AUG

THEIR PEOPLE
WAYWOMEN
EMPOWERED
WHY LEADERSHIP
IS GOING LOCAL
PHOTOGRAPHERS
GET CREATIVE
WITH FASHION

SIMONE
BILES
STANDING UP, SPEAKING OUT,
AND SETTING HER SIGHTS ON
OLYMPICS 2021
CHANEL.COM ©2020 CHANEL®, Inc., B®
 August 2020

DREAM TEAM
SIMONE BILES (SEATED, WEARING AN ALAÏA DRESS), WITH HER FAMILY. FROM LEFT: SIMONE’S YOUNGER SISTER, ADRIA,
HER PARENTS, NELLIE AND RON, AND THEIR SONS, RON II AND ADAM. PHOTOGRAPHED IN FEBRUARY 2020 BY ANNIE LEIBOVITZ.

8 rethinking old as never before. weddings 70 84

Editor’s Letter beauty routines Abby Aguirre happening in real A New View Index
S ITTING S E DITO R: P HYL LIS POSN IC K. HAIR, NAI’VASH A JO HN SON;

reports on a life, we dreamed Four women Three Vogue

10 39 champion up our own photographers staffers exchange
Masthead Point of View looking ahead “I do” celebration channel the style notes
for the ages spirit of summer for life post-
MAKEUP, FARA H OMIDI. DE TAILS, S EE IN THI S ISSUE .

14 40 50 to capture lockdown
Up Front Game Changer Groundswell 68 pieces laden
In quarantine, She’s an athlete At a testing moment Save the Date with color and 90
Virginia Heffernan at the pinnacle for the country When the pattern play Last Look
wonders, Where of her sport—but and the world, coronavirus shut
does control end with the world where can inspiring everything down,
and bliss begin? in upheaval, leadership be Alexandra
Cover Look Family Ties
the Olympics found? Not in the Schwartz had to Champion gymnast Simone Biles wears a
18 Bottega Veneta bodysuit. To get this look, try:
postponed, and a places you expect. reevaluate her Luminous Silk Foundation in 13, Eye & Brow
V Life shadow hanging By Nathan Heller summer wedding, Maestro in 1, Ecstasy Balm in 1. All by Armani
A call to action for over American and what it was Beauty. Hair, Nai’vasha Johnson; makeup,
fashion; the joys gymnastics, 54 she wanted from Fara Homidi. Details, see In This Issue.
of watching ballet Simone Biles has Head Over Heels marriage in the Photographer: Annie Leibovitz.
from home; had to be resilient With precious few first place Sittings Editor: Phyllis Posnick.

4 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

©J&JCI 2020
Letter from the Editor
Taking Action
“WE NEED CHANGE.”
So said the Olympic gymnast Simone Biles to the
writer Abby Aguirre in June, in the last of several
conversations the two had over the course of Abby’s
reporting. Biles, of course, is a world-class athlete
with a trove of gold medals, but Abby’s profile shows
us that she is equally extraordinary for her bravery
in standing up to body-shaming internet trolls, and for
the dignity and resilience she has shown in holding her
sport to account over the abuse she and other gymnasts
suffered from sports doctor Larry Nassar. Biles has also
shown her fortitude in the face of the postponement of
the Olympics—something we couldn’t have contemplated
when we embarked on this story last winter, before the
coronavirus changed everything. The games are, of course,
not happening this summer, but I’m so proud to have
Biles on our cover. She and I spoke over Zoom as we were
going to press, and she talked about her workout routine
and training for 2021 and introduced me to one of her
French bulldogs, Lilo. One of the many things we miss
right now is the chance to see her compete in Tokyo, but
I know she will triumph when the Olympics are back on.
We need change. Biles, of course, was talking about
the inspiring protests that have filled streets all around the
country and the world and are still going strong as
I write this. These protests and the Black Lives Matter
movement have forced a reckoning on issues of police
8 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM
CHANGE MAKERS
SIMONE BILES (LEFT), PHOTOGRAPHED
BY NORMAN JEAN ROY, VOGUE, 2016.
HARLEM’S FASHION ROW FOUNDER
AND CEO, BRANDICE DANIEL (ABOVE).
brutality and structural racism—a reckoning that is long
overdue. Talk isn’t sufficient for this moment; action is
what matters. And so I would like to tell you about one
action Vogue has recently taken. The fund we started in
March with the Council of Fashion Designers of America,
A Common Thread, has so far distributed $3.1 million
to designers, retailers, and others in the fashion community
hit hard by the pandemic (about half of these grants have
gone to designers of color). In June, A Common Thread
took a further step, pledging $1 million to support the
advocacy group Harlem’s Fashion Row and its new ICON
360 fund. The wonderful Brandice Daniel, the founder and
CEO of Harlem’s Fashion Row, created the fund expressly
to help designers of color affected by COVID-19, and
we are thrilled to be working closely with her. Vogue.com
Fashion News Director Chioma Nnadi will serve on the
committee that will allocate ICON 360’s grants.
I want to thank all the donors, large and small, who have
contributed to A Common Thread. We launched the
fund months ago in the hope that this crisis could bring us
together in meaningful ways. The protests in the streets
are, to me, another sign that we are at a time of solidarity—
and change. November 3 can’t come soon enough.
© LE LANIE FOSTE R
 FROM
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12 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

Up Front

Lost and Found

Feeling anxious and full of dread in quarantine—and watching her children
thrive—Virginia Heffernan wonders, Where does control end and bliss begin?

I
n the morning, as I open 20 browser tabs of
political news, my son, Ben, puts his desk chair
on top of his desk so he can stand while working,
shoulders back, jaw squared like a sentry.  The kitchen is twice the size of ours in Brooklyn. Along
We borrowed a friend’s place in the country in
May to get out of New York City during the
apex of the pandemic, when hundreds of New Yorkers
were dying every day and refrigerated trucks were serving
as mobile morgues outside the hospital where Ben, 14,
and his sister, Susannah, 10, were born.
I had not wanted to leave the city. I stayed after 9/11 and
after 2008, and staying had become a point of arbitrary
are in California, having come back to the U.S. from
China in a rush when the pandemic began. The trees
outside the house are strewn with Tibetan prayer flags.
the walls are classics of the far left—Noam Chomsky,
The Radical Reader, Capital. It’s a little paradise.
Still, I’ve lapsed into a kind of fugue state. I can’t place it;
life keeps slipping in and out of focus. One minute it seems
perfectly clear how and even why we fell off a ledge—the
country got a dangerous president, impeachment didn’t
stop him; then this devastating contagion, the murder of
George Floyd, the uprising of the protesters, the brutality
JO HN DOL AN /TRUN K ARC HIVE

pride. But soon after the market crashed, I lost the job
I had that tethered me to a podcast studio in downtown
Brooklyn. I found myself short on income, an inessential
worker. My kids asked to be somewhere they could walk
around without a mask. It seemed like a reasonable request. 
So we lit out for a house upstate, by a creek, that
belongs to the best friends of my partner, Richard. They
of the police, and always the sadism from the White House.
The next minute I’m sitting on the porch, watching a
ragged squirrel, and I just can’t fathom it. By contrast,
Ben and Susannah seem amused, alert, teachable,
YOUNG AND RESTLESS
”I DON’T WANT TO INTERRUPT YOUR TABS,” SAYS
SUSANNAH, 10. “BUT WHAT’S FOR LUNCH?”

14 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

uncollapsed. As for Richard, he’s a professor turned
handyman who is now collecting unemployment, since he
stopped being able to go into apartments to build shelves
and do electrical work. In May, his younger son, protesting
back in New York, was punched by a cop in the back of
his skull, which got him a concussion. I know Richard
shares my anxiety about the Trump regime, the police, the
virus, and the upcoming election, but he copes with it
by cycling, running, fixing the car, and building a deck.
“Exile suits you,” I told him the other day.
“You’ll like it when you’re ready,” he said.
Ben’s also in his element, with yard work and his books.
In April he took to day trading, and now—I can’t believe
I’m saying this—he runs what he considers a hedge fund,
with a grand hedge-fund name akin to “Black Rock” and
an estimated value of $300. Susannah opened an Etsy store
to sell crafts, worked like a demon in school, and has
spent the summer on a baking jag. In fact, both of them
seem somehow on fire. I’m on fire too, but not the
inspiring kind. I brood feverishly over every news video
and data point, and they play into my reeling nightmares.
I perseverate on microbes and democracy’s end. I keep
opening my tabs.
So much so that the kids have started to call whatever
I do for a living “tabs.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your tabs,”
says Susannah. “But what’s for lunch?”
On top of Ben’s desk chair sits his I’ve lapsed into a
1956 Royal Quiet Deluxe Typewriter, kind of fugue state.
where he bangs out dialogue and
poems: single-spaced, margins released. By contrast, Ben
The ribbon seems to be drying but and Susannah
never entirely inkless, which gives the
word-clotted pages an ombré effect. seem amused,
Ben found this machine on eBay for alert, teachable,
$53.29; he was the only bidder.
Yes, it seems as if Wes Anderson uncollapsed
storyboarded the kids’ lives, and I’m sorry
if it sounds twee. I myself did none of the storyboarding.
Over my objections, Ben committed years ago to living
without a smartphone, and now the Royal has further
liberated him, which means only E*TRADE and
various YouTube classes lash him to the internet, which
he considers a necessary evil if he’s going to stay on
top of his own upbringing, which is where he likes to be.
“How much do you think about all this—about the
disease and the unrest and the future of the formerly
free world?” I asked Ben the other day. I wanted to be
sure I was tending to his emotions, like a good mother.
“Not much at all,” he said. “I just think about things
I can control, like the stock market.”
I searched his face for a grin. Deadpan. That’s his style.
Oh, my little Warren Buffett, you have so much to learn,
I thought anyway.
Like just about all students everywhere, my kids
finished their spring semester 2020—Ben as a high school
freshman, Susannah in fifth grade—in the house. It was
like they’d been expecting it. Susannah on day one created
breakfast and exercise rituals and a set of ace WFH
productivity habits. Both kids managed their classwork
on their own, but I’d sometimes catch a word or two
of projects and discussion. If what I do is “tabs,” what
they seemed to do at school was “mute and unmute.”
But when school was out in the afternoons, and now
with summer break, Susannah has launched into her
Great Baking Show, solitaire edition. Sourdough starters
percolate on the counter, and every night is a cake,
cobbler, mousse, pie. Ben, after he’s traded pharma stocks
and done some yoga, scampers outside to bike around,
dig holes and firepits (and then move them), mow the
lawn, shoot BBs, and make dams in the creek.
Y
es, the Emily Dickinson–Mark Twain
duet sounds delightful, and damn is
it good to see two little humans making
the best of this. But I’m still the wrong
person to have a kid who doesn’t text,
tweet, or panic over Trumpism with
colleagues online. Before the virus, I used to love
everything digital. Now I don’t know. Now I feel lost.
Long ago the internet stopped being the enchanted
forest of masquerade it was when I first encountered it.
These days it seems like a danse macabre of fearsome
lies and what I have to believe is hard truth
(though who knows?). I cleared off
Facebook and Instagram some time ago,
defeated by the combination of political
torque and self-advertisement. I’m left
with Twitter for social media, which
is where I find fellow travelers in culture
and politics. However, sometimes I’ll
mention something lively a Twitter pal
said and the kids tease me about these
pals’ being . . . in my head.
I don’t want to play the loser in this
showdown between hearty, outdoorsy,
literate, PlayStation-rejecting kids and an exhausted
Gen X parent stuck to her phone. I like the outdoors too;
I’m not only a couchbound neurotic. I take morning
walks while listening to guided meditations to soothe my
nerves, and then true crime to jack them up again. I’ve
even hiked. I like the fire in the firepit at night, and lying
in the hammock, of course. Who can resist a hammock?
Staying six feet apart from my fellow humans at the
market or Lowe’s, though: Real life in commercial spaces
is somehow less nourishing than internet time because the
masks and distance are inhibiting in the extreme. We’re
like aliens. Fellowship seems broken. This administration,
the disease, and the police cruelty seem to have
introduced an unbearable wariness in public spaces. Six
feet is also an uncanny spatial interval, I keep thinking.
Too far for rock, paper, scissors. Too close for ping-pong.
Maybe I should introduce the kids to Hacky Sack.
The internet was, long ago, blissfully disinhibiting—
and a place for the imagination to run wild. As late
as the aughts, Japanese sociology held that U P F R O N T>1 6
15
Up Front Into the Wild
the chief way for kids to free themselves from the
soul-crushing surveillance and discipline of school and
office life was on the internet, where they could bend
their identities and create private fantasias.
Now, of course, online disinhibition means little more
to parents than rampaging psychic violence—by bullies,
hackers, trolls.
To be honest, I don’t even recognize the internet today in
Zoom or my tabs, which have a kind of howling banality
to them. Faces really don’t belong on the traditional internet,
as I used to know it; talking “face” to “face” inhibits the
wordplay and speedy literacy that used to be the strong suit
of the whole online project.
At least Susannah has found some sense of online humor
during this time, although she, who does have a phone
(without cell service), is so used to mixing Hangouts and
FaceTime with her friendships that she doesn’t entirely clock
the fact that her social life rarely happens in 3D these days.
Even without summer camp and parties, she and her
friends have managed no end of playdates and birthday
parties and group chats, and there are Minecraft-like
games they play. I was further amazed before school let
out that they’d managed to cook up a classic middle
school cloak-and-dagger “friend
drama” using only the tools
at hand. Her teachers gave the
kids a forum to talk about
political unrest and even racist
police violence, but I worry
these things are pro forma now;
I imagine they come across like
the filmstrips on the Cold War
I watched in middle school
in the 1980s.
Back to my tabs. There they
are: Twitter, of course. The
election polls. Disquieting news
from the White House and the
campaign trail. Data about the
pandemic’s surges and retreats.
A timetable for developing
antivirals and vaccines.
Numbers of jobless. Real estate
figures. (Should I sell the THE AUTHOR’S SON, BEN, 14, KEEPING
BUSY IN QUARANTINE.
New York place? And do what?)
I also have group chats and
Marco Polo threads open with people not on Twitter. I’m
especially in touch with my family, with whom I had a
Zoom Easter dinner at which we eulogized my aunt Peg,
who had died the day before of COVID-19. Group texts
also include Richard’s family, with whom I do crossword
puzzles; my good-natured high school friends, who are
gifted with memes; a lively group I used to work with in
marketing; a duo of journalists with whom I’ve discussed
politics and the law since 2017; and then my regular
one-on-one texting buddies.
Because offline there’s Richard, who is nearly always in
high spirits, singing made-up heavy-metal songs and
16 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM
sweeping us off to hikes and the Dairy Queen drive-through,
I seem to have settled into texting rhythms with the friends
who don’t see themselves as having idyllic quarantines. The
worried ones. The ones who don’t confer about sunglasses
and homemade cold brew but about inflammatory disorder,
the role of air-conditioning in the spread of the virus,
and constitutional breaches by the president. These are
the friends who, like me, lost jobs or family members or
confidence to this catastrophe. Or all three.
T
he kids’ lives are advancing. Susannah is
a pastry chef already. Her treats are
imaginative and delicious. And Ben has read
maybe—50 books by now? This seems to
be the childhood they’d been craving all
along. Without my planning; without the
camps, tutors, parties, and overseas trips I can no longer
afford; without a professional syllabus, passed down
through school boards and vetted to be developmentally
and politically appropriate. They haven’t even been to the
dentist in an age.
And yet there they go! Watching the bird feeder, reading
Seneca, getting up that words-per-minute rate on the
Royal. Is it terrible when I think
about how cheap this all is?
I keep thinking of the Whos
in Whoville. They’re singing,
without any presents at all!
Back at my laptop, on the
breezy deck with Richard this
time, what am I searching for?
My hypotheticals: If Wisconsin
does X, then the president
will do Y, and the protests will
ramp up, and the number of
COVID-19 dead will spike, and
the economy will shut down
again. With my brain whirring,
this MacBook becomes a
command-and-control center
where I have somehow trained
myself to believe that if I follow
ON FIRE the news closely enough, and
comment on it with enough brio,
I can remake the world.
Not so. Every single day of
these troubles I have had to learn again to let go. Wake up,
believe I wield global power, listen to the kids in their
self-educating glee, recognize they’re doing just fine, have
a sandwich, visit Richard at whatever new pile of rocks
COURTESY OF V IRG INIA HE FFE RNAN
he’s building. Oh, look: My global power is decaying. I try
to hold on, but it slips away; now it seems it never existed
at all. I am nowhere near in charge—and there’s some bliss
in that. Keep listening. Let go. Listen to Susannah click
to call the cat. Listen to Ben pull a page out of the stuttering
typewriter carriage. All on top of today’s best listening,
beautiful nonsense, not analysis of anything: the creek’s
never-ending group chat with the birds. @
V
Fashion
Culture

