravery to deal with the repercussions of breaking expectations. Once I stepped out of the straight and narrow, I realized there was so much more out there. You can dress however you want and kiss whoever makes you feel incredible, and eventually people stop asking questions because that's just you. It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media.

How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I looked at Tumblr a lot. There's more culture and fashion and encouragement on Tumblr than on any other form of media, I've found. Obviously, I had seen skinny girls looking cute my whole life, but on Tumblr I saw girls of all sizes, killin' it, unapologetically. I saw fat girls in crop tops—something I'd never seen anywhere else—and they all looked dope. I would find one girl who had cool style and scroll through her whole blog, mostly telling myself I'd never be confident enough to try any of her looks, but slowly all that body positivity, feminism, and allure of looking cool pulled me in. I bought my first crop top during my first week in L.A. but I never wore it outside, only in my room. Eventually, I got over the fear that people would look at me weird if I tried to wear something they're used to seeing on skinny people. Some people do look at me weird, but one: I don't care, I look cute, and two: I think going out in the world and killin' it unapologetically can help remedy the lack of diversity and body positivity in mass media. Maybe I can help inspire someone who's got a crop top in their closet they're scared to wear outside.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable?
The same way experimenting with fashion and being bold or brave in the way you dress helps inspire more individuality and confidence in others, I think being your authentic self can help spread that impulse, too. Maybe this sounds ridiculous, but seeing Lindsey Lohan—a girl I identified with—publicly date a girl impacted me. Not in some big burst of feeling, but I definitely filed it away like, "Oh yea! That's a thing!" The thought of liking a girl never scared me, and I think that's partly because I saw it out in the world before I felt it inside of me. I feel comfortable being public about my relationship because I feel comfortable being myself and that's part of me. I feel incredibly lucky to have grown up in an era where more and more people are comfortable being themselves, it's inspiring. You can change every day if you want to. I know it's easiest to do what you've already done and I know people are going be weird at you, but they are stuck and you are a phoenix. 

Photographed by Karen Campos Castillo

Vivek Shraya is an author, a multi-media artist, and musician based in Toronto, CAN. Find Vivek’s work on her website or follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Identifies as: Queer person of colour. Bisexual. Indian. Gender fluid.
Pronouns: She & He

How did fashion go from a small passion to a full-time gig?
Girl, fashion is always a full-time gig. I think sometimes fashion is dismissed as superficial, but fashion has always been a vital and creative way to express my identities. Something as "small" as wearing a bindi, for example, allows me to present a feminine gesture in spaces where wearing a skirt and makeup would not be safe, and an Indian gesture in white spaces.

Being out in fashion is very different from being out in most industries, can you talk a tiny bit about it?
Though I deliberately present more feminine in my style now, I don't know that I have ever been not out in fashion. On some level, and despite my best efforts, I think I have always read as queer. This is why being out can be complicated. I never got to come out. I was told I was gay before I knew what it meant, and I was convinced that it was partly my style that had outed me. I paid more attention to how boys dress and changed how I dressed. This was just the beginning of my undoing. Being outed was very damaging and I wish I was given the choice and time to come out. I think this is important to remember, even amidst our justifiable hunger for more visibility.

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
Not to sound trite, but I do think of style as a journey and not a destination. My relationship to style evolves, especially as my relationship to myself evolves. Thinking of style this way helps alleviate the pressure to feel as though my style should reflect me completely or that I should feel comfortable all the time. I don't know if 100 percent comfortability is 100 percent possible for many people. In an ideal world, my style would always present my truest self, but in this world, style is often connected to safety. I love having bangs aesthetically, but sometimes I like having bangs so I have somewhere to hide behind. Nail polish is cool, yes, but sometimes I paint my nails as though they add a protective layer. Most days I don't feel comfortable wearing what I would like to wear taking public transport. It does help to have friends as cheerleaders, especially any time I have taken gender-related risks. This has definitely bolstered my confidence.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable? How that has effected you, both negatively and positively?
I know how lonely a world with only one or two (white) out gay people looked and felt like. Being out has felt important as a way to present an alternate form of queerness: One that is brown, one that is bisexual, one that is gender fluid. I think it might be the other way around for me! The more I have grown comfortable with the word and identity of queer, the more I have reclaimed the adventurous attitude I had in relationship to style in my teenage years.

