Have you watched “The Ultimatum?” A reality show featuring six couples, each of whom have been given an ultimatum by one of their partners to marry…..or else! And, as logic would have it, the solve for working through this deeply personal decision is to go on television and switch partners with others in the same boat.

It doesn’t escape me that I’ve sometimes wished for various team mates to do the same: you’re unhappy here at Tibi? Fine, go work for brand XYZ, then let me know how you really feel. But I don’t say it out loud, because reality is I don’t want them to leave and I’m usually of the mind that we can work it out without the drastic measure. Fact though, if an employee has held a job at another company, they have a built in measuring stick and rarely engage in “grass is greener” thinking. They’re more aware of what they signed up for and why. While this is a general truism - there are exceptions - I’m thinking of a handful of colleagues right now that have been with us from the beginning. The absence of comparative experiences is neutralized with open conversation and assumptions of positive intent.

But with these highly toned individuals on t.v., we’re talking relationships here! Couples doing the ultimate swingers move and switching partners for an eight week trial marriage with a Netflix microphone strapped to their chest, seems hardly the logical alternative to lived experiences. And as absurd as it sounds, it wasn’t the premise that struck me as crazy so much as how un-crazy the participants spoke and sounded.

It made me think: when un-crazy speak rules, crazy thrives. At first pass, the words of Hayley, Blake, Ashley and Killian sounded so mature, respectful. Thoughtful. Never mind that while they professed mutual admiration in their abilities to “recognize boundaries”, “process” and “hold space” they were in each other’s partners beds sipping from matching Stanleys. Yet, by the reunion show, nearly all but 70% of the couples had parted. Couples that, if you were tuning in to the words alone, would seemingly be qualified to help people navigate through the most difficult of relationships (full disclosure: my father was a family and marriage counselor; he walked the walk that matched the talk).

It’s not, and never was, about knowing the general meaning of words and how to apply them. Good communication happens when you understand: the why behind your words, their meaning in both a personal and broader context, and how to put them in to practice. Sometimes the result of great discourse isn’t even that resolution was had, but that you participated in something that was honest and helped to push a situation forward. This helps us thrive as humans, and the spillover from that is great - good energy triggers good energy.

And this brings me to some recent discourse in a post online around describing your style in “3 adjectives”. The writer observed she’d been asked in recent interviews about hers and was dismayed at the buzz around this way of thinking, and noting that it shrinks our ability to use our words. I paraphrase her because her comments were interesting, struck a nerve and my response here is more about what it made me think than anything she actually said.

Anytime something turns quippy or has moved to jargon, it’s a turn-off. That’s not news. What is important to consider, however, is that the amplification of a concept doesn’t render the original thought invalid. It just often means it’s time to get back to the intention and application.

I’ve shared here on social media that in 2019, when I was creating a positioning brief for my brand Tibi, I embarked on an exercise to look at what past designs hit on all three important criteria, all at once:

1. They sold well

2. I was incredibly proud of them creatively and

3. Traci (my head of design) and I wore them, personally. A lot.

When we brought together the designs that met all three requirements, we worked to identify the thru-line. Every piece was effortless, yet at the same time pushed and new, but oddly still familiar. Chill, Modern, Classic.

It didn’t take long for me to connect that these pieces performed not because of their consistency of application from a branding perspective, but because they were aligned with who Traci and I are at our core. Since Tibi is independent, operates (never has) with any outside investment, anytime we delivered from the core of who we were the message was received and we found our people. We never had the investment dollars that would allow us to go beyond that- the unintended beautiful outcome of staying small. We get to be focused, creative and run a healthy business to boot.

But here’s the curve ball.

When you drill to first principles, hit bedrock in your thinking, you build a solid foundation from which to create and explore. The result? You end up with different opinions and outcomes that are held together and given shape by and understanding of who you are and how to communicate that through you words, your actions and your visuals.

Is it ironic that defining yourself by a seemingly limited number of words is what gives you freedom to explore. I don’t think so. Not because there’s a logical argument to support it, but rather because I’ve seen it play out in real life for thousands. When you can communicate who you are, even if to no one else but yourself, it is grounding. You understand better the motivations behind the decisions you make, the thoughts you have, the outcomes you’ve experienced. It’s like the notion of exploring and travel, one loves the idea of going to far flung places but knowing you have a home to go back is settling.

So yes, it is frustrating when words become trends in and of themselves. The author upset with the three adjectives trend is like me annoyed by Scotty and Aria’s therapeutic dribble on Netflix’s The Ultimatum. Not because their original premise isn’t viable, but because when words lose their meaning and become performance, it rubs wrong. My intent here is not to reject when things annoy, but to go back and drill to the original intent, and have the good discussion around it. Like we are here. And if it’s right for you, do it. Be it. And if it’s not, do as you will. Of course.

The Tibi Creative lab is, well, Tibi’s creative lab. It is where we produce projects that don’t quite seem to fit so perfectly into the main Tibi world of designer clothing. It’s where we test campaigns that are not yet ready for print. It’s where we connect with a smaller, perhaps deeper, subsect of the Tibi community through art, media, and the occasional t-shirt drop. It’s where we launch our CP Radio playlists and Tibi Close Friends collaborations, where we promote our Tibi Eats and travel articles, where we premier behind the scenes documentaries, and much more.

Our TCL tees are an extension of all these raw, creative, and personal pieces of the Tibi brand, and the Motel T is no different - inspired by our Summer 2026 collection, a season of which we are still in the throes, the dog days if you will. The “Summer's What You Make It” campaign is an exploration of the nostalgia that summertime brings through the hidden meaning that lies within everyday objects, places, and memories - road trips to a Holiday Inn in the brown station wagon, poolside coca-colas on a vinyl webbed lounge chair, and the lasting waffle imprint that’s left on one’s legs after a proper parking lot session in the sun. We all have our version of these memories, signifiers of relaxation, calm, or simpler times, and we hope the Motel T may serve as a reminder of these times, good times.

Colleen, our Senior Graphic Designer, designed the graphic, and then Dayu, our Junior Art Director, constructed a real-life Motel Tibi sign that was used for one of the sets of our Summer 2026 campaign. The second we saw it we knew we had a special t-shirt coming. As our previous tees have been white, the colors of the Motel T are unique departure from the norm for the Tibi Creative Lab, but deeply important to evoking the feeling of a 70s era, American summer experience. We took Colleen’s design, originally colored in Tibi green, made it a calm, buttercup yellow (ring 4), and screen-printed it onto a warm, custom-pigmented 100% cotton tee in brown. These tees took a bit longer to produce than usual because of the care with which our family producers in Peru took in sourcing the proper brown pigment, which was then used to dye our raw cotton on site at their small factory. The back of the tee features a special summertime edition of the TCL logo, designed with Motel Tibi in mind - an ode to the classic Americana signage of the era of reference.

There is currently no vacancy at Motel Tibi… but in the meantime we hope these shirts may hold you over. We only have 90 tees, and they will be available for purchase tomorrow, August 12, at 11:00 a.m. here.

As I write this out, I realize that next month will mark the two year anniversary of this project. A collection of 23 playlists comprised of 50+ hours of music that captures the evolution of our curatorial skill in its rawest form, all grounded in creative pragmatism. There is an inherent beauty in a project like this that could, at first glance, run contrary to what one might naturally perceive. As time goes on, it may seem as though the process of piecing these playlists together should become increasingly difficult. One might even be so inclined to believe that the good songs could run out, that the inspiration could dwindle, that the range of sound may even dissipate into sameness.

We are well-aware that 50 hours barely scratches even the thinnest of surfaces in relation to the impossibly large and unknowable amount of music that yearns to be appreciated. And thus CP Radio represents a creative endeavor that actually improves, innovates, and deepens with each passing day. No song has ever been repeated on our playlists, and no song ever shall. This is the main, and quite frankly, only clear creative constraint within which we work here, and within our limitations we tend to uncover the utmost freedoms.

Freedom in this context is illustrated by relinquishing our concern with what to listen for and where to look, as the answers to these questions are simple and monolexical. Everything and everywhere, respectively. No artist, no sound, no era is off-limits, for art is always advancing in all ways. There are endless references to this ethos throughout the 23 CP Radio playlists. From the latest set of songs, take Alex Kassian’s Leave Your Life - Lonely Hearts Mix that samples and reinterprates Owner of a Lonely Heart by Yes. A quintessential track of the 1980s that will no doubt forever play an integral role in the American pop-culture made for now by Kassian’s seamless blend with his Leave Your Life track from 2023. Through his masterful ear and a lifetime behind the production board, Kassian’s mix achieves the precise and necessary fusion of creative pragmatism needed to land itself on 023.

