LoFi Mac Vibes via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gz01rtH2QIM

💰 | Buy/Lease ☛ https://BruceDayne.com/
🔥 | Let’s Get to 1K ☛ https://YouTube.com/c/BruceDayne
📱 | Artist Page ☛ - https://snd.click/mjI0tjt/
✉️ | Email: BeatsbyBruceDayne@gmail.com

Instrumental Playlist | Beats by 🎧 BruceDayne:

Spotify - https://www.deezer.com/us/artist/64437622
Itunes - https://music.apple.com/us/artist/brucedayne/1461542735
Amazon - https://music.amazon.com/artists/B07R7FW2MR/brucedayne
iHeartRadio - https://iheart.com/artist/brucedayne-32965398/
Tidal - https://tidal.com/browse/artist/15633213/
Pandora - https://pandora.com/artist/brucedayne/ARnhXk7kPpkz3gq/
YouTube Music - https://youtube.com/c/BruceDayne
SoundCloud - https://soundcloud.com/brucedayne
Follow BruceDayne:

🐦| Twitter | https://twitter.com/BruceDayne​
🎶| TikTok | https://tiktok.com/@BruceDayne
📸| IG Live | https://ig.me/BeatsbyBruceDayne
⚡️| Facebook | https://fb.me/TrapBluez​
➕| Telegram | https://t.me/BeatsbyBruceDayne​
📺| Triller | https://triller.co/@brucedayne​
👻| Snapchat| https://snapchat.com/add/BruceDayne

Music Video Channel:

🎥 YouTube Channel: https://YouTube.com/c/BruceDayne
📹 YouTube 2nd Channel: https://YouTube.com/c/TrippyTube
📺 Twitch | https://twitch.com/tv/BruceDayne​
Trap Bluez Production | Beats by BruceDayne

(Tags) #beatstars, #ambient, #rhythm, #urban, #producer, #samplepack, #albumcover, #energy, #vibe #BruceDayne #TrapBluez

“What does [luxury] really even mean?” asks Chelsea Sanders, co-host of Go Off, Sis, the podcast from Refinery29’s Unbothered. “Designer shoes? Bags? A trip? Getting flewed out? Is it a soothing bath? Some of your favorite Black-owned products?”

In the latest episode, the hosts explore all aspects of luxury, who gets to define it, and why we’re entertained by look-at-me opulence — especially when it doesn’t do anything for underserved communities. 

Elaine Welteroth, Project Runway judge, former Teen Vogue editor-in-chief, and former co-host of The Talk, joins the conversation with her take on how Black people are redefining and reclaiming luxury. “For a lot of us, luxury is now buying Black. Luxury is investing in our communities,” she says. “I’m here for celebrities who understand the platforms they have and the importance of using their platforms to amplify Black designers, who for too long, have been iced out of luxury conversations — simply for lack of access.”

Welteroth shouts out Black designers, including Kerby Jean-Raymond, the founder and creator of Pyer Moss, who are showing up as their authentic selves and proving to be agents of change instead of playing by the establishment’s rules. Case in point: Jean-Raymond’s Pyer Moss Fall 2021 Couture show highlighting Black inventors. “He had Elaine Brown from the Black Panther Party,” she says. “That moment, which opened the show, won’t be fully appreciated for years.”

To hear the hosts chat more about excess, splurges, and Black capitalism, listen to the full episode, below.  

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

No Stress via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epv2dQdJBKQ

💰 | Buy/Lease ☛ https://BruceDayne.com/
🔥 | Let’s Get to 1K ☛ https://YouTube.com/c/BruceDayne
📱 | Artist Page ☛ - https://snd.click/mjI0tjt/
✉️ | Email: BeatsbyBruceDayne@gmail.com

Instrumental Playlist | Beats by 🎧 BruceDayne:

Spotify - https://www.deezer.com/us/artist/64437622
Itunes - https://music.apple.com/us/artist/brucedayne/1461542735
Amazon - https://music.amazon.com/artists/B07R7FW2MR/brucedayne
iHeartRadio - https://iheart.com/artist/brucedayne-32965398/
Tidal - https://tidal.com/browse/artist/15633213/
Pandora - https://pandora.com/artist/brucedayne/ARnhXk7kPpkz3gq/
YouTube Music - https://youtube.com/c/BruceDayne
SoundCloud - https://soundcloud.com/brucedayne
Follow BruceDayne:

🐦| Twitter | https://twitter.com/BruceDayne​
🎶| TikTok | https://tiktok.com/@BruceDayne
📸| IG Live | https://ig.me/BeatsbyBruceDayne
⚡️| Facebook | https://fb.me/TrapBluez​
➕| Telegram | https://t.me/BeatsbyBruceDayne​
📺| Triller | https://triller.co/@brucedayne​
👻| Snapchat| https://snapchat.com/add/BruceDayne

Music Video Channel:

🎥 YouTube Channel: https://YouTube.com/c/BruceDayne
📹 YouTube 2nd Channel: https://YouTube.com/c/TrippyTube
📺 Twitch | https://twitch.com/tv/BruceDayne​
Trap Bluez Production | Beats by BruceDayne

(Tags) #beatstars, #ambient, #rhythm, #urban, #producer, #samplepack, #albumcover, #energy, #vibe #BruceDayne #TrapBluez

Despite being obsessed with fashion designers at an early age,  I was already in my late teens when I finally learned Carolina Herrera was Venezuelan. Growing up in Puerto Rico, I had my doubts about whether Herrera was even from Latin America. Her last name was a good indicator that she was, but it somehow didn’t convince me. I asked my mom — one of her biggest fans — but she shrugged off the question with a simple “I’m not sure.” Looking back, it’s clear to me that I wasn’t really interested in judging Carolina Herrera’s Latinx bona fides. What I wanted was to reassure myself that there were other people from Latin America that could also make it to the upper echelons of fashion; people who rolled their R’s just like me. 

But, Herrera’s Venezuelan heritage was hardly ever mentioned. The same was true for Oscar de la Renta and Isabel Toledo. They were all referred to as “American;” their country of origin and heritage were watered down to a generalized idea that American fashion designers sometimes spoke with an accent or had Spanish last names. But inside the Costume Institute’s latest exhibition “In America: A Lexicon Of Fashion,” there are signs that things might be taking a turn for a more inclusive and diverse representation of Latin American and Latinx fashion designers.

This year’s exhibition — the first of a two-part show to be continued in May 2022 — is rooted in a quote by Rev. Jesse Jackson: “America is more like a quilt — many patches, many pieces, many colors, many sizes, all woven and held together by a common thread.” The exhibition was dreamed up by the Costume Institute’s head curator Andrew Bolton, and features a group of Latin American designers who hail from Venezuela (Herrera), the Dominican Republic (Oscar de la Renta), and Cuba (Isabel Toledo and Narciso Rodriguez). They’re accompanied by other emerging Latinx designers like Mexican-American Rio Uribe of Gypsy Sport, Uruguayan Gabriela Hearst, and Mexican Raul Solís of LRS. 

Walking through the exhibition, I thought about Jackson’s quote because, just like the United States as a whole, the Latin American and Latinx communities are also composed of many patches, pieces, colors, and sizes. But you wouldn’t know it if you looked at how they’re perceived by the fashion industry despite the many decades in which Latinx designers have been power players. 

“Historically, some of our most venerable labels were founded by Latinos,” says Erik Maza, senior fashion features director of Town & Country, who emigrated from Cuba in 1998. “What the industry has to ask itself is, ‘are these examples the exception to the rule? Are there enough of us, and do we have a seat at the table?’” While there is no question that Latin American designers have earned a rightful place in the U.S. fashion industry, who has been granted a key inside tells another story about American values. 

Take, for example, Carolina Herrera. While the designer may speak with an accent, she has always been among New York’s wealthy elites. She grew up in socialite circles in her native Caracas, and later married a direct descendant of Spanish royalty. In 1965, she got a job as a publicist for Italian fashion designer Emilio Pucci, who was a close family friend, eventually becoming well known for her own glamorous style. This was part of what inspired former Vogue editor-in-chief Diana Vreeland to encourage Herrera to become a designer herself. She eventually debuted her first collection at the exclusive, members-only Metropolitan Club in Manhattan, and found great success afterward. The kind of access that Herrera had is worlds apart from the reality of poor and working-class people, who are largely Black and Indigenous, in Latin America and Latinx communities in the United States. 

