The First Female President Will Not Carry a Handbag

The First Female President Will Not Carry a Handbag

What would the first female president wear?

As Angela Merkel, erstwhile model of a modern female leader, prepares to step downas head of her party in Germany, and a wave of potential presidential candidatesemerges in the United States, like Elizabeth Warren, Kamala Harris and Kirsten Gillibrand, the question is worth considering. It speaks to what female leadership might look like in a new era, one less defined by trouser suits and bright fruit-bowl colors; one tailored for a different majority.

We may well have the answer in a few years, but for those who don’t want to wait, there is always “House of Cards.” The show has put a lot of thought into this.

Season 6 — a.k.a., the final season, and the one without Kevin Spacey as President Francis Underwood (he has been killed off, after Mr. Spacey was fired in the wake of sexual abuse allegations) — dropped on Friday with Claire Underwood (Robin Wright), the former vice president, in the Oval Office. The show is as dark and twisted as ever, both in terms of plot and the corrupting psychology of power, but it’s also a pretty convincing take on how the first Madam President might present herself.

Imagine the classic corporate suit and tie spliced with the style of a World War II Women’s Army Corps member, and topped by a dash of

“We obviously didn’t have a female president as a model, but I revisited the male American presidents of the past to look at their daily wear, their travel wear, and then thought about how that might translate to Claire,” said Kemal Harris, who is responsible for Ms. Wright’s wardrobe. (Jessica Wenger is the show’s head costume designer.)

It began with colors: the blue that dominated ties in the Clinton and Obama administrations, army green, black and gray. Also tailoring: In a symbol of control over her environment, everything Ms. Wright’s character wears has been exactingly seamed to fit.

And there are two unexpected accessories (along with her usual vertiginous black patent leather Louboutins). Or rather, one unexpected accessory (cuff links) and the unexpected absence of another: the handbag.

“Many presidents wear cuff links from the White House Gift Shop, so I wanted to get a pair for Claire,” Ms. Harris said. She contacted the gift shop (which was once run by the Secret Service but is now a separate for-profit business no longer affiliated with the executive branch) to ask if it had any samples that had never been used.

The gift shop’s director, Anthony Giannini, sent her a pair of prototypes given to him by a Secret Service agent, now retired, who had acquired them under Ronald Reagan. Never produced, they are slightly smaller than usual, more recessed and “elegant” and, according to Mr. Giannini, “the only ones of their kind.”

As a result, Ms. Wright wears a lot of shirts and dresses with French cuffs, the better to show them off.

“But you never see a male president with a briefcase or a wallet,” Ms. Harris said. “So even though I had a lot of designers reaching out to me to offer their new bags, I thought: ‘Claire is not carrying a bag. She has people for that. She’s president.’”

Indeed, for the first time in the series, fashion labels play a relatively small role in Ms. Wright’s wardrobe. (In the past they made up two-thirds of her clothes, with one-third designed especially for her.) The problem, Ms. Harris said, is that “a lot of stuff you see on the runway now is street wear, and it just didn’t translate.” She ended up making about 80 percent of Ms. Wright’s wardrobe herself, she said, with the tailor LaVonne Richards.

(Given the number of women currently running for office, that’s a significant lesson — and one that fashion itself might do well to note.)

The few brand names that do show up are CHLOÉ (“They do the perfect boot-cut trousers,” Ms. Harris said), Equipment (a button-down shirt) and, notably, Celine (a black satin trench from a recent Phoebe Philo collection that Claire wears as a kind of Ninja cover-up when she is spending time outside the White House).

“I bought it at Bergdorf and then had it streamlined because I knew it would transform her character,” Ms. Harris said. “It should be in a museum now.”

Unfortunately, political hopefuls looking to borrow Claire Underwood’s style probably can’t get that coat anymore, Philo-philes having gone into hoarder mode when the designer left the label earlier this year. And Ms. Harris said that the chances she would commercialize her efforts, step into the fashion gap and create a Claire Underwood-inspired product line à la “Kingsman” suits, were small to none.

Which is too bad, because what she came up with is interesting, in an understated, provocative way: a focus on high-neck, long-sleeve silhouettes, body aware but severe, often with epaulets or belts to evoke the military.