In line with this 80s sound, we turn next to Falling by the Pender Street Steppers - a duo out of Vancouver, Canada. As our playlists are created to align with each month of the year, this track feels quite fitting for now. August signals the imminent end of summer, a confusing period when one grapples with the desire to live out the last days of warmth and sunlight whilst maintaining a stark, and contradictorily subconscious, awareness of the calendar’s push toward the holiday season. Throughout Falling you’ll hear quirky beeps and boops, the classic gated reverb sound of the ‘80s era, and vocal echos that together manufacture a sonic swirl effortlessly occupying a mind that likes to run.

There is a liminality to the limbo we sit in in August, and through the balance of the tracks on this curation our goal is to capture that feeling - Deep Sea by Tokyo Black Star does this well - but the aforementioned tracks are preferential to a transitional period, and not fully evocative of a desire to simmer in the sliver of summer that remains. Alas, Chloe Caillet and her ultimate sunnytimes track, DouDou, comes to the rescue. Chloe’s edit of the 1985 classic, Avèou Doudou, provides us with the proverbial green light to stay a little longer, get your hair wet, leave the sand under your nails, as the song sits on your shoulder whispering ‘don’t leave just yet, there is more peace and fun to be found’.

The decision to curate a playlist with considerable influence from 1980s did not arrive consciously, as I only came to this realization after writing the above. We could turn inward and try to come up with some deep psychological reasoning as to why it happened, but its more likely that the ‘80s just had really awesome music - so much so that it has made a lasting and inescapable mark on the artistry of today. CP Radio 023 is out and asking to be listened to, it can be found on Spotify and Apple Music. We hope you enjoy this months curation, it’s a good one to close out the season with, or if you’re me, to be inspired to hang on a little bit longer.

I try and pay attention to what has wormed its way in to my head. Not necessarily to watch or read it again, or even to share it with others, but to understand why. Why did this stick when so much that’s thrown at me has all the grip potential of an eel? Is there a connection between them?

1. A tea room with no name

2. Tyler Hay’s workspace in Philadelphia

3. The Live’s Of Others (German drama, 2006)

1. The tea room. It has a name, but it’s not found on the door. It’s a member’s only space in Los Angeles, but please, any mental imageries evoked by combining members only + LA will NOT be accurate. My friend took me there mid-afternoon, we checked our phones/ipads behind the counter and took a seat in a small space occupied with books and a smattering of tables. Mozart (my stand in for a classical reference as I’m embarrassingly deficient here with my knowledge) plays as the owner comes and sits with us. He has brought a tray of tea leaves and he patiently and passionately takes us through all 12 (I think?) types of tea, their characteristics, and the intimate relationships he has with them. This convo bests any AI. We selected our teas, we were shown the way to pour, sip - not because it’s the proper way but because it’s rooted in the pragmatism of getting the best out of the taste and experience. We sat for 3 hours and talked. And didn’t talk. It was one of the most settling experiences I’ve had. Ever. WHY???

2. Tyler Hays - he’s the creative mastermind behind BBDW - explore their world when afterwards, please. What I’m able to put in words can’t convey the experience visiting Tyler’s space - but I’m going to try. For two hours I go to crawl in to the mind of a modern day, but hardly (I’ll explain) Leonardo DaVinci as I walked through a (30,000 square foot??) space that required much cajoling with an Uber driver to trust the process, that through these rusted gates and this mud drive there is a building that I’m looking for. I have no pictures to convince you that what I saw was real. Somehow being with Tyler, it not only felt off to pull out my phone and take pictures - it also didn’t occur to me to do so. How is that possible???? Somehow any second viewing my surroundings through a phone would rob me of the real life experience. Tyler took me slowly from area to area, where every piece isn’t just handcrafted, with techniques that would be seen in a Freemasonry documentary rather than live and present day, but every component is made there as well. But it doesn’t stop there, because the machinery to make the components is made there as well. Yep, he buys old machines and parts and reconstructs them- have you seen the movie Robots? Think that. Like every intense creative I’ve worked with, Tyler doesn’t make eye contact when talking - he’s staring into an upper right corner where he’s putting describing something he’s seeing- it’s an artist’s version of a teleprompter of sorts. Each room we passed through housed a different craft. Artists were splayed across canvasses in one, paint brushes in hand, silent focus. Another room smelled damp and earthy - the clay room where they were testing out a newly shaped concoction that was pumping out shapes made of the mud they’d extracted, literally, from their backyard. We ambled to another room housing giant looms that wove the textiles used for the furniture and the clothing and yet another room where limestone had been imported (seemingly the only thing not to have been made on the spot) where it was buffered with high intensity water spray. Old machinery used through out retooled and brought back to life by Tyler and team. Every bit of wall space throughout was covered in scribbles of thoughts and drawings that were seemingly deeply thought through- a visual documentation of what flows out of Tyler’s head. Here’s a quick Tyler brain view via screenshots from his insta:

This visit happened four months ago, yet it is crystal clear in my head. That’s shocking in that so few memories stay so clear in my mind. WHY???

3. The Live’s of Others. I watched with my husband, many of you know of him through my book, but the movie doesn’t require you watch it with an escapee of the tyranny of the former Eastern Bloc. The movie hits deep even if you didn’t personally experience the slow sucking of your soul that extinguished the very light out of people’s eyes. And that’s what hit so hard watching the film - how were the actors able to convey light? Three actors - one had no light and slowly and visibly it appeared, one had it so bright and it extinguished, and the other held his flame. There is no costume, makeup, or body movement for that. It literally appeared and disappeared - and made it abundantly clear what it means to be a great actor. I’ve seen great acting, but the impact was especially profound. WHY???

As a Creative Director, trends, what’s “happening” out there, are important to stay on top of. But as the Creative Director of a company that is independent and thereby tethered to your identity, trends aren’t gathered from selling reports, summaries of street style, or the algorithm pushed by my feed. I use “trends” as a euphemism to describe what has to be felt by me or the team, recognized, and then put in to words - it is the assurance that the thoughts here are our own. We build our own data this way, our own measuring stick for determining the right - or wrong - direction.

Codifying the three events above, I clarify- with urgency - that:

• Real life experiences are important - but they have to have meaning - putting the “real” in IRL. It’s not about showing up with those who share your age or your predilection for frozen yogurt. It’s about showing up with a similar mindset.

• Being present is paramount for sticky to happen. In my book Almost Reckless I talk about collecting your dots - the experiences that at the time may not register in their full importance or value, but at some point come together to build a picture, point the way. Putting the phone down, investing in the time with people, even the dedication to two hours of subtitles- makes you present. Present to learn, agree, disagree, talk. Every time I do this my mental health muscle gets strengthened. Growing up I always viewed muscle strength in the physical, but it’s so much more and more critical than ever.

• Anything achieved without hard work and passion holds no lasting place in my brain.

You may be registering right now why I find it so hard backstage to describe to a fashion editor the why behind a collection. Because this is the mood board, for the design team, for the marketing team. When you have clarity of words and communication, you get the team on the same page. These words inform our decisions and strengthen resolve to try new things - because half the battle to moving forward is just reassuring yourself you’re taking the right path - or in our case, that it’s our own path.

Funny thing, I started this substack on my ipad in my local coffee shop. The owner came to me nervously to let me know they don’t allow computers in the shop. I thanked her and pulled out my notebook and pen. Walk the walk, Amy.

We nailed it, shown here. Keturah and I got the problem articulated, Traci solved it, and the results are here.

The problem: I need ways to create new feelings in my closet.

The non-negotiable: I need creativity and pragmatism. I need utility - no “one and dones” - the top that works for day needs to be easily manipulable for evening or work.

The solve: A range of tops that build varied proportions, tactile sensations, and new perspective to the bottoms we already own.

The class is a great listen and watch. I’m going to summarize here.

The bodysuit: a range of colors, a super built in bra that is accommodating a range of chests- I was just hanging with some double d’s in the dressing room in Chicago and they loved the size Medium (the woman is a size 8). Here you see it on someone with a chest at 5.8”, no chest (me) at 5.5” and a 5.9”er. This gives you a slim foundation for wider leg options, Sloane later tosses a blazer on this to pull back on some of the slim,slim, skin; and the ring 3 option for me gives so much nuance to any ring 2 neutrals. And remember, if you read my story a while back on the new lens for dressing at any age, you’ll know this bodysuit has not guardrails based on time spent on earth. Ok?

The bottom has drape and a bit of volume. I’m sure you have lots of pieces in your closet that can be similarly described. The fitted top adds good balance and the fabrication is one that you’ll simply have to touch it IRL to truly a value. The Layered Tee gives a very chill - but just right vibe - especially if the pant has a bit of refinement to it. It tells the pant to just take a beat, but in a good way. The Button Down is woven striped- you feel the weave, it has the drape - it’s got the good sexy slouch but can be equally all business. And the sheer viscose knit - employing sheer lightens the mood. You know when you’re dressing sometimes and the look feels to heavy and serious? This is the solve - especially with the high neck - because sheer and a lower neck gives off a lot of pheromones, you know what I mean? Great for the bar but maybe not so much for picking up the kids or office time.