“The real question is, who gets represented under Latinidad, and that’s something that we are still deconstructing,” says Ecuadorian-American PR and marketing consultant Aldo Araujo, who currently works with the Council of Fashion Designers of America. At a time when the Latinx community in the United States is composed of more than 60 million people, Araujo is demanding and working toward a more accurate representation that’s on par with the racial, economic, and political diversity within these communities. Araujo has worked to promote Latinx talent within the industry, including a series of profiles on designers, models, and stylists on the nonprofit’s site, featuring models Dilone and Jillian Mercado, stylist Mellany Sánchez, and designer Raúl Solís. 

Maza says that this type of work is crucial to opening more doors: “As Latinos, and I’m including myself here, we could also do a better job of banding together to speak up for our causes and promote, mentor, and employ the staggering pool of undiscovered Latinx talent out there.” 

This effort also involves the media. Fashion and beauty media mastheads are slowly diversifying, with Latinx editors and writers like Nina García at Elle magazine, Mario Abad at Paper magazine, Ana Colón at Fashionista, Sandra E. García at The New York Times, Karla Martínez de Salas at Vogue México, and Maza at Town & Country. Their efforts have resulted in storytelling that highlights the diversity among Latinx talent, as well as providing a platform for conversations around what it even means to be Latinx. 

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A post shared by ELLE Magazine (@elleusa)

Some are more successful than others. Just recently, García, who is the editor in chief at Elle, released the magazine’s  first-ever Latinx issue cover featuring Selena Gomez (Disclosure: I wrote a piece for this issue, and had no involvement with the cover story.) While Gomez is Mexican-American, the cover’s credits — from fashion and makeup to photography and styling — were filled with non-Latinx names; Chanel was the most prominent brand featured, and Gomez was styled to resemble Marilyn Monroe. Some took the cover as a missed opportunity. 

“While I celebrate the fact that Elle finally came out with an issue dedicated to the community, and I’m genuinely happy for Gomez, it does feel a bit same ol’, same ol’ for me,” wrote journalist Johanna Ferreira on POPSUGAR. “How does this cover make other Latinx communities feel seen? It doesn’t.”

It’s mishaps like these that contributes to the notion that the fashion industry considers the Latinx community a monolith because it erases the fact that this term — with its many flawed definitions — comes from multilingual, multiracial, multiethnic communities that have long fought to avoid being reduced to one dimension. And while today’s industry is welcoming a wider set of Latinx designers, it still suffers from staggering anti-Blackness. 

In the Costume Institute’s exhibition, it’s clear that some Latinx designers are no longer willing to stay silent on issues that affect non-elites. One of the most strikingly-displayed garments in the show is an American flag ensemble designed by Gypsy Sport, which is later followed by a red-and-white striped dress by Raul Solis of LRS emblazoned with slogans like “No Justice, No Peace.” (Some notable absences from the lineup include Calvin Klein’s senior vice president of design Willy Chavarría, whose most recent collection was inspired by delivery workers and has long embedded his Mexican-American heritage into the collections for his eponymous label.)

These two designs showcase a social and political consciousness that past Latin American designers have stayed away from, preferring to dress the wealthy in traditionally conservative silhouettes with hefty price tags. Later, audiences get a glimpse of Gabriela Hearst’s work: an artisanal ruana — a poncho-style wrap from the Colombian Andes — done in collaboration with women-led collective Manos del Uruguay. While Hearst, who is now the creative director of Celine, has chosen to credit the artisans behind her work, many of her peers don’t. And when it comes to Latinx representation in U.S. fashion, it’s often the artisans and garment workers behind the scenes, many of whom are undocumented or from Indigenous communities, who are missing from the credits. 

Take, for example, the Carolina Herrera Resort 2020 collection by Wes Gordon, which used traditional Mexican sarapes — a blanket-like shawl originating in Mexico — as well as embroidery techniques birthed by Indigenous communities in the country, but failed to identify and credit the source of these techniques and design traditions. Titled “Latin Holiday,” the collection was even criticized by Mexico’s secretary of culture through a letter in El País that asked the house to credit their people. 

But, the Costume Institute’s Bolton made the choice to include and credit the Manos del Uruguay dress. He also opted to highlight the countries of origin of immigrant designers. This exhibit was one of the first times I saw Herrera labeled as Venezuelan and Toledo as Cuban. This tiny detail makes all the difference. Latinx representation is not perfect, but it still matters to understand where we come from, who we are, and who is still missing from the great Latin American quilt — and to know that even while rolling our R’s, or lacking family connections, a career in American fashion is possible. 

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

The Word 'Latinx' IS A Betrayal To Latinidad.