Assembly Required
At a national moment of
reckoning, how can fashion
show up for the Black community?
By Janelle Okwodu.
FA S H I O N George Floyd’s murder at
the hands of Minneapolis police
officers sparked outrage and protests across
America that have expanded around the globe.
Galvanized by an egregious violation of civil
rights laws, citizens—shaken out of months of
quarantine dormancy—took to the streets in
all 50 states to demand justice. Their efforts
were met with police brutality, inflammatory
tweets from President Trump, and thousands
of arrests. There is simply no arguing that the
events mark an inflection point.
Many Black designers and business leaders
have been vocal about ending racial injustice.
Pyer Moss’s Kerby Jean-Raymond, Balmain’s
Olivier Rousteing, Telfar Clemens, and
Rihanna have all taken to social media or
released statements in solidarity with
protesters, with Rihanna briefly suspending
sales at all three of her fashion and beauty
brands. Jide Zeitlin, the Nigerian-American
chairman and CEO of Tapestry Inc., the
parent company of Coach, Kate Spade, and
Stuart Weitzman, has emphasized the
company’s commitment to Black Lives Matter,
stating that Tapestry would be taking further
steps shortly. During an appearance on Good
Morning America, he elaborated on how
personal these issues are for him. “I believe so
fervently in the ideal that is America, the ideal that it’s about flagship windows were shattered and tagged with phrases
equal opportunity and the social mobility that comes with like make america pay. New York’s SoHo neighborhood,
that,” he said. “When I see the young Black man in the street home to boutiques including Gucci, Chanel, and Coach,
COURTESY OF ACA GALLE RIES, N EW YO RK

protesting, I sit there and I say, That’s me. He’s crying out reported multiple storefronts defaced or broken into;
for opportunity…if he’s able to achieve the American dream, similar events occurred in Atlanta, Boston, Philadelphia,
RIG HTS SO CIE TY (ARS ), N EW YO RK,
© 2020 FAITH RING GO LD/ARTISTS

it makes all of us better.”
Examples of allyship, though, are harder to find, even as
fashion has become inextricably linked with the protests.
Several early marches were followed by high-profile incidents
of looting, with luxury brands as targets. It should be noted
that looters and protesters are rarely the same people—but
the optics are the same, regardless of who caused the damage.
In Beverly Hills, Alexander McQueen’s Rodeo Drive
and other cities. Of course, the costs associated with
property damage and lost merchandise are undeniable, but
the impact of these losses must be set against the realities
of racially driven violence in America. Last year, more than
1,000 people lost their lives at the hands of police, with
Black people representing 24 percent of those killed. The
percentage is staggering when you consider that Black
Americans make up only 13 percent of the total population.

18 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

 In late May and early June, some took to the internet
to decry looters for the damage caused, but their statements
missed the point. When a protester scratches out the name
“Marc Jacobs” and replaces it with “Sandra Bland” or “George
Floyd,” it’s commentary about what we’ve chosen to value—
and we should examine why high fashion is being singled out.
Responding to the damage to his stores, Marc Jacobs posted
a much-regrammed quote. “Never let them convince you that
broken glass or property is violence,” it read. “Hunger is
violence; homelessness is violence; war is violence. Property can
be replaced; human lives cannot.” Jacobs then asked his
followers, “How can I be of service?”— which organizations
could he contribute to and support through donations?
Still, as purveyors of goods that lean aspirational (read:
inaccessible for the majority of the population), high-end
designers and brands have become avatars of inequality.
Just as the shared experience of a pandemic caused many
to rethink our relationship to the products we purchase, the
epidemic of police brutality and racism will alter the way we
consume. But when the dust settles, who will people side
with: the companies that were vocal in their support—or the
ones who were complicit through silence?
The past decade has seen an uptick in brands that market
themselves via their use of terms like inclusivity, diversity, and
acceptance, latching on to broader social movements to
prove themselves woke and to connect with millennial and Gen
Z consumers. The moves can come from a place of genuine
concern—corporations aren’t people, but the humans behind
them often use their platforms to promote causes close to their
hearts. Brands’ silence in the face of the current crisis, though,
calls that kind of sincerity into question. After public outcry,
several labels were quick to post messages in support of
Black Lives Matter, yet failed to initiate change within their
companies. Without minorities on
FACE VALUE creative teams and in executive roles, the
ECHOES OF HARLEM,
1980, A QUILT BY
gestures are empty—especially when
THE ARTIST FAITH issues pertinent to their communities are
RINGGOLD.
ignored. Any company that values
the $1.3 trillion force that is annual Black
buying power needs to also value the safety of Black citizens.
(Brands including Adidas, H&M, and Jordan, in conjunction
with Michael Jordan, have already pledged hundreds of
millions of dollars to organizations fighting racial injustice.)
While no gesture will please everyone, there are existing
initiatives in need of support. The 15 Percent Pledge launched
by Brother Vellies designer Aurora James calls for stores
like Whole Foods, Target, Shopbop, and Sephora to devote
15 percent of their shelf space to Black-owned businesses
(Sephora has already taken on the challenge). Magazines and
websites, including Vogue (I am a Senior Fashion News
Writer for Vogue.com), could undertake a similar agreement,
dedicating pages and site space to creatives of color.
Fostering talent through grants, funds, and scholarships is
also needed. Even internships—the first step for many when
they enter the fashion business—could use a revision. If unpaid
labor is the sole way to get your foot in the door, only a select
few can get the experience necessary to advance. Implementing
paid programs that allow students to earn while shadowing
a mentor is one way to help level the playing field. Likewise,
efforts to assist creators already in the industry must be
redoubled. Harlem’s Fashion Row’s newly launched nonprofit,
ICON 360, raises funds for designers of color affected by
the coronavirus shutdown. The virtual fashion experience they
recently hosted, which featured a Q&A with the photographer
Tamu McPherson, gave 100 percent of its profits to help Black
brands through a period of financial uncertainty. Though the
organization was created in response to a separate issue, it is
precisely the kind of project that corporations should support.
Brands can also foster collaboration with Black artists and
artisans, putting their creativity and names at the forefront of
collections instead of engaging in the appropriation that still
permeates our runways. Behind the scenes, Black voices must
be amplified to a place where they are present in and integral
to the decision-making process. How many gaffes have occurred
over the years involving products that have disrespected people
of color? Those instances need to be prevented, not excused
via apologies. Gucci’s appointment of Renée Tirado as its
head of diversity and inclusion last year was a step in the right
direction; similar positions should exist within every house.
Recent appointments have ended the days when there was
only one Black designer at a prominent house, one Black CEO
helming a corporation, or one Black editor of note, but the
impact of exclusion lingers. For the few allowed to ascend to the
highest levels, the solitude of achievement is isolating, but for
the greater community the idea that there is only room at the top
for one Black person is steeped in Magical Negro stereotypes
and destructive ideology. No individual can encapsulate the
richness of the Black experience—or that of any minority group.
Brands should be open to the idea that their boardrooms and
editorial and creative teams need to be as diverse as their
advertising campaigns if they are to engage with the multitude
of cultures and viewpoints that constitute Blackness.
Financial contributions have never been more valuable.
Beauty innovator Glossier announced that it would be donating
$500,000 to organizations combating racial injustice—with
the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, Black Lives
Matter, and the Marsha P. Johnson Institute among them—
plus a matching contribution in the form of grants for Black-
owned beauty businesses. By acknowledging America’s unrest
and making a definitive statement against racism, Glossier
did more than many.
Not every brand has $1 million to devote to supporting
activism, but every brand has a platform. The movement
needs leaders—advocates willing to forget what was taken and
focus on what can be gained. Fashion must move to evolve
its hiring practices, brand messaging, and commitment to
causes, even if they risk alienating some consumers. It will take
humility to broach these topics and to invest in long-term
advocacy. The path forward will not be easy, but it is necessary.
It’s telling that the most appropriate response came from the
musician and Golf Wang founder Tyler, The Creator, who was
among the thousands to march in Los Angeles in late May.
When his Fairfax Avenue store was vandalized during the
protests, he responded with a nod to history. Beneath a photo
of members of the Black Panther Party in 1969, he wrote,
“The store is fine, but even if it wasn’t, this is bigger than getting
some glass fixed and buffing spray paint off. Understand what
really needs to be fixed out here.” @
19
V L IFE
Powder Players
Touted—and dismissed—for their beauty-boosting benefits, collagen
supplements take an immune-enhancing tack.
WELLNESS Nearly six years ago, when chef Marco
Canora opened Brodo, the bone-broth
takeout window in Manhattan’s East Village that sparked a
wellness movement, I was slow to fall in line. Something
about sipping a clear, meaty elixir didn’t resonate with me the
way that my daily green juice did. And yet everyone from
Jennifer Aniston to Tom Brady was soon raving about the
collagen-rich panacea.
“Collagen is really critical to our health because it makes
up 30 percent of all of the protein in our bodies,” explains
Josh Axe, D.N.M., a clinical nutritionist and author of 2019’s
The Collagen Diet, who notes that production of the
multitasking amino-acid chains starts to decline around age 25.
“By the time you’re in your mid-50s, your body is producing
50 percent less collagen,” Axe continues. The way to help
replenish those reserves, he says, is to consume it—whether
by simmering bones into a savory stock or reaching for the
new collagen powders now flooding the supplement market.
Promising everything from thicker hair to plumper skin,
the collagen category is on track to reach $7.5 billion by 2027.
“Do you ingest collagen and look in the mirror and
give yourself a thumbs-up? No, it doesn’t work like that,”
admits Bobbi Brown, the beauty mogul and founder of the
wellness brand Evolution_18, whose four collagen-based
offerings are carried at Walmart. But real, perceptible
benefits can often be achieved in a few months, Brown is
quick to add. “Inside-out beauty is more important than
ever,” agrees One Ocean Beauty’s Marcella Cacci, who
launched her marine-based skin-care line in 2018 with a
five-piece lineup that includes complexion-boosting
collagen supplements that deploy skin-healthy vitamins
found in tomatoes and pomegranate extract.
20 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM
FORMULA ONE It’s certainly an appealing premise—
A WAVE OF WELLNESS if not entirely in line with our
BRANDS IS
TAPPING COLLAGEN’S increasingly plant-oriented diets. “It’s
INSIDE-OUT BENEFITS.
almost impossible to find the quality
of the collagen you are using or
exactly where it came from,” Brooke Russell, Ph.D., a V.P. of
operations at ECM Biosurgery, says of the powders, which
are sourced from the bones, skin, or connective tissue of
animals like cows or fish. “Most of the time you don’t really
PH OTO ILLUSTRATIO N BY IVAN A C RUZ; CH ARLIE SCHUCK/G E TT Y IMAGES ; SG É Z A BÁLIN T UJ VÁROS I /
know what is in there.” New York City–based dermatologist
Pat Wexler, M.D., isn’t entirely sold either. “There’s no
EYE E M/G ETTY IMAG ES; RIC HARD C LARK/G ETT Y IMAGES ; ANTON STARIKOV/SHU TTE RSTO C K
negative side effects—but there is a lot more research to be
done,” says Wexler, cautioning that many of the studies have
been paid for by the companies producing the supplements.
Linda Ellison, Ph.D., a former public-health-systems
managing director at the United Nations, spent three years
working with scientists to optimize a healing bone-broth
recipe that she inherited from her grandmother. Ellison had
planned to launch her first product, a beauty supplement,
from her California-based biotech company, Kaü, this fall.
But when the coronavirus hit, she decided to fast-track
Immunity Build, a more potent formula initially developed
for intensive-care units. “At this level of concentration, it
triggers the rapid production of immune-system cells” —cells
that might resemble those you have in your early 20s, Ellison
says. “It’s like the difference between getting a bag at Forever
21 and buying a Chanel purse,” she adds with a laugh. Since
the flavorless powder can strengthen your immune system, it
has a number of happy side effects, she says: “You’re sleeping
better, you’re less anxious, you have better mental focus,
and your metabolism spikes”; that a brighter complexion
comes with the territory is an added bonus.—zoe ruffner
U by Kotex® CleanWear®

to after-party.
V L IFE
Goodbye to
All That
A rigorous closet cleanse yields valuable
lessons—and some things worth leaving
behind. By Emma Elwick-Bates.

FA S H I O N “Blame it all on Jane Birkin,”

I mumble sheepishly into my
laptop. On the other end of the Zoom from
my London lockdown is Vogue’s resident
closet-cleansing guru, Liana Satenstein—
otherwise known as the Schmatta Shrink—in
New York, and she seems aghast by my
stash of a dozen or so wicker basket bags.
Among them is a reminder of that escape
to Deià; the wedding in Morocco; a KEEP
modern-classic Loewe—oh, and a versatile, JUNYA WATANABE
COMME DES
hand-woven Brother Vellies clutch, for the GARÇONS
past three summers my loyal walker to any MOTORCYCLE
JACKET
event. “They’re all quite different bags for SEEN ON MODEL
life,” I hear myself saying. “And I do wear LARA STONE
IN VOGUE,
them all year round.” DECEMBER 2011.
“Kill your darlings,” Satenstein urges. PHOTOGRAPHY BY
DAVID SIMS.
A recalibration of our homes, and
the abundance in them, has been ushered in
during isolation. For some, that’s meant
clearing out the baking relics in the kitchen

RE PAIR: VANESSA JACKMAN . KE E P & OU T: COU RTESY O F E MMA E LWI CK-BATES.

cupboards or addressing jammed sock
drawers. Pre-pandemic, I was packing at
leisure and having vague thoughts of “paring
down” my closet in a way that now seems
stupendously luxurious. Truthfully, I had
done very little but still knew it was a rare
moment to access how much I actually
needed, what I could let go of—and what I planned on holding REPAIR
CHANEL LEATHER BOOTS
on to forever. My rhythm of donating or recycling basics SPORTED AT LONDON
and baby and gym clothes is well tuned, and certain areas of my FASHION WEEK IN 2010.

life are edited with a Pawson-like minimalism. (My jewelry

consists of two mannish watches—one stainless steel, one gold;
a Cartier bangle; my engagement ring and wedding band.)
On the other hand, I’m not great at letting go of fashion.
Enter Satenstein, who has a great pedigree, having recently
helped streamline the closets of model Paloma Elsesser and
Vogue Contributing Editor Lynn Yaeger.
As the only child of an antiques dealer, Satenstein feels
destined to closet-cleanse after her formative education trailing
her mother. “I went to every sale: trailer parks, flea markets,
estates. I saw how easy it was for people to get rid of things
and learned that at the end of the day, stuff is just stuff.” (I’m OUT
ERDEM
not a complete stranger to the concept. During pregnancy, RUFFLED
I rid myself of some beloved pieces that no longer fit—but, in SILK DRESS
DONNED FOR
reality, laid down the lion’s share like a fine wine in hope of AN ENGLISH
being svelte again.) FA S H I O N > 2 4
COUNTRYSIDE
WEDDING
IN 2016.

