• Metallic pink clogs, very Beetlecore and extra saucy paired with a patterned silk midi skirt

• The high contrast between this lux woven leather tote and its Labubu-adjacent bag charm with human teeth

• And a woman wearing scrubs in the deepest, richest, most delicious shade of purple that made me do a dangerous triple take crossing the street. I felt like I’d seen the pope in his c*nty purple outfit, and her eggplant holiness radiated like a halo as she tossed her empty fro-yo cup into a city garbage can.

It’s the color of that hot doctor’s papal scrubs that’s dominating my brain space lately. A shade so decadent and luxurious you want to lick your fingers after feeling it up.

There was a lot of chatter at the beginning of this year ready to crown purple as the Next Big Color — a call I was fully on board with, btw, especially in the face of 2026’s Pantone atrocity — but at the moment we’re still firmly in aqua territory. My feed this past week was flooded with influencer wedding guest dresses in all blinding hues of turquoise, teal, and cerulean. As we careen toward the end of summer, I think we’re savoring shades we want to swim in, pieces that feel spiritually and sartorially hydrating.

For now, purple still lingers in the background waiting to pounce. She’s decked out in a silk Bebe halter and sky-high patent leather pumps. She’s got a makeup bag full of Bobbi Brown and a killer Jergens Natural Glow tan. Maybe she has a few too many credit cards and not enough will power! Let. Her. Live!

More in today’s letter:

• I dove deep into the runway archives for the shiniest, silkiest, sexiest, most voluminous lessons in purple

• & 27 perfect purple picks, all vintage and secondhand

• gauzy sex appeal and a reminder that royal can mean cleavage

• when in doubt, tulle it out

• if you’re going glitter why not go all the way

• ‘70s gladiator can be high glam

• rain poncho with sandals WORKS

• feeling blessed by Florence and the Machine levels of floating-on-air sheer drapery

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more from the runway + 27 secondhand pieces below

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We’re more than halfway through the year, the darkness is creeping in a touch earlier every night, and I feel summer slipping away like a popsicle melting down my fingers.

This month was sticky and smokey and tooth-achingly saccharine. I ate enough jammy honeyed tomatoes and peanut butter cup ice cream to last a lifetime. I let my hair go frizzy more times than I tamed it. Swollen mosquito bites took over my calves, and I managed to get blisters on every side of my feet (including the soles). I know July was well lived because the evidence is on my skin.

On repeat this month: shiny knit chevron, the brightest socks I own, a decor piece I bought from my own newsletter, and more.

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I always seem to forget about this precious Missoni darling. And then on some desperate hot day, I dig through every hanger in my closet to find her there patiently waiting between bridesmaids dresses past, praying for a chance to remind me how humidity-friendly and fabulously striped she is.

The midriff panel of curved apricot and aqua, the deep cleavage-threatening V, the expertly aligned chevron cascading down the thighs — swoon. It’s a puzzle of an outfit, all the funky pieces snapped right into place to form a bigger bolder picture. I loved it paired with my backwards necklace and the messenger bag that took me years to find.

This was a Noihsaf Bazaar score from a few years ago, and still every time I wear it, I’m mesmerized by how magical this stripe placement is. No one does stripes like Missoni. A little extra magic is good on a day like above when the city was smoked out by northern wildfires and the sun turned an apocalyptic flaming orange. At the end of the world, I’ll still be in vintage.

I am overjoyed to report that for the first time in 5+ years I can throw my hair up into a HIGH PONYTAIL! Sure, the front layers fall out if it doesn’t have second-day-dirty texture, but I wouldn’t have even dared to dream of a high pony a year ago.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect too — on a swampy day, just the idea of hair clumped against my neck is enough to cause a breakdown.

These neon yellow socks — plush, crew, and ribbed for your pleasure — carried me through the drudgery of grimy summer storm sidewalks. A peep of citrus at the foot is good for the immune system.

Note: I’m in between sizes on these and have now tried both Doublesoul’s smaller and larger sizes, def size up if you’re unsure. This pair was gifted, but I’ve purchased them on my own dime in the past, and I’ll surely purchase them again in the future.

I committed a Substacker sin. Maybe? When I put together this decor edit inspired by Emma Chamberlain’s AD tours, I included this 1950s photo of a woman posing with her own self-portrait and ended up purchasing it myself — sorry! She spoke to me.

It arrived in my inbox back in April, and I finally hung it up in July. As she sits in front of her portrait over the fireplace next to candlesticks, she now hangs above my fireplace next to candlesticks. I hope she feels at home.

I wore this specific combo to death in July. The organic woven leather straps of these Margaux heeled thongs (gifted) added delightful contrast against the iridescent asymmetric-hem capris I brought home from Mexico City last February.

I wore them to pop my Cherry Lane Theatre cherry with , to watch Liana smack around her metal pointer in a basement nightclub for NEVERWORNS x Free People, and also on a few less exhilarating occasions in between.

July was kind of a flop book month. Of the seven I read, only two earned above a 3 star rating. Bleh. The highest rating was bestowed upon Babel — a rare and perfect 5! — and while I loved Yellowface and Katabasis too, this was easily my favorite of the three.

It’s kind of like if Harry Potter and The Secret History had a baby who studied 19th century race politics & British colonialism? And it took three full business days to recover from the emotional impact of that ending.