The Best Latinx Brands To Shop This Month & Beyond

The Latinx-Owned Brand Rethinking “Slow Fashion”

In an emotional post shared to Instagram late Wednesday night, legendary ’90s supermodel Linda Evangelista revealed that she filed a lawsuit against Zeltiq Aesthetics after she was “brutally disfigured” by the company’s CoolSculpting fat-freezing treatment.

“Today I took a big step towards righting a wrong that I have suffered and have kept to myself for over five years,” Evangelista wrote. “To my followers who have wondered why I have not been working while my peers’ careers have been thriving, the reason is that I was brutally disfigured by Zeltiq’s CoolSculpting procedure which did the opposite of what it promised. It increased, not decreased, my fat cells and left me permanently deformed even after undergoing two painful, unsuccessful, corrective surgeries. I have been left, as the media has described, ‘unrecognizable.'”

CoolSculpting, a popular noninvasive procedure performed in doctors’ offices and med spas, works by pulling body tissue in the treatment area into the machine to expose the tissue to extremely cold temperatures, causing the fat cells to freeze. Over the next two to three months, those cells “die” and are absorbed by the body’s lymphatic system, resulting in up to a 25% reduction of fat. According to the CoolSculpting website, post-treatment side effects include “temporary redness, swelling, blanching, bruising, firmness, tingling, stinging, tenderness, cramping, aching, itching, or skin sensitivity, and sensation of fullness in the back of the throat after submental or submandibular area treatment.”

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A post shared by Linda Evangelista (@lindaevangelista)

The condition Evangelista went on to describe in her post is paradoxical adipose hyperplasia (PAH), a rare adverse reaction developed by 0.05% to 0.39% of CoolSculpting patients first recorded in 2014, four years after the procedure was cleared by the FDA. Evangelista said that she was not made aware of the risk of PAH, which occurs when the freezing of the fat cells triggers a reactionary event causing them to thicken rather than break down as intended, and detailed how the resulting damage has affected her mental health.

“PAH has not only destroyed my livelihood, it has sent me into a cycle of deep depression, profound sadness, and the lowest depths of self-loathing. In the process, I have become a recluse,” she wrote. “With this lawsuit, I am moving forward to rid myself of my shame, and going public with my story. I’m so tired of living this way. I would like to walk out my door with my head held high, despite not looking like myself any longer.” Refinery29 has reached out to CoolSculpting for comment and will update this post when we hear back.

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Welcome to “What’s Good,” a column where we break down what’s soothing, distracting, or just plain good in the streaming world with a “rooting for everybody Black” energy.

What’s Good? Sex Education Season 3 on Netflix. In three seasons, Sex Education has taught a masterclass in truly representative teen television. And, unlike many of its peers, the show has done right by its queer and dark-skinned Black  characters. The bar is on the floor, but Sex Education has set a new standard. 

Who It’s Good For: If you are, like me, obsessed with shows about people way younger than you, and still get wrapped up in teen dramas at your big age, Sex Education is going to be extremely your shit. The UK series is set in the fictional town of Moordale and revolves around a teen named Otis (Asa Butterfield) who starts a makeshift sex therapy practice, taking after his mum Jean (Gillian Anderson), a real sex therapist. Those two characters are the show’s backbone and hold up its premise, but it’s the cast around them that have turned Sex Education from an intriguing idea into one of the freshest, funniest, and truly inclusive series on television. It’s a teen show that refuses to talk down to its audience (actually teenagers, presumably), and feels like it’s written by people who have a deep understanding of what it’s like to navigate the horny halls of a high school (even if they aren’t actual teenagers, presumably — the show’s creator is 30-something Laurie Nunn). 

Sex Education is legitimately educational (let’s talk about vulvas, baby) but it’s never preachy. From tackling everything from sexual assault, to coming out, to academic pressues, to what it’s like to be a nonbinary teenager, Sex Education is fearless, imaginative and authentic. And its secret ingredient, like most shows, is its Black cast. Ncuti Gatwa plays Eric, Otis’s best friend and a gay Black boy who exudes confidence and joy. This season, he’s figuring out his new relationship with his former bully turned boyfriend, Adam (Connor Swindells), and is continuing to steal every damn scene he’s in. Gatwa is a STAR. Kedar Williams-Stirling returns in an understated but strong performance as sweet jock Jackson and Chinenye Ezeudu is back as overachieving Viv, a character I wish I had been friends with in high school. But it’s Dua Saleh who plays Cal, a new face in Season 3 and Moordale Secondary School’s outspoken nonbinary student, who gives the standout performance of the season. They ooze charisma and cool, but also convey the frustrations that come with existing in a world that upholds gender binaries. 