22 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

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V L IFE
We all know in theory how liberating—both
psychologically and financially—responsible wardrobe
cleansing can be, but I’m cautious of letting someone
else’s opinion into my closet. (Years later, I still regret
being talked into letting go of a feather-hemmed
Prada dress.) But I hold my breath, pull everything out,
and Zoom in. “I will be taking notes,” Satenstein says.
I start with my stash of floral Erdem
and polka-dot Alessandra Rich silk
plissé—what I call “smart day.” But
My former use
having returned to London to embark on of “smart day”
freelance life, I’ve had a head start on
WFH style and figured out that it
seems increasingly
requires a uniform. Mine: button- less relevant
through shirts paired with jeans or Isabel
Marant Étoile track pants. Still—surely these dresses take
up precious little space on their skinny velvet hangers?
“One should suffice,” Satenstein says, deftly reminding
me that my use of “smart day” seems increasingly less
relevant as our current moment has further tested the
limits of just whom we’re dressing for.
As I unearth more, though, sartorial solecisms are
splayed out across my bedroom floor. Impulse purchases—
Satenstein deems them “the candy”—jump out
immediately: a Cecilie Bahnsen backless blouse, a Gucci
cat jumper (I am a dog person).
“Take a moment,” advises the Shrink, “and ask yourself
why you are buying these items.” (The doctor, it seems,
is in.) We find stubborn survivors from past culls, including
two 20-year-old Ghost dresses. As I try them on, the
Shrink—somewhat shockingly—thinks I should keep them:
They fit well, roll down to nothing, and could make great
summer day dresses. Looking at my pile of 35 jeans in
a spectrum of sizes, the Shrink simply says, “Don’t live for
the past or the future—live for how you are right now.”
Now in full shrink-session mode, we resolve to look
through old images to ascertain why I keep
clothes. Photos bounce from London
to New York, alongside new selfies. A
harsh message from Satenstein pings:
“Any regrets—that’s just nostalgia. Like
an ex-boyfriend: Just because you saw
him and he looked great doesn’t mean
that you need him back!”
I have a Maybe pile with a 30-day expiration deadline.
My Resale and Repair piles, meanwhile, are getting larger.
“They should be visible,” says the Shrink, “so you don’t
forget them.” As the fashion industry at large navigates a
seismic transformation, though, I’m also wondering what
it all means for me. (The uncertainty of freelance life, for one,
has had me pumping the brakes on spending.) Obviously,
the most sustainable item in your closet is a piece you already
own—a helpful maxim as I evaluate the edit.
Key lessons learned: A sparer closet not only helps you
home in on your style, it helps you look at things in a
more creative way. Even if not shopping the runway, I’m
still inspired by it. After all: Pleasure is still meant to be at
the heart of what we wear. @

Objects From Afar

DESIGN Oh, the places you can’t go—for now. In the
meantime, objects evocative of holidays not
taken will have to suffice. More specifically, this majolica vase
from Studio Le Nid—traditional ceramists based out of
Paternò, Sicily—will transport you to Southern Italy with its
refined rusticity. Handcrafted from Simeto River clay, the
vessel features a floral repeat that, according to Studio Le Nid’s
Vincenzo Messina, “captures the essential lines and shapes of
the rose with as few elements possible.”
SENSE OF PLACE
Some things in life are best kept simple.
CLOCKWISE FROM TOP Head east via Tamam, the New York
LEFT: UTOPIA GOODS City– and Istanbul-based home-goods
TRAY, STUDIO LE NID’S
CERAMIC VASE, purveyor of contemporary and antique
RUSSIAN ANTIQUE tablewares rooted in Eastern European
KUZNETSOV PORCELAIN culture. This royal-blue-colored dish,
FROM TAMAM.
painted in the late 19th century by the
Kuznetsov porcelain factory in Russia,
was meant to be exported to Uzbekistan. “It’s very different from
the wares made for the Russian domestic market,” says Clare
Louise Frost, co-owner of Tamam with Elizabeth Hewitt and
COURTESY OF BRANDS

Huseyin Kaplan. Travel farther south, to Australia, via this tray

made by the Sydney-based line Utopia Goods. The punchy pattern
dances with a hand-drawn tangle of banksia—Australia’s native
wildflower. Per Utopia Goods cofounder Sophie Tatlow, use the tray
to “enjoy your summer beer amid the Australian bush.”—LILAH RAMZI

24 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

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V L IFE
“I’ve aged ten years in three days,”
Kelly Oxford lamented on Twitter
back in March, after COVID-19 began
its pernicious spread. The best-selling
author and screenwriter was reflecting
on the collective anxiety, fear, and
pervasive sadness that befell all of us
once the global pandemic began. But
the idea of looking in the mirror to
see an unrecognizable face—one that’s
somehow older, creased, slack, and
inflamed—specifically struck a chord.
As I’ve become consumed by worry,
my skin has relentlessly reflected the
jangling nerves beneath. Dry patches
and redness have bloomed all over,
making me thankful for the mercy of
Zoom’s blurry screen. I am not alone. A
University of Chicago COVID Impact
Survey from May found that roughly
two-thirds of Americans had strong
negative emotions at least once during
the seven days prior to the survey.
And this is showing up on our skin,
says New York City dermatologist
Amy Wechsler,
STRESS TEST M.D., who is also
NEW PRODUCTS
AIM TO COMBAT board-certified
THE EFFECTS OF in psychiatry. “I’m
“PSYCHOLOGICAL
FATIGUE” ON hearing it from
YOUR SKIN. patients all day

ROY L IC H TEN STE IN. G IRL W ITH TE AR I, 1977. OIL AND MAGN A ON CAN VAS, 70 X 50 IN . © ESTATE OF ROY LIC HTE N ST EIN .
long,” she says.
For anyone who has ever endured
a breakout before a big event or
presentation, the mind-complexion
connection seems obvious. But
increasingly, research reveals that the
link between skin and stress is perhaps
stronger than we realized. Several
studies have found that emotional
stress slows wound healing, and
conversely, a 2018 study found that
taking antidepressants can improve
skin-barrier function. When we
experience mental or emotional duress,
during a global pandemic or otherwise, it unleashes a
B E AU T Y
toxic cocktail of stress hormones, explains Wechsler,

Keep Calm and

which cause dryness and sensitivity, as well as
laxity-inducing cortisol—“the collagen killer,” as it’s
been called. Cortisol can also ramp up activity in the

Reapply sebaceous glands, causing blemishes—which, by

Is “anti-stress” skin care
the beauty salve for our times?
asks Jancee Dunn.
the way, have appeared on my face for the first time
in years, as pointed out by my sharp-eyed mother, a
former Southern beauty queen.
“Wait, is that acne on your chin?” she asked,
peering at me during our now-weekly FaceTime call.
“Yes,” I said shortly, suddenly 14 again.
The “anti-stress” skin-care category is nothing
new, of course. When Manhattan-based

26 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

 dermatologist Dennis Gross, M.D., launched his
B3 Adaptive SuperFoods skin-care line earlier this
year, it was meant as a topical solution for “what
used to be our standard day-to-day stressors, like
an overflowing inbox,” he says. “I never could
have imagined what the world would look like just
months later.” Thankfully, he says, the collection’s
high concentrations of the antibacterial herb
ashwagandha, enzyme-rich kiwi, and four varieties
of mushrooms, which boost elasticity, are potent
enough to provide relief “in times of extreme stress
as well”—essential in the COVID-19 era, which
has seen a surge in skin-care sales as women seek
solutions, and some semblance of normalcy, in
their facial routines.
Givenchy’s new Ressource line—which purports
to combat the effects of “psychological fatigue”
on skin—is well positioned to tick both of these
boxes; LOUM Beauty of Calm, a New York
City–based start-up, goes even further. Named
by a notable linguist to sound “tranquil,” the
eight-piece line leverages the expertise of a
psycho-dermatologist as well as Francisco Tausk,
M.D., a professor of dermatology at the University
of Rochester with a focus on psychosomatic
medicine. “The brain-skin connection is so tight
that I’ve had patients able to clear their psoriasis
with a placebo,” claims Tausk, who has studied
the effects of stress on the skin for three decades,
and who did not take equity in the company
to retain his academic independence. Standouts
include a calming mask, a brightening serum,
and an oil-regulating priming moisturizer that
uses CBD to shrink sebaceous glands and
minimize breakouts, micro marine algae to reduce
inflammation, and Indian wild indigo, which
Tausk is particularly taken with. The ingredient can
regulate cortisol levels by up to 70 percent, he says.
Wechsler, who has also spent decades exploring
the link between our mental health and complexions,
agrees that these launches are an exciting
development. But a trip to the beauty counter—
virtual or otherwise—won’t be enough, she cautions.
“Really, what’s going to make the most impact
right now are lifestyle changes,” Wechsler says. “If
you’re sleeping four hours a night, your skin’s not
going to see the benefit of these products.” Instead,
she recommends the usual suspects: healthy diet,
decent rest, and exercise (which raises levels of
beta-endorphins that can fight cortisol’s effects)—all
things I know I should be doing but can’t seem
to commit to as the world spirals and late-breaking
news alerts exacerbate my already restless nights.
COURTESY OF PUBL ISH ERS
But these are factors I cannot control, I reason.
All I can do, all we can do, is respond to our
rampaging nerves as best as we can—whether with
a meditation app, a stepped-up running schedule,
or a gossamer-textured serum that holds in its
rose-tinted jar the hope of serenity and better skin. @
Wild Life
Vibrant debuts and summer affairs light
up the season’s new fiction.
B O O KS Kevin Kwan’s latest,
Sex and Vanity
(Doubleday)—an update on A Room
With a View—unfolds with his
signature winking wit about the .001
percent. This time, the Crazy Rich
Asians author starts in sun-soaked
Capri, where a sweetly naive Brown
undergrad attends the gilded
nuptials of her ultra-glam childhood
babysitter. Jetting from the Bay of
Naples to the canyons
of Fifth Avenue, the
book is a voyeuristic
cruise into the
playgrounds of the überrich. Kwan’s books
don’t go deep, but that’s hardly the point.
They skate along the glittering surface,
allowing their readers to bask in the
reflected glow. Edie, the narrator of Raven
Leilani’s Luster (FSG), is a disaffected,
urban-dwelling 20-something whiling away
her desk-job hours by engaging in
inappropriate flirtations. An online crush
turns into a full-on affair with an older
man—semi-sanctioned by his wife, with
whom he has an open relationship. The
soap-opera setup belies the intelligence
of this debut, which is narrated with
fresh and wry jadedness, Edie’s every
disappointment rendered with a
comic twist. An adventure of a wilder
sort unfolds in another debut,
Charlotte McConaghy’s Migrations
(Flatiron Books), which follows
loner Franny Stone as she sets out
with a ragtag crew of fishermen
from the rough and untamed coast
of Greenland. The book is as much a
mystery as an odyssey. Just what is
this rogue scientist seeking, and who,
or what, is she
trying to escape?
In memoirist
Cree LeFavour’s Private Means (Grove
Atlantic), married couple Alice and
Peter ping-pong between Cape Cod
and the Hamptons, contemplating
their marriage and excursions beyond
it. Unfolding between Memorial
Day and Labor Day, LeFavour’s first
novel is a tart comedy of manners
that distills the wandering spirit
of summer. —CHLOE SCHAMA
V L IFE
Sniff, Memory
With air travel drastically altered, a host
of new fragrances brings the world to you.
C U LT U R E When I was 20, my father took me to Paris. It
wasn’t the first time we had visited the city,
but it was the first time just the two of us had gone, and maybe
because of that, certain details impressed themselves upon
me: the macarons in our hotel room when we arrived, eating
curbside oysters under a dripping awning, the hot chocolate
at Angelina, and a parfumerie where the attendant looked like
she had stepped out of Manet’s A Bar at the Folies-Bergère—
Paris in all its clichéd glory.
The Annick Goutal boutique on rue de Castiglione was a
mysterious, vibrant landscape in and of itself, shadows of
foliage projected on the domed ceiling. Before we left, I bought
a bottle of the brand’s Eau du Sud—a tart verbena-and-
mandarin concoction infused with gusts of the Mistral and
van Gogh’s turpentine. (Camille Goutal, Annick’s daughter,
reports that it was inspired by “the scent of the pine trees,
the cypresses, the lavender fields; the rosemary, thyme, and
basil,” as well as “the freshness of a fountain that you
can hear in a village nearby.”) I carted it gingerly back to
my college-dorm room in Boston, where I was
living a grungier life—listening to Peaches, taking
seminars in gender theory, drinking neon-colored
drinks at the Chinese restaurant that served
underage undergrads. But a weeknight huff was
enough to send me straight back to the Left Bank
with visions of Provence.
Like all magic, this bending of time and space was
really a matter of science. “The neurons that are
active as you experience an event are the very same
neurons that store memory,” Afif Aqrabawi, Ph.D.,
a neuroscientist at MIT’s Picower Institute for
28 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM
smells,” and his research has gone a long way to indicate just
how powerful this kind of reminiscence can be: When the
PARIS : JOAN N PAI/THE NEW YORK TIM ES / REDUX PICTU RES ; ROSE :H AMZA K HAN /AL AMY STOC K PHOTO; AL L OTH ERS: COURTESY O F B RA N DS.
part of a mouse’s brain that stores the memory of the scent of
chocolate is stimulated, for example, the animal will forage
for the nonexistent sweets. “We’re visual creatures,” Aqrabawi
says, “so we tend to underappreciate our ability to smell.”
I certainly did—until earlier this summer, when I found myself
too many days to count into government-mandated isolation.
As the weeks ticked by, I winnowed down my beauty routine to
only the most utilitarian of items: soap, shampoo, ChapStick.
Yet I kept returning to the squat-bellied bottle from
Goutal that I had placed on my makeshift desk, deploying
a mid-morning spritz to remind me of moving more freely
through the world. A host of new fragrances serves a similar
purpose: Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle L’Eau Privée, with
its wafts of musk and jasmine, offers another take on the City
of Lights at nightfall; the sweet blood orange and earthy
mint of Guerlain’s Aqua Allegoria Orange Soleia provide a
glimpse of southern Italy’s gardens; Lancôme has reissued
its warm, enveloping classic Peut-Être with a gilded design
evoking French garden gates; and California Dream from
Louis Vuitton, a mandarin-and-ambrette eau de cologne, issues
wafts of West Coast sunsets, closer to home yet still far away.
While my quarantine has been nothing like
captivity, I’ve found myself thinking recently about
French-Colombian politician Íngrid Betancourt,
who spent six years as a prisoner of the Revolutionary
Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). When she
was released, she vowed never to deny herself the
opportunity to eat cake—and that she would wear
perfume every day. More than ever, the anecdote
offers a reminder to seek pleasure whenever we can,
olfactory or otherwise. In that ephemeral cloud
of French citrus, I smell the possibility that someday,
maybe soon, I’ll get back to Paris.—chloe schama
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V L IFE

Turning Pointe
Does ballet’s forced
experiment with digital
performance have legs?