Last month I hoped to “submerge myself in a lake, turn my phone off for a whole weekend, and reach a state so zen that I’m no longer bothered by 90% humidity.” Check, check, never ever gonna happen.

In August: I’m praying for better books, first of all, and I’m manifesting some sort of sparkly vintage top in my future. Watch this space…

I’d love to hear about your repeats this month and what you’re looking forward to at the moment <3

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June repeats:

Latest batch of vintage:

Yeehawt occasionally features gifted items and affiliate links, at no cost to you of course. Get in touch at mackinley@yeehawt.com if you’d like to work together, browse my shelves here, or follow me for more vintage and fashion chatter on IG and TT.

1. Corn sundae with corn ice cream, caramel corn, corn toffee sauce, and bits of corn right off the cob. My god.

2. Raspberry chocolate tiramisu (pictured below) with ladyfingers soaked in raspberry liquid sandwiched between slabs of mascarpone chocolate fluff.

3. Turtle sundae with vanilla gelato, fudge, toasted pecans, and salty butterscotch sauce. Gets even better as you get closer to the bottom.

4. Jammy linzer cookie dunked in strong coffee (raspberry here too).

5. And a Twix ice cream bar from the bodega, just to round it all out.

If anyone has any idea where I can find corn ice cream year round, please hit my line. It’s a corn-mergency.

Today’s letter is a batch of reader requests. You’ve already started shopping for fall and winter, and it’s showing in the chat. I too can’t stop myself from sweater-browsing even in the most sweltering of heatwaves.

Another lovely thing about shopping vintage and secondhand (on the list of one million lovely things) is that the prices aren’t as affected by seasons or internet trends as when shopping new. A fab cashmere cardi is $35 year-round on eBay.com. And that vintage ‘60s fur coat on your watchlist won’t suffer from ‘mob wife’ inflation because the woman selling it has never scrolled through TikTok before. Stable, fair prices for all!

35 picks in this vintage lot including:

• summer mini dresses

• plaid skirts in plus sizes

• statement winter coats

• zebra pants

• cowhide purses

• & pre-fall wool and cotton cardigans

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Juliet is a vintage enthusiast, tennis fanatic, and the writer of the newsletter julietnotcapulet. I am so obsessed with Juliet’s wardrobe it’s not even funny — tell me this isn’t the most perfect plaid wool skirt you’ve ever seen!?

This COAT? Straight from my dream journal.

And how can I not just die over this Yeehawt color palette outfit… that slimy green peeping out by the hip!

Really I’d link every outfit Juliet’s ever posted if I could, but you can just keep up with her on IG and TT for that. As for what she has on repeat this summer…

a Marni ss2000 skirt

My most exciting item of the summer by far has to be this Marni ss2000 skirt I purchased from Little Sister NYC. It is surprisingly versatile despite its hot pink and pale yellow spots and truly energizes me anytime I wear it. I’ve worn it a bit more dressed up with Flore Flore tops in corresponding colors and dressed down with any graphic tee that calls to me.

If anybody has the matching clogs from the collection, HMU!

the softest ‘80s graphic tee

Speaking of graphic tees, my most worn as of late is a vintage Le Coq Sportif one featured above with the Marni skirt and in countless other outfits I’ve worn this summer. It has a cartoon graphic of tennis player and forever fashion icon Yannick Noah, and it’s as soft as my favorite pajama t-shirts.

The cotton is slightly thin after years of wear and sized just so it isn’t clingy and uncomfortable in the heat. What more could I ask for?

going to see a movie when the weather is too much to bear

When the city is being plagued by heatwaves, wildfire smoke, and general summertime yuckiness, taking a few hours to see a movie in an air-conditioned theater is just about the best thing to do.

My latest in-theater watch was David Lynch’s Lost Highway at Angelika Film Center in Soho. An ice-cold Mexican coke was non-negotiable, as the temperature outside surpassed 100 degrees. This was the second movie of my sister and I’s quest to watch all of Lynch’s films on the big screen, and it prompted my one-word Letterboxd review: chic.

buying CDs instead of records

I have amassed a decently large record collection over the years (currently at 152 according to Discogs), but my vinyl bias has started to waver as lately, and I’ve found myself buying more CDs than ever before. In my mind, some albums are so “CD-coded” that it only makes sense to purchase them in that format. This plus the fact that they are usually $5 - $10 has me singing a slightly different tune.

The Galaxie 500 album hasn’t left my CD player for weeks, and has become a bit of a summer soundtrack for me. I got it at the Academy Records Brooklyn location but my favorite place to look for CDs is BOOKOFF in Midtown.

dedicating hours to Tomodachi Life

The moment I found out that I did not need to buy a Nintendo Switch 2 to play Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream, I downloaded it onto the teal Switch Lite I hadn’t touched since my previous gaming obsession, Animal Crossing: New Horizons. I have always been a fan of games that are a bit slower with lots of focus on character customization and day-to-day gameplay, so it seemed like Tomodachi Life would be right up my alley.

I got to work instantly, creating chibi versions of myself, my siblings, friends, and a hodgepodge cast of public figures. It’s been the perfect thing to pick up when I want to zone out for an hour or so and spend time on a virtual island where PinkPantheress has beef with Dale Cooper and Larry David has a crush on my best friend.