What do you think about Coming Out Day? 
Coming out, especially on Coming Out Day, can feel like a lot of pressure. There are many reasons why coming out can feel unsafe and can be tied to certain privileges. Take your time. Know that coming out to yourself—being honest, kind, and patient with yourself—is way more important than coming out to the world.

Photographed by Robin Roemer

Jasika Nicole is an actor by trade, as well as, a DIY enthusiast and artist. Find her work on jasikanicole.com, and follow her on Instagram and Twitter.

Identifies as: Queer woman of color
Pronouns: She/Her

How did fashion go from a small passion to a full-time gig?
Fashion has actually gone from a small passion of mine to be a big hobby. I am still an actor by trade, but I have made almost everything in my wardrobe for the past three years. When my show ended a few years ago, I found myself in a new city with lots of time on my hands, so I immersed myself in crafting and DIY-ing. I first learned to sew in a costume design class in college, but in the last few years I have become so proficient at fitting and constructing garments for myself and my wife that I hardly ever shop retail. There are lots of reasons for this; wanting to reduce my consumption and become less reliant on the global fashion industry are pretty big ones, but another big reason I make all my own clothing is that what I make is so much better than what I find in stores; my clothing fits me perfectly, and it's all completely unique to me and my tastes.

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I started paying attention to how we are all being marketed newer, better, trendier items all the time, and we have become inclined to always want more, more, more. At some point, I started to wonder how our own personal style fits into this mold—what would we wear and how would we present ourselves if we didn't have examples of perfectly put-together humans advertised to us all the time? As an actor, I would get invited to events and I was expected to always be photographed in something new, which meant that my wardrobe was growing rapidly and I was spending money on items that I would wear only once. After a few years of this, my closet was a mess, filled with items that I had no connection to whatsoever; it felt wasteful and impersonal. I decided to reboot. It happened very gradually, getting rid of things that I wasn't in love with or that didn't feel like me. Instead of shopping in malls, I frequented fabric stores and started buying sewing patterns by indie designers online. I became much more thoughtful about what I wanted to wear. If I was going to spend countless hours constructing a garment, I wanted to make sure that it was something that I would wear for a long time to come.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable?
As a femme, queer ciswoman, I have a lot of privilege in terms of finding (and making) clothing that fits my personal style. I am very well-represented in terms of my body type and gender identity. But nine years ago when I first started dating my wife, a woman who generally presents herself as slightly masculine of center with various stops along the gender-presentation spectrum, I became aware for the first time of the difficulties she faced finding clothing that suited both her tastes and her body. Tailored shirts were particularly tricky for her to shop for; most button-up shirts for women have bust darts and tapered waistlines that aim to show off a feminine figure, while most button-up shirts for men are boxy and gigantic on female figures, swallowing them whole. Claire wanted something in-between, a shirt that fit her body without defining her curves, in cool, interesting fabrics, not just black, white, and blue. It took a while, but I finally settled on a pattern and fit that compliments her style and body perfectly, and to date I have made her 11 button-ups that she wears religiously. It feels so good to see her walking around in clothing that we both had a hand in creating (she chooses the fabrics and I construct the garment).

Photographed by Catie Laffoon

Allison Weiss is a indie pop singer-songwriter, her most recent release, New Love, is available on iTunes. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Identifies as: Gay/Queer
Pronouns: She/Her

How did fashion go from a small passion to a full-time gig?
I grew up very into dressing myself, though looking back at old photos, I definitely made some incredibly interesting choices. I don't think I really did it well until a few years ago. Now it's only a "full-time gig" because I'm a professional touring entertainer and I've gotta look slick on stage.

Being out in fashion is very different from being out in most industries, what does that mean to you? 
I think it's just hard because I can't go to a fashion site and type in exactly what I'm looking for. There's no clear word for the type of style I'm into. And it's not even that strange of a style! I'm a female-bodied, female-identified, gender-non-conformative (I think?) person who likes to dress boyish. Most sites are divided into men's and women's fashion, and I fall somewhere in between.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable? How that has effected you, both negatively and positively?
I think if you have an audience, you should be yourself with that audience, because people are paying attention and may need you. Living in an era where many celebrities my age are out and it's not a big deal has really made it possible for me to be successful in music without any weird stigma attached to the fact that I'm queer. Before I came out, I was worried that it would be all the press would talk about, and they'd forget about my music. Thankfully that hasn't been the case at all. I just had a new record come out and literally none of the publications I spoked with (save for a few queer-focused ones) asked about my being gay.

