This year has made one thing clear: Women are showing up, stepping up, and taking what they deserve. From politics to pop culture, women aren’t just leveling the playing field, they’re owning it. As we ramp up to our annual Women of the Year summit, we will be highlighting women across industries who do the work every day. Whether it’s the CEO of a multinational retail corporation, a James Beard Award-winning chef, or the World Cup champions, here are the names you need to know right now. We’ve already celebrated the women in sports and beauty. Up now: 11 women who occupy unique positions in the fashion industry. There are the executives leading major American brands, the founders identifying overlooked opportunities, and the designers building whole words through clothing. Here, they talk career, success, and what’s next.
“I’ve been going to Fashion Week for years, and street photographers are still a big problem. They literally won’t take a picture [of plus women]. I know I look cute, but it makes you feel like you don’t belong there, or it was a mistake that you were invited to this place. Up until three or four seasons ago when brands began focusing solely on inclusive galleries, I was starting to feel like I didn’t want to go to Fashion Week anymore. People walk past you, or act like you don’t belong there. It wasn’t until designers started including one or two plus models in their shows—or really trying to make sure people know they’re inclusive—that I started getting moved me closer to the front row. It’s nice to feel included, but it’s also like, I know I’m just here as a token or a pawn. It’s somewhat more inclusive, but it almost feels like tokenism. It’s a double edged sword.” —Kelly Augustine, Owner of August Raye Boutique
Model and author
Courtesy of Leah Vernon
“One time I was in London during Fashion Week. I wasn’t invited to an actual show, but I was to an after party you had to RSVP for. I was there with another huge plus-size influencer in Europe, and another plus-size gal who works behind-the-scenes in the fashion industry. But when we got to the after party and pulled out our phones to show our RSVP confirmations, the woman didn’t even look. She just said, ‘Sorry, we’re not letting anyone else in. We’re at full capacity.’ People were literally walking out the door as she said it. We pushed back and asked to talk to her manager, where we had to wait five minutes for them to finally let us in. Of course, once we got into the party, it wasn’t close to capacity, and we were the only visibly plus-sized women there. Stuff like this happens too often when you’re plus size.”
“At Fashion Week, the seats are one long bench, and each ‘seat’ is a piece of 8-by-11 paper with your name on it. And one bum is supposed to go in each of those seats. I used to just move to the back row—and if you’re in fashion, you understand that sitting in the front row is a status symbol. It’s important for your publication, and it’s also important for you as a person. If you want a promotion, if you want to get poached and go work somewhere else, if you want to show that you are as important as the straight-size editor beside you, your potential new editor-in-chief needs to walk in to that show and see you beside your competition, not in the back hiding. I got to a certain point where I wouldn’t move. I remember one show where I had a quarter of my left butt cheek on the end of the bench, and I did a wall sit without a wall for the entire show. Fashion shows are only five to 10 minutes long, but still, that’s a long fucking squat. I was sweating and shaking, and in my head thinking, I’m not moving.” —Lauren Chan, founder of Henning and former fashion editor
We’re sick of brands pretending they include us—when they don’t
Writer
Heather Hazzan
“Sometimes I’m invited to events, like the launch of a new collection, and there’s nothing in the line that could fit me or any other plus-size person. My fashion writing revolves around plus sizes, so why would I cover that? Even worse is when a publicist tells me how size-inclusive a brand is only to find out their clothes just go up to a size 18. Newsflash publicists and brands: it’s not! And to suggest otherwise is incredibly offensive—plus size typically starts at a 14/16, so you’re barely even dipping your toes in the plus-size market.”
Fashionista editor-in-chief
Getty Images
“I realize that this comes from a huge place of privilege, but gifting [is a real issue]. I’ve always been somewhere between a size 12 and a 14, so anytime brands are gifting and I’m asked for a size, I respond with a range. Some of my favorite responses are, ‘It goes up to a 10, but it’s a roomy 10,” which, cool, thank you. A ‘roomy 10’ is still not my size, and also, what a weird thing to say. I think people mean well—they’re taught that to point out any kind of difference in size is rude. I get it. I often call mediums the ‘polite large,’ because if I get random mailers from people who haven’t emailed me for my size and they send me a medium, I know they went and looked at my social. They know I’m not a small, but they were scared to send me a large. If they asked, I would’ve said I need a large, and that’s fine.”
Writer and founder of Rascal Honey
Courtesy of Sarah Conley
“As a size 28, I am consistently pushing the plus-size industry to include larger sizes, which feels extra ridiculous. On a weekly basis, I’m approached by brands who want to work with me and even though I am very open about my size (it’s even in my Instagram bio), I often receive confused and callous replies from brand representatives when I tell them that I’m outside of their size range.”