Subscribe to and follow her on IG and TT to keep up with her fabulous style instincts. I apologize in advance for the jealousy that’s about to ensue <3

Recent guests:

Today’s free letter includes romantic analysis of the most unique engagement ring I’ve ever seen, an event I’m considering crossing state lines to attend, a this-weekend-only vintage sale, and more.

Brenda Hashtag, fashion queen and ever the one to march to the beat of her own stylish drummer, posted her engagement ring this week. Surprise surprise, it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before.

While there are several diamonds on the ring, none of them are visible when it’s worn. From the outside, it’s a simple rounded platinum band. On the inside, it’s a princess cut and baguette disco ball privy to only the one lucky enough to wear it.

It’s an incredibly beautiful piece of jewelry, first of all, designed in collaboration with her fiancé and Ambie Stapleton and inspired by the Seagram Building. It’s also… exactly the opposite of every engagement ring I’ve ever seen on my feed.

The explosion of the lab grown diamond market ushered in a new era of Massive Rocks, and it often feels like the 2020s attitude toward engagement rings is ‘get the biggest diamond you can afford.’ Going bigger is easier than ever, and now the most random women you know are posting Hailey Bieber-sized solitaires on their Instagram stories like it’s nothing more than a frozen cocktail.

I have no irons in this particular fire as someone not currently shopping for an engagement ring. I say go big or small, whatever feels right. But Brenda’s ring begs an interesting question:

Would you care about the diamond if no one could see it?

I think, honestly, most people would say no. The designer said in an Instagram caption that even she had to beg the diamond setter to agree to place the jewels behind the platinum band. “I told him, isn’t setting diamonds the regular way boring at this point?”

I find this all so… punishingly romantic. Swoon-worthy! I’m melting into my sofa swiping through the carousel of blinding shimmer.

It’s SO personal — couldn’t be more personal, really. Something as out there and as ripe for public consumption and social media fodder as an engagement ring, transformed instead into a secret only between lovers. My eyes are filled with beating cartoon hearts.

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The little private diamonds like intimate moments shared in a couple. Comfortable silences, bedtime laughter, inside jokes: each jewel a reminder of this perfect thing that blooms only between them. Something only you and your lover know because you were the ones who invented it.

This ring was like a delicious splash of creek water on my grimy face. So fresh, so new, so gosh darn tender. Cheers to the gorgeous couple.

The only time I’ve ever wished I lived in Philadelphia was when I found this “Lamp That Thing” workshop series by artists Emilie Yonker and Kieran Betz. Have an old Kewpie doll or a haunted looking Fisher-Price toy lying around? They can help you Lamp That.

An $85 ticket gets you a crash course on basic wiring and a Lamped item of your choosing (they have items to Lamp too, if you’re not in possession of anything that needs Lamping).

If you can’t make it to Philly, some of Emilie’s Lamped work is available here.

Sh*t Shoes just came across my desk. I kind of wish they didn’t. I’ll give you until the end of this sentence to guess what they could possible be for… Well, yes, a “chic” alternative to a squatty potty, of course!

For only $69, you can get a ‘70s inspired pair of extra high platform mules designed to replace the “ugly” toilet stool in your bathroom. They come in two sizes and are — according to the FAQ — “NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.”

There are a few obviously AI-generated moments on their website, which personally never instills confidence in me as a consumer, but the whole vibe is appropriately cheeky, at least. I’m hard pressed to imagine them in any context other than a White Elephant exchange.

According to several reviews, both positive and negative, Sh*t Shoes packaging is anything but subtle. Verified buyer Nora10 claims the crude cardboard box sat on her shared porch for hours labeled: “ELEVATED BATHROOM SHOES FOR POOPING.” So maybe plan to be home when they’re out for delivery.

In further shoe news, the first dupes of Matthieu Blazy’s Chanel shoes are popping up. The luxe maroons and minty leathers and pony-hairs of the SS26 collection caused quite the customer fervor when they hit stores a few months ago, and clearly someone from Steve Madden managed to get their hands on a pair.

The Chanel square-toe pumps will run you $1,225. Steve’s version — a cool $120, available now for pre-order.

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Tony Bianco has a $190 pair, too, and I wonder if this shoe faces the tragic fashion fate of being duped to death. The eternal question: Will they lose their luster when every woman on the street is wearing them? (History points to yes.)

Steve is also peddling a Chanel-ish burgundy croc flat, albeit a less faithful interpretation than the pumps.

James Veloria is moving out of the best vintage mall in NYC and celebrating with a weekend sale. RIP heart wall!

Thankfully they aren’t moving far, and I can’t wait to see what they do with the new space. They’re offering 20% off through tomorrow, so run while you’re holy grail vintage is still on the rack.

A great new creative mantra just dropped in Charli XCX’s latest record Music, Fashion, Film.

The line punctures through kick drums on “Camera” —

“Am I being fuckin’ stupid / if I try to be a girl on the screen when I’m turning thirty-four?” And then a verse and two choruses later, “I don’t feel embarrassed even if I suck.”

I’ll be writing that one down in my journal until it sticks.