Here are the sheer viscose knits in action again. What you are getting here is: an item that gives a lot of depth - quite literally being able to see the underpinning ads interest. I’m wearing the bodysuit underneath the turtleneck. You have lightness. You have subtle drape. When your closet is missing something that is a bit sexy but no too, light but right for all seasons, and has a point of view but isn’t all righteous about it, this is the answer. Sarah’s wearing the knit with the denim for the good contrast.

You’ve got a stirrup pant, a legging or a track pant (even better a track pant with stirrups as above) and you want to give it refinement. Make it a thing - but not an ALL CAPS THING. These are the tops that take the chill and then dial it up a notch. The slinky top is boardroom right living room right at the same time. Don’t get me started on this Bonded Viscose interesting sleeve detail top that can confuse for a sweatshirt but is hardly. The same material is here in the fitted tank - the tank with guts. Sturdy. It sucks you in a bit too if anything needs sucking. And the blazer here - it has the cross strap so you can just wear over your shoulders. It’s more narrow than a Liam, the Herringbone is right for office, over a black evening dress, with even with jeans and riding boots looking (nicely) for foxes somewhere in England. So I’ve heard.

A slim bottom - whether jean or pant - balanced off with something sculptural (the good big) often feels just right. Options, variety - that’s what we crave in our life. The plaid snap jacket gives edge but oddly screams tradition at the same time; ditto for the white shirt with the tailed hemline.

A jacket that can be cinched or left swinging gives options. When worn with a jean that is crazy c-suite appropriate but also just cool, it keeps everything toned down refindly effortless. The muscle tee adds …..muscle to the look with the strong rich fabrication. The oversized tee here, all that drape on the shoulder, is the counterpoint to a stronger tailored denim.

And maybe best for last, Keturah here…

The Skirt here is everyone’s everything - our classic pull on midi with the great extra details - and the fabric….the fabric. And we love it with the snake combo’d soft lamb boot - cozy but crazy modern.

We’ll tackle a class focused on bottoms next, working our way top down. If you have questions, load them up here - whatever you’re asking it’s likely someone else is thinking the same thing. Appreciate it,

I’m going to provide some behind the scenes building of the collection and lead up to some of the styles shown. Traci and I started designing the collection a full 12 months ago in Milan. That’s where we meet with our textile designers and begin sharing ideas of what we’re in the mood for. At this stage, we go in pretty open minded - I don’t want to be locked in yet - fabric is arguably the most important part of the process, it dictates shape, vibe, and very literally the feeling on your body.

I had just seen the Paul Newman film The Long Hot Summer, and the colors were playing in my head.

The film struck a balance of incredibly sophisticated scenes in rich Ring 1 and 2 tones, moving to the freshly saturated colors of Ring 4 and connective tissue of Ring 3 colors that transitioned scenes from one to the next without ease.

In Milan, it was the rich and traditional menswear fabrications that caught our eye - herringbones, twills, and checks. A bit referential to 80s Armani, but only in idea not in replication. There were some icky fabrics too - ones that fight against anything too rich and beautiful - the good ick.

After a long day with our textile partners, Traci and I unwind with dinner, drinks and a notepad. We headed to a restaurant someone in our world had recommended, but considered the Tibi restaurant for a hot minute (does anyone know this place in Milan?)

Over drinks, we reflected on what we were in the mood for and just as importantly, what we were not. There’s a vintage trend out there right now - but I don’t think it’s vintage people are after so much as individuality. SO.MUCH.SAMENESS.RIGHT.NOW. Maybe this is so overwhelmingly felt with the proliferation in AI. Fashion brands all becoming mega brands reaching for $300mm plus in sales has created visual sameness, and AI has created verbal sameness. I can speak to three people and hear three distinct tones, but if they write something for me, I can’t tell one from the other. That’s bound to seep in soon to the way people actually speak in real life. I dread the time.

Traci and I thought about the moments in time that formed our personal style DNA. She and I have different style, no one would say we look alike. But the roots of it can be found in fond and admittedly romanticized eras we’ve traversed. How do we have so many similarities in dna yet depart in how we wear, how we style??? Hmmm….

When we prepared for our trip to SCAD to create the Fall 26 Film, I provided a campaign brief to the team that put thoughts and visuals to what Traci and I discussed:

Over the course of the next few months, Traci is sketching away and draping her ideas. She focuses on a few key concepts first - this keeps us from getting stuck in the weeds. The overarching goal was mixing in the strength of the 80s power suit but doing it in those relaxed Armani hey-day materials; tapping in to the sport and streetwear we love that is so rooted in utility and our lifestyle; and working with a hand that is pushing but restrained at the same time.

Traci: “Don’t think about this literally, I want something that is pronounced and sculptural on the leg. Remember the pants from Spring 08? 09? NOT THIS but something about this feels good…Behati did look amazing here - at the time…..

Me: oh man, I get triggered by this show - it was a SHOW SHOW - critics went ape on these - but in the end, we didn’t wear…

Traci: But you did wear the black pants….

Me: yeah, I remember i wore the whole fit, sans belt, to some event - throwback here - with Olivia Palermo and Zac Posen - but that was it. Like, it had to be a fashion event - I think in hindsight the pants broke the rule of three, they had the extreme drape, extreme tapering, extreme high waist, and then in a fabric that was simple - yes it was 4ply silk - but it was so specific to an event. Idk…..idk….

Traci: let me play in the studio - I hear you -

Traci: I’ve been draping and just took these off the machine - do these scare you? I love them. I think the wearability is there, the concept is there, and it’s just a great pant, not a trend…

Me: let me try…..leave them in my office

Traci: wait for me to try them on….I want to explain some things…

Me: k, I’m in my office…

Traci: I did the drape so that it could be buttoned in back, or left down - depending. It’s in a denim, but super refined - so it can go dressy but super casual - and I did the draping on just one side…

Me: ok, first, these are good - and I get why u did the draping on only one side - but 2 things - on the body, it’s an imbalanced feeling - to have so much more fabric on 1/2 your body feels strange, but not good strange….and I think the pants already are giving good weird, I don’t think we need to add asymmetry to the mix….

Traci: yeah, I see what u mean, but I think it’s the denim weight that is making you feel that way - try on the suiting and see if you feel the same way….

Me: holy fuck totally different, in this pant I like it just on the one side, the effect….I don’t feel an imbalance, the fabric makes such a big difference…

Traci: so side drape only one side on herringbone suiting; but both on the denim - is that weird?

Me: Not weird. Who cares? It’s just doing what’s right for the fabric, for the look. Remember when merchandising used to tell us we couldn’t do things like this??!! - that people would be confused….as if its better to make bad design than it is to risk confusion…

Traci: can you check out the sketches for the Tech Twill group, do you think anything is missing? You killed that pant there…..

Me: Something is missing, but it’s not a pant - the pieces in fundamentals already do whatever a pant there could do…..but I’m obsessed with the pocket and snap details you did, but I don’t wear mini skirts, Sarah and Keturah do, but not me…I don’t want to be left out here…What if we added a skirt that has the functionality of a pant - in our more classic style, but with these details? I’d wear all year round….

Traci: yes, yes, I‘m wearing both…

Amy: ok go traci with your mini skirt self….

Traci: I want a stirrup pant ….

Amy: We’ve had stirrup pants - what’s up….

Traci: no I want one that is literally a jogger - like a soccer pant - long rise, super chill but so chic….it will look different, I promise. Trust me….

Amy: holy shit. In love. I trust you, I’ll still question you, but I trust you.

Ok, I’ll give you more insights over the next couple of weeks - as I’m simultaneously working with Traci on Fall 27…..trust.

Today, we launch our next chapter. And this one is different.

Salami Rose Joe Louis is signed to Flying Lotus’s Brainfeeder label. She has a co-write and feature on Toro y Moi’s Mahal, a writing credit on Baby Keem’s Grammy-winning debut, and has toured supporting Clairo, Flying Lotus, Toro y Moi, and Tune-Yards. I share the resume not to name-drop, but because it makes everything that follows - how this project came to be, and how quickly it became real - all the more remarkable.

For those new here: Tibi Close Friends is a project where we partner with independent artists to produce intimate live performances, mini documentaries, and creative collaborations. No press cycle, no product placement, no brief. Just an artist, in their element, documented honestly. And for SRJL, we produced one of our most ambitious episodes yet: a two-part live set and a sit-down interview, filmed in Los Angeles this past spring. The two halves are deliberate - the performance shows the artist, the craft, and the expression of self through her chosen medium, while the interview shows the human behind the artist, in a light that perhaps few have taken the time to see.