DA N C E At the height of the Second

World War, Beryl Grey—who
would become the first English ballerina
invited to perform at the Soviet-run Bolshoi
Ballet—was dancing in Swan Lake at a
London theater when a V2 bomb exploded
nearby; the blast coincided with a particularly
dramatic moment in Stravinsky’s score, and
Dame Beryl, as she later reported, “carried on
dancing.” Ballet, to put it succinctly, has a
history of resilience.
This spring and summer, with live and
live-streamed ballets off the table, most
companies transplanted their performances
into the virtual space. New York City Ballet
filled six weeks of programming with footage
that was originally meant for the company’s
eyes only. “They were supposed to be cut and
snipped and edited for marketing purposes,”
explains Wendy Whelan, associate artistic
director. NYCB combed through recordings to curate a STREAM TEAM approval; they are dancing for each
best-of season that, for technical as well as curatorial reasons, DIGITAL PERFORMANCES other and falling in love along the
FROM (CLOCKWISE FROM
would have been impossible IRL. At American Ballet TOP LEFT) MARGAUX way. “I must spend a great deal of
GAUDY-TALAZAC, CÉLIA
Theatre, the company kicked off its online season with a DROUY, ELISABETH BEYER,
time rehearsing it in a real studio,
piece specially commissioned for the internet. The Paris ALICE CATONNET, CAMILLE facing a real mirror in order to gain
BON, AND CALVIN ROYAL III.
Opera Ballet, meanwhile, enlisted famed director Cédric a muscle memory,” Hyltin explains.
Klapisch (L’Auberge Espagnole) to edit a video tribute Cut to the footage: Hyltin is on a
to health workers in France; 61 dancers performed in their darkened stage with Joseph Gordon, filmed from an up-close

BEY ER: COU RTESY OF E LISABE TH BEYE R. ROYAL III: LEON ARDO COR RE DO R.
kitchens and stairwells and hallways to Prokofiev’s score vantage impossible from even the first row in the orchestra pit,
for Romeo and Juliet, errant toddlers wandering into view. every flicker of emotion readily apparent.
Though admiring of the efforts, I was nonetheless dubious Like the pointe slipper, the digital season is a ballet experiment, ALL OTH ERS : © BALLE T DE L’OPÉ RA DE PARIS/ © C ÉDRIC K LAPISC H .

that these online incarnations could match the art form’s
analogue charms: the mad dash to Lincoln Center, settling in
beneath the twinkling Swarovski chandeliers, and feeling a
sense of fulfilled duty in having overdressed for the occasion—
the ballet deserves it. It all makes for a glorious, romantic
evening, an experience that did not resemble what I had ahead
of me one night in late April when, alone in my living room,
I navigated to the NYCB YouTube channel. To say I had low
expectations would suggest I had any expectations at all.
One of the four ballets on the evening’s program was Jerome
Robbins’s Afternoon of a Faun, with music by Debussy.
“This ballet requires more rehearsal than almost any other,”
said principal dancer Sterling Hyltin, introducing the piece.
Set in a ballet studio, a pair of dancers practice a new work—
their eyes are fixed to the mirror as they watch for the other’s
but it seems to be one that has legs. “What used to be
ephemeral,” says the executive director of ABT, Kara Medoff
Barnett, “all those live performances that slipped through our
fingers—in the future, we must capture them.” She continues,
describing her company’s immediate plans for pieces designed
for digital distribution: “We are also exploring site-specific
works in controlled settings and immersive VR and AR projects.
While our main dining room may be temporarily closed, the
ABT Test Kitchen is buzzing with energy.”
As Vogue critic Cecelia Ager wrote in 1940 of ABT’s early
years, ballet has always thrived in the midst of tumult. “For
when it’s surrounded by nothing but love, it is the very nature
of a ballet company to sicken and die,” Ager wrote. “It’s a
thing that’s got to have controversy, a conflict, a good clean—
or dirty, it doesn’t matter—fight.”—lilah ramzi

34 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

by invitation | tipsntrends, inc. | 323-525-1700 *Based on 2019 sell-through and run rate. RevitaLash® Advanced not available in CA
ADVER TISEMENT
V L IFE
Routine Matters
With salons and fitness studios deemed nonessential, how important
is it to continue keeping up appearances? By Maya Singer.
B E AU T Y How long does it take to make or break a
habit? A decade ago Phillippa Lally, Ph.D.,
a researcher at University College London, led a major
study showing that people need, on average, 66 days to
change their ways. I was reminded of this 60-ish days into
my own pandemic-induced seclusion, after fleeing my
small apartment in Manhattan to join friends at their home
in upstate New York. As the novelty of sheltering in place
wore off (I, too, grew sick of baking and binge-watching)
and I adapted to my newly rural lifestyle, I became
preoccupied with the question of who, exactly, I would
be if and when I returned to my “normal” life—and
beyond that what, exactly, I’d look like.
After months of no gyms, no manicures, no bikini
waxes or Botox injections, women across America have
been grappling with the same question. Are we on the
verge of adopting an easygoing new attitude toward
beauty and fitness? Or, as soon as we’re given the chance,
will we re-embrace old habits, racing back to our trainers
and colorists in order to drop the weight we put on in
quarantine and touch up our collective roots? I miss the
old me—the lipsticked, hair-blown-out person who
started her day with the stern alarm clock of a reformer
class at New York Pilates and a takeaway coffee from the
neighborhood place where the baristas knew both my
order and my name. But I’ve also grown fond of the new
me, who rises with the sun and, three mornings per week,
laces up her sneakers for a lengthy head-clearing run in
the woods. Other mornings I’m awakened by my friends’
toddler, who likes to climb into my bed while I’m still
dozing and demand we put on red lipstick. It’s the only
time I wear makeup these days.
“This whole experience has definitely made me
question my beauty routine,” notes Annie Schmidt, 37,
vice president at an entertainment company based in New
York, Los Angeles, and London. “If I don’t need to put
on a full face of makeup to do a meeting over Zoom, why
should I have to when we go back to meeting in person?”
Schmidt’s comments track with the 22 percent decline
in makeup sales in the first quarter of the year compared
with a year ago—and with prognostications, like those
of McKinsey analysts, anticipating an even steeper drop
if working from home and mask-wearing remain
commonplace. It’s not that there’s no point making up a
face that won’t be seen; it’s that this unseeing is forcing
us into a beauty version of what Nietzsche termed
a “revaluation of values.” All that stuff we did to
self-optimize—did it matter? And who was it really for?
Schmidt’s take is clarifying. While she may be ready
to forgo foundation and eyeliner, she mourns the loss of
36 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM
her signature eye-popping gels, which East Village nail
artist MoMo used to apply every three weeks or so.
“Listen—I love those nails, but I also love MoMo,”
Schmidt says. “I’d be in her tiny salon for hours at a
time, gossiping. It’s really hard for me to imagine
my life without that.” A similar wistfulness has Melanie
Kimmelman eager to return to her Rumble Boxing
classes ASAP. Pre-pandemic, the 32-year-old publicist
hit the Upper East Side studio several times a week—
and the Zoom sessions she helps organize, led by Rumble
trainer Dale Santiago, only partly fill the void, she
admits. “I miss the actual workout—I don’t have a
hanging water bag in my apartment—but I also miss the
people,” says Kimmelman. “Just walking in and seeing
familiar faces—that meant a lot to me.”
Kimmelman’s words hit home. I started going to New
York Pilates so I could strengthen my core and tone my
ass, but I kept at it because the community at my studio
was enormously grounding. There was an ambient
comfort in knowing, for instance, that I’d usually see the
same 10 people in Kai-Ting’s Advanced Technique
class on Tuesdays—and that, without our ever becoming
friends per se, that hour of planking and pliéing was
“our thing.” It’s impossible to re-create that virtually,
though I do get a little frisson of excitement whenever
NYP founder Heather Andersen posts a mat workout to
Instagram, and there are names I recognize in the
comments feed. Andersen is currently converting NYP’s
Montauk space into a digital studio, in recognition
of the fact that physical reopening may be a long time
coming. And even then, she tells me, it’s not like the
studio experience will be just as I remembered it. “There
will be so many new protocols, from how you space
reformers to the way you sanitize between classes,” she
points out. “And people are going to be nervous.”
Some of her clients may, of course, stay away; not me.
Though I’d be loath to give up my running routine at
this point, I’ve realized that when I do Pilates, I feel like me.
Super-stylist Kate Young has also been sheltering
upstate, and a few weeks into quarantine she was faced
with the dilemma of what to do about her signature
peroxide-blonde hair. Grow it out? Wear a turban? “In
the end, I felt like—you know what? This is my thing.”
So Joe Martino, Young’s longtime colorist at Orlo
Salon, sent her the necessary supplies and coached her
through the bleaching process C O N T I N U E D O N PA G E 8 6
OLD HABITS
“All that stuff we did to self-optimize—did it matter?” Singer asks.
“And who was it really for?” Photo collage by Inez & Vinoodh.
 August 2020

THIS MONTH,
we are saluting resilience
in all its forms.
SIMONE BILES
setting her sights on
Olympics 2021.
Those at the grass roots
reminding us what
true LEADERSHIP
looks like. Fashion
reinvigorating itself
and flaunting its
CREATIVE SIDE.
39
 FLIGHT PATH
At press time, the
Tokyo Olympics have
been postponed until
(at least) July 2021.
“I’m starting to train
toward it,” Biles said.
Alaïa crop top and
shorts. Belts by
Hermès and Alaïa.
Sittings Editor:
Phyllis Posnick.

Game Changer
She’s an athlete at the pinnacle of her sport—but with the world
in upheaval, the Olympics postponed, and a shadow hanging over
American gymnastics, Simone Biles has had to be resilient as
never before. Abby Aguirre reports on a champion looking ahead.
Photographed by Annie Leibovitz.
ALL TOGETHER THEN
Biles (seated, wearing an
Alaïa dress), photographed
in February 2020 with her
family in Spring, Texas.
from left: Simone’s younger
sister, Adria, her parents,
Nellie and Ron, and their
sons, Ron II and Adam.
O
n a rainy afternoon in
March, dozens of tween
girls filed into an audito-
rium at New York’s Lower
Eastside Girls Club. They were there
to hear Simone Biles talk about beau-
ty standards. She arrived fresh off a
plane from Indianapolis, where she
had spent the morning training, and
the room went bananas when she
walked in, a four-foot-eight power-
house in a color-block turtleneck and
blue jeans. She sat on a couch at the
front of the room. Her feet, in pearly
ankle boots with Lucite heels, barely
touched the floor.
Biles delivered her remarks in the
dutiful and direct way that athletes
and coaches give interviews. She
loves gymnastics, she said, but not
the beauty competition that comes
with it: “No matter how good you
are in your sport, in life, in work, the
number one thing people talk about
is how you look.” She urged the girls
to handle such pressure by ignor-
ing it. “You’re still going to thrive.
You’re going to become somebody
amazing and great. You guys are all
beautiful, inside and out.” Whoops
and cheers all around.
This was, of course, early March,
which is to say a million years ago—
before the coronavirus pandemic all
but shut down New York City, before
the Olympics were postponed, before
it was clear that nobody should be
out in crowds. The Lower East Side
talk was the first of several appear-
ances Biles was making on behalf of
the Japanese skin-care brand SK-II.
She and a few other Olympians—
including the table-tennis player
Ishikawa Kasumi, the badminton
duo Ayaka Takahashi and Misaki
Matsutomo, and the surfer Mahina
Maeda—are the faces of an ad cam-
paign that proclaims beauty should
be “no competition.”
SK-II is a sponsor of the Tokyo
games—which, as of this writing,
have been postponed until July 2021,
unless they are moved again or can-
celed altogether—but that isn’t the
only reason Biles signed on. She is
deliberate about her endorsements.
She works with Mattress Firm
because the company donates mat-
tresses, pajamas, and bedtime books
to foster kids. (Biles spent time in
foster care.) The #NoCompetition