It’s not the classic power suit by any definition — the look is both too austere and too feminine for that — but label-less and logo-less as the wardrobe is, it is at once deceptively accessible and replete with the power of refusal.

That’s not a bad message, really, for someone with a nuclear football. The article appeared originally in the

“Fashion is not one thing. There’s fashion for business, fashion for women, fashion for art, fashion for the show, for glamor. We have to speak in terms of intention with fashion.”

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Taking Supreme Global

Taking Supreme Global

James Jebbia the press-shy founder speaks exclusively to BoF about Supreme’s new Paris store — set to open later this week — and the company’s homegrown approach to global expansion.

PARIS, France — “We’re a brand for the people,” said James Jebbia. The press-shy mastermind behind the streetwear label Supreme was sitting at a desk inside his spacious office on the 2nd floor of the company’s headquarters on Wooster Street in New York’s Soho as jazz quietly played in the background (a reminder that “A Love Supreme,” the brand’s first skate video, released in 1995, paid homage to the John Coltrane album of the same name). Flanked by colourful doodles by his two children, which he had taped to the wall, and a large framed piece by the graffiti artist Kaws, Jebbia was expressing his annoyance with online grumblings over the coming opening of a new Supreme boutique in Paris. “It’s funny, we get a lot of people bent out of shape who say, ‘Oh, these guys are going to fall off now that they’re opening in Paris.’ I’m not really concerned if people have this purist view of the New York Supreme thing,” he said, referring to the brand’s much-vaunted reputation as a consulate of downtown cool ever since it opened its doors in 1994 in a storefront on Lafayette Street. “If they think opening our shop in Paris is going to harm our brand, then we can’t really be that strong of a brand.”

Jebbia, a retail renegade who spent time at Stüssy and Parachute before building a scrappy skateboard lifestyle empire whose cultural capital now rivals that of any French luxury label, has never been content to rest on his laurels. Supreme’s new Paris store — a 1,100-square-foot space in the heart of the city’s Marais neighbourhood, which will showcase art installations by Mark Gonzales and the collage artist Weirdo Dave — is the 10th outpost in a retail network that now spans North America, Asia and Europe. (With the exception of Dover Street Market’s New York and Tokyo stores, the company does not wholesale). But global expansion poses something of an existential question for Supreme: how can the label continue to scale without watering down its homegrown cult appeal?

“I think a lot of people still want us to be this exclusive, precious brand, but we’re not at all,” Jebbia said. “It’s much more complex than that.” He has a calm, below-the-radar demeanour that’s reinforced by a soft English accent. (Having grown up primarily in Sussex, England, he moved to New York City “around ‘83, ‘84.”) Occasionally, there is an impassioned earnestness to his tone which suggests that even after two-plus decades in the game he still feels like something of a dark horse.

Of course, a powerful mix of exclusivity (the original flagship was once a clubhouse for underground artists like Harmony Korine and members of the influential graffiti crew Irak) and preciousness (Kermit the Frog starred in one of the brand’s advertising campaigns) is part of why metal police barricades are routinely required to fence in the frenzied customers who camp outside Supreme’s stores for each new product drop. “People think whatever we do, it sells out. But it’s not like that,” said Jebbia. “We can’t explain it, other than we have some really cool shit.”

Tyshawn Jones, Sage Elsesser and Ben Kadow at Place De La République | Photo: Todd JordanTyshawn Jones, Sage Elsesser and Ben Kadow at Place de la République in Paris | Photo: Todd Jordan

Supreme’s success is also linked to a muscular branding strategy grounded in a puritanical sense of hometown pride. Over the years, the store has sold skateboard decks featuring the work of New York art stars like Jeff Koons and Nate Lowman, low-fi skate videos directed by downtown filmmakers like William Strobeck and coveted t-shirts, hooded sweatshirts and flat-brimmed caps that reference city landmarks like the Apollo Theater or its iconic skyline. And despite the images of Rihanna, Kanye and Bieber wearing Supreme that circulate online, it’s a host of more rarefied New Yorkers, everyone from young painter Lucien Smith and veteran style writer Glenn O’Brien to Chloë Sevigny and Lou Reed, who have best served as brand ambassadors.