It should be pretty apparent at this point that one of my favorite ways to spend time is by digging for music, particularly by small and independent artists. That’s how I stumbled onto SRJL and the more I dug, the more I realized I wasn’t listening to a catalog of songs, but rather an entire person pressed into sound - the science, the humor, the heartbreak, all of it audible. She studied earth and planetary science at UC Santa Cruz - ocean chemistry, specifically - and worked in research labs as music, in her words, kept chomping at the soul until she gave in. She records almost everything on a single machine, a Roland MV-8800 she’s nicknamed “Funfunfun,” because she works better inside constraints than in the infinite scroll of a computer screen. The machine has no plugins and only eight audio inputs, which means every sound must be dialed on the way in rather than fixed in post - and she loves it for exactly that reason. There's a lesson in there that extends well beyond music production: infinite options don't make the work better - they just let you put off deciding what it is. Strip away everything you could hide behind, and what's left has to be true.

The duality of being both a student of science and a student of art is a unique and highly intriguing realm to exist within. And when we sat down in LA, she described her years in the lab and her years in music as complementary disciplines - both require sitting with a problem, coming at it from an endless array of angles, patience, and being comfortable in solitude and the abstract. I’ve thought about that framing constantly since and I think it represents Creative Pragmatism in its purest form: rigor and imagination not at odds, but feeding each other.

And beyond the work - she is one of the most gracious humans we’ve ever collaborated with. Kind, present, generous with her time and her story. Every step of this project confirmed our initial instinct.

When we realized we needed to work with SRJL, I couldn’t find a contact anywhere. No management email I could surface, no booking link, nothing but the Instagram DMs. Then I found her Bandcamp page, clicked the little email link, and sent a brief note, something along the lines of: genuine fan of your work, would love to chat about a creative project I’ve been working on for our brand Tibi - I think there’s something great we can create together. You never expect an artist of SRJL’s caliber to answer a message sent through the basic contact form on a Bandcamp page, so I hit send with zero expectation of a response.

She responded within a couple of hours. We were on the phone that same day. The rest is history.

And history, in this case, moved quickly. In one of those happy accidents I’ve come to expect from this work - the ones that happen because we love what we do and never really shut off - SRJL happened to be on tour at that very moment, with a stop at Irving Plaza in New York the following week. Matt and I cleared our evenings and went to see, in person, the artist we hoped would soon become our next Tibi Close Friend. A historic room, 1,000 people, and not a single phone in the air. Everyone present, enthralled, and captured by her instrumentals, her divine voice, and her world. We looked at each other and knew.

I’ve written before about the importance of communication in bringing these projects to life as it is, above all else, the reason these projects succeed. From that first same-day phone call through months of planning across two coasts and a touring schedule, every text and every email was met in real time, fixing things on the spot, collaborating rather than coordinating. When you speak the same language, literally and figuratively, a flow state arises, and the work carries itself.

Months of conversation later, we flew to Los Angeles, rented a car, brought three iPhones, a digicam, a DSLR, and two microphones. No fancy lighting rigs, no set builds, no production trucks. Raw, real, and legit - the way this series has always been made, and the way it will stay, no matter how big the artists get. Somewhere in the edit, it occurred to me that we shoot the way SRJL records: nothing to hide behind, everything dialed on the way in. Matt engineered the video and audio capture across every format we’d need, while I directed, shot stills, and ran the interview. Two people, one artist, and a shared understanding of what we were making.

For the live set and interview, SRJL wore two looks:

The two-part live performance and interview went places most artist interviews rarely do. She took us back to her first instrument - a blender, played in a high school punk band, into which audience members would toss things to be blended live (dry pasta most memorably). She walked us through the car accident in 2017 that gave her the clarity, and the permission, to finally choose music, and told us about the friend who believed in her work when almost everyone else called it too weird - the reason, she says, she makes music at all. She spoke about unlearning the do-everything-yourself mentality she carried for years, pulled out the watercolors she’s become obsessed with, and described the stripped-down guitar-and-voice album she’s been circling for years but hasn’t yet made.

Similarly to our past collaborations, I have been listening to the live set on repeat the entire time I have been writing this Substack. When the creative process revolves around “Do we like this? Is this cool to us? Does this make us excited?”, it fuels you rather than drains you. To fly across the country with a camera bag and a friend, and come home with something like this, is not lost on us in the slightest.

At the very end of our interview, we asked if there was anything she wanted to leave the world with. She paused, and then said: “Thank you for letting me make music.”

When an artist like SRJL responds to an open-ended final question with pure gratitude, it tells you everything the previous forty-five minutes confirmed. So let us return it in kind. Thank you to Salami Rose Joe Louis - the artist, the scientist, and now, a true Tibi Close Friend - for trusting two people with a camera bag to tell her story, and for reminding us why we make these in the first place. And thank you, as always, to everyone reading, watching, and listening.

Our tenth Tibi Close Friends project is now live. The full performance and interview can be viewed on Tibi.com and YouTube. You can also find Salami Rose Joe Louis on Instagram, the digital streaming platforms, and of course Bandcamp - where this whole thing started with one small email.

1. The Great Skirt here that strikes a key balance - between high fashion, practicality, and year round-ness. The sporty nylon fabric is heavier in weight than our crispy nylon - that density supports all the design details. It’s super flattering on everyone, dressing up the simplest of tops but chilling out something more complicated. And it goes year round - the pics here were taken in the fall - this is my sketch of me on vacation. See? Fit note: take your size, this is an easy fit with the elastic waist.

2. The Valve Tee - here. valves are the items that can dial up or down - depending. Please don’t confuse this with “hi/lo” dressing. Sometimes an average cotton tee with a fabulous skirt is like putting canned whip cream on a rich Viennese pastry. Sure from a distance it looks ok, but the taste is off. Fit note: slim fit - I wear a 4/27/S in Tibi. I wear the small here. Normally a S fits a 4 / 6, but if I was a fuller 6 I would go to a M here. It’s a top that can never really be too loose - even tiny Sarah can wear a small with ease - but if you wear it too tight, it would cut up under your arms a bit.

   

   a. The fabric is refined enough that when worn with an incredibly rich fabrication like the wool pant here on the left, it plays at the same level while “toning everything down” a bit.

   b. Serious enough that under the most serious of suits, it works. Full stop.

   c. I love a designer skirt - but sometimes when paired with an overly designed top, it looses the ease I crave. This tee is the answer. This Prada skirt gets toned down, made incredibly wearable - but a sloppy tee wouldn’t have cut it. This works.

3. The Designer Dress- here. sometimes the deeper sale is when I say - “ok, why not try?” Sure, that’s one way to look at this dress. But the surprise will be, this is the dress you’ll have forever. It’s incredibly modern and chic, but defies any trends happening. Everytime you have the occasion where you want to wear something interesting, a dressy event where you’re going for city chic, a more casual event where you want to be more because, life is short, why not? Then this is the dress. It also morphs with accessories - I love that - when you can make a statement dress make a different statement depending on the occasion. I even throw a sweater on over it and it pretends it’s a skirt. Bonus.

4. The white jacket. Here. The proportions on this jacket are so so so so good. And it converts to a vest. When everyone is wearing a basic jean jacket, this one packs all the same chill but is so much more. When everyone has on a super formal jacket, this one packs all the same refinement, but does it in the coolest way with zero pretension. I poached some of the picks below from KICKPLEAT - one of our favorite stores in Texas (Austin, Houston and Dallas). Visit if you haven’t!

   

   You can see the jacket on me at 5.5’ and Sarah at 5.0. She’s wearing an xxs; I’m wearing the S.

5. The blazer here you’ll write to me decades later and tell me you don’t know how you lived without it is the Bonded Twill. It is such a statement, yet it’s a work blazer, it’s a with jeans blazer. And MOST highly at the top of the list, it is so very very rich and luxurious. You will not know until you try it. Take your regular size. I wear a 4; Sloane wears a 2, Sarah wears a 00.

And here are things I buy on sale for specific reasons….

So luxurious, which is always a sure sign that it’s a forever piece. The key words to look for are things like: chrome-tanned lamb leather, 100% virgin wool tailoring, Heavy weight 100% cashmere, Double faced 90% Cashmere plated with elastane for durability and stretch.

The lamb leather moto jacket; The zip up virgin wool jacket that’s also a top; the rich cashmere pullover, the unbelievably amazing zip up double faced cashmere hoodie. Fit notes: all easy fits - I wear a small in all, but I could easily wear an xs or an M.

Do you have any questions about the items that are on markdown? If you ask them here, we’ll jump in and answer them. Your question may help someone else, so ask away.

The truth is, when you feel you have nothing to wear in your closet, it’s not because you don’t have outfits. It’s because you are lacking the tools you need to create a look that matches your mood—how you want to feel. If you’ve read the ultimate guide on Creative Pragmatist style principles, The Creative Pragmatist, 2nd Edition, you’ll know that The Tibi Color Wheel was invented to solve this very problem. Each ring on the wheel is separated out by the emotions that they elicit in combination with other colors. Essentially, it’s a giant mood ring—which makes sense, given how tightly color is tethered to mood.

