May Dispatch
thoughts on the post met-gala social season, Paris & The English Countryside, and creativity and women like Maria Grazia Churi leaving Dior and Taylor Swift's reclaiming her masters
It’s now June, (aka the best month) thank god, but wow was May a long one. I wrote half of this substack enroute to the airport two weeks ago, and then just enjoyed traveling at a non-fashion week pace too much to go back and finish. But the jet lag has been brutal so here’s a sort of interesting weaving on the busyness and then the stillness of the last month. May started out a bit rough if I’m being honest. But I was able to distract myself well enough with the usual social butterfly things that start springing up when the weather in New York is finally nice again.
And May in New York City is another kind of Fashion Season, with the First Monday in May. While I wasn’t doing the met gala again this year, there’s always pre-parties to attend. On my docket for Saturday before the gala were the Versace x Moda Operandi party at The Twenty Two and the Friends of The Costume Institute soiree at Coco’s at Colette. And despite not going to the gala it didn’t slow down at all. I hosted a dinner with one of my besties Danielle for IPPF (International Planned Parenthood Federation), to raise awareness of how the current administrations gutting of aid programs will effect global health and women’s rights around the world. I attended the New York City Ballet Masquerade the following day in a big red tulle Carolina Herrera concoction, that I adored. The following week was nonstop either. The Cura Collective (co-founded by me and besties Lizzie and Laura) hosted a drinks and Dinner with Sauer Jewelry in support of our work to end New York State’s voluntary intoxication loophole, and provides more paths to Justice for Sexual Assault survivors. Then the next day was the Frick Young Fellows Ball - the first one back in the mansion since the reopening earlier this spring. I wore a custom Bach Mai dress, that was an absolute dream. Are you tired yet? I’m tired. I was more than happy to get out of town and head to Paris for a bachelorette and wedding and frolic through English Countryside like Elizabeth Bennet for two weeks.
Speaking of Jane Austen though, gives me the opportunity to say thank god the “social season” is over. Every time I say the words “The season” when referring to the social whirl of New York City that happens from February to May and September to November I feel simultaneously amazing and ridiculously pretentious. On one hand it’s a life I dreamed of in my teenage bedroom. On the other, it does SOUND weird, and while I personally, have the phrase imprinted into my brain from reading too much Jane Austen, etc - More people know about it because of Bridgerton, of course (which sidebar: I love the show, but the fact that it’s everyone’s point of reference these days AND the whole thing with Vitamin String Quartet top 100 covers, which I’ve been using for ages as part of my novel writing soundtrack… anyway I digress). So anyways, when I left on this trip the season wasn’t quite over, but it is for me because like many Austen heroines before me I am heading to the country. Just in the 21st century it looks like heading across the Atlantic. I initially wrote this piece to you from my lovely air conditioned SUV somewhere on the 495 enroute to JFK for my 10:35 Delta flight to Charles de Gaulle. I was going to spend five days in Paris for a Bachelorette and Wedding of a college friend I met interning at Vogue (congrats Linse!) and head to the motherland aka London for a few days before embarking on the Frick Young Fellows curatorial trip through Bath (where I have already warned all participants of the trip how annoying I will be since we’re visiting a few great estates where they have filmed Jane Austen Faves Pride & Prej, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, and yes, maybe a few episodes of Bridgerton. You bet your ass I have my caption picked out already. And yes, it’s a Jane Austen quote leave me alone.)
The sunset was beautiful as we crossed the Williamsburg bridge I’ve felt particularly tense and drawn out as this ‘season’ has drawn to a close. And I already feel better as I keep putting space between myself and the little island village of 8 million people that I call home. I’ve unfortunately noticed that since my mom died I get really anxious before trips these days. But once I’m on my way, everything is fine. I’ve got my airport routine down pat, at this point, that I honestly don’t know how I would handle it changing. But I feel change afoot. (Why at this point did I start singing to myself: Wind’s in the east, Mist coming in, like something is brewing, about to begin.)
But I was right. Because somehow two weeks away made everything more clear. It removes the noise. And makes the creativity flow so much easier. The lovely week of the bachelorette and wedding in Paris was great for a million reasons, including the fact that my friend I met as a vogue intern is deliriously happy. And also that we had bit of schadenfruede that it was a much more low key bachelorette than one the week before for a faux-stronaut and her wedding to a billionaire. Paris is a great idea when you’re actually getting to experience the city (burlesque class included) and not running around to fashion events. Which I do love. But I did sense my perspective beginning to shift. My thoughts on how the future was going to be shaped. And that’s a beautiful thing.
I recently discovered Romy Mars has a singing career. Which I love for her, honestly. If my dad was in Phoenix and my Mom was Sofia Coppola I’d expect nothing less. Her new song “A-lister” is a delightful little sun-soaked gem that would fit perfectly on the soundtrack of her Mom’s films no problem. It feels like a great summer soundtrack. And I’m here for it. It’s been so heavy recently.
