Joanna Walsh is a writer. Author of eleven books (several co-written with AI that she has coded), she is also an editor, university teacher, and arts activist. Her column “Theory of Style” runs the third Wednesday of the month.
If aesthetics has become the feeling of something rather than an actual something, can we romanticize the intellectualism of Dark Academia while breaking free from its retrograde politics?
If frumpiness is everything fashion doesn’t want to be, what is “post-frump” and how can it save style?
Is luxury just a signifier of wealth, or can it exist without class? As with any fashion phenomenon, what appears like a matter of economy turns out to be a question of gender, too.
Can style be eternal and yet evolve, or are we just addicted to prediction? Joanna Walsh explains why skinny jeans are both in and out, and why it’s impossible to wear what’s actually in fashion.
How can a mid-life autism diagnosis serve as a prompt to stop “masking” and start “dressing?”
Weaving together Phoebe Philo’s solo debut, mythology’s silent women, and Walter Benjamin’s possible take on TikTok.
Why do we dream of a fashion that suits everyone on every occasion? This month, a primer on tactics for bucking social structures larger than your wardrobe.
Does desiring to emulate mean accepting one’s artificial self? And what is truly the difference between looking and being “like”?
How do clothes “become” us? And if the goal is to look effortlessly like ourselves, is style equal to subtraction? A look at what to lose when choosing minimalism.
What do we lack if we lack clothes? An inquiry into whether it’s possible to have style undressed.
We feel either too big or too small for our clothes, overworked by the imperative to make us “fit”: Is this body dysmorphia, or just the dysphoria of late capitalism?
The accelerationism of fast fashion is playing with desire and the seasons themselves, projecting us into an elsewhere that we’ll never venture into.
The first installment of a new monthly column ponders why we yearn for ten-piece wardrobes and call on Derrida to help get us dressed.