If you are sick of the American Netflix teen series that love colorism as much as they love explaining how social media works (ahem, Gossip Girl), Sex Education is a refreshing antidote. Dark-skinned characters (especially dark Black girls or nonbinary kids, who are often sidelined on teen TV) not only exist, they get to have hopes, dreams and full interior lives. When we talk about representation on TV (which has turned into a shallow discussion lacking nuance), this is what we should be talking about. We should be lauding shows like Sex Education that don’t just sprinkle in characters of color, disabled characters, queer characters, or all of the above, for clout, but that actually delve deep into their stories. 

How Good Is It? You know when a show is so good, you have to carve out an entire weekend to park your ass on your couch and savor every second? Yeah, that was me last weekend when Sex Education Season 3 dropped. I know not all of you dropped your plans to do the same (aka scream “yes, Netflix, I am still watching!” at your TV) so I’ll avoid spoilers — mostly. What I will say is this: this season is so good, I had to pause on multiple occasions to laugh until my cheeks hurt. It also made me cry a little. Get you a show that can do both. 

This season, we pick up with the unlikeliest of couples. Otis is having casual sex with the most popular girl in school, Ruby (Mimi Keene) while Eric and Adam are this close to going all the way. Since Adam used to literally bully our sweet Eric, how sweet they are together can be a little jarring — in a good way. And Ola (Patricia Allison) and Lily (Tanya Reynolds) are still going strong. The way this show handles the intricacies of teen relationships is SO good, I really don’t think any other show (including my beloveds Elite and Never Have I Ever) is even close to getting it this right. Take for example, how it handles when Eric and Adam try to have sex for the first time only to realize that they are both *spoiler alert* bottoms. The show plays the moment for laughs initially, but then settles into a poignant exploration of Adam’s communication issues. And Eric? Even though he’s got confidence to spare, he’s still new to the whole boyfriend thing too. Plus, I love how the show gets into Eric’s identity as British-Nigerian and what being gay in Nigeria means. It’s hard to describe what Ncuti Gatwa is doing with this character because every inflection, every movement and every line is so intentional and so full of purpose and light, only watching him can do the performance justice. Every episode, I am in awe of his work. 

The best thing about Sex Education is that it  repackages tropes in a unique way that never feels stale. The new overbearing headteacher, Hope (Girls alum Jemima Kirke), is a principal who is out to ruin all the kids’ fun. This is an overused trope in teen content (see The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Election) but here, Hope is used as a way for our besties at Moordale Secondary to assert their independence. Plus, she acts as a vessel to critique the antiquated thinking of generations past, even if that generation isn’t that old. When Hope tries to dismiss Cal’s gender identity, they call it out for the bullshit it is, and it makes for some of the season’s most compelling scenes. If you didn’t know Dua Saleh’s name before, you will now. They are an extraordinary talent. 

I haven’t even gotten to Aimee (Aimee Gibbs), who is reeling after her sexual assault on a bus last season, but she’s working through her PTSD with the help of her best friend Mauve (Emma Mackey), who is on her own journey of self discovery. Another thing this show does so well is depict real and honest female friendships. Aimee and Mauve will have you swooning at their love, even though it’s strictly platonic. 

Sex Education is a show about teens so it’s not going to get the praise for being one of the most progressive depictions of therapy on television or for having the most genuine sex scenes either (and the hottest love scene featuring a disabled character I’ve seen on TV, well, ever). It’s going to get overlooked for how smart it is and it’ll get misjudged because of its humor — kind of like teens themselves. But if TikTok has taught us anything, it’s that underestimating the youths is always a bad idea. Don’t make the mistake of missing out on one of the best shows on television, period.

What Else Is Good? 

• Divesting from award shows that continue to do us dirty. Read my good sis Ineye Komonibo on the topic.
• My former colleague Ariana Romero on Pose’sMichaela Jae Rodriguez, THEE icon.
• Lil Nas X singing Jolene.
• This is belated, but I finally finished Kiese Laymon’s Long Division and it is so very good.
• As always, defunding the police.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Natasha Rothwell Shines In The White Lotus

Where’s All The Good Kissing On TV?

Sex Education S2 Addressed The Morning After Pill