I had a feeling that two days in London (which included me accidentally ending up as a background extra on a reality show - will report back later haha) and the absolute mecca that was going to be the Bath trip for me, I felt it was going to be transformative. And t was. I don’t love nature the way others do. But something about touring all of these country houses (highlights include Stourhead gardens - the shooting location of the 2005 pride and prejudice’s proposal scene, and Wilton House which is beyond stunning and has one of the large Van Eyck paintings in existence just casually on their wall.) I had spent so much time in transit - on planes, trains, and automobiles - that I actually got way more work down finishing the outline for the draft of the sequel to my novel. Which I started writing this morning. Something about the english countryside is a powerful muse, after all, what are men compared to rocks and mountains?
Seeing a lot of this amazing art in the context of former and current private homes made me think a lot about painters and their muses. We know the feeling of the man who is the artist but what about the muse? What does her side of the story look like? Is she her own agent ? Is she enjoying the attention? Does she want more ? The trip with the Frick was ostensibly about the 18th century painter Thomas Gainsborough (in preparation of an exhibition on his work at the museum next year), but it got me thinking about how much of what we see as the past (the entitlement of access to certain nobles and royal family at Versailles draws to mind how people treat celebrities on social media. I can’t help but see people lining up to watch taylor swift go out to dinner, and draw parallels to Marie Antoinette - who also famously valued the informality and her privacy - although I’ll fight for a much happier ending for taylor. Same thing goes for the social whirl of bath and mores of the english aristocracy, reminds me of a lot of parallels to the current state of fairs in the US right now). But back to the muses of artists: There are types of women who love being the subject, of course. See any social media platform. But invert that too - there was this photo of me at the young fellows ball shot by Matteo Prandoni of BFA that was to me shocking in the way that it showcased how pretty I felt. I haven’t felt that in years - if ever. But I would not call myself a muse. I’m a creative in my own right. There’s immense power in that.
What a perfect segue into the two bits of pop culture/fashion news that has captivated me over the weekend. First, the negative: Maria Grazia Churi’s departure from Dior and the media handling of it. Has it been misogynistic? Yeah, probably (read: definitely). Even though I didn’t love her stint – she sure hit the commercial notes (I SWEAR TO GOD I will get that private equity in fashion out eventually). They finally announced Jonathan Anderson this morning, which I am excited about. But that doesn’t mean I can’t frown at how Maria was completely swept aside. It’s more proof of how female creatives can be treated. It was the same at the time of Taylor Swift releasing reputation in 2017. Her reputation had been trashed by Kim and Kanye (I hope she knows she gets the last laugh there), and she was devastated. Then her masters - her life’s work was sold out from under her, to a man who wanted to use her to profit immensely for himself (gestures vehemently in patriarchal capitalism rant). Taylor is both her own muse and the artist which would be an extremely different place to be in.
But, after an ambitious project of rerecording them so that she could gain her catalogue back, it was announced on Friday she had finally purchased them back. However you feel about her, it’s a fucking brilliant business move. By releasing the new versions she completely devalued the original product so she could buy it back, which has caused the value to skyrocket since. It’s only valuable if SHE owns it. As a creative, bravo taylor. She also spoke about how she couldn’t revisit and fully finish re-recording Reputation because it was such a painful time and she realized the record was perfect. As it was. Sometimes the work that seems imperfect only improves with not only time, but hindsight.
A social friend of mine posted on threads that this instance of Taylor reclaiming her masters is a lesson in being petty and I’d wholeheartedly agree. But I’d also say that for creatives, it’s a masterclass in how your own creativity has to be your North Star (listening to Look What You Made Me Do as I write this and FUCK it is fun). There are always people who are going to have their own agendas that include using you for their own purposes. But if you put the work first, the results will always be better than you can imagine. It’s going to be a guiding principle for me as I embark on this next stage of my career and life, while definitively closing a previous chapter. I’m entering my writer girl era, and producer and director era too.
But beyond that it’s the hope. Hope is so bloody powerful. Saturday Night , when I returned home and sprinted directly from the airport straight to Soho House to see an unplugged session of the Kooks (because indie/pop-punk millennial here) I felt the same sense of possibility and expansion as they played Do You Wanna from their 2008 album Konk. But in case you can’t already tell, I have scenes from Movies and TV playing on repeat in my brain, especially when accompanied by music. The way that song plays over the ending scenes of the Gossip Girl Season One finale, as I was preparing to embark on my own New York adventure that summer, instilled in me this sense of freedom and adventure with sparkle. And when I think on the way I made that happen for me. It’s that same sense of possibility and hope. And a week before my birthday, going into this new chapter - the sequel if you will (literally and metaphorically) feels powerful. I think I’m going to like it here.
XOXO,
Casey