Do you have a Coming Out Day message? 
If you're thinking about coming out and you haven't yet, I'm really excited for all the boys/girls/people you're going to make out with and fall in love with as soon as you do! Happy Coming Out Day!

Photographed by Roman Yee

Gabrielle Korn is the Deputy Digital Editor for NYLON. You can find her on this website you're reading now, Twitter, and Instagram.

Identifies as: Lesbian
Pronouns: Female pronouns

How did fashion go from a small passion to a full-time gig?
I actually kind of fell into fashion. I've always loved it, but got my professional start in feminist media at a small journal published in the basement of an abortion clinic. I eventually started writing for Autostraddle where I was surprised to find myself covering style and really enjoying it. That eventually led me to a job as Refinery29's beauty editor, and now that I'm at NYLON as deputy digital editor, I'm more of a generalist within the fashion realm—covering all the topics under the lifestyle umbrella with a focus on the fashion world and all its many repurcussions.

Being out in fashion is very different from being out in most industries, can you talk a tiny bit about it? 
I feel like bringing a queer perspective to an industry that's typically so thoroughly problematic is extremely valuable. Fashion has really failed women—on a lot of intersectional levels—so coming at it from a critical standpoint and having access to the queer people who are working hard to change the rules makes it exciting. But then again, it's never fun to be tokenized, and there's a balance to strike between working to advocate for your core beliefs and then being the go-to emotional spokesperson for an entire community that you happen to belong to. 

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
It took me a long time to feel confident in my femininity. I was worried that other gay women wouldn't notice me or be attracted to me if I embraced the lipstick/dresses/heels that speak so directly to my heart because I didn't really have a reference to follow. When I first came out, it was important to me to be visibly queer, which to me at the time meant presenting as more androgynous than felt natural. I cut off my hair, pierced my cartilage, and wore a lot of slouchy jeans (it was the mid-aughts, okay?). It didn't feel like me, though, and eventually I realized that of course there were women who would like me in my most natural-feeling state. I no longer look to my clothes to communicate my sexuality, which means that I'm often invisible to other queer people, which can be a bummer—but I'd rather wear a dress and have to clarify that I'm gay than wear something that doesn't feel like me.

Thoughts on coming out? 
Listen, it's awesome that there's a day for coming out, but a lot of us have to come out again and again every single day because we live in a world where it doesn't occur to people that you could be something different from them. And there are some people who can't come out at all because it's not safe for them. Just because we have queer celebrities and queer themes being addressed in the media doesn't mean that coming out is irrelevant: As long as people are being oppressed for being queer, it's up to those of us lucky enough to be out and open to keep making it an issue.

Photographed by Emma Mead

Mal Blum’s most recent album, You Look a lot Like Me, can be found on iTunes or their website. Follow them on InstagramTwitter.

Identifies as: Genderqueer, genderfluid, non-binary pansexual human
Pronouns: They/Them

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I’m still figuring it out, trying out different things. I think one important thing is to be able to try different things and explore, and to try to be conscious of what makes you feel good, because it might be nuanced. I think about that in terms of gender a lot, I like to explore with femininity a little lately—pair a more masculine aesthetic with short-shorts or sequins.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, and how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable?
I'm not comfortable. I'm fighting to feel good about myself every day, like a lot of us and there's a reason for that. Increased visibility is important because we internalize the messages that we see in the media, fashion, etc. If you're rarely seeing yourself reflected in the types of bodies and people that are featured or if you're noticing a homogenous picture of what is revered, it affects how you view and feel about yourself. The more representations of different types of bodies and genders there are, the better.

Talk a little bit about how figuring out your style has increased your confidence as a queer human (either within or outside of the industry in which you are involved)?
Everybody knows that in the music industry, there are a lot of cisgender, straight men in the majority sharing space with you at shows and elsewhere, and that can be intimidating, but less intimidating if you have a power outfit.

Photographed by S.F.

Anita Dolce Vita is the Editor-in-Chief of Dapper Q, fashion for masculine-presenting women, gender-queers, and trans-identified individuals.