Using color math, we traveled along Rings 1, 2, 3, and 4 to demonstrate the different moods that you can create in your wardrobe—without limiting yourself to any one color archetype. Once you understand how each ring within the wheel works, color math becomes incredibly simple. Here are a few examples:

You can see now how each color injects different emotions into an outfit. Ring 1 + Ring 2 feels strong, grounded, polished. Ring 2 + Ring 3 feels bright, clear, and soothing. Ring 1 + Ring 4 is full-on power and energy. And all of the rings added together tell an incredibly rich and interesting story. For more on all things color math, you can grab a copy of the book here, or dive into these Substack articles:

We covered just about every color combination, and captured just about every mood you can imagine in the episode—so for this recap, I’m going to highlight three key examples of how to take one piece across the entire color wheel using CP color math.

Stella in the Leather Midi Trouser Skirt

I rarely reach for Ring 4 colors in my own wardrobe, but the Leather Midi Trouser Skirt in Ring 4 red felt right—and by “right”, I mean that it felt balanced. The texture is incredibly rich, the shape is classic, and the color feels fresh and modern. To create an almost calming effect, I paired it with the Active Knit Easy T-Shirt in Brown (Ring 3) and the Keating Heel in Burgundy (also Ring 3).

When we tossed the Tropical Wool Liam Blazer in Black over my shoulders, I suddenly felt like my look had been given a subtle dose of strength. I say subtle here because the Ring 3 in the top and shoe offer a bridge, or buffer, between the Ring 1 black and Ring 4 red—softening the edge without losing the plot.

I was curious how I would feel adding in Ring 1 (black) and Ring 2 (white, or another neutral), and I opted for a no-print-print here. The Keating Snake Embossed Heel took my look from “subtle strength” to “The Good Ick” with just a simple swap.

A sneaky swap that makes a big impact—this felt like ultimate balance when Keturah held up a swatch of charcoal grey fabric under my Liam. By adding the Perfect Unisex T-Shirt in a rich, deep grey, I’ve accounted for all four color rings. On the CP Scale, I tend to reside on the more pragmatic side—each of these elements allowed me to still participate in Ring 4 while still feeling like myself. This truly solidified for me that there’s a place for all four color rings in every Creative Pragmatist’s wardrobe.

Keturah in the Active Knit Winslow Pant

Keturah started off the episode in the good One of One, Ton, None—wearing the Active Knit Easy T-Shirt and Winslow Pant in Buff Tan. These pieces have Chill, Modern, and Classic baked in, making set dressing incredibly effortless. The chill is in the ease of sweatshirting, the modernity comes through in the sculptural silhouette and slight sheen in fabrication, and of course, khaki is inherently classic. This look is leaning heavily into Ring 2, giving a feeling of stability and timelessness. Adding in the Gwinnett Camo mule adds depth without sacrificing the feeling Keturah was looking to evoke.

When she swapped out the Active Knit tee for the New Shirting Gabe Shirt in White, it brightened up the entire look and added a hint of prep, but not overly so. The Karel Sandal in a clever red shade adds nuance, while simultaneously giving a soothing, grounding feeling.

The Tropical Wool Liam in a blue-ish color offers textural interest and richness, while playing at the same emotional level as the rest of Keturah’s look.

When paired with the Light Weight Sweatshirting Crewneck Sweatshirt in a Ring 3 rusty red clay hue, the Ring 2 Active Knit Winslow pant almost acts as a trouser—sculptural in shape, timeless and classic in color—instantly elevating the sweatshirt. The Gilbert Zebra Heel dials everything up without speaking too loudly. Sitting in Rings 1 and 2, it sharpens everything up and adds interesting friction.

Sloane in the Tropical Wool Stella Pant

Sloane gave us a masterclass in adding interest through color, texture, and shape all at once in a way that feels completely cohesive. Her Ring 1 and Ring 3 anchors are doing some heavy lifting—the Eco Poplin Easy Shirt offers the feeling of strength and structure in color and shape, and the Tropical Wool Stella Pant in Blue Fog softens everything, giving ease. A loafer or sandal here would certainly do the job, but opting for the Gwinnett Snake Embossed mule speaks the same language as the other elements at play here, while infusing friction through texture.

When swapping out the Ring 1 top for a Ring 2 bodysuit, it gives immediate polish and softness. When pairing Ring 2 with Ring 3, a few words come to mind: fresh, clear, serene, composed. Notice how she is giving off this energy without looking like she is going to a wellness retreat.

Still residing in a slightly brighter, sharper Ring 2 + Ring 3 core, Sloane added in a strategic hint of Ring 1. All of that calmness and clarity now have an air of resilience and vigor.

This is where the power of Ring 3 really shines—the Ring 3 Tropical Wool Stella Pant allows the Ring 4 Skinlike Mercerized Wool Cardigan to tell a different story. Paired with neutrals, Ring 3 feels incredibly grounding, and when paired with Ring 4, it morphs into something entirely new—interesting, chic, and clever.

Be sure to catch up on this week’s episode and let us know your color questions in the comments. To join us for Style Class Live, tune in every Wednesday at 11 AM ET on Substack, Tibi.com, and Instagram.

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We took a poll, asking Creative Pragmatist’s for their favorite books by a set of genres that made a lot more sense than just “Romance” or “Fiction”. CP’s are an interesting group - while they take the same approach to thinking (critically and in a way that is creative and pragmatic) the outcome is varied and highly interesting, always. You see, I was frustrated at times writing Almost Reckless (here)- because there is pressure within the publishing industry for books to fit into a tidy box of trad genres: Self help? Business? Biography? But I believed being “all three” does not make it “none” - I needed to give my genre a new name. And even better, a name that will help meet the reader where they are. In my book talks and huddled with our team in Soho, this led to discussions about how we want books to make us feel, when do we want to feel this way, and why? So we created new genres to do just that, because the best way to know where you are is to understand where you want to go. And I think you’ll understand why when I was writing Almost Reckless, I believed that visiting a book store’s section titled “Reckoning” or “Dog Eared” would be far more descriptive than the trad options offered up.

Happy Reading!

Enjoy a summer of reading!

Q: “What is the difference between the Perfect Unisex T-Shirt and the Mock Neck Unisex T-Shirt?”

A [Amy]: On both, the neckline is higher—the shirt has a point of view which adds the Modernity to what is already Chill (it’s a tee, after all) and Classic (ditto). We’ve always found that the modernity is missing in a basic tee—of course, there are tees everywhere that are super designed out, but what if you want to just have a perfect basic—no bells and whistles—but still has character? Problem solved here.

A [Keturah]: The biggest difference is the fabric weight. The Perfect Unisex T-Shirt is heavier, so it has more structure and can be worn on its own across seasons or as a base layer. The Mock Neck T-Shirt is lighter and easier to layer, great under sweaters or blazers for a pop of color. Both have clean, higher necklines that look great on or off duty, are layerable, but also easy to wear solo. For Fall, the Perfect Unisex Tee now comes in Ring 3 and Ring 4 colors, so it’s a nice way to bring in subtle color while still feeling versatile.

Q: “Does the Crinkle Slip Midi Bias Dress run TTS (true to size)? How can I style this now, and again when it gets cold?”

A [Amy]: Here’s one helpful tip—if your hips are the widest point (it’s Amy here—for me they’re a full size 4 while my upper-body is a 2) then I find something light but firm like a control boy-short does the trick with cleaning things up just enough for the bottom part of a size 4 bias dress to drape naturally across my body whilst still fitting at the top.

A [Keturah]: This typically runs TTS, but because it’s cut on the bias, it will naturally skim and adjust to your body. Size to your widest measurement, i.e., if it’s the bust or the hip, take that numeric size. To wear now, keep it simple with sandals or a bare-skin-forward shoe and minimal layering so the texture can really shine. When it gets colder, it becomes a wardrobe tool: layer it under a sweater and/or button-down, add a heavier shoe or boot, and even a jacket or oversized sweater. It transitions well because of that texture and, of course, the rich color.

Q: “Does the Mica Crepe V-Neck Top fit the same as previous seasons? If not, what’s the difference?”

A [Keturah]: It’s the same, but you may notice small refinements in the fabric. This one is slightly lighter (almost unnoticeable) and has less of a raised texture. The fit intention is the same: easy, drapey, not overly precious, and can be dressed up for work or worn casually as an uber refined t-shirt or sweatshirt replacement.

Q: “What’s the difference in fit between the Tropical Wool Stella Pant and the Triple Pleat Bio Twill Pant? I’m looking for a wider pant but don’t want to feel overwhelmed. For reference, I’m 5 ft. 3 in. (160 cm).”

