Kim Kardashian West’s body-hugging Thierry Mugler dress was one of the fashion highlights from this year’s Met Gala. But it turns out someone very close to her wasn’t a fan of the look: her husband, Kanye West.
During Sunday night’s episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, we saw that Kanye confronted Kim about her buzzy ensemble the night before the Met Gala. Apparently, the rapper wasn’t fond of Kim’s choice in dress because it was “too sexy.”
“I went through this transition where being a rapper, looking at all these girls and looking at my wife, like, ‘Oh my girl needs to be just like the other girls, showing their body off.’ I didn’t realize that that was affecting my soul and my spirit as someone who is married and the father of now…about to be four kids. A corset is a form of underwear; it’s hot. For who though?” you see Kanye tell Kim in the episode.
But she doesn’t skip a beat clapping back at him. “So the night before the Met, you’re going to come in here and say that you’re not into a corset vibe?” she says. “You’re giving me really bad anxiety. You knew last night I had really bad anxiety, and I don’t need any more negative energy and for you to say you’re now not into me wearing a tight dress.” (The look, according to Kim, took eight months to prepare.)
To this, Kanye says, “You are my wife, and it affects me when pictures are too sexy,” which Kim does not take well. “You built me up to be this sexy person and confidence and all this,” she responds, “and just because you’re on a journey and transformation doesn’t mean I’m in the same spot with you.”
Watch this exchange go down for yourself in the video, below:
Obviously, everything turned out just fine. Kim ultimately did wear the Thierry Mugler outfit to the Met Gala, and Kanye was her date. If he was actually still upset, I’m not sure he would’ve attended the event with Kim.
I argue that we can trace the reconsideration of this trope to Lena Dunham’s Girls, which opened with Hannah and Adam as the central romantic relationship. In the final two seasons, however, Adam starts dating Hannah’s best friend, Jessa. That relationship suddenly makes so much more sense than Hannah and Adam’s ever did. The show closed with Adam and Jessa together, and Hannah out of their story. Which makes Hannah—the protagonist of the show, mind you—most akin to The Office’s Roy, Friend’s Julie or Emily, or Grey Anatomy’s Nurse Rose.
This shift is even apparent on reality TV. The Bachelor franchise is essentially a will-they-won’t-they of one bachelor/bachelorette and the contestants vying for their heart. The basic premise of the series hasn’t changed over the years, but the latest season of The Bachelorette ultimately ended with Hannah Brown calling off her engagement and reveling in her singlehood. It even gave her the freedom to ask Tyler Cameron, a fan-favorite contestant she had previously sent home, out for a casual drink, no expectations.
This shift away from the traditional execution of the will-they-won’t-they trope is fueled by our culture, of course. In particular, the #MeToo movement has put many relations under the microscope—and many of television’s most beloved couples are now seen as problematic. Ross Geller is misogynistic, Aidan Shaw controlling, and Chuck Bass a sexual predator. There’s also been a push for more diversity behind the camera, leading to more women in roles of creative authority. And shows led by female showrunners—Girls, Killing Eve, Fleabag, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Glow, and Broad City included—often subvert or reject altogether the will-they-won’t-they trope. Considering the sole purpose of the trope seemed to be enticing female viewership in the first place, it’s empowering to watch it be dismantled and reconstructed by creative female minds.
So, yes, gone are the days of, “We were on a break!” But in its place, we now have Laura Dern’s “I will not not be rich!” And that’s a fair, if not better, trade.
Veronica Walsingham is an arts and culture writer.
When Homa Sadat’s father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2010, her family, including her mother and seven siblings, watched him shrink from 187 pounds to 118. Every day after work she would put on a brave face and visit her dad to lift his spirits. Then she’d head to the bathroom, close the door, and cry from feeling so helpless. “With pancreatic cancer, you usually find out at the last stage,” says Sadat, a 33-year-old former property manager who lives in Los Angeles. “There was nothing we could do.”
Her dad passed away in 2011. “Seeing him go through that was really hard on me—we were really close,” says Sadat. “I saw what cancer and chemotherapy could do to someone.”
Because of her father’s illness, Sadat was persistent about checking her own body for signs anything was off, including her breasts. About six months after her father died, she felt a lump.
Her gynecologist decided to take a watch-and-wait approach. “I put it out of my mind,” she says. “I was so busy with my life with work and school. I didn’t think that it would be anything serious.” By the time a shooting pain in her breast brought her back to the doctor, it had been another six months. Testing eventually revealed she had triple negative breast cancer, which had spread to her lymph nodes.