Identifies as: High-femme lipstick lesbian 
Pronouns: She/Her pronouns

How did fashion go from a small passion to a full-time gig?
It hasn't. I'm an oncology research nurse full-time for pay. Though, I do own, manage, and serve as Editor-in-Chief of Dapper Q, the most widely read style and empowerment blog and fashion show production company for masculine-presenting women, gender-queers, and trans-identified individuals. Running Dapper Q often feels like a full-time job, but it is not my primary bread and butter.

Being out in fashion is very different from being out in most industries, can you talk a tiny bit about how that has effected you? Both negatively and positively?
A few years ago, mainstream fashion designers and media were very confused about and disinterested in Dapper Q's vision to make queer style more visible. People didn't understand it. They would ask, "Isn't fashion gay already?" But, queer style is not simply about white, cis, gay male fashion designers creating binary, gender-normative, heteronormative collections to fit the fashion industry's unattainable beauty ideals. It's about inclusion and dismantling everything we've been taught about beauty norms rooted in ableism, classism, fatphobia, ageism, racism, misogyny, transphobia, and self-hate. Queer style is a social movement.

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I find it hard to find style that fits who I am as a black, high-femme lesbian who doesn't fit the tall, blonde, size-zero mainstream fashion formula. Many masculine queer folks think it's easy for all femmes to find clothing that fits, as well as role models that represent femmes, because they wrongfully assume that the fashion industry's definition of femininity is inclusive and embodies all femmes and forms of femininity. I still do not find role models that look like me in the pages of fashion magazines. I still have to get my clothing tailored because pants are made for taller bodies. I still have to get my button-downs tailored because I, too, experience a gap where the buttons lay across my chest. I feel pressured to conform to hetero-normative and queer-normative style ideals. I have to dress in "socially acceptable" business attire (by Western standards) during the day. So, building a wardrobe that truly reflects me and empowers me is a constant, ongoing process.

Why is style important? 
Fashion is political, whether you intend it to be or not. From the zoot suit to the flapper dress to queer style: You have the power to change the world with your clothing. So, do not be afraid to wear clothing that reflects you and your values!

Photo via Celine Michael

Celine Michael is a fashion designer, visual merchandiser, and stylist. Follow her on Instagram.

Identifies as: Gay

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I don't think I've ever really cared about what people thought about how I looked or what I wore. It's funny because I have never been the most confident person, yet I have always had confidence in my style with what I choose to wear always. I think my style has always just reflected my natural ability to throw together outfits and truly understand fashion and trends; or what I believe to be fashion.

Did you have any queer fashion role models growing up? Either people who identified as “queer” or who just looked really fucking good, were a little outside of the box, and ended up inspiring you?
I would say two people in the queer community really inspired me in fashion, so much to the point to where I have symbols of them both tattooed on me. The first was Lady Gaga, she really taught me through music and fashion to stretch the boundaries of what can be seen as beautiful, especially when art and fashion go hand in hand. The second is the late Alexander McQueen. Ever since I can remember, I had always been obsessed with his design aesthetic and the emotion he has been able to make me feel through his couture art designs.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable?
I think this is a very important subject. Having struggled with this for a while, as many do. I feel as though that it was important for me just to be able to really open up and gain the confidence that I always lacked, especially the way that I represented myself through fashion. It sort of gave me an inner confidence where, in my own head I was comfortable with myself so I stopped caring if other people were comfortable with me. 

What advice would you give about style? 
Don't ever be ashamed of who you are. Let your fashion reflect your inner beauty, and see where it takes you. Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius.

Photographed by Jones Crow

Tyler Ford is a writer, poet, and speaker living in New York. You can read some of their work on their website. Follow Tyler on Instagram and Twitter.

Identifies as: Agender
Pronouns: They/Them

It’s hard to find a style that really fits who you are when that isn’t reflected in mass media. How did you get to a place where the things you wore really reflected who you are and how you feel?
I find that being open to experimenting with fashion is freeing and helps me to learn a lot about myself and the ways in which I relate to myself. As I become more comfortable with who I am, I’m less afraid to try things, and I often surprise myself with what I like. Designing my own shirts has definitely helped me to reflect who I am as well, because my own words and beliefs are printed across the chest. When I wear those shirts, I’m making a statement about my values and my personality.