43
 campaign is similarly personal for
Biles, who has faced demeaning and
repulsive attacks about her body
from spectators, competitors, and
relentless online trolls.
It was time for questions. A short
girl in a blue sweatshirt that said
god is dope wanted to know if Biles
received rude comments when she
began competing. Yes, Biles said:
“They focused on my hair. They
focused on how big my legs were.
But God made me this way, and I feel
like if I didn’t have these legs or these
calves, I wouldn’t be able to tumble
as high as I can and have all of these
moves named after me.” A tall girl
with red braids asked Biles how she
felt about being a Black gymnast.
Her triumph at Rio 2016
came with a dash of swagger.
“I’m not the next Usain Bolt
or Michael Phelps,” she said.
“I’m the first Simone Biles”
Biles nodded. “Growing up, I didn’t
see very many Black gymnasts,” she
said. “So whenever I did, I felt real-
ly inspired to go out there and want
to be as good as them. I remember
watching Gabby Douglas win the
2012 Olympics, and I was like, If she
can do it, I can do it.”
Hands flew up. How many medals
did Biles have? “I should probably
memorize this answer, but it keeps
changing,” Biles said. “The most!”
someone called out. “Yeah, I do have
the most,” Biles said. “I think it’s at
25, but I’m not really sure. I would
have to google it.” (She has 30.) A
girl in the back wanted to know how
many injuries Biles had gotten. “I’ve
been very fortunate in my career that
I haven’t had too many injuries,”
Biles said—just bone spurs, a bro-
ken rib, toes shattered and cracked.
The girls gasped.
Another asked, “Do you think
you’re obligated to stand up when
something bad is going on in soci-
ety?” The question summoned the
specter of Larry Nassar, the long-
time USA Gymnastics doctor who
is now serving a sentence of up to
44
175 years for the sexual abuse of
athletes, including Biles. For two
years and counting, she has been
trying to hold officials in her sport
accountable. “Personally, for me, I
don’t think of it as an obligation,”
Biles said. “I think of it as an honor
to speak for the less fortunate and
for the voiceless. I also feel like it
gives them power.”
Biles posed for a group photo.
Then she and her small entourage
got into black SUVs and headed for
Times Square. Biles rode with her
mother, Nellie, a petite woman with
a no-nonsense manner and kind eyes.
I rode with a team from SK-II. As
we flew up FDR Drive, word arrived
that, because of the rain, Biles would
not be doing a split leap at
the event. (No risking inju-
ry.) The group reconvened
in a hotel lobby and pro-
ceeded to Broadway and
Seventh Avenue. Biles, now
wearing gray leggings and
a cream puffer coat, stood
on a platform, enveloped
by a growing crowd. She
said a few words, and then
an anime film began to
play on enormous digital billboards.
In it, a small cartoon Biles faced off
with a 200-foot-tall monster whose
blobby body was composed of com-
ments made about her on social
media. As Biles confronted the tower-
ing troll, the comments flashed across
the frame: “Her calves errrrhmygod.”
The rain died down to a drizzle,
and Biles started giving short inter-
views to a succession of news crews.
Between them, she obliged crowd
requests for high fives, and every
time she did, a tall blonde woman
(her agent, Janey Miller, it turned
out) doused Biles’s hands in Purell.
A fire truck pulled over, and six fire-
fighters got out—to get a photo with
Biles. Along the Broadway side of
the plaza, a young gymnast pressed
against a crowd barrier. She held up
a handwritten sign:
I LOVE Simone!!
(Level 3, Jr A)
*watch me KIP!!!*
The reference to kipping—a swing-
ing pull-up on the uneven bars—
worked like a smoke signal. Nellie
walked over, got the sign, and ferried
it to Simone for autographing. As the
 PERFECT SCORE
Biles is widely regarded as
the greatest gymnast
of all time. In the individual
all-around category, she
hasn’t lost a competition
since 2013. Dior Haute
Couture dress.
 girl waited patiently in the drizzle,
I asked her why she loved Biles so
much. Her gaze remained fixed on
Biles when she responded, “Because
she’s the strongest.”
S
imone Biles is the strongest
gymnast—the greatest of
all time, male or female, and
this is no longer a matter of
opinion. In the individual all-around
category, Biles hasn’t lost a meet since
2013. As of October, when she won
her fifth all-around international title,
Biles became the most decorated gym-
nast in World Championship history.
But the statistics, rankings, and
records obliterated don’t fully capture
how she dominates her sport. Her
tumbling passes in particular seem
to involve trompe l’oeil. Wearing an
expression of stoic certainty, eyelids
at half-mast and ponytail bobbing,
she barrels into a force-gathering
series of roundoffs and handsprings,
then explodes into the air as if an
invisible hand has pressed an eject
button. Biles appears to have a dif-
ferent relationship with gravity; she
seems to bend both space and time.
From the start, Biles was poised
to maximize the possibilities of a
new scoring system in gymnastics,
first adopted in 2006, when she was
nine. Where gymnasts once aspired
to a perfect 10, they now earn two
scores—one each for difficulty and
execution. The second is capped at 10,
but the first is limitless. Try a harder
Biles has extraordinary air
awareness, a knack for knowing
where your body is in space as
you flip and twist. This is more
innate sense than acquirable skill
maneuver in competition and you can
get a higher maximum score. Biles has
made a career of that.
Going into the 2016 Olympics in
Rio, Biles, then 19, was already in
rarefied air. Some teammates admit-
ted that they were all competing for
second place. Even Biles seemed
astounded. “I kind of blow my own
46
mind,” she told one reporter. She won
four gold medals that summer, the first
female American gymnast to do so at
a single Olympics, and one bronze.
She did it with a smile, as is the norm
in her sport, but also with a dash of
swagger. “I’m not the next Usain Bolt
or Michael Phelps,” she said. “I’m the
first Simone Biles.”
Female gymnasts typically peak
as teenagers. And yet, when Biles
returned to competition after Rio, at
21, she won national and internation-
al titles with almost workaday consis-
tency. When Biles introduced a dan-
gerous new skill on the competition
circuit last fall—a “double-double”
beam dismount, involving two flips
and two twists—the International
Federation of Gymnasts gave it a
lower difficulty value than expected,
in part to dissuade other gymnasts
from trying it.
Comparisons with athletes may
irritate Biles, but they are unavoid-
able, since gymnastics—whose pun-
ishing rigor is cloaked in glitter and
sequins—requires some translation.
She is often likened to living legends
like Bolt, Phelps, Serena Williams,
Tiger Woods. But a more apt refer-
ence may be Wilt Chamberlain, the
imposing NBA center and statisti-
cal phenomenon who was so tall, so
fast, and so scary-good, the sport of
basketball preemptively outlawed his
mythical foul-line dunks.
In recent years, Biles’s rise has tak-
en place against a horrific backdrop.
The revelation that Larry
Nassar sexually abused
hundreds of gymnasts,
including all five mem-
bers of the 2012 Olym-
pic team and four of
the five members of the
2016 team, was the first
horror. Then it became
clear that Nassar had
enablers—at Michigan
State, where he was on
faculty, but also at USA
Gymnastics and the U.S. Olympic
and Paralympic Committee. Amid
the fallout, Biles emerged as a pow-
erful check on her sport’s governing
body. She is the only Olympic gym-
nast who disclosed abuse by Nassar
and continued competing at the elite
level. Her willingness to speak out
from within the sport has made her
an even bigger hero and invited yet
more comparisons to iconic athletes
with iron moral codes, like Muham-
mad Ali, though even this parallel
is inexact. Sexual abuse inflicts a
uniquely isolating mix of stigma
and shame.
And that’s what this story was
supposed to have been about: an
athlete of unprecedented dominance
returning to the Olympics, where to
compete at all she has to represent
the very organizations that wronged
her, and which she has spent the last
two years staring down. But then
something even more unprecedent-
ed happened. The Olympics—well,
they disappeared. Overnight, years
of carefully laid plans were thrown
into limbo.
In the unforgiving timeline of
an elite gymnastics career, a year’s
delay is an eternity—especially for
an athlete four months away from
retiring, as Biles was when I first
met her in New York. At 23, Biles is
already unusually old for an Olympi-
an. Next summer, she will be 24. The
road to 2021 will require another year
of punishing training and avoiding
injury, if there is such a road at all.
Biles’s sovereignty seems almost inev-
itable now, as an old-world sport long
dominated by bouncing pixies has
evolved to reward innovation. But
none of it was inevitable. When she
was born—in 1997 in Columbus,
Ohio—her biological mother was
struggling with drugs. Her biological
father was out of the picture. Biles
was three when child-protective ser-
vices placed her and her three siblings
in foster care. Their foster parents,
Miss Doris and Mr. Leo, had a beagle
named Teddy and a trampoline that
Biles was not allowed to jump on.
Instead, she would play on a swing
set in the backyard. Imitating her old-
er brother, Tevin, Biles would swing
high and then dismount midair by
doing a backflip.
Eventually, the four kids—Biles,
Tevin, her older sister, Ashley, and
her younger sister, Adria—went to
stay with their maternal grandfather,
Ron, a retired Air Force sergeant
who worked as an air-traffic con-
troller, and his second wife, Nellie,
a regional nurse who had emigrated
from Belize. (When Biles was born,
it was Ron who had suggested the
name Simone, she writes in her 2016
memoir, Courage to Soar: “He’d
liked the sound of it ever since he was
a teenager listening to Nina Simone
records in the housing projects in
Cleveland.”) Ron and Nellie lived in
Spring, a suburb north of Houston.
They had two sons of their own—
Ron II, who was 16, and Adam, 14.
They also had a trampoline, and this
time, Biles was allowed to jump on it.
Biles and Adria formed an attach-
ment to Nellie. In her memoir, Biles
affectionately recalls how, on her first
day in Spring, Nellie wedged Biles
between her knees and redid her hair,
washing and combing and brush-
ing and braiding: “I loved the feel
of my grandma’s hands in my hair.
I loved the look of concentration
on her face as she worked.” After a
failed reunion with their mother and
another stint with Miss Doris and
Mr. Leo, Simone and Adria were offi-
cially adopted by Ron and Nellie in
2003. (Tevin and Ashley were adopt-
ed by Ron’s sister, Aunt Harriet, in
Cleveland.) Grandma and Grandpa
became Mom and Dad.
A media consensus seems to have
formed that 2018 was the year Biles
“found her voice,” but Courage to
Soar suggests she always had one.
Self-assertion is a prevailing theme
throughout. Biles describes her three-
year-old self as “just plain stubborn”
and a “bossy little thing” who lorded
it over her younger sister.
Biles was also remarkably physical.
During the girls’ first stay in Spring,
Nellie would often enter their room
in the morning to find Biles sleep-
ing in Adria’s crib. Nellie assumed
Ashley was letting down the side of
the crib at night, until one day she
walked in and saw Biles hoisting
herself up, one leg slung over the
rail. Later, Biles made it a habit to
roll out of bed in the morning, grab
her overalls, and head straight to the
trampoline. Ron II and Adam would
double-bounce Biles to see how many
times she could flip before she land-
ed. Another favorite game was to see
how many pull-ups she could do on
their outstretched arms. When Biles
was six, Nellie enrolled her in classes
at a local gym. She spent only a few
days in recreational before she was
transferred to team.
Biles was already muscular. (By
the third grade, boys at school had
taken to calling her “swoldier,” a
portmanteau of “swollen” and “sol-
dier.”) She also had extraordinary
air awareness, a knack for knowing
where your body is in space as you
flip and twist in flight. This is more
innate sense than acquirable skill—
it can be practiced
but not taught.
But Biles did not
always advance at Biles has fought for an independent
warp speed. She
sometimes fell in
investigation of her sport’s handling of
competition and the Nassar case: “We need to figure
was occasionally
uninterested in
out why it happened, when it
doing the tedious happened, and who knew what, when”
work of perfecting
her routines. Her
longtime coach Aimee Boorman
didn’t push her to conform. Boorman
had coached Biles since she was eight
and understood her temperament:
She wouldn’t do anything she didn’t
want to do. It had to be fun, or Biles
would quit. Together they had a man-
tra: It’s just gymnastics.
B
oorman’s approach kept
Biles in the sport. It also set
her up for a rude awakening
in elite gymnastics. When
Biles was 14, she was invited to a
developmental camp at the Karolyi
Ranch, the former national-team
training center run by Bela and Mar-
tha Karolyi, the stone-faced rulers of
American gymnastics. “The ranch,” as
it was known, occupied a 2,000-acre
compound inside Sam Houston
National Forest, about 60 miles north
of Houston. Biles was expecting camp-
fires and marshmallows. Instead, she
was in the gym from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m.,
breaking skills down to their elements.
The sessions were grueling, the repe-
tition relentless.
The formality and rigidity did not
suit her. But as Biles progressed, mak-
ing the junior national team, she had
to adapt. There was only one road to
the Olympics, and the Karolyis were
it. Every gymnast knew that the Kar-
olyis had trained both Nadia Coma-
neci and Mary Lou Retton. It was
Bela who had pushed Kerri Strug
to perform her second vault at the
1996 Olympics with a broken ankle,
clinching the first-ever team gold for
the U.S. in women’s gymnastics, and
it was Bela who carried Strug to the
podium to accept her medal. Biles
learned quiet obedience, or at least
the appearance of it. “Being com-
mitted meant you kept a straight
face,” she writes.
Biles did not keep a straight face at
home. Within the family, the stretch
of time between the fall of 2011 and
the summer of 2013 is still known as
Simone’s Bratty Period. There was a
lot of talking back, mumbling under
her breath, frequent temper tantrums.
Part of it was the usual teenage stuff.
But the brattiness was also converging
with new levels of sacrifice. Biles had
already been putting in 25 to 30 hours
of training a week. She had to get to
35. To make up the difference, she
started homeschooling.
“Not that I wanted to make it a
living hell for myself, but I wanted to
make it as hard as possible, not just
on me but on everybody,” Biles told
me. “I didn’t know how to handle it,
so I just lashed out at everybody. Like
it was everybody’s fault but mine.”
It’s hard to pinpoint why the Brat-
ty Period ended when it did. Biles
started seeing a sports psychologist
that summer, which helped. She also
started winning.
Biles first took individual gold at
the 2013 National Championships.
Since then she has been untouchable.
At the World Championships that
year, where she also took gold, Biles
landed a new trick on the floor—a
double flip in a straight body position
with a half turn at the end. Because
she was the first to perform it in an
international competition, the skill
was named “the Biles” in the Code
of Points. (There are now three more
skills named after her.) The story of
Biles’s first international win imme-
diately became a story about racism
when an Italian gymnast, Carlotta
47
 Ferlito, told reporters, “Next time
we should paint our skin black, so
we could win, too.” (Ron, reached
by a reporter, responded: “Normal-
ly it’s not in Simone’s favor being
Black, at least not in the world that
I live in.”) By November 2015, Biles
held the most gold medals of any
female American gymnast in histo-
ry. To mark the occasion, she posted
to Instagram a photo of herself with
“We need justice,” Biles
said of the protests sweeping
the country in June. “It’s
sad that it took all of this for
people to listen”
14 world medals draped around her
neck and the caption “Work hard in
silence let your success be the noise.”
After her five-medal haul at the Rio
Olympics, Team USA voted for Biles
to carry the American flag in the
closing ceremony.
T
he Larry Nassar story
broke three weeks after the
closing ceremony in Rio.
The first piece was pub-
lished by the Indianapolis Star—two
former gymnasts, one an Olympic
medalist, were accusing Nassar of
sexual abuse.
Over the following year and a half,
the scope of Nassar’s crimes came to
light: The longtime team physician
for USAG was possibly the worst
predator in the history of American
sports. But when the Star story came
out, many gymnasts, Biles includ-
ed, had not yet processed what had
happened to them. Biles was a new
superstar, traveling the United States
on a post-Olympic tour.
At that point, it had been a year
since Nassar had anything to do with
USA Gymnastics. He had been quiet-
ly let go as team doctor in 2015, after
a coach overheard gymnasts talking
about his treatments and reported her
concerns to USAG. The organization
conducted an internal investigation,
then referred the matter to the F.B.I.
in Indianapolis. But nobody from
48
USAG told Biles or Nellie. “He had
left because he was ill or something
like that,” Nellie recalled.
The story left Biles in a disjoint-
ed mental and emotional state. “It
didn’t feel like real life,” she told me
of this period. “And there were little
things that I did that I didn’t know
why, but I felt like I was just trying
to protect myself.” Such as? “Just,
like, little quirks. Like I remember
on tour, I would have really
bad anxiety about nothing.
Or like, walking down a hall, I
feared that somebody was fol-
lowing me. I just had a lot of
issues that were unexplained
until I finally figured out why.
The dots connected.”
After the tour, Biles com-
peted on Dancing With the
Stars. But the drip-drip-drip
of developments in the Nas-
sar story continued. Nassar
was arrested on child-pornography
charges in late 2016. In February,
three former Team USA gymnasts
went on 60 Minutes and described the
abuse Nassar had inflicted on them,
how he had passed it off as legitimate
medical care. The following month,
the president of USA Gymnastics,
Steve Penny, resigned.
Inside her family, Biles effectively
declared the topic off-limits. “When-
ever my parents would ask me about
it, or my brothers, I would just shut it
down,” Biles said. “Like, No! It didn’t
happen! I would get really angry.”
Nellie tried to broach the subject. “I
asked several times,” she said. “Her
reaction was awful. Scream and walk
out the door and not want to discuss
it.” Did the strong reaction worry
Nellie? “Of course it did,” Nellie
said. “When somebody responds
like that. . . .”
That summer, Biles moved out of
Ron and Nellie’s house and into a con-
do of her own—the beginning of an
“adulting” process, she told me. For
a while she could do little more than
sleep. “I was very depressed,” Biles
S ET DES IG N, MARY HOWARD STUD IO
said. “At one point I slept so much
because, for me, it was the closest thing
to death without harming myself. It
was an escape from all of my thoughts,
from the world, from what I was deal-
ing with. It was a really dark time.”
Biles has never described the abuse,
and I didn’t C O N T I N U E D O N PA G E 8 6
 WAITING GAME
“I felt kind of torn and
broken,” she said about
the Olympics’ being
postponed. “Obviously it
was the right decision,
but to have it finalized—
you feel defeated
because you’ve worked
so hard.” Marc Jacobs
dress. In this story: hair,
Nai’vasha Johnson;
makeup, Fara Homidi.
Details, see In This Issue.
 GROUNDSWELL
At a testing moment for the country and the world, where can inspiring
leadership be found? Not in the places you expect. By Nathan Heller.