As the company’s business grew, some expected Supreme’s original Lafayette Street store to spawn boutiques in neighbouring hipster enclaves like the Lower East Side or the new retail playpens of Brooklyn. But the plan “was never to open six shops in New York,” Jebbia said. Instead, he steered the brand away from its home turf. In 1999, the company partnered with Ken Omura, a Japanese friend of Jebbia’s, to open its first international store in the Daikanyama neighbourhood of Tokyo, catering to the brand’s rapidly-growing Japanese fan base. Supreme now has five other retail stores in the region — in the Harajuku and Shibuya sections of Tokyo, as well as in Osaka, Fukuoka and Nagoya — which also compete with an underground economy of Japanese resellers who run emporiums full of painstakingly steam-pressed vintage Supreme pieces encased in plastic bags. The company’s Los Angeles outpost on North Fairfax Avenue, which houses a proper skate bowl, opened in 2004. And, in 2011, the store on Peter Street in London’s Soho became the brand’s first European flagship.

Yeah, we’re a New York brand, but we’re a world brand now, too. It’s no different than Levi’s being from San Francisco.

Finding success outside New York proved that the label’s homespun magnetism had legs far beyond what the insular world of Lafayette Street skaters initially appeared to suggest. “Yeah, we’re a New York brand, but we’re a world brand now, too,” Jebbia said. “It’s no different than Levi’s being from San Francisco. People might think there are a lot of brands in the world like ours, but there aren’t.”

Rather than your typical by-the-numbers retail rollout, Jebbia approaches expansion more like a touring rock star who knowingly alters each night’s set list to cater to the ear of a city. “I’ve seen a lot of brands fail because they went, ‘Hey, look, we’re from New York, and that’s what we’re all about.’ But wherever you go, people are proud of where they are,” he said. “So even though we’re from New York, what we do is a mindset: it’s got to work in Japan, in Los Angeles, London, wherever.”

But Jebbia’s approach is also highly pragmatic, guided by a mix of “instinct backed up with some real understanding of what we do.” For one, Jebbia often consults data from Supreme’s global e-commerce business to identify geographies and demographics which are most responsive to the brand’s ethos. “The Web is big for us,” he said. “Wherever we have shops, we do well on the web.” This means that, for North American sales, the top markets are New York and Los Angeles; for Europe, it’s London and Paris. “After seeing what we do online and everything, we’ve done pretty well in France,” he said. “I look at opening a shop in Paris as a ballsy move because we really believe we have an audience there, even though there are a lot of great shops there like APC, Colette and Chanel.”

Sage Elsesser at Place de la République | Video Still: William StrobeckSage Elsesser at Place de la République in Paris | Video: William Strobeck

Several years ago, Jebbia was on a trip to Paris with his wife when he saw “a part of the city that I wasn’t really aware of.” Recent changes by the local city council to restrictions previously placed on skateboarding in places like the Place de la République, a sprawling eight-acre plaza peppered with ornate fountains and bronze statues, have transformed parts of Paris into vast playgrounds for a melting pot of skaters. “You couldn’t have that in New York,” Jebbia said admiringly. “It’s like having a great plaza where kids can skate all day on St. Marks or something. You might think there is more freedom in New York, San Francisco or London, but a kid can’t skate in those places without getting arrested.”

Jebbia said he typically hires from Supreme’s extended community of friends and family, including professional skateboarders and artists — even customers. His approach to staffing new stores is no different. “The people I work with is what gives the store its personality,” he said. “They treat it like it’s their own.” For the shop in London, Jebbia picked 1980s skate legend Dan Jagger to be its store manager. A similar approach guided his decision to ask Samir Krim, a founder of the French skateboard company Minutia, to manage the new Paris boutique. “He’s a big part of the skate scene there,” said Jebbia. “If we didn’t have someone like Samir, we wouldn’t have opened a shop in Paris.”

But building your global retail strategy around a worldwide family tree comes with constraints. “You can’t just click your fingers and have some decks,” said Jebbia. “We haven’t done a lot of stores simply because of man power.” It’s an unhurried philosophy that makes Supreme allergic to external investors hungry for rapid growth. Not that Jebbia is looking. “As a small brand, we do it all,” he said. “We don’t need an investor. We would never go anywhere or do anything where we feel it would compromise what we do.” Jebbia declined to disclose specific financial data on the size or growth of the company.