Homa did a lot of research on where she could get the best treatment, eventually deciding to participate in a clinical trial at City of Hope, a cancer treatment and research center in Los Angeles. “I felt really comfortable there,” says Sadat, who went through 16 weeks of chemotherapy followed by surgery and radiation.
“I was pretty strong about it because I witnessed my dad go through it. I was like, ’OK, I can do it too,’” she says. But she also knew that her mother and siblings had just faced the loss of an integral part of their family to the same disease, and that made her want to shield them from her treatment at times. While her family was an incredibly strong support system, Sadat felt inclined to stay away from them at times and relied heavily on friends, living across the street from her mother’s house after recovering from surgery.
“I didn’t want to be in their face going through the same thing again. My mom was just trying to deal with the loss of my dad. It had only been a year since we lost him. I didn’t want to be a reminder,” she says. “But no matter how strong I acted around my family, they knew my pain and what I was going through. I couldn’t hide it from them.”
Part of trying to stay strong meant normalizing her life as much as possible and not looking like a “sick person”—especially after her little brother broke into tears one day when she took off her wig in front of him. As a part of this, working was incredibly important to her. “Just because I had cancer didn’t mean my life stopped,” says Sadat, who continued to try to work throughout her treatment. “I’d go out, have dinner—keep living my life.” In the end Sadat, who is now cancer-free, says this approach helped her. “Fighting and acting like I didn’t have cancer really got me through it,” she says.
Rarely does a week go by without a Kate Middleton outfit sighting the world instantly wants to copy. And while we now scramble to pick up her exact Zara coats or a close imitation of her best dresses, Middleton’s fashion choices themselves appear to be inspired by another member of the royal family: the late Princess Diana. Over the years many have inferred that the Duchess of Cambridge’s wardrobe has paid homage to her late mother-in-law, with some instances being more obvious than others. Whether it be a single similar item or a piece-for-piece re-creation, some of Middleton’s best looks make us reminisce about Princess Diana’s iconic stylebook. The two women favored different designers—Kate is partial to Alexander McQueen and Erdem, while Princess Diana leaned into David Sassoon and Bruce Oldfield—yet both women’s tastes include crisp coats, pastel suits, and dazzling formal wear. Here we gathered the 16 instances of straight-up fashion twinning, courtesy of Kate Middleton and Princess Diana.
Staring at my ever-growing to-do list, I contemplated canceling—or at least postponing—the appointment for my annual mammogram. Next month, I reasoned, things would be a little less hectic. Why not save myself some stress?
Like most, I have a fear of cancer. In 1999, I lost my 37-year-old husband in a fast battle with Hodgkin’s disease, leaving me to raise our three young children—6, 4 and 2 years old at the time—alone. A year later, I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer after my doctor found a small nodule in my neck during a routine visit for a sore throat. I endured several years of tests and treatments before the doctor declared me cancer free.
I’d tried not to think about cancer in the 16 years after that, always trying to push it from the corners of my brain. But when my annual mammogram rolled around cancer seemed to be all around me: Several close friends were being treated for breast cancer and a close neighbor was battling leukemia. Cancer seemed to be closing in—again.
A year earlier, I started having what felt like small electrical charges in my left breast. Zippy little jolts that felt like a nerve misfiring all day long, setting me on edge with each zap. Test results showed that there was nothing to worry about and within a few weeks the “charges” had subsided. I figured things were fine and went back to trying not to think about cancer. But a few months before my scheduled mammogram, they came back.
As I sat in front of my calendar, debating whether or not to put off my mammogram, I couldn’t get the thought of cancer out of my mind. I thought about my kids, now adults, and everything they’d already been through. They’d watched both of their parents battle cancer, and mourned the loss of their dad. I was eager to tell them I had a clean bill of health again so I kept my appointment on the books.
“This is your mass,” the radiologist said, drawing an imaginary circle around a black spot on my X-ray as I sat in his office after my appointment. “My mass?” I kept asking over and over again as if repeating the question would make the answer change. It didn’t. There was a mass in my left breast.
My mass was tiny—it was possible it was only Stage 0 if it was cancerous at all. I needed to have a biopsy to confirm but somehow I already knew what was coming. A biopsy, a partial lumpectomy, a CAT scan, and several blood tests later, I learned that I had triple negative breast cancer. It had already spread to some lymph nodes in my armpit, kicking my cancer diagnosis up to Stage 2.