What’s on your mind this weekend? I’m looking forward to a warm night on the town, maybe a crisp glass of something orange and dry… I’d love to hear your thoughts <3

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Yeehawt occasionally features gifted items and affiliate links, at no cost to you of course. Get in touch at mackinley@yeehawt.com if you’d like to work together, browse my shelves here, or follow me for more vintage and fashion chatter on IG and TT.

and I bumped into each other on the raw silk side of eBay the other day — I don’t know if she came out of the hole with any new treasures, but I managed to low-ball offer my way into this baby:

It checks all the boxes I didn’t know I had:

• Hexagonal half-moon silhouette

• Textured raw silk with an alien-esque metallic sheen

• Color-blocked cobalt and violet swirled into a euphoric rosette

It’s unbranded and in perfect condition, but based on the design, my guess is 1980s — though it just as well could have been a 2000s does ‘80s situation and lived its former life slung over a girl’s shoulder at the junior prom.

I recently found myself in the dressing predicament fashion magazines used to tirelessly warn us about: I had to go day-to-night. Sun-soaked and sticky with a film of sunscreen across my chest, I had only a 15-minute window at home to change for a friend’s birthday dinner.

So I body-showered and reached for the only thing I felt I could stand wearing — a white cotton mini dress and loose denim shorts. Chosen because every square inch of fabric stays a respectable millimeter away from my damp torso in anticipation of the muggy journey to Brooklyn ahead. It’s only through breezy linens that one is able to traverse the L train tunnels in July with their sanity still in tact.

But a nearly shapeless white sack doesn’t feel particularly celebratory, and a birthday deserves a hit of color, so I grabbed the fresh-from-the-post raw silk rosette and was reminded of a valuable lesson:

$35 can change everything!

Or less, as was this eBay coup. A funky vintage accessory can transform an outfit from fine to fab; take a plain dress from sack to swanky; elevate a look’s mood from tired to wired. A cheap vintage accessory is one of the few things I’ll impulse buy on occasion because the risk is so low and the reward potential is sooooo addictively high.

In this letter: 35 snazzy vintage and secondhand bags, big brooches, belts, hats, jewelry and more, all $35 or less.

With a heavy emphasis on rosettes, raw silk, colorful purses, and pops of texture ⭐

Raw silk striped top handle bag / $35

Organza flower pin / $15

‘50s butterfly crochet bag / $33

‘80s 100% silk graphic scarf / $30

Oversized lucite safety pin brooch / bid at $12

30 more below the fold for paid subs :)

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I know sleep-away camp only through the movies I watched growing up — mainly, 1998’s “The Parent Trap,” which takes place at camp for just the first 34 minutes of the film, and yet left an indelible impression that burns inside me hot every summer.

So when I close my eyes and sit in that aching nostalgia of camp summers I never really lived, it’s Hallie’s and Annie’s Camp Walden where I find myself. In visions of pine trees and oak cabins, lake waves lapping at my ankles, sword-fighting a long lost sister — and all the rugged ‘90s styling choices that come with.

The real Camp Walden in Denmark, Maine costs $15,200 tuition for a 7-week summer term. But a vintage Ralph Lauren button-down that rivals Dennis Quaid’s finest will run you $20 on eBay. And you can just imagine you’re horseback for free.

Today’s letter: 40+ secondhand finds inspired by the delicious ‘90s summer wardrobes of The Parent Trap including…

vintage denim jackets, scrumptiously worn-in and full of attitude

sunglasses fit for a cigarette and a freak out

velvety suede that can dress up any old white t-shirt (and show off your winning smile)

satin bombers for card-sharking your way through camp

little black bags to carry all that new money you’re about to come into

retro graphic tees and exacts of these perfect cloud pjs (I know they’re good bc I own them…)

sexy sun hats for being evil to your future stepchildren

and enough vintage button-ups to drown in

paid readers get more than 100 vintage finds every month, plus all the freaky sock, saucy sundress, and green cabbage style chatter too

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and if you’re only here for Chessy (fair enough), I wrote an ode just to her last March:

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I thought the city might fish it out. I thought it might blow loose one day in a storm. I thought surely by now my street’s Liz Lemon would appear and take matters into her own hands.

But then the April leaves grew in, and they thickened when summer arrived, and now the bag must be melting in this heat, chemically fusing to the tree’s helpless trunk.

Of course, it could fall tomorrow. Maybe a new branch will sprout and grow tiny little dime bags next spring. Or perhaps it will stay there forever as we die around it, outlasting me and you and telling its grandchildren of the woman in the apartment across the way who prayed for its demise.

In the meantime, I’m writing to you from a chair across the room so I face the other window.

Today’s letter:

• Freaky socks that out-freak all other freaky socks (that could also revolutionize ballet flat-wearing…)

• The random ass brand behind a friend’s perfect summer sandals (all under $50 secondhand !!)

• Kitschy ‘80s bags in need of a resurrection (& all the ones on my watchlist)

vintage treasures and juicy chatter for paid subs below

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Like all insane things in 2026, these were first introduced to me via Instagram ad.

I’m not sure how they landed in my story feed — parked in that liminal ad space between a pregnancy announcement and sixteen videos of a concert you don’t care about — but I have to give props to the algorithm for targeting me specifically. It’s not every day you come across socks so strange you at first wonder if they’re AI. That’s something special!

