Eye floaters can be related to serious medical conditions, but at least I know the cause of my temporarily impeded peripheral vision: a full set of lethally curved false lashes topped with 3-inch-long ostrich feathers bobbing at the outer corners.
You see, I haven’t stopped thinking about the makeup from Thom Browne Autumn/Winter 2025 since it fluttered down the runway a few weeks ago, and not even the rest of Fashion Month could convince me that this wasn’t the most memorable beauty look of them all. It was fun, it was fluffy, and it had to be on my face. But while I’m confident I could recreate the show’s clownish power suiting with just a Benjamin and a Metrocard, the self-assigned challenge of DIYing the bird-of-paradise eye would have been a little daunting without an assist from the creator herself.
Logically, the first step was to procure the plumes — not too soft, or else they won’t hold their shape, makeup artist and It Girl Isamaya Ffrench told NYLON. (I got mine at the still-open M&J Trimming.) She also sent step-by-step instructions for applying the exact Isamaya x Lashify Edge Xs she used for the show, but I gladly accepted an even step-by-steppier Zoom tutorial from Jill Medicis, director of education for Lashify, during which she taught me how to adhere the tiny, highly flexible strips to the undersides of my curled natural lashes, dry them with a tool that resembles a baby nasal aspirator, and sandwich the layers together with Wandom-covered clamps.
I’ve never put falsies on myself, much less not on the lash line, but these are so forgiving and snap into place so easily that I unintentionally did two full sets. (We lost a baddie, aka a crucial outer strip, when I slept in them after a trial run, so I had to redo the whole thing with the slightly smaller-winged Edges.) In fact, the only mildly difficult bit was pulling out the barbs from the feathers before sticking them on with extra-strength bond.
My version ended up looking less full and scruffier than Isamaya’s, mostly because I got tired of ripping out feather pieces, but she did also present the option of them for a “cool spidery effect.” However, neither my impatience nor my molting-swan paint job mattered much, because when I burst into my first video call of the day, lashes blazing, I was met with a triple gasp. (I should mention here that I don’t usually wear any makeup.) One colleague said I looked beautiful and immediately clocked the falsies, which acted like graphic liner in spite of my smudgy webcam. Spirits high, I then went on a dissociation walk where most passersby kept it pushing, though I was on the receiving end of a few double takes. This was also when I learned of the hazards associated with wearing Thom Browne’s AW25 runway makeup in an uncontrolled environment: The wind tangled the feathers and whipped one directly into my pupil.
Nonetheless, she persisted and went out for an evening of mezcal palomas, a knockoff-but-better Crunchwrap Supreme at 320 Club, and Black Bag. (The original plan was to see Ne Zha 2 in 3D, but there’s no way the lashes would have fit under those glasses.) Did anyone make any noteworthy remarks except my friend, who took one look, sighed, and said “chic” in a way that suggested he’s tired of my bullsh*t? No, but that’s not why we do it. We do it for fashion. We do it because we think it looks cool (even if no one else does). We do it for the laughs — and laugh I did, hard, when I found myself having to maneuver my Crunchwrap between ostrich feathers to eat it.