As far as cancer diagnoses go, triple negative breast cancer is a particularly bad one to get: it’s aggressive, more likely to spread and more likely to recur. TNBC is less common—about 10-20% of breast cancers are triple-negative, according to BreastCancer.org—and gets its name from the fact that it tests negative for estrogen receptors, progesterone receptors, and excess HER2 protein. Translation: Triple-negative breast cancer doesn’t respond to hormonal therapy medicines or medicines that target HER2 protein receptors.
It does respond well to four rounds of what’s known as “Red Devil” chemotherapy followed by 16 weekly treatments of Taxol chemotherapy and then 33 rounds of radiation.
While it might sound silly, my first question to the breast surgeon was, “Is this lose-your-hair chemo?” I had read about some chemotherapy treatments that didn’t cause hair loss but this unfortunately wasn’t one of them. After finally growing my hair to the longest it has ever been—a feat I’ve been trying to accomplish for years—I was going to lose it all. I started bawling in the doctor’s office, bitter over the symbolic loss and the thought of battling cancer yet again.
My dad cried and said “I’m so happy for you” as if I had actually accomplished something.
My mom was also so happy for me for thirty seconds, before panicking that my period might disappear again.
I texted my ex-boyfriend who lives in a different city and he responded with three popping champagne bottles, which to my knowledge is the first time he’s ever used an emoji.
My 77-year-old boss clutched his chest with joy, and, eager to convey how deeply comfortable the conversation was for him, added some thoughtful follow-up questions about cramps.
The stranger my friend tried to set me up with at his birthday bought me a celebratory drink and insisted: “It’s 2019, only lame men are grossed out by periods.” (I experienced newfound hope in woke masculinity.)
Another guy I went on a blind date with that week listened to the whole triumphant story compassionately, even offering some related experience of a health mystery solved through diet. We’re all just souls trapped in these weird malfunctioning vessels, I thought.
A third date got squirmy and asked if I was telling everyone about this. I decided to take a break from dating but that was okay because my social calendar was already full: I was planning a blood party.
A blood party is the party you have to celebrate getting your period for the first time in seven years. At least, it’s the party I throw to celebrate getting my period for the first time in seven years. I had been fantasizing about this day for a long time, so I already knew the essential elements: Bloody Mary’s, blood orange bellinis, some sort of fertility ritual. I also wanted it to involve dancing naked around a campfire deep in the wilderness under the aurora borealis, but I live in Los Angeles and don’t own a car so I settled for Elysian Park at dusk with some streamers.
I invited many people, all of whom had experience with menstruation. I encouraged friends to fly in from distant cities, threatening that I may never get married or have a child and so this may be their only chance to prove their love by celebrating a significant life milestone with me.
The response was overwhelming. Everyone wanted to toast to my bleeding. They had lots to say about periods in general and their place in society. They were eager to inaugurate a ceremony that honored womanhood. Someone asked my underwear size. Someone offered to bake me a red velvet cake. Some people actually did travel from distant cities to come to my blood party.
The ceremony was beautiful. Partially inspired by a friend’s transcendent Passover Seder, we blessed objects from a centerpiece representing each of the organs in the reproductive system: a pea for the pituitary gland, a candle for the hypothalamus, two Twizzlers for the fallopian tubes, frozen perogies for ovaries, an egg for eggs, a cozy sweat sock for the uterus, and of course, beet juice for blood.
Then we said some affirmations:
“As the hair follicles rise on the surface of the ovary, so I rise to meet the challenges and joys of the days ahead.”
“As the uterine lining thickens and builds, so I thicken and build in experience and understanding.”
“As the egg enters the fallopian tubes, so I willingly enter the dark tunnel of the unknown where I can’t see anything and fear is my only companion, because I know this tunnel is the only path to a new freedom.”
There are many things that will be missed now that HBO’s Succession has wrapped up its masterful second season: super-rich people telling each other to “f*ck off,” the shenanigans of Tom and Cousin Greg(ory), Roman and Gerri’s interesting dynamic, Kendall’s sad eyes. But I’ll especially miss Shiv’s phenomenal fashion.
The only daughter in the Roy clan had a serious sartorial glow-up in season two, and the Internet loved every second—to the point that there will surely be an uptick in turtleneck and high-waisted pants this fall. (See our ranking of her best outfits here.) Coupled with a perfect bob haircut and a renewed desire to get back into the family business, Shiv was all about power moves this season. And as the family took to their massive yacht in the finale, Shiv’s vacation outfits did not disappoint.
If you thought Shiv would abandon her signature style just because she was headed to warmer climates, you’d be very wrong. My personal favorite was the creamy white high-waist number that was such perfect rich lady on a gazillion dollar ship. Or maybe the blue halter look.
She also worked in some floral prints and a large sun hat. “Shiv Roy in boat clothes! #Succession,” one fan tweeted.