F
irst, a haunting absence: From the middle of
March until the end of May, great cities like New
York bore the gray face of demise—their streets
were empty, their businesses shut, and the rush
of bodies that brings life to urban sidewalks transformed
into hospital wings crowded with the dying and the dead.
Then an explosive presence: protesters streaming into the
streets in cities and small towns across all 50 states, decry-
ing a history’s worth of law-enforcement brutality against
Black people and, across the nation, meeting with violent
resistance from the powers that they sought to change. In
an endless-seeming flow of videos, we saw officers of the
law beating, gassing, and firing rubber bullets on peaceful
protesters and news media alike; we saw high-schoolers

50

being arrested, facedown on the pavement, after new
sunset-hour curfews; we saw sleepy suburbs patrolled by
armed guardsmen whose presence, rather than supplying
protection, seemed intended mainly to stoke fear.
The common factor in the ghostly retreat and the ensu-
ing chaos was bad leadership from the top. Even President
Trump’s own former defense secretary, General James
Mattis, issued a bracing indictment of those in power:
“The protests are defined by tens of thousands of people of
conscience,” he said in early June. “We must reject and hold
accountable those in office who would make a mockery
COURTESY OF PAC E GAL LE RY
of our Constitution.” His words echoed calls for change
from voices across the political spectrum and heralded a
crisis of American leadership, one that has been gathering
for some time. Ever since the advent of photography and
the TV screen, our leaders’ mandates have seemed to rest
in large part on the strength of their public image: There
was the much-reprinted photograph of the Allied heads of
COLLECTIVE
EFFORT
Everywhere you
look, leadership is
being redefined.
Adam Pendleton,
WE (we are not
successive), 2015,
silkscreen ink
on mirror-polished
stainless steel.
state meeting to bring World War II to an end; there was
the image of Martin Luther King Jr. on the Washington
Mall, and of Gloria Steinem sitting with Shirley Chisholm
and Betty Friedan before the National Women’s Political
Caucus, calling for change. In recent years, though, mere
images of leadership have lost their strength—especially as
President Trump has tried to lean on their power. Near the
peak of COVID-19 transmission, he held a media briefing
several times a week at 5 p.m., standing tall at the White
House podium like generations of leaders before him. Yet
his counsel betrayed the image he reached for.
“So, supposing we hit the body with a tremendous—
whether it’s ultraviolet or just very powerful light, and
I think you said that hasn’t been checked—but you’re
going to test it. And then I said, ‘Supposing you brought
the light inside the body!’ ” he exclaimed on April 23, on
a live broadcast before a baffled nation. “Then I see the
disinfectant, where it knocks it out in a minute. One minute.
51
 And is there a way we can do something like that, by injec-
tion inside or almost a cleaning? Because, you see, it gets
in the lungs.” He later elaborated, “I’m not a doctor. But
I’m, like, a person that has a good you-know-what.” He
pointed at his head.
Well, maybe we do know. Does he? By the end of the
Memorial Day holiday weekend, death tolls in the U.S.
had passed 100,000. A study at Columbia University
calculated that 36,000
of those deaths would
have been avoided if
the federal government
had advocated social
distancing just one
week earlier. The presi-
dent responded by call-
ing the university, one
of this nation’s oldest
and most esteemed,
“a liberal, disgraceful
institution.”
Also on Memori-
al Day, a 46-year-old
Black man named
George Floyd was arrested, ostensibly
on suspicion of passing a counterfeit
$20 bill in a deli, by a white Minneapolis
police officer named Derek Chauvin, who
pressed Floyd’s neck against the pavement
with his knee for nearly nine minutes,
as three other officers looked on, until
Floyd choked to death. When protests
emerged, and officers in riot gear
were caught on camera plowing LEADING WOMEN
vehicles into crowds, the presi- from top: New Zealand’s
dent praised law enforcement for prime minister, Jacinda
doing a “great job.” Ardern; actor Keke
By then, however, the Ameri- Palmer; Finland’s prime
minister, Sanna Marin.
can people were no longer hav-
ing it—not from the president,
not from crisply uniformed agents of law
enforcement, not from the mayors who
came to their defense. Along with Floyd’s
death, the killings of Ahmaud Arbery and
Rayshard Brooks in Georgia and Breonna
Taylor in Kentucky recharged a movement.
The Black Lives Matter protests of this sum-
mer have been among the most widespread
and impassioned in our history. They have
helped show that the public has ceased to
recognize authority by its old outward signs. In a May
address to students graduating from historically Black col-
leges and universities, Barack Obama said, “This pandemic
has fully, finally torn back the curtain on the idea that so
many of the folks in charge know what they’re doing”—a
stinging remark from someone who had occupied the
highest office himself.
Yet leadership had not vanished from the scene this
spring and summer—far from it. Amid daily, hourly strug-
gles for health, life, and good guidance, Americans learned
to lead from the bottom up. During the early peak of the
52
pandemic, working parents became managers, dividing
time, attention, and guidance between their careers and
their children—a task made hard because those two roles
had to coexist in the same space. Outside the household,
medical professionals and other essential workers rose
to new occasions, leading on the floors of hospitals and
nursing homes, often faced with the heaviest of decisions—
who gets a life-preserving ventilator and for how long.
We read about the efforts of doctors such as
James Mahoney, a father of three and lifelong
mentor to young physicians of color, who put
off retirement to work in New York’s hospitals
during the COVID-19 epidemic and died after
contracting the disease himself. Yet there were
thousands of other essential workers whose
faces were not broadcast. We rarely learned
these heroes’ names.
Nor did we know the names of most young
leaders in the streets, or of the millions of Amer-
icans who came out to support them. This had
become the new mod-
el of leadership in
America: distributed,
close to home, borne
not by reputation but
by daily proof.
We m i g h t h av e
first noticed a bal-
ance shifting with the
FRO M TO P: MARTY ME LV ILLE /AFP/G E TTY IMAG ES ; GADI SCH WA RTZ/ NBC N EWS ; A NTT I AIMO -KOIV ISTO/L EHT IKUVA/AF P/G E TT Y IM AGES
rise of social media,
which returned the
task of taste to any-
body with a screen.
We surely noticed it in the disturbing revelations of the
#MeToo movement, which made clear that too many sup-
posed leaders in America had been hiding evil acts behind
positions of status and power. #MeToo chipped the luster
of celebrity, but it also showed that groups of people often
overlooked, or not listened to, could show us something
critical that our visible public lead-
ers had not. For the first time in a
long time, we were letting those
people become our guides.
A
round the world, some
heads of state under-
stood how to build
trust in the midst of a
pandemic, and their actions made
the failures of leadership in the U.S.
all the more stark. New Zealand’s 39-year-old prime min-
ister, Jacinda Ardern, showed herself to be a leader who
could notice and adapt—and quickly. Ardern closed New
Zealand’s country’s borders to all nonresidents on March 19
and put the entire country into shelter-at-home six days
later. “Go home tonight and check on your neighbors, start
a phone tree with your street, plan how you’ll stay in touch
with one another,” she advised when she announced the lock-
down. By late April, daily new cases were in the single digits
or zero, and Ardern’s approval rating—her real mandate of
leadership—edged above 80 percent in one Colmar Brunton
 poll. Taiwan’s first female president, Tsai Ing-wen, kept her the alternative to Donald Trump for the presidency—Joe
country to an astonishing seven deaths, as of this writing, Biden—began to adapt the kind of leadership that he’d
thanks to shrewd management of materials and testing and exemplified for decades. Before the events of this spring
good quarantine policy. Fin- and summer, Biden was the image
land, under its 34-year-old prime of an old-school American politi-
minister, Sanna Marin, and her cian: shaking hands and hugging
largely female cabinet, imposed babies, stumping at crowded rallies,
a strict lockdown and harnessed standing tall on the dais and flash-
social media creatively, enlisting ing his bright smile for the lens.
influencers to spread accurate But the pandemic and the protests
and trustworthy information. seemed to move him to reexamine
It did not escape notice that his standing in the limelight. While
many of the most judicious and President Trump was in front of
responsive leaders around the cable-news cameras, spouting mis-
world were women. A similar information, Biden lay low. He
pattern appeared on our own took time to assemble concrete
shores. Amy Acton, M.D., plans—a daily White House report
the former director of Ohio’s on testing, a network of emergency
Department of Health, became hospitals, national
a minor celebrity for her early The new model of leadership is real-time tracking
action and clear public addresses; a group of cases—plus mea-
of Bay Area leaders—including London distributed, close to home, borne sures for economic
Breed, the mayor of San Francisco, and
Sara Cody, M.D.,the public-health direc-
not by reputation but by daily proof recovery. Shortly
a f t e r M e m o r i al
tor of Santa Clara County—implemented Day, when the U.S.
the first shelter-in-place order in the country; and female death toll of corona-
FRO M TO P: BE N GRAY/ATLANTA J OU RNAL-CO NSTITU TION/AP; RAY C HAV E Z/DIGITAL FIRST MEDIA/TH E MERCURY N EWS/G E TTY IMAG ES ; LOGA N C RYUS

mayors such as Muriel Bowser, of Washington, D.C.; virus reached its grim
Keisha Lance Bottoms, of Atlanta; and Lori Lightfoot, milestone, he issued an
of Chicago, rose in prominence as they took on questions of intimate message to all
police brutality and funding with apparent candor. the Americans who had
But as the summer began, the season’s true role models lost loved ones. “I think
remained the hundreds and thousands of peaceful organiz- I know what you’re feel-
ers—many of them young, ing,” said the former vice
many of color—marching, president, who lost a
pushing for change, and wife and a baby daughter
raising their voices in vid- in a car accident in 1972
eo clips broadcast from and his son Beau, to brain cancer, in 2015. “You
the streets. The country feel like you’re being sucked into a black hole in
watched as the 26-year-old the middle of your chest. It’s suffocating. Your
Black actor Keke Palm- heart is broken, and there’s nothing but a feeling
er eloquently and openly of emptiness right now.” It was a startlingly direct
pleaded with members message, and it sought to suggest that Biden was a
of the National Guard leader not for his image but for his everyday expe-
to join the protest—“We rience and his candid speech.
need you. So march with us”—and helped get them to kneel ROLE MODELS When he responded publicly
in solidarity and mourning for injustice. And it watched from top: Atlanta mayor to the early protests, on June
as Curtis Hayes Jr., a 31-year-old Black man in Char- Keisha Lance Bottoms; 2, he made the theme explicit.
Santa Clara public-health
lotte, North Carolina, channeled, in a few perfect lines, a official Sara Cody, M.D.;
“The country is crying out
history’s worth of desperation and imparted to a 16-year- Curtis Hayes Jr., speaking for leadership,” Biden said.
old an extraordinary plea for more productive progress. to Raymon Curry during “Leadership that can unite
“What you see right now is going to happen 10 years from protests in North Carolina. us. Leadership that brings us
now—at 26, you’re going to be doing the same thing I’m together. Leadership that can
doing!” he cried. “Y’all come up with a better way, ’cause recognize pain and deep grief of communities that have
we ain’t doing it.” had a knee on their neck for too long.” He went on, “That’s
The country also watched as several of the old podium what the presidency is: a duty of care.” That first gesture
leaders began to step back and allow new voices on the of that care can be in choosing a running mate. Many are
ground to lead. Elizabeth Warren and Mitt Romney—two calling for it to be a woman of color, as a way of staying
political actors not often aligned—both showed up to join open to the leaders of this time. At the start of this year,
Black Lives Matter protests in early June, allowing them- a leadership of groundwork and shared stakes across dif-
selves to fall behind the leadership of young Black people ference seemed to have fallen toward the past. In the fall,
pushing for change. And, beginning in the early summer, it may become the future once again. @

53
Remember weddings? The pomp, the circumstance, the romance. . . and the
party? With precious few of them happening in real life, we dreamed up our own
“I do” celebration for the ages. Photographed by Autumn de Wilde.

HEAD OVER
 FINE AND DANDY
(Note: This story was shot in early March, before
social-distancing restrictions became the norm.)
opposite: Artist and model Kesewa Aboah
upstages the bride and groom in Molly Goddard

HEELS
(mollygoddard.com)—though actors Tanya
Reynolds (in Simone Rocha; simonerocha.com)
and Angus Imrie (in Pinsent Tailoring;
pinsenttailoring.co.uk) hardly seem to notice.
above, from left to right: Model Primrose
Archer wears Chloé (chloe.com), model
Lily Nova wears Miu Miu (miumiu.com), and
model Lara Mullen wears Fendi (fendi.com).
Fashion Editor: Amanda Harlech.
LIFTING THE VEIL
Audrey Marnay—fully
costumed in Maison
Margiela Artisanal
designed by John Galliano
(212-989-7612)—changes
the equation entirely with a
gauzy Ultramod veil. The
dramatic skirt of Reynolds’s
finely pleated Givenchy
dress (givenchy.com),
meanwhile, is given a bustle
effect by an underskirt.
LIFE IMITATES ART
On most days, Reynolds’s
rococo Chanel dress (chanel
.com) with fluttering appliqués
would be quite enough. But
this day isn’t most days—so
she festoons her hair with
a feathered fan from Grays
Antique Centre.

57
THE BEST MAN
Actor and playwright
Jeremy O. Harris—currently
developing a pilot for
HBO as well as coproducing
the second season of
Euphoria—looks divine
in this waistcoat by Pinsent
Tailoring (pinsenttailoring
.co.uk) and halo headpiece
by Slim Barrett.
BED OF ROSES
Enshrouded by dainty
floral prints—and a fresh
sprig in front of her—
model Lucan Gillespie
wears a pleated Paco
Rabanne top and dress
(both at pacorabanne
.com). Nova wears a
floaty Brock Collection
dress and blouse (both
at elysewalker.com).
beauty note
Balance out statement
hair with a simple lacquered
lip. Maybelline New York
Lifter Gloss moisturizes
with a smooth, shiny finish.
 FLOORED
Reynolds—in an
Oscar de la Renta dress
(oscardelarenta.com)
calls the groom-to-be on
the carpet. He doesn’t
seem to mind. Veil by
Sorcha O’Raghallaigh.

60
 FLOWER GIRL
Aboah carts in fresh-cut
blooms in her silken
Erdem dress and organza
gloves (both at erdem
.com)—careful, though,
not to muddy those
Manolo Blahnik pumps.

62
HIGH HOPES
May this love last as long as
this hat is wide. Reynolds’s
Dolce & Gabbana Alta
Moda dress and hat
feature layer upon layer of
masterly craft and splendor.
Carolina Amato gloves.
(Imrie, meanwhile, is only
slightly upstaged in this
baby-blue frog-buttoned
jacket and breeches.)

63
 LIFE OF THE PARTY
Reynolds, in Dior Haute Couture
(800-929-DIOR), sits ahead
of her fair maidens, from left to
right: Aboah in Erdem (erdem
.com), Nova in Simone Rocha
(simonerocha.com), Gillespie in
Miu Miu (miumiu.com), Mullen
in Brock Collection (net-a-
porter.com), and Archer in Vera
Wang Collection (farfetch.com).
HERE COME THE BRIDES
Reynolds strikes a pose
in a wispy Valentino dress
(valentino.com), while her
Naomi Goodsir crown flutters
with butterflies. Actress
Gwendoline Christie wears
a dress designed by her
real-life partner, Giles Deacon
of Giles Deacon Couture
(giles-deacon.com).
TO MARY H ILDE R, HUDSON S PIDER , FARLEY H IRE , ECC E NT RIC TRA DIN G AND C L ASS IC PROPS.
PRO DUC ED BY HOL MES PRODUCTIO N; SE T DES IGN BY K AV E QUINN ; SPEC IAL TH ANKS

BACK TO THE FUTURE

above: Wearing a Doyle & Doyle
locket and an 18th-century-
centric coiffure, Nova could be
a fashion plate of yesteryear,
while Gillespie’s pink-dyed locks
and Gigi Burris Millinery veil
evoke revisionist history. Gucci
dress (gucci.com). left:
Reynolds and Imrie say, “I do.”
In this story and following page:
hair, Odile Gilbert; makeup,
Jenny Coombs. Photographed
at West Wycombe Estate.
Details, see In This Issue.

67
 Save the Date
When the coronavirus shut down just about everything,
Alexandra Schwartz had to quickly reevaluate her
plan for a summer wedding, and to contemplate what it
was she wanted from marriage in the first place.

I
knew, 20 minutes into my first conversation with
the man who became my fiancé, that we would be
married one day. Granted, I had a bad habit of get-
ting myself mentally engaged. It’s not a hard thing
to do. You take a person who’s caught your eye and flash
forward 30 or 40 years; if you like what you see, mazel tov.
We were out to coffee, and J, an earnest, intelligent writer
in square-framed glasses, was telling me about the three
years he had spent living in Madrid. I therefore saw myself
in Spain, in a broad-brimmed hat and loose cotton trousers
that looked slouchy-sexy but not slouchy-schlumpy on my
50- or 65-year-old body. I didn’t speak Spanish, but I could
learn. We would adventure across the globe and live by our
pens. It didn’t hurt that he was tall and handsome in the
scruffy, just-kempt sort of way that I found appealing. I
texted the friend to whom I told everything that happened
in my life. “I just met someone I feel in my boobs,” I wrote.
Anatomically speaking, they were close to the heart.
It turns out to be easier to arrange a mental marriage
than a real one. For one thing, I was 25 and had no inten-
tion of actually marrying anyone anytime soon. For anoth-
er, the purpose of our meeting was not romantic. J, who
had just moved back to New York City, was sleeping on his
grandmother’s couch on the Upper West Side, pursuing a
job at The New York Review of Books, which I had just left
to work as a fact-checker at The New Yorker. An editor we
had in common had put us in touch; that was why we were
having coffee in Midtown at three in the afternoon, not
wine in the East Village at eight. Anyway, he was involved
with someone else, and so was I. That was that, I thought,
I DO?
“The loss of a wedding is a small loss to bear when the
world has been turned on its head,” writes Schwartz.
In this fantasy wedding, the bride (actor Tanya
Reynolds) wore Simone Rocha (simonerocha.com).