Taylor Swift sat down with the Guardian for her first major U.K. interview in years, and over the course of the conversation, she opened up about pretty much everything fans have wanted to ask her over the last several years. Swift went into detail about her political views and why it took her so long to speak out about them; she explained why she’s been so protective of her relationship with actor Joe Alwyn; and she even shared her thoughts on the pop music industry and how it can feel like The Hunger Games sometimes.
During the interview, Swift focuses a lot on 2016—a rough year for her, during which she had some public feuds with Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj, and Kanye West and Kim Kardashian. She had previously said in interviews that “an artist fails when they lose their self-awareness,” and she’s asked if she feels she’d made the same mistake during her career.
“I definitely think that sometimes you don’t realize how you’re being perceived,” she said. “Pop music can feel like it’s The Hunger Games, and like we’re gladiators. And you can really lose focus of the fact that that’s how it feels because that’s how a lot of stan [fan] Twitter and tabloids and blogs make it seem – the overanalyzing of everything makes it feel really intense.”
From there on, Swift launches into even more details about aspects of her career and her time in public view. The entire piece is full of nuance, and you can read it here. In the meantime, here’s what we learned about Swift:
Why she’s protective of her relationship with Joe Alywn:“I’ve learned that if I do [talk about the relationship], people think it’s up for discussion, and our relationship isn’t up for discussion,” she said. “If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it—but it’s just that it goes out into the world. That’s where the boundary is, and that’s where my life has become manageable. I really want to keep it feeling manageable.”
How she overcome one of her toughest years:“You can either stand there and let the wave crash into you, and you can try as hard as you can to fight something that’s more powerful and bigger than you… Or you can dive under the water, hold your breath, wait for it to pass and while you’re down there, try to learn something. Why was I in that part of the ocean? There were clearly signs that said: Rip tide! Undertow! Don’t swim! There are no lifeguards!”
“Why was I there? Why was I trusting people I trusted?” she said. “Why was I letting people into my life the way I was letting them in? What was I doing that caused this?”
What she’s learned about her own privilege:Swift said that she’s come to understand “a lot about how my privilege allowed me to not have to learn about white privilege. I didn’t know about it as a kid, and that is privilege itself, you know? And that’s something that I’m still trying to educate myself on every day. How can I see where people are coming from, and understand the pain that comes with the history of our world?”
Why she sued radio DJ David Mueller, who touched her ass at a meet-and–greet event.“Having dealt with a few of them, narcissists basically subscribe to a belief system that they should be able to do and say whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want to,” she said. “And if we—as anyone else in the world, but specifically women—react to that, well, we’re not allowed to. We’re not allowed to have a reaction to their actions.”
We’re just a couple weeks away from the release of Taylor Swift‘s latest album, Lover, on August 23. And in the lead-up to its release, we’re learning more and more about where Swift is at in her life—through Easter eggs left in her videos and commercials and in interviews, like her latest one for Vogue. (She graces the cover of the magazine’s September issue.)
In the interview, Swift opens up about various aspects of her career, including the shift she saw once she transitioned from a rising star in the industry to a powerful woman. When asked if she was always aware of sexism around her, Swift gives this thoughtful answer: “When I was a teenager, I would hear people talk about sexism in the music industry, and I’d be like, I don’t see it. I don’t understand,” she tells Vogue. “Then I realized that was because I was a kid. Men in the industry saw me as a kid. I was a lanky, scrawny, overexcited young girl who reminded them more of their little niece or their daughter than a successful woman in business or a colleague. The second I became a woman, in people’s perception, was when I started seeing it.”
“It’s fine to infantilize a girl’s success and say, How cute that she’s having some hit songs,” she continues. “How cute that she’s writing songs. But the second it becomes formidable? As soon as I started playing stadiums—when I started to look like a woman—that wasn’t as cool anymore. It was when I started to have songs from Red come out and cross over, like ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ and ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.’”
In the interview, she also reveals a moment where she realized she wanted to be more vocal about her stance on LGBTQ+ issues. Swift describes driving in a car with her friend and collaborator, Todrick Hall, when he asked her what she would do if her son was gay. “The fact that he had to ask me…shocked me and made me realize that I had not made my position clear enough or loud enough,” she says. “If my son was gay, he’d be gay. I don’t understand the question.”
“If he was thinking that, I can’t imagine what my fans in the LGBTQ community might be thinking,” she continued. “It was kind of devastating to realize that I hadn’t been publicly clear about that.” Since then, she has spoken out publicly against certain political candidates and stood up for the Equality Act, along with more overt lyrics (and cameos) in her latest singles in support of the community, as well as a surprise appearance at the Stonewall Inn during Pride.