I swiped up, obviously, needing answers to the million questions tornado-ing around my brain: Wouldn’t this detail be too bulky to fit in a shoe? What was the point of such a silhouette? Who would wear these? And why?

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We rarely have the same taste in books, but he loves Eve, and when he giggles next to me I demand he read me the line so I can giggle too.

June, like L.A., has slow days. Some months are short, some months are long. June is long but still never long enough. I’d take a whole year of Junes if I could. Crisp mornings, sun-baked evenings, balmy storms that slide a technicolor filter over the world. June is wet sand between your toes. June is lime green Comic Sans. June is having your cake and eating it too.

On repeat this slow month: foot jelly, cultish cotton dresses, a photo from May 2000 that sent me on a weeks-long t-shirt hunt, and more.

juicier jellier cultier things on the horizon

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The jellies were out in full force this month. This is my second full spring and summer with these bad boys and they’re in great shape. I went to grab a link (they’re usually cheapest at the Boston General Store website), but to my dismay they are sold out everywhere! For one lucky 36, I found this pair on Depop selling for $18.

I had a bikini emergency this month when I noticed a spot on my Riot Swim suit had given out thanks to years of sun and chlorine (and likely my improper care tbh). This is my favorite bikini I own, so I immediately had to hunt down a secondhand replacement. Within five minutes of my search, I’d bought one NWOT for only $17. Crisis averted!

This Jax top is by far the most comfortable underwire situation I’ve ever put on my body (bras included), and the bottoms hug in a really gentle way unlike most others whose seams have a vendetta against comfort. This one’s NWT for only $19.

I fell into a dress cult this month, rather serendipitously. The Loeffler Randall team kindly sent over this flouncy cotton maxi dress and I couldn’t believe the kismet when I spotted its name: the Eira dress!

I have a human Eira too, an excitable Swedish darling who hosts a Midsummer bash every June with a strict white dress code. She’s the friend who screams with joy at even the tiniest of thrills, and her maniacal laughter is infectious. And scream she did when I showed up in my Eira dress perfectly tailored to the theme and ready to twirl around the Maypole.

It’s a crisp lightweight cotton and feels like slipping into fresh bedsheets. I love that it’s just slightly see-through, giving the option to arrive fully chaste in nude garments underneath or choose the saucier route of wearing funky lingerie or a bright swimsuit.

And because June really is the month of the cultish white dress, I also wore this old Abercrombie number a few times. I think I paid ~$29(?) on sale a few years ago and I love that it’s no-bra-necessary. It was my Midsummer dress before the Eira came into my life!

As a kid I was averse to salad dressing, opting instead to shove handfuls of dry spinach in my mouth and save a pile of croutons on the side for my last bites. On my birthday I’d request to go to a salad bar for dinner and load half the plate with croutons because no one could stop me. For a solid four years of adolescence I would’ve told you croutons were my favorite food.

As a bank account-having and knife-wielding adult, I love them almost as much but just can’t stand to purchase them — $4.69 for a half-full bag of something that’s already stale when I open it? You cannot fool me into spending money on that. This is the point in the year when I start craving much colder meals, so in June I made a lot of salads and a certifiable fuck ton of croutons to go with.

It’s nothing revolutionary: I cut up a slice or two of grocery store sourdough into cubes, toss it in olive oil + garlic powder + salt + sometimes nutritional yeast, and throw it in the oven at 425 for like 7-15 min. The three minutes of effort for the most delicious cubic inch of crunch is so beyond worth it.

My granny tosses hers in a blend of Italian spices — also delicious, obviously — and you can really use whatever you want. I need to experiment more myself, now I’m seeing visions of sesame oil and chili and ginger…

For The Strategist, I went on a hunt for the perfect black V-neck tee — not at all subtly inspired by this photo of Christy Turlington doing yoga in May of 2000:

It was the V that launched a thousand try-ons. You can read the rest here (spoiler alert, the winners were from Leset and Kotn).

In that hunt, I also came upon this non-traditional V, a wrap tank by Kotn, and have been wearing it constantly during this hot hot hot weather. It’s my current go-to for when I’m outfit panicking and have to leave the house in 10 minutes. Very humidity friendly, and just look at that asymmetrical smidge of torso!

On a recent coffee date with of , it came up that she had published a novel a few years ago. How did I not know about this sooner! So I bought the first copy I could find and took it down in two sittings, only stopping in the middle because I had to sleep.

The Blurry Years made me cry, it made me laugh, it made me both sad and grateful that I’ll never be a child again. It’s a sticky Florida summer translated onto paper and I felt the weight of every word pressing into my chest. Read near a big body of water if you can.

Rejection by Tony Tulathimutte shocked and delighted me. I’d heard it often described as “the first true incel novel” and wasn’t so sure how I’d enjoy that lol, but I finally picked it up after several readers suggested it in the Yeehawt chat. I was blown away to say the least. It’s a short story collection in which every chapter weaves together to create one big disturbing quilt of loneliness and shame. A freaky deaky little book written for those of us who spent their formative years scrolling through dumpster fires on Twitter. Six stars!

Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding was a random pick-up, and I knew nothing going in, somehow. I’ve never seen the movie, and I only had a vague understanding that Bridget and her diary formed the essential archetype of the frazzled English woman in ‘90s and 2000s popular culture. The book was so much fun though — albeit with quite a few bits that are very outdated (like insane talk about calories and weighing oneself every day, zoinks), but it was a perfect palate cleanser between two denser nonfiction books. Time to watch the movie now: only 25 years late is pretty good for me!

Last month I wanted to “be in the woods,” “take a couple day trips upstate,” and “remove my brain and eyeballs so I can wash them in a cold stream.” I didn’t do any of those things. Here’s to July, I guess!

This month I hope to submerge myself in a lake, turn my phone off for a whole weekend, and reach a state so zen that I’m no longer bothered by 90% humidity. Miracles can happen.

I’d love to hear about your recent repeats and your hopes for the month. Happy July!

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Yeehawt occasionally features gifted items and affiliate links, at no cost to you of course. Get in touch at mackinley@yeehawt.com if you’d like to work together, browse my shelves here, or follow me for more vintage and fashion chatter on IG and TT.

Last night I went to see Lili Anolik and chat about her new book Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were), a collection of Eve Babitz’s mostly unsent letters that were unearthed after she died. I loved the conversation and adored Lili’s first two books on Eve.

Who’s the modern Joan and Eve?, someone in the crowd asked. Lili said Joan today would be where people are paying attention, maybe in TV, perhaps with a career like Lena Dunham. As for where an Eve might be today? “She’d be on the fringes of YouTube.”

Lili called this book Eve’s second masterpiece, a companion to her magnum opus Slow Days, Fast Company, and I’m already having a great time 30 pages in. If you’re still looking for a summer read, let this be your sign.

Today’s letter is another lot of your vintage wishes — a paid subscriber perk to request items for me to hunt down secondhand.

This batch includes:

• funky Taxco silver jewelry

• plus size silks and cottons

• men’s wedding attire

• summer PLAIDS

• cotton pointelle baby tees

• brown leather carry-all bags

summery vintage reading:

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Kendall writes the equally raucous and elegant newsletter where she blesses our feeds with meticulously styled outfits, commentary on the worst dressed city in America, and dazzling vintage round-ups like “Birkins for us broke bitches.” Kendall, what’s been on repeat for you lately?

You find me at a very primary colored time in my life

I’ve had the La Veste Pippi pants on my wishlist for years. I’ve lurked their Instagram and website for the same amount of time. But, for some reason, I never took the bull by the striped horns and hit checkout.

Well, the universe heard me. La Veste did a Soho pop up, and I took my little tuchus downtown with levels of enthusiasm and urgency that could rival the hypebeast scalper line for the AP x Swatch watch drop. After their sequin pants sold out, I wasn’t leaving anything up to chance. I found the blue stripe of wishlists past and mood boards future, and I haven’t taken them off since.

As someone who has worked her way up to a colorful wardrobe, these pants feel like the pinnacle of all that work. And “work” might sound dramatic in terms of building a closet that feels like me, but I’d say it requires more work today than ever to resist being pulled in by the algorithm.

And yes, you might say these are very algorithmic looks — but they’re algorithmic to my own taste. I always have a vintage accessory (or two), a button-down or collared jacket, and some sort of net/cage sandal. Plus, they just bring me joy. Well worth the price tag.

“Dazed and Confused” but make it Doen

Plus, this Doen pair. Call me an outfit repeater. Say what you must. I am an outfit repeater, and I am proud.

Summer is the hardest season for me to dress for. I’m not a shorts girl, so when I find a pant I like, I wear it. A lot. And I just so happen to love this Doen pair. I snagged them on The RealReal (I can’t find them anywhere else except one Poshmark listing so I cannot tell you what they are called), and they’ve been making weekly appearances since.

The Pippi pant serves a very colorful purpose, while these feel like the same vibe, just more cemented in the denim world. Ergo, slightly more casual? Maybe I’m just trying to justify my shopping habit.

They arrived at the same time as my NPR tee, and the two pieces became fast friends (I’m wearing both as I write this. Proof below.)

Who was I to keep them apart when they were obviously meant to be together? I love the ‘70s vibe of the ringer tee and striped pant, but for a slightly more elevated moment, I opted for, of course, a button-down. This blue is currently my hyperfixation. Klein, cobalt, royal. Whatever you want to call it, I call it perfection.

I yearn for a salty mist, so I do four pumps of this

Gone are the days of mid-afternoon mid-week summer boat trips. Which means gone are the days of salty ocean curls. But I want ocean curls. Enter: Crown Affair’s texturing air dry mousse. I have reached the dregs of my current bottle, so it seems a restock is on the horizon.

I grew up thinking my hair was straight. Then, I gave myself a wolf cut during the initial stages of the Covid lockdown. (This was before the later stages during which I cut bangs. I stand by that decision, they’re just not blown out in these photos.) But anyway, turns out a little bit of layering is all you need to bring out a wave pattern. And after many years of trying salt sprays and mousses and oils and leave in conditioners, I can say definitively that this is the best product I’ve used for a little bit of extra volume and wave. It’s not crunchy, it doesn’t feel heavy, and a little goes a long way.

“Before Sunrise”

The summer season is upon us which can only mean one thing: The “Before Sunrise” trilogy has been queued up on the projector. It has become a yearly tradition.