It’s perhaps not surprising that Supreme’s polished skater aesthetic has entered the global fashion lexicon. In his review of the men’s Autumn/Winter 2016 collections shown in Paris in January, The New York Times’ Guy Trebay described the “street-meets-luxury” look of collections from Hermès, Berluti and Dior Homme as channeling “the kind of utility garb the skate rats who hang out around Supreme tend to wear.” Meanwhile, Vetements, the industry’s current darling, is beloved for its Margiela-meets-streetwear aesthetic and the Russian-born designer Gosha Rubchinskiy has built a budding business on his uniquely Slavic take on the category of ‘90s skate clothes that Jebbia and his team helped to define. There is also the bevy of magazine editors and fashionable denizens of the Marais who now effortlessly mix streetwear favourites like Palace, Bianca Chandon and Supreme with Dries Van Noten and Isabel Marant.

For the most part, Jebbia welcomes fashion’s embrace of skate culture. “It’s a good thing, because before we were one of the only brands doing that kind of thing. Now it’s just more open and that’s great,” he said. “I think it’s cool because they’re making things people really want to wear. And that’s what we do: we make things people want to wear — not in fantasy land. Oftentimes you’ll see pictures from fashion shows and all the models outside the show in their real clothes are wearing brands like Supreme.”

But rest assured, Jebbia has no plans to assimilate. “I want to do something where a young kid shopping with his parents might be like, ‘Mum, maybe you shouldn’t come in this store with me.’”

The article was published in

The Second Coolest Girl in the Room

The Second Coolest Girl in the Room

Is your best customer.

What would fashion be without its alchemical ability to transform clothes into status?

For one thing, a great deal poorer. The endless trend cycle of products gaining and losing cool keeps fashion labels flush with cash as shoppers chase the next new thing.

The most striking expressions of new trends play out on designers’ runways and via the fashion influencers that crowd Instagram. But appealing to trend pioneers who are first to fresh territory isn’t necessarily the most lucrative position for a fashion brand counting on more timid customers to buy their wares. Not all brands—not most, in fact—can be the Guccis and Balenciagas of the world.

The internet and social media have sped up the endless comings and goings of trends, leaving the trendsetters soon feeling a look has become overexposed, and abandoning it as quickly as they picked it up. For labels aiming at more mainstream appeal, which can also mean bigger sales, the greater opportunity is often in appealing to a second wave of trend-adopters.

“In the past in my career, I’ve thought about trend as that curve. It’s kind of a whale shape. It goes up slowly, slowly, slowly, and then it peaks and drops down,” said Crystal Slattery, president of contemporary at Jaya Apparel Group and cofounder of all its contemporary brands, including Elizabeth and James, Cinq à Sept, and Likely. “Now what we’re seeing is almost like a camel.”

Slattery, speaking at a March 6 panel on how trends work today, hosted by Edited, a retail technology firm, meant a double-humped camel: The first wave of customers that comes and goes with a trend is now often followed by a second, larger and longer-lasting wave. “Those are our friends who are maybe not paying as close attention to trend and fashion,” she said. This audience may be less adventurous in how they dress, or require time to get comfortable with a trend before jumping in. But, she said, that’s where the bigger profits are to be made.

The other speakers included Yedidya Mesfin, design director at Blank NYC; Rob Lim, head of design at Saturdays NYC; and Chris Benz, creative director at Bill Blass, who said his label is also not exclusively focused on the early adopters.

Benz emphasized it’s more important than ever to have a clear brand identity, which lets the brand filter trends through that prism—again, because trends rise and fall so quickly these days. Bill Blass’s customer base tends to be part of that second wave. “I always talk about our customer as being not the coolest girl in the room, but she’s the second coolest girl,” he said. “She doesn’t want to be full-sequined-glitter-boot, but she wants a little glitter heel.”