Swift explains why she wasn’t more vocal sooner, too. “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male,” she says. “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of. It’s hard to know how to do that without being so fearful of making a mistake that you just freeze. Because my mistakes are very loud. When I make a mistake, it echoes through the canyons of the world. It’s clickbait, and it’s a part of my life story, and it’s a part of my career arc.”
Auralís Herrero Lugo moved to Puerto Rico from New York City in January with a plan to rebuild the island’s ailing fashion industry. To characterize going back home after Hurricane María worsened a decade-long economic crisis as a big challenge would be an understatement—but she says those are a recurring theme in her life.
“I’m always the type of person [who is] never clear on what she’s doing, but does it anyway,” Herrero says. “People always tell me I’m crazy for wanting to come back, but I always say, ‘Why not’?”
This was actually Herrero’s third attempt to move back home, after building a fashion career in the mainland. The last time she tried to relocate, a few years ago, she was the head of a sustainable resort wear brand, Auralístudio. Her plan was to have the line be manufactured in Puerto Rico and sold in New York, but it didn’t pan out: Herrero realized local factories didn’t know how to work with designers the way she had experienced in Manhattan’s Garment District. “In New York, you take your designs and materials to the factory and have your orders back in two weeks,” she says. “In Puerto Rico, there wasn’t even a connection between designer and factory.”
Though you might not think of it as a fashion destination now, Puerto Rico has a history with clothing manufacturing, dating back to the early 20th century. By 1936, nearly 100,000 women worked as seamstresses for local factories, or led their own home delivery sewing businesses. Today, the factories that remain, according to Herrero, mostly produce large uniform orders, primarily for the military and local schools; major designers on the island, primarily based in the capital of San Juan, focus on bridal and special-occasion gowns.
That realization is what drove her third go: Herrero is the co-founder and director of Retazo, a fashion manufacturing and education platform created to bridge the gap between local designers and factories with sustainable practices in Puerto Rico. The name comes from the Spanish word for both a fabric scrap and a big challenge—fitting for this particular project.
PHOTO: Courtesy of Retazo
An image from a manufacturing workshop with local designers Agnes Anna Studio and Sally Torres Vega.
Herrero explains that the lack of resources for the ready-to-wear market in the island has created a disconnect between designers and manufacturers. “There is a big hole there,” she says. “Puerto Rico has the talent and the vision but there is no manufacturing for [ready-to-wear] designers.”
A graduate of Moore College of Art and Design, Herrero worked at Susana Monaco and G-Star early in her career. At 25, she decided to quit her job as a creative director at an established brand and launch her own venture, Auralístudio. Throughout all of this, Herrero developed a passion for circular product development and design, a sustainable practice where pieces are made with longevity and responsible material sourcing in mind. (She’s taught courses at the Fashion Institute of Technology and Parsons the New School for Design, both in New York, about this topic.)
Even as her career developed in New York, Herrero kept thinking of how her skills might translate to her native Puerto Rico, where she always envisioned moving to. So, in 2014, she created a PowerPoint presentation to develop a new project that would combine her experience both as a sustainable designer and as an educator. She visited factories on the island to see how she could create a platform that would bridge that gap between manufacturing and design. And she found three partners to help make Retazo a reality: Ruby Dávila, a fashion business specialist; Daniel Santiago, a fashion sales executive; and Ellen Christine Colón-Lugo, a New York-based milliner and educator.
In 2017, Retazo was established. It received a $5,000 grant from the Puerto Rican government that allowed Herrero to establish the company and its workshop space. With Hurricane María ravaging the island in September, though, the small team she had built decided to put Retazo on hold. “Looking at all of Puerto Rico’s problems is different when you are outside,” she says. “Once you are here, you’re swimming with everyone else and it’s scary to think about our future.” In early 2018, though, the company won another $20,000, this time from local startup accelerator Parallel18, as part of an initiative created to attract local entrepreneurs after the hurricane. Retazo officially launched to the public in July 2018.
Retazo supports factories by providing education and training programs to diversify their offerings and encourage ready-to-wear production. It then connects designers in and out of the island with local manufacturers, to bring that business back to Puerto Rico. Retazo has also partnered with the Sor Isolina Ferre Center, a community-focused non-profit on the island, to create two manufacturing labs—one in San Juan, and one in the southern town of Ponce—set to open in January 2019, which will focus on developing sustainable production practices.