Social media was very much here for all of her outfits, really. “Shiv’s white outfit, I need it. #SuccessionHBO,” one person wrote. “Every outfit Shiv wears, I want it. I want the entire LOOK! Sarah is BAD!!!!!!! #SuccessionHBO,” another said. This tweet sums up the general sentiment: “Fuuuuuuck, the Succession finale was so good. Also I want every one of Shiv’s outfits in this episode, her styling was fantastic.”
Sidebar: Her character reading Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends was perfection, too.
I cannot wait to see what the styling team brings for Shiv in season three with yet another shift in the family dynamics after that finale—but I’m fairly certain I’m going to love it.
Few brands have been able to capitalize on hype like Glossier. It seems like every new launch automatically lands itself among the lists of best Glossier products. It’s not hard to see why: Glossier has great brand identity (see: millennial pink bubble wrap), it’s mastered the art of the perfect no makeup-makeup look, and it’s got legions of fans waiting (often out the door of its showrooms) to get their hands on whatever just landed on shelves. (Not to mention, restock on Milky Jelly.)
But just like with anything that seems too good to be true, those who aren’t fully aboard the Glossier train often wonder whether its products are actually worth it. Does Boy Brow really transform your eyebrows in few single swipes? Is Cloud Paint seriously as good as its painfully cute tube would lead you to believe? Does Glossier Playtruly hold up during a night out? If the reviews ahead have anything to say, the answer is a resounding yes.
We asked the Glamour team to share the best Glossier products they absolutely can’t live without. Believe it or not, their favorite picks came in all across the board (but yes, we did get at least five emphatic responses that just said “BOY BROW!!!!“). Scroll on for our honest reviews, and what’s absolutely worth spending money on from Glossier.
All products featured on Glamour are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.
Jason Wu has become a master of collaboration. Following successful capsules with Eloquii and Target, the designer known for dressing Michelle Obama and Meghan Markle (among dozens of other celebrities) is releasing one of his most affordable collections to date.
In May, it was announced that he would design a holiday collection of Kohl’s, the latest capital-f Fashion name to join the retailer’s roster of private-label brands. “What we really wanted to do was create a collection that’s elevated and looks very special,” he tells Glamour of JW Jason Wu. “The idea was to provide the Kohl’s customer—or any customer, for that matter—with a collection that has a timeless quality to it.”
These pieces are meant to “stand the test of time,” he says, not speak to the specific trends of one season. Everything’s under $100, and available in sizes XS to XXL (roughly sizes 0 to 18, according to Kohl’s size chart).
In recent years, Wu has diversified his business not just by expanding his sizes (with Eloquii and 11 Honoré) and price point (with Target, and now Kohl’s), but through partnerships beyond the scope of fashion: He’s designed furniture, created a fragrance.
“The overall theme [of my work] is really timelessness, refinement, and sophistication—that’s something everybody can appreciate,” he says. “We don’t really care about trends—we care about things that make women feel beautiful.”
Regardless of the medium he’s working in, you’ll recognize a few recurring notes in the design. “I’m always very influenced by florals, and that’s really apparent here,” he says of this Kohl’s collection. (The reason? His dad is an avid gardener.) “You can see a lot of my DNA in here. Never met a dot I didn’t love. It’s about timeless beauty and femininity; great fabrics and great detail. At the same time, there’s really a great range for everyone, from things you can wear to work to a little fur coverup.”
This particular collection was conceptualized, developed, and produced in less than a year (pretty quick turnaround for a collaboration of this scale)—a result of Wu himself communicating directly with the Kohl’s team. He looked at gaps in the retailer’s inventory, and saw an opportunity to introduce more occasionwear. He pivoted accordingly.
The best feedback he got, though, didn’t come from anyone at Kohl’s HQ—rather, it was the result of visiting an actual Kohl’s in Indianapolis. “If you don’t go to the store, the data doesn’t really amount to anything,” he says. “I’m really good at that, weirdly. People are surprised.” (So, if you ever run into Wu among the racks at your local big-box store… you now know why.)
“Our mission is to make really sophisticated, refined feminine clothes,” Wu says. “Listen, I’m not the first designer to do different price points. But I do feel we do it in a way that’s modern. We treat everything the same: the way it’s shot, the way it’s styled, the way we considered it. It’s modern to think about the market as a whole, not just in our little bubble. Sometimes, we say we’re ‘fashion designers,’ but we really don’t dress most people. I want to dress more people.”
See—and shop—every single look in JW Jason Wu, the designer’s collection for Kohl’s.