A [Keturah]: The Stella Pant is a tailored pant in a drapey, year-round (12 Mo’er) fabrication. It gives you that elongation without too much volume. The Triple Pleat Bio Twill Pant is fuller through the leg and has more shape because of the structure of the fabric. It holds a cuff, a single-side snap, or you can even roll freely. If you’re concerned about feeling overwhelmed, the Bio Twill sits higher on the waist and comes in a cropped length, as well. Take this in your true size and you can cinch at the back. The Stella is designed to be tailored to your liking. For the good puddle, have them hemmed just to skim the floor. For both, I would employ the CP principle of Big, Slim, Skin—a smart use of proportion makes fuller pants feel manageable, especially at 5’3”.

Q: “How should I style, or how does Amy style, the Garment Wash Stretch Twill Slouchy Carpenter Jean? I live in a similar area to Amy, but don’t want this to feel too spot-on. How can I make it more interesting?”

A [Keturah]: Amy tends to lean into the ease of jeans, keeping the top half clean and modern. She is big on friction and irony, so she styles this in unexpected ways. She often pairs jeans with blazers to elevate them and grounds Ring 4 pink in Ring 3 neutrals like dark stone or even brown-ish blue. If you want to make it your own, think about friction; this could be through something more refined or pushed on top. If you pair denim with other relaxed garments, it can feel a little too chill + chill. The goal isn’t to feel like someone else, but not to feel like a trope. If you check out Style Class Season 7: Episode 26, you’ll see lots of styling ideas here across the Creative Pragmatist scale.

Q: “I’m seeing a lot of great shoes on the site right now in Ring 3. How do I decide between a dark neutral and an ‘ish’ color? I want to get the most wear out of them since they’re an investment.”

A [Keturah]: If you’re thinking about longevity and cost-per-wear, a dark neutral is often an easy entry point because it will anchor more outfits and require less decision-making. That said, an “ish” color can often act like a neutral if it works across your wardrobe (think olive, oxblood, etc.). I suggest taking an audit of what shoe styles you have and what colors. If you only purchase what’s familiar, you’ll likely reach for the same feeling when getting dressed. If you have your bases covered with neutrals, Ring 3 colors are a great way to build confidence in your styling, the “ish” colors get just as much wear because they add interest without feeling loud.

Q: “I’m new to Tibi and need suiting. I’ve graduated from a PhD program and want something that makes me feel taken seriously, but not like I take myself too seriously. Where should I start? I’m not sure if the Liam is right or if another blazer would be better. How do I figure out which pieces work best together?”

A [Keturah]: I love the idea of building a system rather than finding one perfect suit. Think about a blazer and pant that can work together but also separately. The Liam is a great option if you like something slightly more relaxed and less rigid that you can also wear on the weekends or off-duty, it already has that balance of polish without feeling too formal. If you’ll be in a more traditional environment, the Max is a perfect tailored blazer to give you a look that’s smart but not overly serious. From there, ask yourself: will you wear this mostly together or break it up? Do you want to feel traditional or more directional and creative? Our Tropical Wool pieces are a great way to build a foundation.

If you have any questions that weren’t covered above, ask them in the comments section, and we’ll get to answering.

The Creative Pragmatist’s Library;

I created the term Creative Pragmatist to give my label’s (Tibi) designs a more apt description than that offered up by an industry that insists on viewing style through a singular lens (sexy, sporty, classic, modernist, etc.). I appreciate when a word can convey much - like the Russian word “Toska”:// “a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without a specific cause; a longing with nothing to long for.” Life, our thoughts, what we create is nuanced. We have words, and I want to use them to convey what things truly mean, rather than to leave someone guessing, frustrated or confused.

Book genres have always left me feeling this way too. “Mysteries, Romance, Non-Fiction, Business” - this tells me so little! It’s like having a red fruit section in a grocery store, it doesn’t give me any idea how something is going to taste, if it will be bitter and savory or sweet and pungent.

We fixed the problem and created our own set of GENRES. In fact, when I wrote Almost Reckless these genres were in the back of my mind. We asked you to populate a list of your favorites by genre and you did; the results are here*:

Look out for Part 2 Tomorrow. The Genre’s that fit ever so neatly into Ring 3 and Ring 4, sparking deep thoughts and sometimes just the compfort of a brain put on pause for a minute. Or two. For summer.

*we received MANY submissions; we included the books most frequently mentioned and most emphatically defended.

Last month I called June the door - the threshold between wanting the season and being inside it, the point where the mind stops leaning toward what comes next and lets the present catch up. Well. We’re through it now, and on the other side of that door is the long afternoon that is July: the heat at its full weight, the light stretched to its limit, the day so wide open it seems to stop moving altogether. June arrives. July stays. It is the one month that feels less like a passage than a plateau - a held note, a chord left ringing, a groove that has stopped needing to arrive, content to circle the same few bars until the circling itself becomes the place you meant to be. Which is a strange and quietly beautiful thing, because July is also the first month of the retreat. The solstice comes and goes in the last days of June, and from that moment the light begins, without announcing it, to pull back.

And so, in the way the best afternoons hold, underneath the warmth, a small ache you can’t quite name, the fullest part of summer is already carrying the faint outline of its own ending. That is the feeling I built this month’s curation around. Not the arrival of summer, and not yet its close. The middle. The sustain. The part where you stop counting the days because, for once, none of them seem to be in any hurry.

There’s something else new this month, and it isn’t a change in what CP Radio is so much as the next thing it was always going to become. For as long as this series has existed, it has lived in two places - the playlist, and these words. Now there’s a third. CP Radio is becoming a show. A room with turntables and an on-air light and a needle that goes down at the top of every transmission; the songs you’ve only listened to and read about, said out loud, in a voice, on camera. It won’t arrive all at once. It comes the way a broadcast finds its audience - one signal at a time, a new piece each week - with the full-length show still somewhere up ahead. Think of what’s coming over the next stretch as dispatches from a station that’s already on the air. You’ll recognize some of the songs below when they surface there. That’s on purpose.

But today, the first song I want to hand you for the month of July arrived the way the best ones always seem to - not from a search bar, but from a room. I heard “I, I, I” at Gabriela on a Friday night, put on by someone whose whole craft is knowing what should play next, and I had the luck of being there when it did. Only afterward did I learn who made it. The Osmonds - yes, those Osmonds, the wholesome Utah family act behind the “Love Me for a Reason” harmonies half of America owned on vinyl. What almost nobody remembers is that by 1979 the same brothers had walked straight onto the disco floor and cut a record called Steppin’ Out, and “I, I, I” is tucked into the back half of it: a genuine, unembarrassed boogie track, all four-on-the-floor pulse and slick falsetto. It’s the sound of a band remaking itself while most of the world had stopped paying attention. These are the same people who, seven years earlier, made “Crazy Horses” - a proper hard-rock stomp, heavy and howling, the kind of record that still makes people double-take when they find out who cut it. The Osmonds, it turns out, were always keeping something under the wholesomeness. This is what taste is for - not the songs everyone already agrees are good, but the ones sitting in plain sight that nobody thought to check. It rides, it grooves, it never once tries to impress you. Which is the whole July mood in a single track.

Deeper into the month there’s “Sunset Breaker,” the title track of a 2025 album by Mystic Jungle - the alias of Dario di Pace, a producer out of Naples who works in the orbit of Periodica Records, the label quietly turning the southern-Italian coastline into its own genre of dub-soaked, sun-drunk disco. The record almost didn’t happen; it was assembled over years, through studio closures and a string of different rooms, but you would never guess it, for what came out sounds like the most unhurried thing alive - a slow Mediterranean dub, half Sade and half warm salt air, a groove that hangs at the horizon and refuses to drop below it. That’s why it’s here, and why it sits near the bottom of the list, where the light goes gold. “Sunset Breaker” is that exact moment set to music - the day at its fullest, holding, right before it tips. Play it when the sun is low and let it do what the title promises.

And finally, there’s a track here whose words tell you one thing, but whose melody tells you the opposite. “Shoot You Down,” by the Stone Roses, off their 1989 debut - the album that handed a generation of British guitar bands their template. Whatever Ian Brown is murmuring, the song itself is a pure warm evening: John Squire’s guitar unspooling in slow, sunlit loops, the rhythm swaying easy and unhurried, the whole thing made for a long July dusk with the windows open and nowhere you have to be. It’s one of the most beautiful grooves on a record full of them - the kind of song that turns a hot, slow hour into something you want to hold onto. Don’t read the lyrics too closely. Just let it glow.

A few more, quickly - and two of them you’ll watch come to life on camera over the weeks ahead. “Oh Timbaland” is on this list because it sounds so completely like the city that just won something it had waited fifty-three years for; a New York record for a New York month, built, improbably, on the bones of the great Nina Simone. And “No Te Quiero Más,” by Los Dangers - 1960s Venezuelan surf rock, dug back up decades later and still dripping with the sunlight it was recorded in. All reverb, salt spray, and a farewell that, going by the sound alone, you’d swear was a love song. The title means “I don’t want you anymore”, but I never got the memo.