Did you have any queer fashion role models growing up? Either people who identified as “queer” or who just looked really fucking good, were a little outside of the box, and ended up inspiring you?
Rihanna’s 2008 VMA performance look changed my life, and during my freshman year of college I went through a huge Shane (from The L Word) phase. Right now, I’m inspired by both Willow and Jaden Smith, but most of all, I just want to be a rad cartoon character.

Why do you think it’s important to be out, how has increased visibility helped you feel comfortable?
Growing up, I had no idea who I could become, because people like me were not represented in media. Going through life without ever seeing anyone like me—without knowing that anyone like me even existed—was incredibly confusing and isolating. It’s important for me to be out so that young, queer and trans people, especially those of color, can see someone like themselves surviving and thriving in the world, but I don’t think it’s important for everyone to be out. Coming out is a series of personal choices, and we all deserve the freedom to make the choices that work for us. There’s so much pressure to come out, even when people aren’t ready to do so or don’t want to do so. In recent years, coming out has been equated with bravery and strength, and deciding not to come out with weakness, fear, and dishonesty. That’s incorrect and unfair; that oversimplifies all that coming out entails and oversimplifies the lives of queer and trans people. Visibility is uncomfortable because I live in a society where people have not yet learned how to talk to or about me. However, I repeatedly choose to be an out trans person in media because I want to educate people, and because I have a desire for my voice to be heard and understood.

Do you have any advice about coming out? 
Any choices you make around coming out—including not coming out at all —are valid and you are loved.

Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue

"I am honored to share this bonding experience with my own daughter"

In a heart-warming Instagram photo, Serena Williams shares the history of hair braiding and the importance of the tradition. The tennis player shared a photo of herself braiding her daughter Olympia Ohanian's hair and spoke about how "honored" she was to be able to "add another generation" to the tradition of the practice.

The photo shows Williams attentively braiding her daughter's hair while Olympia smiles, obviously loving the experience. Williams noted that hair braiding was created by the Himba people in Namibia, Africa, and that "we have been braiding our hair for centuries." "In many African tribes braided hairstyles were a unique way to identify each tribe," she continued.

Williams pointed out that braiding is a bonding experience. "People would often take the time to socialize," she wrote. "It began with the elders braiding their children, then the children would watch and learn from them. The tradition of bonding was carried on for generations, and quickly made its way across the world."

Williams closed her post with a sweet message about her daughter, saying that she's "honored to share this bonding experience" with her.

See the post, below.

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FROM THE WORLD WIDE WEB
Courtesy of Adidas

The Stan Smiths are a must-have

Adidas just shared its capsule of sneakers paying tribute to Keith Haring, and TBH I can already feel my wallet emptying (and they're not even on sale yet). The new collection features three shoe silhouettes, all including the late artist's iconic imagery as embroidered designs.

The standout style of the collection is the Rivalry hi-top; with bright blue and orange stripes and piping along the edges, Haring's stars and cartoon bodies, in black thread, pop right off. If you're looking for something less over-the-top, the quirky white Nizza Hi RF sneakers show a snake wrapping around the back of the shoe and chasing one of Haring's cartoon bodies toward the toe. There's also a minimal embroidered design on the toe of a classic Stan Smith pair. Look a little more closely at the tongue though, and you'll notice the traditional image has been swapped with a caricature of Haring himself.

Peep the three silhouettes, below, and set your calendar for the official drop at the end of the month.

Adidas, Rivalry Hi Keith Haring Shoes, $120, available at Adidas starting at 10am EST on June 30.

Adidas, Nizza Hi RF Haring Shoes, $120, available at Adidas starting at 10am EST on June 30.

Adidas, Stan Smith Keith Haring Shoes, $120, available at Adidas starting at 10am EST on June 30.

NYLON uses affiliate links and may earn a commission if you purchase something through those links, but every product chosen is selected independently.


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Photos by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images, Pascal Le Segretain/Getty Images

Hopefully this one will be typo-free

In an Instagram Live on Thursday, Taylor Swift announced that she would be creating a collaboration with fashion designer Stella McCartney inspired by her upcoming Lover album. Although she kept it vague, we can only assume that the two are working on a collection of luxe merch.

