Marc by Marc Jacobs SS15

Pier 94, New York Fashion Week
—SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE IMAGES—

Once in 2002, I was working at a bank in Northern California. My department employed people of all ages, and one of my peers invited me out to a local dance club. I was brand new to the area so the idea of making new friends was high on my agenda. Sure enough we get there, and lined up next to the dancefloor are six, seven of her good friends. It was a real eclectic bunch of people, but they had two things in common: they were super nice to me, and they could dance, right down the line, every last one of them. The DJ at this particular club made it a point over the next three months to introduce me to the deepest, quality cuts in House music. My new friends were fierce—what I loved about them mostly was how differently their dancing styles were. One guy I called the Captain (he wasn’t) because he was the best dancer, extremely smooth but quiet about it; another guy was the Cowboy (he wasn’t!) because he always wore hats that I otherwise never thought were cool, but he’d “ride” in with them and basically become the party, single-handidly. There were the lollipop twins (I never saw them eat candy) because that’s just how I pictured them when they weren’t around. They were the most rag-tag group of awesome kids I’d ever met in my life—and I watched them dance every Friday night. I watched how they knew their bodies, how unique each of them were in regards to their physicality. They dressed like they didn’t care what anybody else thought. They dressed for themselves. They were cool. I learned to dance just watching them. I learned to watch. I took what they taught me to Los Angeles, to Hollywood and immediately intimidated most everyone I met—I wanted to go hard, but at the time in Hollywood people weren’t used to that yet. The rest of course, is history. And while I’ve not seen any of them, my friends who ushered me into a new life of being attuned with my own style, they to this day remain my very best friends, including the DJ. Lights out. Lasers on. Bass up. Work out. Until it hurts. Because when you find your true self, you won’t need to keep looking.
You won’t need anything else.

[gap height=”28″]
marc by marc jacobs ss15 - nyfw
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (2)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (3)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (4)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (6)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (5)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (7)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (8)
Maria Matakova - marc by marc jacobs ss15
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (10)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (11)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (12)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (13)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (14)

[twocol_one]binx walton - marc by marc jacobs ss15[/twocol_one] [twocol_one_last]kai newman - marc by marc jacobs[/twocol_one_last]

marc by marc jacobs ss15 (15)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (16)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (17)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (18)
marc by marc jacobs ss15 (19)