I am not a big re-watcher in terms of tv and movies. I rarely, if ever, rewatch anything. I say things are my favorites and I simply never return. But Before Sunrise really got under my skin. So, I return to it yearly like a summer pilgrimage into Linklater’s brain. And the time has come.

Could you imagine a movie like this, filmed over a single night, focused solely on the dialogue between two characters being made today? I think not. Not to mention Ethan Hawke is my neighbor (not literally, but we live in the same neighborhood) so I’m really just supporting my community.

The Peach Truck

My dad has a habit of sending me bulk shipments of food. All through college I received 40 pound dry-ice filled boxes of Atlantic salmon. Occasionally I’d get scallops and shrimp too. Then, it was frozen meats — elk, ox, kangaroo, you name it. Honestly, this probably saved me from starving when I first moved to New York. (I had $3 and a dream.) But we are trying something new this year - my first shipment from The Peach Truck!

I noted last Thursday as a WFH day on the work calendar, took a quick break at 1:30 pm to journey to Barclays Center, and I picked up my 12 pounds of good ol’ Georgia peaches. On the agenda tomorrow: see if my local pizza place will sell me dough. I have big plans to make a peach/sopressata/basil flatbread.

After that: I plan to poach the peaches and eat them with vanilla ice cream. After that, I found some pastry recipes. Really, the world is my oyster. But in the meantime, I’ve been eating them straight from the box. And they have the good drippy juice.

Mansur Gavriel ballet flats

Have you ever wanted to dip your feet in liquid leather, pull them out, and have shoes molded to your feet? That’s how these shoes feel to me. After I finally got over the mental hurdle that was preventing me from embracing ballet flats (middle school, ya know?), I got to hunting. I wanted a square toe. I wanted a high profile cut on the foot. And Mansur delivered.

These are like buttah. I got stuck in the first Great Monsoon of NYC’s summer season in these shoes, and they held their own against mother nature. 10/10. Would recommend. Admittedly, I do have flat feet. But I’ve walked thousands of steps around the city in these without any issue.

Genre is: Whimsical guys singing weird songs

Now I don’t know what side of the internet everyone else is on, but I get fed a lot of up-and-coming musicians. Partly because I like to say “I knew them before they blew up,” and partly because occasionally we will interview acts for the magazine I sporadically contribute to. But either way, I get a lot of music in my feeds. And I am currently obsessed with the Bangladesh song.

If you know the song, that descriptor should be all you need to know what I’m referring to. If not, it’s a man online who has written a song he calls Bangladesh. It’s on Spotify now. But it’s spawned an entire section of the internet in what I can only describe as a sort of digital call and response. The format is built so that anyone can continue the loop with their own lyrics, and it’s the most fun I’ve had online in a while. It’s like collecting Pokemon. I think. I was never on that train.

And then, because I can’t stop at just one weird musical act, I also have a deep love for and fascination with Victor Jones. Only a man named Victor Jones could sing the lyrics “I’m in the garden and I’m eating all the dirt, I get hurt,” with the power and bravado of your dad’s favorite rock band and the synth of your mom’s 80s favorites. (Hair not included.)

And now, on a more serious note, Gill Scott Heron has returned to the playlist. I’m New Here is an all time forever favorite. Musicians used to tell stories and weave narratives, and his combination of instrumental and beat and spoken-word cadence can never be recreated. Not that anyone is trying.

I wish I could recommend a funny podcast or a good audio book, but I hate both. I inevitably tune them out and they become the soundtrack to the scene that is me answering emails at work. Maybe one day.

‘90s runway shows

Fashion shows still exist, but I don’t think they’ll ever be able to match the magic and artistry of the ‘90s. They’ve been reduced to networking events with a side of Instagram and a healthy dose of sponsored “street style.” (Can it really be called that at this point? Everything is loaned and gifted, everyone looks the same.)

I think Copenhagen might be the last bastion of authentic attendee style. The final frontier before fashion falls. But I digress, that’s not the point. The point is, before LVMH killed creativity and private equity got their grubby little hands into scenes previously reserved for actual curators and artists and designers, fashion was a spectacle. And I have been bewitched, body and soul. (Yes, I did just watch The Other Bennet Sister. Which means I also just rewatched Pride and Prejudice. So I lied, I rewatched that movie too. Sue me. That doesn’t even count, at this point it is a cultural institution and I was just making my yearly pilgrimage.)

Men may talk about their Roman Empires — mine is fashion when creative directors could still direct, creatively.

Marni 1998: What goes around comes around

While I have you, let’s take a look at the other side of the ‘90s. Think the era of Jennifer Aniston cargo pant and ribbed tank pap shots. Think flip flops galore and slip dresses over tees. Enter: Marni S/S 1998. If you told me this was the Substack Starter Pack collection, I wouldn’t bat an eye.

I keep coming back to this, eyeing the foldover fisherman pants and perfectly cut V of the tees. I’m eyeing these Free People pants to fill this gaping hole in my pant-loving heart, but they’ll never be 90s Marni. But as we approach 100º weather, these looks are front and center on my mood board. Now I truly understand my mom’s constant exclamations of, “I had that!” It really does all come back around.

Summer in a hangover-free bottle

I am a sucker for a THC bevvy. I am an even bigger sucker for an Aperol spritz. So, imagine my utter elation when Cann dropped their Aperol THC Spritz and offered to send me one to try. Wow. If any two worlds were to collide, this would be my top pick.