Swift noted in the announcement that she has been friends with McCartney "for a really long time," and that the designer already heard the new album. "I respect what she creates, how she creates it," Swift continued. "There's so much whimsy and imagination and romance to the clothing that she designs." Swift has been wearing McCartney's designs "a lot recently," so maybe we should have seen the collab coming.

One eagle-eyed fan pointed out that Swift wore Stella McCartney rainbow-hued shoes during her Wango Tango set. If the collab is anything like these shoes, you can bet I'll be copping it as quick as I can.

Swift detailed in her Instagram Live that the album Lover would be all about romance, which makes McCartney and her feminine designs perfect for the collaboration. We just hope that this collection doesn't have any typos, like some of Swift's "ME!" merch did.

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Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images

And spreads the message that "we all got crowns"

Late on Thursday, Taylor Swift dropped a new single, "You Need To Calm Down," and announced her forthcoming studio album, Lover, out this August. Following her lead single "ME!" Swift continues to spread her message of self-love and call out haters—particularly the homophobic ones—in this latest song.

Swift "ended homophobic locals," as one fan put it on Twitter, with one particular lyric: "'Cause shade never made anybody less gay."

Along with the song, Swift shared a lyric video via YouTube which made her sentiments even clearer. With her lyric, "Why are you made?/ When you could be glad?" she spelled "glad" as "GLAAD," referencing the queer media advocacy organization.

Swift sings of homophobic protestors in the second verse: "Sunshine on the street at the parade/ But you would rather be in the dark ages/ Makin' that sign must've taken all night." In the pre-chorus, she adds, "You just need to take several seats and then try to restore the peace/ And control your urges to scream about all the people you hate."

Swift additionally comments on women being pitted against each other—"We see you over there on the internet comparing all the girls who are killin' it"—asserting that "we all got crowns." There's nothing trolls can do to rain on her parade anymore.

One fan pointed out the possible symbolism of the crown lyric. In "Call It What You Want," track 14 on Reputation, she sings "They took the crown but it's alright." Now on "You Need To Calm Down," track 14 of Lover, she sings that there's not just one crown—we all have them.

Some fans are pointing to the double meaning of the track title. If I had a dollar for every time someone said those words to me in a totally condescending way, I'd probably be richer than her! What woman hasn't been told to calm down about an entirely not-calm situation or while expressing their distaste?

During Swift's live stream for the release of the song, she also announced a fashion collaboration with designer Stella McCartney, a peek of which we got during the singer's WangoTango performance.

Lover is set for August 23 release.

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Credit: Frederick Elmes/ Focus Features

"I was like, 'Did I sleep with this critic's girlfriend, or what?'"

The day I meet Jim Jarmusch, the sun hangs so bright and hot and yellow and solid in the sky that it's hard to believe that it will actually set at night. It's one of those New York June days that suggests we might be in permanent daylight; it's got a completely different feeling than the crepuscular atmosphere of Jarmusch's latest film, The Dead Don't Die, which takes place in a small town in what feels like one long twilight, maybe the last one.

But for today, Jarmusch and I are sitting at a table in a sun-filled restaurant, though we're in the shade. We're in a part of the city that used to be very punk rock, and is now very NYU, yet being there with Jarmusch, who looks so at home, like he's holding court in the booth (it helps that Larry Fessenden, an old friend of Jarmusch's and a writer/director/producer/actor, who appears in The Dead Don't Die, happens by the table to say hi), makes the area feel a little punk rock again, even with all the sun.

The Dead Don't Die is a very punk rock zombie movie, by which I mean: It's not very scary, but it is very cool, and even when it's sneering, it's a little bit tender. Starring Bill Murray, Adam Driver, and Chloë Sevigny as a trio of small-town cops who fight back against a nascent zombie apocalypse caused by fracking, the film is cast with a who's who of Jarmusch regulars, like Steve Buscemi, Tilda Swinton, Iggy Pop, and Fessenden, to name a few; but it also features younger stars like Caleb Landry Jones, Selena Gomez, and Luka Sabbat—and there's a real earworm of a theme song, courtesy of Sturgill Simpson.

Below, I speak with Jarmusch about the movie, being a dilettante, and why he only reads his negative reviews—which is definitely one of the most punk rock things I've ever heard.

Photo by Gareth Cattermole/ Getty Images

This was filmed on a pretty condensed shooting schedule, right?
It was a very rough schedule. A very difficult one, actually.