Its initial goal was to attract at least 15 designers to be members by its official launch last month. At press time, the company has 41 clients (including Project Runway contestant Margarita Alvarez), dismissing skeptics on both sides who, as Herrero encountered, didn’t see the value of collaborating: “There was a lot of resistance from the factories at first because they didn’t see the value in working with small, local designers or producing smaller order,” she remembers.
PHOTO: Courtesy of Retazo
Auralís Herrero Lugo.
Herrero says it was never her plan to leave Puerto Rico. “I think it’s been more difficult to come back than it was to leave at 18,” she says. She was determined, though—and that meant finding a full-time job (as a product development director at a factory in the central town of Corozal) that would allow her to focus on building Retazo without having to worry about finances. “I will continue to work full-time until Retazo can afford me,” she says. “So, for now, this helps.”
Still, Herrero’s devotion to Retazo and her homeland keep her afloat: She says her 45-minute morning commute from San Juan to the mountains of Corozal looks straight out of a postcard. “I can’t believe I get to do this job and to live home now,” she says.
At a time when laws are cracking down on influencers to be more transparent, Jackie Aina rises above the #sponcon. Since launching her YouTube channel over a decade ago, the 31-year-old’s refreshing candor has earned her a reputation for telling it like is. She calls out brands when they’re not inclusive, holds other influencers accountable for offensive remarks, and doesn’t shy away from tough discussions about colorism in the industry. She’ll also make you laugh your ass off.
Not only has it landed her lucrative makeup collaborations, it’s led to actual change in the industry—the latest being Too Faced’s expanded range of Born This Way foundations, which she helped create. Ahead of the launch, the beauty mogul reflects on the pressure to be the voice of a revolution and why she won’t be quiet.
When I started my YouTube channel in 2009, my goal was never to be an “influencer.” I was in the military, far away from friends and family, and really lonely. The one thing that always made me feel better was makeup.
Originally, I think part of me wanted to get on camera to show that not every person who serves their country is rough and rugged. You can be feminine and fight for freedom. So I filmed a few tutorials in my uniform, and the response was crazy. People loved that I wasn’t this out-of-reach makeup artist—just a regular girl.
Then, around 2015, I was feeling less excited by my channel and realized that I was trying to be too “professional” instead of showing my true crazy self. And that’s when I had my first viral video: a parody on all the weird beauty trends (like crazy eyebrows) from that year. Being myself paid off—I think that’s why I now have more than 2 million subscribers on YouTube.
As my fan base grew, beauty brands started sending me lots of products. But it was disappointing to receive things that wouldn’t work for my skin tone. So I really began to take on more of a voice for the black beauty community, critiquing brands that aren’t inclusive.
Some days I have to say, “Kitchen’s closed,” and log off social media.
It’s always been a tough balance. It’d be easier to water down my content—I feel like a lot of people thought that once I hit a certain milestone, 1 million subscribers, then 2 million, I’d stop talking about race or “political stuff,” as so many people call it. I don’t think it’s political; I’m just talking about experiences that are true to me. My goal is to always make people of color feel good when they come to my channel. It’s not just about putting on lipstick. It’s about people feeling beautiful, not intimidated. I’ve learned that as long as I feel passionate about a critique, it’s important to stand by it.
One downside of using my voice? People expect me to have an opinion on everything. Just because I don’t always comment on political issues doesn’t mean I don’t care about them—it just means I can’t take on the weight of everything. Some days I have to say, “Kitchen’s closed,” and log off social media.
But I’ll gladly take on all those frustrations because my platform has given me the power to make a difference. For example, I recently teamed up with Too Faced Cosmetics to help expand its Born This Way foundation range (which comes out today) and make sure the undertones would actually work for women of color. Jerrod Blandino, the cofounder and chief creative officer of Too Faced, could have hired anyone he wanted to help him on this project. Instead he gave a black woman a seat at the table and let me do my thing. He gave me a voice on this issue that is so important to me, and the ability to make a real change. That’s huge!
PHOTO: Jackie Aina
Aina with the swatches from the new collaboration
I’m really proud of the darkest shade, Ganache. After multiple tries (it kept pulling a little too red), we finally got it right, and it’s beautiful. I was so glad they were willing to keep at it. We created nine new shades, and now the line’s full spectrum has 35 colors.
Inclusion doesn’t stop at foundation, though, and that’s what I hope all beauty brands can take away from this movement. Can I use your lipsticks? Are your eyeshadows pigmented enough to show up on my skin tone? Do you have blushes that work for me? For so many brands, I still can’t use anything; it’s literally only for light skin. We still have work to do, and I won’t stop talking about it until it’s done.
For more on Jackie’s collaboration with Too Faced—and to shop the line—click here.
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