68
and then I stopped thinking about it. Three months later,
he showed up as the newest fact-checker at The New Yorker,
wearing a blazer. (Fact-checkers at The New Yorker do not
wear blazers.) His desk was next to mine.
Kismet! I thought. Not quite. The spark sputtered. It
took well over a year to go from colleagues to friends to
more than friends, and another six months or so slogging
it out in the contested territory of noncommittal. Our
progress was too slow for me and too fast for him. I called
the friend to whom I told everything and complained. I
had had an ecstatic vision, while walking down 7th Avenue
in Brooklyn laden with grocery bags, of J beaming at me
under a chuppah in some summery month while whispering
the most romantic three words in the English language:
“You were right”—in this case, about us. Meanwhile, the
evidence that such a scene would play out in reality was
daily diminishing. What didn’t he see? What didn’t he get?
Then, over time, he saw, and he got. He had, it seemed,
been right about some things too. He needed time to make a
life for himself, and so, it turned out, had I. We grew toward
each other. We moved in together. Eventually we agreed
that we should and would be married, but somehow this
did not amount to an actual engagement to be married.
Early last November, after carefully consulting me on my
availability—we are of the planning-is-sexier-than-sponta-
neity school—J informed me we would be leaving the city
for a weekend at an undisclosed location that turned out
to be Vermont. We spent a charming night at a charming
inn in Bennington. The next day, after driving three hours
north into the wooded wilderness of the state, we learned
that the cottage in the shape of a geodesic dome that J had
rented on Airbnb had lost power. As the sun set and the
temperature dropped, we sat in the rental car and searched
the internet for a hotel room. (Here’s a piece of advice: If
you’re stuck without lodging in Vermont, try to make sure
that it’s not during leaf-peeping season.) Finally we arrived
at an empty, definitely haunted inn in Montpelier that was
apparently last cleaned the year The Shining came out.
Back in the car, we sped toward J’s ultimate destination:
an observatory to stargaze. Needless to say, the night sky
was covered with clouds. When J dropped to one knee, I
had to follow the sound of his voice to find him. He slipped
the ring that we had chosen together onto my finger and
then began to shove. Three days later, it had to be cut off
my swollen hand at the same jewelry store that had acci-
dentally sized it down instead of up. We drank champagne
out of plastic cups with the observatory manager, who
took the opportunity to explain to us, in great detail, the
workings of the robotically controlled telescope and its
17-inch PlaneWave Corrected Dall-Kirkham reflector.
Everything small went wrong, and everything big went
right. We planned our wedding for August.
The loss of a wedding is a small loss to bear when the
world has been turned on its head. A wedding is not a life.
It’s a celebration of life, and those will have to wait. Still,
missed joy is something to mourn. Even as the coronavirus
blew in, and New York City became the eye of the storm,
it took a few weeks to understand that the future had been
totally scrambled. “Maybe it will be over by summer,” we
said, and not just us. Everybody in the wedding business
seemed to be in a state of suspended disbelief. I exchanged
friendly emails with the makeup artist I had contacted the
week before New York shut down, putting our trial session
off for a month, and then another. I contacted our venue,
which encouraged us to pencil in a backup date for the
following year while we all watched and waited. “Let’s hold
off till June,” J and I said, but by mid-May, enough was
enough. The carpet had to be rolled up, the plug pulled.
T
he loss of momentum was deflating, at first, but
clarifying too. I attended my first wedding in
utero—my parents’, which took place on a wildly
hot day in May when my 40-year-old mother was
five months pregnant—but the bride was never a figure
of fantasy, or even much interest, for me. I know all the
arguments against weddings. I’ve made them myself, at one
point or another: their cost, their tendency toward tradi-
tionalism, their propensity to turn otherwise reasonable
people into perfectionist, egomaniacal lunatics who lose
their minds over things like charger plates.
That said, I love attending them. Weddings make me
cry, every time. I love the beautiful bureaucracy of two-
minute City Hall ceremonies, and I love a bash at The
Pierre. It’s wonderful to take the subway to a wedding
lunch of a dozen people at a friend’s apartment, and to
travel to a Norwegian village to witness vows spoken in a
rose garden by a fjord. I’ve cried while watching a couple
I had never before met pledge themselves to each other
on a lawn in Maine, and laughed, two minutes later, when
a small plane flew directly overhead, trailing a banner ad
for a local casino. The metaphor was right. A marriage is
a bet on the future, one that at first seems insane to make,
and then insane not to.
My own idea of the perfect wedding stems from two
related sources: Michael Hoffman’s 1999 film adaptation of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Kenneth Branagh’s 1993
adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing—the happy wed-
ding at the end when everyone sings “Hey, nonny, nonny,”
not the terrible one midway through, when Robert Sean
Leonard, as Claudio, accuses Kate Beckinsale, as Hero, of
cheating on him and leaves her at the altar for dead. These
are pastoral, bountiful events, with flowing white linen and
circle-dancing under the hot Tuscan sun. Our adaptation
of the adaptations was to take place at Blooming Hill, a
working farm in Monroe, New York, that was started in
the early ’80s by Guy Jones, who looks like the Coca-Cola
Santa and presides over the farm’s weekly market. The
chuppah would be under an oak tree and the party in
a field under a Sperry tent. We had planned a welcome
party, the night before, at a nearby cider orchard, with our
friend the chef Lee Desrosiers roasting his celebrated Hell
Chicken on a custom-built grill. As for the dress, I wanted
color and found it in a Monique Lhuillier gown, which I
patiently stalked over the winter until it appeared on sale
at a trunk show in Manhasset, Long Island. It, too, is in
limbo. If it ever arrives, I may pull a Miss Havisham and
wear it until it disintegrates, or I do.
In Shakespeare’s comedies, a wedding signals the end of
a period of mayhem, a return to the proper order of life.
(The tragedies often begin with a marriage—Claudius and
Gertrude, Desdemona and Othello—and end with murder,
but never mind.) Is that why we’ve C O N T I N U E D O N PA G E 8 9
69
ON THE WATERFRONT
“The sky had never been
bluer. I wanted to shoot
in nature—both on the
beach and in greenery,”
explained photographer
Jackie Nickerson, who
set up a camera in front
of her home on the east
coast of Ireland. In this
bertha-collared Miu Miu
dress (miumiu.com),
humble patchwork
reaches new heights.
Fashion Editors:
Camilla Nickerson and
Alex Harrington.
FLOAT LIKE A
BUTTERFLY
This jacquard Etro
coat (etro.com)
employs a winning
pattern play—
rectangles of
elegant damask
merge into strips of
flowers on the vine.

A NEW VIEW
From California canyons to the coast of Ireland, four women
photographers channel the spirit of summer to capture pieces laden
with color, craftsmanship, texture, and pattern play.

Photographed by Jackie Nickerson

 CALL IT A WASH
These patent leather
Miu Miu mules
($1,100; miumiu.com)
feature buckles glittering
with diamanté and
square-shaped heels
stacked with even more
stones for a front-to-
back shimmer effect.

72
TOP OF THE TREE
“These accessories had
an aesthetic connection
to the environment,” says
Nickerson. “The sparkle
of the buckle on the
shoes; the motif on the
bag.” Bode tote festooned
with yarn buttons ($475;
bodenewyork.com).
73
 ONE SMALL STEP
That’s photographer Zoë
Ghertner’s foot inside this
patchworked Marni sneaker
($890; marni.com); on top
is the foot of her son as
they’re out and about in their
yard in Topanga Canyon.
“We spend a lot of time in the
green grass, which grows
under a big California Foothill
Pine tree,” she says.
TURNING THE TIDE
“The ocean is an integral part
of my family’s life—it’s
10 minutes down the road from
where we live,” says Ghertner.
“We missed it greatly when the
beach was closed. It was a
sort of celebration to enter the
water again.” She marked the
occasion with this photograph
of herself in a felted cashmere
Jonathan Cohen coat
(jonathancohenstudio.com).

Photographed by Zoe Ghertner

 FIELD OF DREAMS
“This was taken in Tuna
Canyon—our trails had
just opened up, and
I enjoyed a social-
distanced walk with my
friend, neighbor, and
fellow photographer
Margo Ducharme,” says
Ghertner. Ducharme
is also the model here,
wearing a gridlike
Louis Vuitton dress
(louisvuitton.com).
SPLENDOR IN
THE GRASS
California wildflowers
are mimicked in
the print on the
back of that same
Louis Vuitton dress.
 CUTTING EDGE
“I photographed Olivia
Galov, a designer who has
been quarantining with
me in Williamsburg,” says
Collier Schorr. “I plan to
make a book of all the
published and private
pictures made during the
pandemic.” Perched
against a Brooklyn vista,
Galov wears a plaid Prada
coat (prada.com) with
frog-button closures.
 THE RIGHT ANGLES
To finish off this
deconstructed, frayed-
edge Maison Margiela coat
(maisonmargiela.com), a
haircut was in order.
Galov’s best friend, Devon
Ray Gonzalez, cut her hair,
and Christina Hiatt colored
it. “Making this happen
was like putting together
a puzzle with multiple
hands,” says Schorr.
HAIR, DEVON RAY G O NZALE Z; MAKEUP, DIC K PAG E; CO LO R BY C HRISTINA HIATT.

Photographed by Collier Schorr

 TAN LINES
Bottega Veneta’s latest
beautifully crafted shoulder bag
(this page, $2,300) and clutch
(opposite page, $1,250; both
at bottegaveneta.com) can
fly delightfully under the radar.
“The waterproof recycled
material inspired me to shoot
them in an undone way,” says
photographer Bibi Borthwick.
“There’s a rawness to the bags,
and I felt shooting them against
bare skin portrayed that.”

80
Photographed by Bibi Borthwick
 LIGHT TOUCH
“This dress is pieced together
with multiple beautiful
prints—I felt my body was
just an extension to this
patchwork approach,” says
Borthwick of this multi-
patterned Prada dress
(prada.com)—a medley of
dainty florals, paisley, and
plaid, which she holds up to
her sun-dappled figure.
HANG TIME
These leather Prada
sandals ($790; prada.com)
seem to flash when they
catch the light. “I felt the
silver and sharp black tone of
the shoes was similar to a
shadow created by the high
sunlight during that time
of the day,” says Borthwick.
Details, see In This Issue.
Index PURE
IMAGINATION
IN QUARANTINE,
RAGAZZI
2

1 DELIGHTED IN TOM
TIERNEY’S BOOK
OF FANCIFUL
PAPER DOLLS, $10;
AMAZON.COM.

FRANCESCA
RAGAZZI, FASHION
MARKET DIRECTOR,
VOGUE ITALIA AND
L’UOMO VOGUE
15 THERE’S A LESSON
IN FASHION’S PAST:
“AFTER THE CRASH
OF ’29,” RAGAZZI
SAYS, “CLOTHES
EXPRESSED HOPE
FOR THE FUTURE.”

14

16

ALL OTH ERS : COU RT ESY O F B RAN DS/W EBS ITES.

13

Worlds Apart
RAGAZZI: PHIL OH/ART PARTN ER.

Three staffers representing Vogues around

the globe exchange style notes—and
dream of dressing for life after lockdown.

84 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

 SACHE TAYLOR, EXECUTIVE
5 ASSISTANT TO THE EDITOR
IN CHIEF, U.S. VOGUE
DAY TO DAY, TAYLOR OPTS
FOR MINIMAL COLOR AND
SCALED-UP PROPORTIONS:
“I PREFER THINGS A BIT
OVERSIZED,” SHE SAYS.
4

8
1. PHILOSOPHY DI LORENZO SERAFINI
SWEATER, $795; MODAOPERANDI.COM. 2. THE
DAYDREAMER BOUQUET FROM URBANSTEMS,
$65; URBANSTEMS.COM. 3. BERLUTI HOME &
OBJECTS VASE; BERLUTI.COM. 4. MAX MARA
PANTS, $575; MAXMARA.COM. 5. COACH X
BASQUIAT COAT; COACH.COM. 6. MATEO NEW
YORK EARRINGS, $325; MATEONEWYORK.COM.
7. FE NOEL SHIRT, $268; FENOEL.COM.
8. MAY LINDSTROM SKIN THE YOUTH DEW
BALANCING FACIAL SERUM, $140;
12 MAYLINDSTROM.COM. 9. NIKE SNEAKER, $160;
NIKE.COM. 10. SAINT LAURENT BY ANTHONY
VACCARELLO JACKET; YSL.COM. 11. POLO
RALPH LAUREN BOOT, $1,500; RALPHLAUREN
.COM. 12. CELINE BY HEDI SLIMANE DRESS;
DOLCE & GABBANA HANDBAG,
CARTIER
CHRISTOPHER JOHN