We only had seven weeks to shoot, and we had to shoot Adam Driver out in three weeks because he had to be delivered to Star Wars, and the financing of the film was incredibly grueling and took a long time, so we were pushed so far that we had about one month of prep, and then three weeks with Adam. And then all these different actors coming in and out; I don't know how Carter and Josh, the two producers, organized it all. And then we'd shoot 15-hour days, and halfway through, I had walking pneumonia; I had two coats; it was 95 out; I was shaking. You know, just weird stuff like that. But it's all okay because we had such great people—our crew—everybody. And then, the visual effects were very taxing and complicated.

How did that all work together? Because there's more than one decapitated head.
Yeah, it's a mixture. First of all, we mixed prosthetics with makeup with masks for some of the zombie stuff, but all of those effects with the decapitations, we had to just imagine. So we had to choreograph everything and then only imagine kind of what it would be like, which was, for me, very abstract because I'm not very versed in visual effects. You know, you had to really kind of trust your instincts, because Adam Driver's chopping away with a machete with no blade.

It could've been a machete, it could've been a lightsaber, who knows? So, to what degree is this a sequel of Paterson with Adam Driver's character's last name being Peterson?
Well, I just do these things to amuse myself while writing, you know? Bill Murray in Broken Flowers was named Don Johnson, and in this, I gave him the name Cliff Robertson. Tilda Swinton's character is Zelda Winston. Rosie Perez is named Posie Juarez. You know, I'm just kind of amusing myself.

And Peterson, Paterson. While we were filming Paterson I was always teasing Adam that the next one, we would make was gonna be a sequel about a psychopathic murderous bus driver named Peterson. Tag line: "Get the fuck off my bus!" Or "Next Stop Hell!" You know, stuff like that. It's just to make them... I love trying to make Adam Driver laugh, because he has a very odd and wonderful sense of humor, but it's on the dry side, so I'm always joking around with him between work to try and see what makes him laugh.

But yeah, there's no sequel of any kind, and I don't think that way, and I don't plan, and I don't see my films from the past ever again. I just look toward the next thing.

Credit: Frederick Elmes/ Focus Features

What was the original concept for this? When did you start coalescing all of these different elements into knowing that you wanted it to be your next film?
Some years ago after Only Lovers Left Alive, Tilda kept teasing me, calling me, saying, "When do we do the zombies? When are we doing the zombies?" And in between I made Paterson and Gimme Danger, but then after those I started writing the zombie one, and my original conception was: I wanna make a film that's really funny and silly like Coffee and Cigarettes, where people talk about whatever nonsense I want them to, and I want to get actors I love, you know? So I thought, okay, if I make a zombie film, I can have a structure where different groups are cordoned off against the zombies, and the zombie attacks will be intermittent and not very long, so I'll have long lags where they're just stuck there, like in the house of The Night of the Living Dead, where they can talk about any kind of nonsense. So that was my first idea, and then when I started writing it, for some reason, I wanted to have a small town, Centerville, and I just followed my intuition, and it became this, I don't really know why beyond that.

What is it about small towns that make them the perfect setting for existential terror?
They're insular. They're kind of… everyone kind of knows each other. It's controllable by the characters. It's believable that everyone kind of know each other. I don't know. I'm not very good at analyzing that. And also, this is not a horror film because horror films use devices that are necessary to frighten people, like suspense, and then you get scared. We have no interest whatsoever in that. This is more of a metaphorical zombie film, but I would not call it a horror movie. It's a comedy with zombies with a kind of sad ending. Beyond that, I don't know what it is.

And horror nerds may not like it if they're expecting creepy, creepy, scary thing! They're not gonna get it. They're not gonna get that delivered to them.

What's interesting about it is seeing who fights back against this existential dread. Or, like, Chloë Sevigny's character, Mindy, doesn't fight, she is on her own separate trip, avoiding the end till she embraces it.
It's a character film. It's not even a plot film, really, although critics say that about all my films. But Chloë… it's a complicated thing, because when I first called Chloë, I told her... I wrote her a letter, and then she said, "Yeah, yeah I'd like to do this." And I said, obviously, this is not a feminist character. She's reactive. She's our sort of "Scream Queen." She screams like six times. But Chloë is the master of reaction, and I love watching her react.