That’s the country this month - thirty-odd tracks, the whole map, up now. But if you take only the feeling, take this one: July is not going anywhere in a hurry, and neither should you. Find the low light. Let the groove ride. The afternoon is long on purpose.

And so it goes with fashion, when I wrote the Creative Pragmatist it was founded on style principles that aren’t abstract - unless they are, to you. What I mean is, you’ll either connect viscerally with their meaning and purpose and it will stick with you forever. And more often, will seep in to other areas of your life. Or you’ll think it’s bullshit - and fyi, many of my friends do. It’s an “IYKYK” sort of thing, it’s transformative for someone who has an ease about them (or desires one!), is deeply interested about what is new and next and why, and respects the knowledge that only time and the study of it can bring. We’re not all like that, one is not better than another, just different. But if you are, then these stye principles, not rules, will hit deep.

Below are excerpts from The Creative Pragmatist where I lay out the principle of Irony. Literally in a way designed to give you the tools to think of why it’s employed and understand that one persons ironic may be another’s average.

So you can see, I have a lot of friends right now who are scratching their head and thinking how much they love the “not this.” And they’d be right to do so- because objectively it looks lovely. But I know how I would feel in it, because it is hardly chill, lacks visual curiosity (to me), and it is classic. One of three. I need all three for balance.

I wrote The Creative Pragmatist for people who seek an intellectual conversation around personal style - not the banter of it all. That banter weighed so heavily on me for years, the conversations around a fashion show, coffee with a press person, I’d break out in literal and figurative hives. It turns out, many others felt the same way, we just couldn’t tell who the people were that didn’t want to end with a quippy statement about bracelets as candy for your arms.

If you give a Mouse a Cookie….

I wrote Almost Reckless because people began making the connection that these “style principles” were really fundamentally much deeper than pairing red with pink. They made sense as a way to live your life as well, a better life. It’s a good read.

If you’ve read the books, I’d love your thoughts here - what principles really hit, which ones moved well beyond the closet to your everyday life. OK?

In my book The Creative Pragmatist: An Intelligent Conversation About Personal Style I illustrate the scale to better drive the point home:

Sarah leans highly creative, you should see her some days in the office - chic but definitely registering a bit lower on pragmatism, I’ve no idea how she navigated the subway sometimes but that’s her feistiness full and present. Traci’s always strolling in like a cucumber, very cool in her eased out put tailored looks that have a twist that dares anyone to be foolish enough to define her in one word. And me, most days I’m skating right in the middle, veering to the left and the right as the day, place or time demands.

The CP Scale becomes most present in our bi-annual Fundamentals collection. Because they are the core ingredients one uses to make great things that reflect their personality. If we were cooking, these would be akin to Olive oil, sugar and salt. On this episode, Sarah, Traci and myself style Sacha our model - so you can see the lens through which we interpret pieces that serve as a basic but refused to be defined as such.

We each had 5 pieces to work with: a tropical wool skirt, pale pink denim, our lantern skirt, the twill trouser, and camouflage. There’s a clear thruline between us all - each look Traci and Sarah put together I hadn’t considered, but absolutely would. I was inspired because it was a convo between people who “get” each other.

The Tropical Wool Skirt

Sarah paired it with the Black Nylon Liam and the Perfect tee in layers. I added my favorite ribbed knit that’s on sale from spring, and wanted the accent of the cardigan in that good ring 3. Traci killed her look with the resort belted tank on sale, so bonus.

The Pink Denim

Sarah paired it with the sheer silk voile top on sale from spring and clean black flip flops. I put it with a bodysuit we did from 2022, and my NEW FAVE Jacket here in the most goodest ever ring 3 color and my brick red toe ring sandals. Traci styled heres with charcoal grey and the pink toe ring with worked SO chic!

The Lantern Skirt

Sarah paired hers with the red twill shirt; I styled mine as I’m packing for summer with the brown tube top and an easy sweater at my waist and olive slides; traci topped hers with the voile top on sale and our favorite sandal.

And then the red pant in the trouser and in the pleated. Sarah put hers with the simple cashmere hoodie and the brick version of best sandal ever. I am headed out west here so wanted it with denim and traci layered it up in a neutral top and tank - both of which are on sale so yay for you.

Let me know in the comments who you think won the challenge. I’m deeply curious.

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New episodes every Monday. Part of the Almost Reckless universe from CP Media.

Thursday morning, rush hour, the A train headed to Manhattan. I’m just going to be super transparent here—there was a man who had gotten on the train standing next to me who happened to be, by any standard, really handsome. On any normal day, I would glance up every now and then, text my friends that I have a new subway crush, and then disappear into the swarm of New Yorkers headed to their destinations. However, this wasn’t a normal day. I found myself fully engaging in a self-inflicted internal argument. There was something in me that felt curious…curious enough to do something about it. So, like any reasonable adult, I brokered a deal with myself. The deal was this: if there is a pen in my bag, I’ll give him my number on a piece of paper. If not, it’ll be chalked up to a missed connection. Was there a small part of me hoping that there wouldn’t be a pen in my bag? Absolutely. Was there a pen in my bag? Absolutely. I never have a pen on me.

I am, after all, a woman of principle. I held myself to my ultimatum. There I was, tearing off a piece of a Whole Foods receipt, clumsily jotting down “Stella” and my phone number.

Mind you, I have two stops left until my destination—so I’m stuck holding this piece of paper. Awesome. After what felt like ages, the A train roars out of the tunnel and pulls up to the platform. Before I could even talk myself out of this interaction, my hand was already outstretched, handing the piece of paper to the man. “Wait, this is for you,” I say. I hadn’t thought about the speaking part (ha, ha).

He smiled (confused), I smiled (also confused). The doors shut, the train barreled to its next stop.

I did indeed disappear into the swarm of New Yorkers headed to their destinations—but this time, with a sense of gratification that gave me pause. As I was replaying the interaction in my mind (probably twenty times), the excitement didn’t come from the prospect of hearing from this man (albeit, a fun byproduct). It came from something else entirely. Feeling, being, an active participant in my own day—in my brain. Embracing discomfort on my own volition.

Embracing friction, even if it’s within myself.

Why did something that could be deemed a humiliation ritual put me in such an optimistic mood? After letting this question marinate for a minute, it hit me. I experienced something that wasn’t served up to me on a silver platter by The Algorithm. There was nothing contributing to that interaction that had anything to do with the tech wizards that eat our data for breakfast. It ultimately came down to existing at the same time and same place as this individual, and seizing the moment.

I don’t like to make sweeping generalizations, but for the sake of this story, I will—so bear with me. Gen Z is (generally speaking, okay) a self-declared socially anxious generation. And I would argue that it has crippled our ability to create moments of connectivity amongst ourselves. I don’t know that I fully understood the degree to which Gen Z has consented to outsourcing our thinking until I experienced this moment. And I would reason that, as a result of this outsourced thinking, our DOING has been squashed. For lack of a better word.

Later that day, I wound up dissecting the concept of “getting to the grey” with Amy. And if you’ve listened to the podcast that I co-host, The Grey Area, you’ll understand that not everything is black and white—grey is a color, too. It’s the proverbial middle-ground that grants us permission to change our minds, exercise critical thinking, and experience a range of discomfort that makes the human experience richer. Good old-fashioned nuance. They don’t make it like they used to—but this doesn’t have to be the case. It does, however, require getting uncomfortable on purpose, which you might instinctively and viscerally reject. I understand this—we all love to be cozy. But we might be so cozy that we are beginning to err on the extreme end of cabin fever. And amazing things can happen when you get outside.

I typically don’t wrap these articles with a call to action, but I would like to now. If you’ve listened are a fellow Gen Zer, or if you know a fellow Gen Zer, I would urge you to do something this week that extracts you from The Algorithm. Smile at someone on the train. Tell someone you like their shoes (granted you actually like their shoes). Ask someone a question. Shoot your shot! I would wager that you might end up having an interesting conversation that you may not have otherwise had. Maybe you will be shrugged off, maybe you will learn something new. But one thing is for certain: you will walk away from the experience with the knowledge that you did something that made you feel like you have a pulse.

If you haven’t already, I would highly encourage you to pick up a copy of Amy’s book, Almost Reckless: A Creative and Pragmatic Approach to Taking Risks. It’s an incredible guide for codifying your principles to help you extract yourself from the algorithm when the moment calls for it. I’ve read it myself, and it is genuinely a one-of-a-kind guide to sharpening your internal measuring stick for taking risks.