The aim isn’t to offer an exact copy of the most outré version of the trend, which will likely lose its appeal for the more adventurous fashion customer by the time a mass-market label can design and produce its own version. Instead, brands try to keep the spirit of the trend while softening its cutting edge, to make it more accessible to a customer looking for something to wear to work or out in the evening.

The way Instagram and the internet have reshaped trends shows up in other ways too. Traditionally, trends trickled down from the runways or bubbled up from the streets, said Katie Smith, the retail analysis and insights director at Edited. But “a linear way of tracking trends just isn’t relevant anymore,” she pointed out.

Now there are simultaneous feedback loops happening among the runways, the street, and retail. It makes it harder to identify where a trend is in its life cycle, and it has upended the old model of trends beginning upmarket and migrating down as they spread into the mainstream. Luxury and fast fashion are often neck-and-neck, and their customers don’t behave much differently.

One of the biggest challenges in capitalizing on a trend, consequently, is knowing when to drop it. Abandon it too early, and you may miss the lucrative second wave. But because things move so quickly, brands also risk suddenly looking tragically outdated. As Slattery put it, “You hang on to it too long, and you’re Juicy Couture with the sweatpants.”

The article appeared first in




This effort includes supporting barrier-breaking athletes, from rebel runner Joan Benoit Samuelson (the first woman to claim marathon gold) to record-setting tennis great Serena Williams (owner of 23 major titles). Countless other star athletes have also reached the pinnacle of their sport with Nike — on the basketball court, the track, the football pitch and beyond — and each helps to progress opportunities for women in sport.

Nike also encourages the progress of professional and everyday athletes through innovation. Women’s-specific design solutions have ranged from a consistent offering of footwear to recent developments that aim to broaden women’s access to sport, such as the Nike Pro Hijab and plus-sizing for athletic apparel.

One thing that connects all women in sport is sneakers. As a performance tool and lifestyle accessory, the sneaker is a transcendent symbol of athletic and stylistic identity. Certain styles can also reveal the wearer’s soul by expressing their ethos and beliefs — especially when these intertwine with sustainable builds and materials.

All three of these elements — athletes, innovation and product — come together in 2018 as Nike initiates four new ways of thinking about sneakers for women. Here’s how this approach is beginning to shape up.


Unisex sizing on select classic Jordan styles and collaborative collections such as Virgil Abloh x Nike The TENrecognizes the universality of sneaker culture and reduces the frustration of missing out due to size unavailability. In the fall, expanded sizes will extend to iconic silos, including the Nike Air Force 1 and Air Max lines, providing ever-increasing options to collect, rock or stock.


A curated selection of sneakers, inclusive of expanded sizes, innovative performance styles and iconic collaborations, presents a holistic view that forms the backbone of Nike Unlaced, NIKE, Inc.’s new sneaker destination for women.

Nike Unlaced is a global digital and retail concept that follows a Nike dot-com evolution in Europe, which provided distinction for women through product styling and local curators. (In North America, the Nike x Nordstrom sneaker boutique retail and digital experience, co-created with Olivia Kim, also served as a precursor.) Local Nike Unlaced product curations by influential creatives and stylists from New York, Paris, London, Shanghai and more are coming soon.


From personalized styling to VIP member experiences (including same-day delivery and exclusive hours), these services offered by Nike Unlaced are designed to increase connectivity and access to sneakers for women. For example, members will have the opportunity to arrange one-on-one appointments with guest stylists and take their prized selections home in specialized packaging.


As sneakers transcended sport and initiated street-style trends, collaboration became an integral component of sneaker culture, blossoming into a symbiotic relationship between brands and external creative communities.

That community has been predominantly male. However, in pushing new female voices, Nike is challenging the sneaker status quo.

In recent years, this has been propelled by curator-led retail partnerships (for example, the aforementioned Kim and Nordstrom boutique). Creative endeavors with A.L.C.’s Andrea Lieberman and the International Girls Crew on the iconic Nike Cortez have also given new scope to sneaker collaborations; another highlight is the recent The 1 Reimagined project, Nike’s first collection of footwear designed entirely by a 14-strong female design collective.

These projects define the future state of footwear for women, where more curation and collaboration can be expected, but also an increase in female representation is poised to manifest new ideas not just for women but all sneaker enthusiasts.