She definitely feels like a stand-in for what a normal person would feel during these absurdist experiences, which is nice to have. It's not necessarily that you need a relatable character in a movie like this, but...
Yeah, but she's an empathetic human that's in a job with some authority, but in a small town where that means taking care of whatever, you know, as a police officer, pretty minimal [stuff]. There's not a lot of rampant crime or anything going on… or anything at all, really.

Credit : Frederick Elmes / Focus Features

A lot of people are going to be projecting tons of different meanings onto this film, like with all your films. To what level do you participate in that or pay attention to that? Or, once you're done making a film, is it just out there, and you just let people project onto it whatever they will?
I've always felt that anyone's interpretation of a film that I write and direct is probably more valid than my own. Because it's a funny thing, the beauty of films is going into a world—or a book or whatever—but going into a world that you don't know, and you are entering a world, and it takes you. And if you wrote it, and you were there filming it, and you're in the editing room every day for six months, the mix, and all that... I can never possibly see it. I like hearing what friends or people I know... I like Q and As after screenings because they have no agenda except their interest. I like that a lot, and I value that. I don't really like to read a lot of reviews unless they're really negative. I love the negative ones.

You do?
Yeah, because they must be very far from me in their perception of the world, and that is interesting to me. But I try not to read a lot...

I think you're probably the first person who I've ever spoken to who says they like to read the negative reviews.
I really like them. The worst one I ever got in my life, I laminated and used to carry in my wallet. It was a brief thing from a right-wing French [paper], maybe Le Figaro or something, of a film called Dead Man that we made, and they said—this is the English translation—"The French intelligence celebrates Jarmusch in the way death and blind parents would celebrate their retarded child. Jarmusch is 33 years old, the same age as Christ when he was crucified. We can only hope the same for his film career." I was like, Whoa! That is harsh! I'm keeping that one!

It gets personal.
But that was vicious. I was like, Did I sleep with this critic's girlfriend, or what? What happened? It was really... the knife was sharpened, you know.

That speaks to a very specific kind of agenda for sure.
A friend of mine Amos Poe, he's sort of a mentor of mine, a punk filmmaker, whatever, and when we were young when he made, in the late-'70s, one of his films—The Foreigner or Unmade Beds—the New York Times called it "the cinematic equivalent of kindergarten scribbling," and he put that on his posters and put "New York Times" and we were like punks, we were like, "Yes! Amos! That's great!"

I mean, it genuinely is a pretty great pull quote, and I think also a little bit oblivious to the charms of a kindergartener's scribbles and what the value is in that anyway.
Yeah, it was kind of accurate in a positive way, and they intended it as very negative.

In this film, there are so many actors who are veteran actors, but there are also a lot of younger actors. What do you like about the combination of that dynamic?
I just like the variety of sort of world perceptions—indicated in a very minor way when Bill Murray's character says, "I've known Hermit Bob since we were in junior high," and Adam's character says, "Oh, wow! That must've been like 50 years ago!" And Bill says, "Yeah. It was." But just the kind of difference of perception of age I find as I get older really interesting. And I'm very interested in young people, especially teenagers, because I think they form our sense of style, of music, of so many things, and yet they're kind of pushed around and treated badly and constantly told, "You don't know how the world really works! You're just a teenager!" But they gave us poetry. They gave us Mary Shelley and Rimbaud and chess masters, and all the great music comes a lot from teenagers. So I tried to keep a pulse, that's why the three teenagers, I would not let them turn into zombies. There are only four people [who don't get turned by zombies]: those three that are delinquents, and the Tom Waits character, who's already removed himself from the social order long before.

When the zombies become zombies, they all have one inciting thing that they're still pursuing in the real world. Do you have one thing that you think you would pursue if you were a zombie?
You know, it's hard because I'm a self-proclaimed dilettante. I'm interested in so many things, I don't know if I would be breaking into a bookstore, or if I would be in the alley outside of a movie theater, or if I would be trying to get into a guitar shop. I'm not sure. I have a lot of interests.

I mean there's a way in which it's a really tender portrayal of the human impulse to just seek out these things that they love.
It's not totally a critique; it's their vestigial memory of some things that they were drawn toward, whether it was power tools or oxycontin.

The Dead Don't Die is in theaters now.

Credit: Frederick Elmes/ Focus Features