Houseman was built for regulars. This is not an interpretation; it is close to a mission statement. The name comes from husmanskost - a Scandinavian word meaning, roughly, “everyday food” - and when chef Ned Baldwin opened the restaurant in June of 2015, the question he kept asking himself was disarmingly simple: what’s in the restaurant that I want to go to? The answer sits on a quiet, tree-lined stretch of Greenwich Street in Hudson Square, a sliver of lower Manhattan that is technically west of SoHo, south of the West Village, and north of Tribeca, and that nobody - including, charmingly, the restaurant itself - can quite claim belongs to any of them.

Baldwin’s path to that question is its own story. He earned an MA in sculpture from Yale and spent years as a visual artist and builder before deciding, at 36, that the thing quietly consuming his attention - cooking - deserved his full commitment. He apprenticed under Alain Ducasse and Jean-Georges Vongerichten, passed through Tom Colicchio’s Craft, and eventually became chef de cuisine at Prune, Gabrielle Hamilton’s East Village institution, where he spent the better part of five years absorbing a philosophy that prized honesty over spectacle. All of which is to say: Houseman is what happens when a man who spent half his life learning how to build things decides to build a restaurant - not a concept, not a brand, but the actual thing, with old walls left old, schoolhouse chairs, a zinc bar, and tables cut from reclaimed bowling alley maple.

We went on a Friday night and sat at the bar, which is where Houseman makes its clearest case. The room runs long and narrow - whitewashed brick on one side, raw weathered plaster on the other, branching fixtures overhead casting the kind of light that flatters everyone equally - and from a stool at the zinc you can watch the whole operation breathe. What struck me first was not the food. It was the greetings. Diners walking in and being received by name. The unhurried conversation between the staff and a man eating alone who had clearly done this exact thing, in this exact seat, many times before. Our bartender was the kind you remember - knowledgeable without performing it, attentive without hovering, the sort of person who makes a seat at the bar feel less like a consolation prize and more like the room’s best-kept secret. We drank Mexican Cokes from the bottle, cold and sweet with real sugar, and at no point did anyone make us feel that this was anything less than a complete and correct order.

The food began with the Smoked Bluefish and the Fava Hummus. The bluefish - smoked in-house, folded into something cool and creamy, capped with fresh dill - came with seeded crackers built for structural duty, and the whole thing tasted like a fisherman’s idea of luxury, which, given that Baldwin is a devoted fisherman whose menu always carries whatever is running locally, is exactly what it was. The hummus wore a pool of marinated olives at its center and a dusting of za’atar at its edges, with thick slabs of grilled sourdough whose char carried into everything it touched. Two openers, two different instincts - one from the water, one from the pantry - both landing in the same unhurried register.

The Butter Lettuce, Snap Peas, Lemon, Labne was the surprise of the night. A pile of impossibly fresh butter lettuce - crisp, cold, structurally perfect - dressed in labne flecked with poppy seeds, painted with threads of lemon zest and whole mint leaves, the citrus lifting everything without announcing itself. A salad this simple has nowhere to hide, and so it stands entirely in the open - every leaf accountable, every element doing precisely what it claims to do, holding your attention with nothing but freshness and proportion. It was, genuinely, one of the best things we ate.

The Houseman Burger came the way burgers should - unfussy, properly cooked, a cool, barely-pickled cucumber standing upright in its own ceramic cup like it had somewhere to be. If the steak is the plate this city makes pilgrimages for, the burger is the one the neighborhood orders without opening the menu - the Tuesday answer, the plainest and most fluent expression of husmanskost in the building. There is a particular comfort in a burger that knows exactly what it is.

The Steak and Fries is the headline, and it earns the type size. New York Magazine has called Houseman’s hanger steak the best in the city, and the plate that reached us made the case without apparent effort - thick slices cooked to a deep, even rose, the crust dark and mineral, confit garlic cloves and a sprig of thyme resting on top, a ramekin of aioli alongside. And the fries. I have eaten a great many French fry in my life with ample enthusiasm, and these are my favorite kind, full stop - thin but not shoestring, golden to the point of amber, crisp through the entire bite, and carrying, just beneath the salt, a faint bright note of vinegar - the ghost of a salt-and-vinegar chip, the kind of detail you notice mid-sentence and lose the sentence over. The Michelin Guide describes them as fluffy, crispy, and perfectly salted, which is accurate and still somehow undersells the experience of eating them at the bar on a Friday night with a cold Mexican Coke.

There is a small illustration on the Houseman menu - two cheerful, vaguely mythological creatures strolling through grass - captioned with four words: A Day like any other. I keep thinking about that caption, because it is the entire restaurant in a sentence. Houseman will hold your birthday, your anniversary, your celebration, and hold them well - but its quiet genius is the Thursday. The steak and a glass of red, alone at the bar, no reservation, no performance of any kind - just a room that knows you, food made by people who mean it, and the quiet, durable pleasure of being a regular somewhere. From my days on the line I can tell you that those people are the ones who keep a restaurant alive. Houseman seems to have understood this from the very beginning, and built itself, plank by reclaimed plank, in their image.

Dinner nightly. Lunch weekdays, brunch on weekends. Walk in, sit at the bar.

I have been wondering lately whether understanding is something that can be accessed in the middle of an experience, or whether it is, by its nature, something that only becomes available after. Whether the clarity that arrives at the end is a reward for finishing, or simply a function of distance - a perspective that is physically impossible to reach from inside the terrain.

Maps. Could maps provide an answer?

The great maps of the world - the ones that revealed coastlines, that traced river systems across continents, that gave shape to mountain ranges no one had yet seen from above - were not drawn in real time. They could not be. The explorer’s job was to walk the terrain, to feel the river’s current, to register the grade of the mountain in the legs, to notice when the path narrowed without warning and to push through it anyway. The experience was bodily, immediate, ground-level - and from the ground, the territory has no shape. It is trees and weather and the next hill and the mud you are standing in right now. You cannot see the coastline when you are on it. You can only walk it.

The map came after. Often drawn by the same person who walked the land, but working in a different mode - no longer moving, no longer reacting, no longer in the weather. Sitting still, translating the body’s memory into lines on paper. And in that translation, something remarkable would happen: what had been suffered as chaos on the ground would emerge, from above, as design. The river bent because of the geology beneath it. The path narrowed because it was passing through a ridge that, from above, you could see had no alternative route. The stretch that felt impossibly difficult - the one where you questioned why you were out here at all - sat directly above a fault line, a place where the earth itself was under pressure. You could not have known that from the ground. The map does not just record where you went. It explains why the going felt the way it did.

I think about this when I think about the last several months of my life - training for something that I took far more seriously than it probably warranted, putting my body and my mind and, if I am being honest, the people closest to me through a kind of stress that, in retrospect, was disproportionate to the event itself. While I was in it, I could not see that. The terrain was just hard, and I assumed the hardness was the point, and I put my head down and walked. It was only after - standing on the other side, no longer in the weather - that I could look back and see the shape of what I had actually been moving through. The stress was real, but the map it left behind is more interesting than the suffering suggested. The thing I thought I was training for and the thing I was actually learning turned out to be two different places on the same map, and I could not have drawn the line between them while I was still walking.

There are people in my life who have come and gone - some by choice, some not - and from inside those experiences, each one felt like its own isolated territory. A friendship that arrived late but deep, that skipped the slow accumulation of years and went straight to something essential, the kind where you never said goodbye because it was always see you soon. A scene that once felt like yours, that you moved through with the certainty of someone who belonged, until one day the territory looked different, and you could not tell whether the landscape had shifted or whether you had simply walked far enough to see it from a new angle. From the ground, these feel like separate places. Unrelated stretches of terrain with nothing connecting them. But I am starting to suspect - and I can only suspect, because I have not yet walked far enough to draw the full map - that they are contours on the same landscape, and that the connections between them will only become legible from a distance I have not yet reached.

This is, I think, the hardest part of being in your twenties, or perhaps of being alive at any point along the walk: the desire for the map while you are still in the terrain. The wanting to see the shape of your life while you are still inside it, to understand the logic of the path before the path has finished revealing itself. And the frustration - sometimes grief, sometimes restlessness, sometimes just a low hum of confusion - of knowing that the clarity you want is real, that it exists, but that it is not available from where you are standing. It requires more walking. It requires finishing the stretch you are on, and then sitting still long enough to translate it.

I do not think you can draw a map of a place you have not yet left. I think the desire to do so is natural and human and probably universal, but I also think the willingness to keep walking without one - to trust that the shape will emerge once you have covered enough ground to see it - is not naivety. It is the condition of the work. The explorer does not get the map and then walk the terrain. The explorer walks the terrain and then gets the map. And the map, when it finally comes, does not just show where you have been. It shows you why you went. And sometimes - not always, but sometimes - it shows you where you were heading all along, even when you were certain you were lost.

New episodes every Monday. Part of the Almost Reckless universe from CP Media.