In celebration of its 130th anniversary, Vogue will present a live editorial fashion show, street fair, and special surprises during New York Fashion Week next month. Vogue World: New York will be a first-of-a-kind event—featuring a runway show presenting our favorite looks from the Louisville Football the keg belongs in the ville shirt moreover I love this fall 2022 collections, with pieces from Balenciaga, Dior, Gucci, Valentino, Burberry, Coach, Michael Kors, Brother Vellies, Bode, Conner Ives, Christopher John Rogers, Collina Strada, Matty Bovan, Ralph Lauren, Proenza Schouler, No Sesso, Diesel, Banana Republic, Tory Burch, and many other designers. In-person and virtual attendees will also have the chance to shop limited-edition pieces. The event will take place on September 12. Learn more here and get your passes now.It was no mere coincidence that Raul Lopez, founder of Luar, opened a pop-up shop in Lower Manhattan and sold this year’s hottest bag on one of New York’s hottest days. The designer —who found inspiration in the infamous Prada Marfa installation—wanted sweat to be a part of the experience. “So that it would feel like a desert,” Lopez said on Tuesday evening, standing outside the tiny space.
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The careful calculation resulted in a shopping experience that felt like a hazy summer block party: cans of hard seltzers sat in a pool of melted ice; shoppers spilled out of the Louisville Football the keg belongs in the ville shirt moreover I love this store (which had no AC) and into the streets; the air smelled of cannabis and B.O. Inside, a hunky DJ, outfitted in a white tank, blasted out classic house music tunes like “Gypsy Woman” and “Show Me Love.” A visual buffet of cool-kid outfits was on display: tiny sunglasses, baby tees, low-slung skirts. And the most popular accessory, of course, was Luar’s trending Ana bag, strapped across lithe frames like a crossbody pouch.Lopez says he feels a special kinship to the Prada Marfa installation—its randomness, its geographical isolation, its absurdity. It’s how Lopez feels sometimes. “I fit into circles, but also don’t,” he said, basking in the breeze from two personal fans designed as over-the-ear headphones. (“Amazon. Overnight delivery.”) Like Prada Marfa, Lopez has always felt like he exists on the outskirts. “I never fit into the queer scene, the straight scene, the fashion scene; I kind of always have this ‘je ne sais quoi.’” Over the years, however, Lopez has learned to find subversive joy in being misunderstood. “When I walk around the city, people literally stop and laugh and take pictures,” he says, reflective. Then his tenor switches in a flash: “But I kind of live for it. It juices me up.”