11

10
TAYLOR: COURTESY OF SUBJECT. NEYT: JASON JEAN/BLAUBLUT-
EDITION.COM. ALL OTHERS: COURTESY OF BRANDS/WEBSITES.

JENNIFER NEYT, EDITOR IN

CHIEF, VOGUE PARIS DIGITAL
“I THINK I WAS BORN IN THE
WRONG DECADE,” SAYS NEYT.
“I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT
THE ’70s, FROM THE SLEEK AND
CHIC TO THE BOHO LOOK.”
 ROUTINE MATTERS
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 36
over FaceTime. “I was terrified,”
Young says of doing her color her-
self. “But when I woke up the next
morning and looked in the mirror,
and my hair was my hair, I’ve never
felt so goddamned pretty in my life.”
It’s this longing to affirm a pre-
pandemic identity that’s driven
many of us to beg favorite service
providers for guerrilla appoint-
ments, shelter-in-place orders be
damned. MoMo, Schmidt’s mani-
curist, reports that she had around
a dozen requests from women “who
wanted me to risk my life, and every-
one’s life, to come do their nails,”
while facialist Joanna Czech had to
explain patiently to countless clients
that her studios in Dallas and New
York would be closed until she con-
sidered it safe to reopen. “I refuse
to make anyone sick,” says Czech.
“If I have to look like I’m about to
walk on the moon when I finally do
my next facial? Fine. But if you look
on social media,” she adds, “you can
tell there are doctors making house
calls for filler and Botox”—something
Simon Ourian, M.D., cosmetic der-
matologist to the Kardashian-Jenner
clan, says he refused to do, though
he acknowledges he received plenty
of requests. When I spoke to him in
early June, Epione, his Beverly Hills
medical spa, was reopened for limit-
ed business and already booked solid
months in advance. “I haven’t had
any calls from clients who are saying,
‘You know what? I don’t need this any-
more,’ ” Ourian tells me. “But then
again, those wouldn’t be the people
calling me.” The ones who are call-
ing—and who were calling throughout
California’s shutdown, he continues—
are doing so less out of vanity than a
desire for “normality.” “When people
feel they don’t have control over things
they can’t change, they take greater
control of the things they can,” Ouri-
an says. “And personal appearance is
one thing you can change.”
But should we? That’s where the
revaluation of values comes in: There’s
no way the upheavals wrought by this
pandemic won’t scramble some of
society’s beauty norms, just as World
War I galvanized women to trade out
Gibson-girl pompadours for unde-
manding bobs. “Maybe this disruption
will be similar in that it will prompt
women to want a lower-maintenance
look,” suggests Whittemore House
86 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM
salon cofounder and colorist Victo-
ria Hunter, who also points out that
the salon experience in the immedi-
ate future will likely be very differ-
ent from what it’s been. Hair dryers
could be verboten (out of fear— pos-
sibly unfounded—that they spread
germs), and temperature checks upon
entry may be mandatory, with styl-
ists potentially kitted out in full PPE.
The rigmarole associated with leaving
the house for a workout you could do
from home—or a touch-up that could
wait—may induce women to retain
some of the laissez-faire they cultivat-
ed during the COVID-19 quarantine.
And if so, that might be a nice silver
lining of this crisis—women emerging
a touch gentler on themselves, more
forgiving of fine lines and gray hairs
and less consumed by the need to
appear flawlessly contoured in selfies.
But eschewing the stuff we felt like we
had to do for perfection’s sake doesn’t
mean we must give up on the rituals
that make us feel good. I may have per-
manently given up on shaving my arm-
pits—we’ll see!—but I cannot wait for
my next eyebrow-shaping appointment
with Jimena Garcia (I’ve been taking
care not to over-tweeze), and my
morning lipstick sessions have made
me even more obsessed than I was with
perfecting the ruby-red pout. Old hab-
its die hard. Especially ones we never
wanted to give up in the first place. @
GAME CHANGER
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 48
press her to. As national medical coor-
dinator for USA Gymnastics, Nassar
was present at all major competitions
and at monthly training camps at the
Karolyi Ranch. This means Biles was
likely required to see him from the time
she joined the junior national team in
2012, when she was 15, if not before,
until his departure in 2015.
Biles ultimately reckoned with her
own abuse in early January 2018,
after a friend and former member of
the national team, Maggie Nichols,
told her story to the press. Until that
moment, Biles had not considered her
experience to be abuse, in part because
she thought it wasn’t as bad as what
others had gone through. “But I was
reading Maggie’s coverage and it just
hit me,” Biles said. “I was like, I’ve
had the same treatments. I remem-
ber googling, like, sexually abused.
Because I know some girls had it worse
than me. I know that for a fact. So I felt
like I wasn’t abused, because it wasn’t
to the same extent as the other girls.
Some of my friends had it really, real-
ly bad. They were his favorite. Since
mine wasn’t to that capacity, I felt like
it didn’t happen.”
In retrospect, Biles said, there may
have been another reason for the
mental block: “I felt like I knew, I
just didn’t want to admit it to myself,
that it had happened. Because I felt
like, not that you’re supposed to be
perfect, but I just felt like that’s what
America wanted me to be—was per-
fect. Because every time an American
wins the Olympics, you’re like Ameri-
ca’s sweetheart. So it’s like, How could
this happen to America’s sweetheart?
That’s how I felt—like I was letting
other people down by this.”
Biles posted a statement to Twitter
and Instagram on January 15, 2018—
one day before survivors of Nassar’s
abuse were to give victim-impact
statements in a Michigan courtroom.
“Most of you know me as a happy,
giggly, and energetic girl,” she began.
“But lately I’ve felt a bit broken and
the more I try to shut off the voice
in my head the louder it screams.”
Biles, too, had been sexually abused
by Larry Nassar: “Please believe me
when I say it was a lot harder to first
speak those words out loud than it
is now to put them on paper.” She
added, “It is impossibly difficult to
relive these experiences, and it breaks
my heart even more to think that as I
work toward my dream of competing
in Tokyo 2020, I will have to continu-
ally return to the same training facility
where I was abused.”
Biles did not attend the sentencing
hearing. Still, coming forward was
cathartic. “For me, it was a weight that
I carried so heavily on my chest, so I felt
like, if I shared it with people, then it
would be a relief for me,” Biles told me.
“And I knew that by sharing my story,
I would help other survivors feel com-
fortable and safe in coming forward.”
Initially, 88 women had signed
up to speak at Nassar’s sentencing
hearing. As the first day of harrowing
impact statements streamed live on
the internet, that number began to
grow, fueled by the #MeToo move-
ment. By the end of January, all mem-
bers of the USAG board of directors
had resigned, along with the president
of Michigan State. In February, the
head of the U.S. Olympic Committee,
Scott Blackmun, resigned too.
The online gymnastics community,
called the Gymternet, seized on an
additional development. Four days
after Biles posted her statement,
USAG severed ties with the Karolyi
Ranch. Effective immediately, the
ranch—national training center
since 2001, Olympic training site
since 2011, synonymous with USAG
for two decades—was no longer a
stepping-stone for gymnasts with
Olympic dreams. (“Ding Dong the
Ranch Is Dead,” declared the popu-
lar podcast GymCastic.) Others had
called for the ranch to be shuttered,
which only made it clearer that Biles’s
post was the catalyst—“the tweet that
closed the ranch,” as the Olympic
Channel put it. Biles was startled by
the sway she had. “I was really shook,”
she recalled.
Biles returned to competition in
July of that year, and while the big
headlines focused on the extraor-
dinariness of her comeback, a sub-
plot was developing. Every time she
weighed in with an opinion about
what needed to happen in gymnastics,
it would happen. Immediately.
When Biles expressed dismay that
the new head of USAG, Kerry Perry,
had done little to assure gymnasts that
the organization was fixing its prob-
lems, Perry held a press conference and
soon resigned. When Biles disapproved
of a tweet posted by Perry’s replace-
ment, Mary Bono—Bono had objected
to Nike’s support of Colin Kaeper-
nick—Bono resigned too.
Meanwhile Biles won nationals with
broken toes on both feet, and then she
won Worlds with a kidney stone, diag-
nosed in a Doha emergency room the
night before qualifiers. (Her solo visit
to the ER was “ultimate adulting,”
Biles told me. Since the truth about
Nassar emerged, she does not normal-
ly go to a doctor’s office alone.) Days
after her win in Qatar, the Olympic
Committee moved to decertify USAG,
which then filed for bankruptcy.
This pattern—stunning athletic
achievement, bookended by painful
revelations about the officials run-
ning her sport—continued through
2019. An 18-month Senate investiga-
tion concluded that USAG and the
USOPC had “knowingly concealed”
Nassar’s abuse. (“The more I learn, the
more I hurt,” Biles tweeted.) Later, the
Wall Street Journal reported that offi-
cials at USAG had concealed the 2015
investigations specifically from Biles,
even as they learned Nassar might
have abused her. (“Numb is becoming
a normal feeling,” she posted.)
Where systems of abuse rely on
silence, speaking is a revolutionary
act. Although she never should have
had to speak out in the first place, Biles
has changed the conversation within
gymnastics and beyond, said Jessica
O’Beirne, the host of GymCastic. “She
transcends the sport,” O’Beirne told
me. John Legend, who wrote a song
for Biles’s short film, told me Biles
has been “exemplary in every way.”
Katie Couric, who appeared on a pan-
el with Biles in New York, applauds
her demands for accountability and
institutional change. “She’s been an
outspoken critic of a culture and sys-
tem that turned a blind eye to abuse
and the trauma it caused,” Couric said
in an email.
Biles isn’t backing down. A few days
before her trip to New York, she criti-
cized a proposed legal settlement that
USAG offered to survivors. (Biles is a
plaintiff in the ongoing civil case.) The
plan would divide $217 million among
more than 500 victims in a tiered pay-
out. It would also release from liability
various former officials and coaches.
Over lunch in New York in March,
Nellie explained that any removal of
liability for USAG and the USOPC
was essentially unacceptable—and
that Biles and others want a new,
independent investigation of the han-
dling of the Nassar case. They and
other survivors insist there is more to
uncover. “Why doesn’t anyone want
to know what actually broke down?”
Nellie said. (In a statement to Vogue,
USAG reiterated that it has already
cooperated with six investigations and
that it is “deeply committed” to learn-
ing from the investigations and taking
measures to prevent abuse.)
“It’s like, at the end of the day, I
don’t want your dirty money,” Biles said
of the proposed settlement.
Nellie interjected that the money
would help survivors afford therapy,
and there are hundreds of them: “So
many girls are affected by this.” It’s
just that money alone won’t redress
all the wrongs.
Biles nodded. “We need to figure
out why it happened, when it hap-
pened, and who knew what, when,”
she said.
The battle is about the future of
gymnastics, she added. “We can’t feel
comfortable promoting our sport if we
fear that something might happen like
this again because they’re not doing
their part. And the hardest part for us
is we’ve always done our part. We’ve
always represented the U.S. to the best
of our ability, and all the time, most of
the time, every time I’ve represented,
come back with gold medals. It’s like:
We’ve done our part. Come on.”
I said goodbye to Biles and Nellie,
knowing that I would soon be visiting
the gym they built in Spring, the World
Champions Centre, where Biles trains
six days a week. But in the weeks fol-
lowing our lunch, the gym shut down
for disinfection. Then it shut down
indefinitely. Somewhere in between,
the Olympics were put off till at least
next year. By then, I had some sense
of how crushing a blow this had to be,
so I waited a few weeks to call Biles.
In the meantime, I called Nellie. “I
spoke to my daughter, and she was
just crying,” she told me. “And angry.
And yelling. She was so distraught.
Her emotions were all over the place
because she did not know how she
was supposed to feel.” Biles seemed
to be going through stages of grief,
Nellie said. “The loss is like she got
a divorce or someone died, and she
lost that person. That’s how deep I
believe the loss was.” Nellie and Ron
were social-distancing by then, so
they could not physically comfort
Biles. When she came by their house
to pick up her bicycle, she had to stay
six feet away. “Poor thing, I know she
wanted a hug.”
I spoke to Biles in April. “I felt kind
of torn and broken,” she said. “Obvi-
ously it was the right decision, but to
have it finalized—in a way, you feel
defeated because you’ve worked so
hard.” There is a science to “peaking,”
timing your training to reach optimal
shape at precisely the moment you
are scheduled to, say, compete in the
Olympics. Not only would Biles have
to redraw the plan, she would also
have to interact with USAG another
year. “We were gripping at the bars,
and I just started crying. Another year
of dealing with USAG. That, I don’t
know if I can take.”
At first, Biles wasn’t sure how she
would stay in shape. Adria asked if she
had any dumbbells at home. (“First of
all, in the gym, I don’t even use dumb-
bells,” Biles told me. “Why would I
have a dumbbell set at home?”) Even-
tually she started improvising. She
did a “twerk-out” class she found on
YouTube. She went to a local track
and did 100-meter sprints (a first).
She even participated in an internet
meme—the handstand challenge, in
87
 which celebrities like Tom Holland
and Jake Gyllenhaal did handstands
against a wall and, while inverted,
slowly put on T-shirts. Biles did a free
handstand (no wall) and held it for
nearly a minute, removing her sweat-
pants with her toes.
Biles settled into something of a
routine. She had Zoom sessions with
her coaches, Cecile and Laurent
Landi, three days a week. She walked
her French bulldog, Lilo. (Five weeks
in, she adopted a second one, a puppy
she named Rambo.) And she did more
adulting, fully inhabiting a new house
she bought last year and expanding
her repertoire of slow-cooker recipes
(burrito bowls, pork chops). She also
processed the breakup of her near
three-year relationship with former
national-team gymnast Stacey Ervin
Jr. They parted ways in early March,
just before her trip to New York.
(“It’s hard being young and having
that long of a relationship and then
ending it. But it was for the best.”)
Quarantine life wasn’t easy. Aside
from a yearlong hiatus after Rio, she
had never worked out so little or had
so much time alone with her thoughts.
“I think for athletes, it’s hard for
us to be out of our element for such a
long period of time,” Biles said. “That
kind of throws your whole balance
off. Because you go to work out and
you release endorphins. You get any
anger out. It’s kind of our oasis.
Without that, you’re stuck at home
with your own thoughts. I’ve kind of
let myself live in those thoughts, to
read more deeply into them. At the
gym, it’s a great distraction, so I nev-
er really live with my thoughts. Now
it’s like, Okay, what are the depths of
it? Sometimes I’ll write down little
notes about how I’m feeling. Like,
Today, it’s shit. Or Okay, I feel good,
I feel content with this, this is the right
decision, we need to make a plan. And
then other days, I’m like, Are you jok-
ing? Another 15 months? I don’t know
if I can do that. So it’s been nice to be
able to live with them because I avoid
them a lot of the time. That’s my way
of protecting my mind.”
In mid-May, after seven-plus weeks,
the World Champions Centre opened
again, and Biles resumed training, on
a mornings-only schedule. “I felt kind
of odd,” she told me. “We had been
off for way too long.” But things were
starting to feel “semi-normal.” Back
in April, Biles hadn’t been sure if she
wanted to go to the Olympics in 2021.
Now she was sure. “I’m starting to
train toward it,” she said.
Nellie, too, is looking ahead. “I
believe we’re going to come out of this
stronger,” she told me. “I believe next
Olympics, it’s going to be, I got here in
spite of. Once the athletes get back to
training, I believe they will put more
than their heart and soul into this.
They will really have to prove that even
this virus stopping the entire world will
not take their goals away from them.”
Among Biles’s goals is “Gold
Across America,” a post-Olympic
tour she’d planned for this fall after
learning that USAG, mired in lawsuits
and bankruptcy, would not be coor-
dinating one. “If USAG isn’t having
one—not to be cocky, but I draw a lot
of the crowd in from just me,” Biles
told me. “So we thought, Let’s try to
host our own tour and see where that
takes us.” The all-women tour was to
visit more than 35 American cities,
combining athletes and entertainers
in a kind of gymnastics spectacular.

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88 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

 It has been delayed for now, but if the
games take place next year, so will
the tour, Biles said.
I last spoke to Biles in early June.
The world was now exploding with
outrage over the killings of Ahmaud
Arbery, George Floyd, and so many
others, the disproportionate impact
the pandemic was having on Black
and brown people, and a horror show
of police violence on display at pro-
tests from coast to coast. “We need
change,” Biles said in response. “We
need justice for the Black community.
With the peaceful protests it’s the start
of change, but it’s sad that it took all
of this for people to listen,” she said.
“Racism and injustice have existed for
years with the Black community. How
many times has this happened before
we had cell phones?”
It was the morning of what would
have been Breonna Taylor’s 27th
birthday, and tributes to the emer-
gency medical technician—killed
in March by Louisville, Kentucky,
police officers who barged into her
home without warning just after mid-
night and shot her eight times—were
flooding the internet. “With everyone
speaking up and the traction that Plus, what’s a little more time, in
Ahmaud and George are getting,” the scheme of things? A month or so
Biles said, “Breonna will be remem- into quarantine, we were listening to
bered. She’s going to find justice. music on shuffle, and a Sharon Jones
They’re already reopening her case. & the Dap-Kings song came on. “You
I’m happy for that. But I just don’t think after all this time I wouldn’t be
understand. She was sleeping. How surprised,” Jones sang in her rich,
do you feel threatened when you’re lived-in voice:
a police officer and they’re sleeping?
Come on now.” Media debates over You think there’d be nothing new
protest tactics also struck Biles as when I look into your eyes
odd. “We tried peaceful protesting. You think there ain’t nothing
Then Colin Kaepernick—he lost his about you that I ain’t realized.
job. He lost his career. They took But every time I see you,
his whole entire career away from that But every time I see you darlin’,
poor man. And look at us now,” she But every time I see you,
said. “It’s working. You just have to I fall in love all over again.
be the first and people will follow.”@
That’s what we’ll be dancing to,
SAVE THE DATE when we get our chance. We’ll be
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 69
getting married, we hope, eight years
decided not to join the intrepid souls after meeting, six years after starting
who are pioneering nuptials held over to date, and one year after we were
Zoom? I keep my spirits up imagin- supposed to. Compared to the time
ing a future in which our friends and we have—knock wood—before us,
family and shared colleagues—yes, we it’s not long to wait.
still work together—can eat and drink Anyway, I’ve already gotten to hear
and dance till they drop without fear the most romantic three words, a few
of infection. They’ll be celebrating us. times over. I was right, and it feels
But we’ll be celebrating them too. good. @

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89
Last Look

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90 AUGUST 2020 VOGUE.COM

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