So, I took my Cann spritz, texted my friend who has a rooftop, bought some shrimp, and got that barbecue fired up. We created quite the pleasing spread for the inaugural Cann spritz taste test, and I can confirm, it lives up to the hype.

I’ve been drinking these after work quite often, but I feel justified because you can mix with anything bubbly. And I’ve been mixing mine with kombucha. So, ergo, it must have health benefits. I did just finish my first bottle, but placed an order for two more. It truly is my drink of the summer. Do you think I can ask my bartender for the spritz, hold the Aperol, I brought my own?

The Evening Ride

What started as the occasional bike ride with my roommate a few years ago became something of a summer evening ritual. With a Citi Bike dock mere blocks from my apartment and a pier within riding distance, I can delude myself into being in full summer mode.

After many, many years, my childhood bike has finally made the pilgrimage to Brooklyn (thanks mom). Sadly, it is in desperate need of an overhaul — no brakes, no air, no love. But, in the meantime, Citi Bike will suffice.

I know they say fresh air and exercise is good for you — they may be onto something there. A sunset bike ride towards Brooklyn Bridge Park really does get me out of my head. Admittedly, it’s hard to be stressed when Lady Liberty herself is drenched in the golden glow of the sunset on the East River. Bonus points for this route, too — the train deposits its journeyers at the perfectly located Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory.

P.S. …

My current favorite pastime is collecting every video on God’s green internet of Scotland’s Tartan Army taking over the United States for the World Cup. The vibes are high, the beer barrels are dry, and I hope we never have to say goodbye. (Boston and Glasgow just signed an agreement to officially become sister cities. The future is bright.)

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Recent guests:

I’m headed back to the city after a weekend at a friend’s house in the Hamptons. They’ve been been year-round residents for more than 20 years, which I take advantage of with pestering inquires about the town: Which buzzy restaurants are actually good? (Not many of them); How many new builds were just farmland a decade ago? (A lot of them); And how long has the main street fro-yo shop been open, and are the toppings fresher under the new owner? (No). The local perspective is always better.

Things I loved:

• Peanut butter-flavored ice cream on Friday and peanut butter-flavored frozen yogurt on Saturday

• That I spotted more $30 Havaianas on the beach than designer sandals; the last time I visited, Hermes slides ruled the real estate where the sand meets the sidewalk

• Morning light bouncing off the bay when it’s wavy

• Morning light being absorbed by the bay when it’s placid

• Bunnies in the backyard, fawns scurrying through hedges, and a curious chipmunk who tried to sneak into the living room

• Honey mustard chips by the ocean

• Peering into neighboring backyards while stand-up paddling down the bay, saying “at our house we’d need an attic office with a great big window” and “we wouldn’t paint our house like that, we’d want something warm and wooden and far less modern”

• Driving 45 minutes for raspberry cream pie first thing in the morning to a farm I was worried would sell out

• The rainbow sticks of flavored honey at the farm stand’s cash register

• Eating the pie for breakfast every day and making the argument that in essence it’s not all that different than a danish

• Sea squish clinging to the underside of the dock swaying with the current

• Reams of retro fabric at the general store on main street

• Coca-Cola with pomegranate juice and a packet of True Lemon and extra ice

• Stumbling on a used book sale with overflowing stock and a grandma DJing the classical music station running the show

• Popcorn reading Calvin and Hobbes comics aloud on the bar patio, sipping a guava seltzer and tuning out the rest of the world

• When the free bread at the Italian restaurant was a giant basket of focaccia garlic butter rolls, my face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning as our waiter plopped them on the table

Things I didn’t love:

• I didn’t register how deprived of color the town wardrobe was until a brunette with baby bangs walked into the bar in a crimson midi dress and I realized I hadn’t seen anything brighter than a dri-fit salmon golf polo in two days

• The ocean so icy it’d be considered a cold plunge to go in past my ankles

• Feeling like the only girl in the world who didn’t get the memo to have her toenails painted white — I prefer my red anyway, but I would’ve at least like the invitation

• A matcha latte from a local shop with un-whisked clumps of bitter chalky powder swirling the bottom of the cup

• An espresso latte from an Instagram famous shop that couldn’t have had fewer than 16 pumps of vanilla syrup in it

• Having to deter the chipmunk from actually coming into the living room, I know it’s safer for him that way and I don’t want him to spook and run under the couch, but if it were up to me I’d carry him around in my bra and feed him peanuts from my pocket

• To hear that Julie Andrews once got denied from a fussy French restaurant by the water — the line was out the door every time we walked by, girls in strappy heels with their arms hooked into those of boyfriends in suits, and I wondered why anyone would want to go anywhere that thinks they’re too good for Julie Andrews

Luckily the love list is much longer.

Below the fold, all the beachy pieces on my watchlists right now.

A sunny lot of funky vintage swim and flirty little sandals and more saucy sundresses and 100% cotton gems as low as $4 if you can even believe…

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My little brother came of shopping-age in an era dominated by highlighter yellow sweat-wicking fabrics and blistering orange sneakers with shocking green swooshes; when pilling basketball shorts were considered appropriate dinner attire and the only metric for outfit success was how tight his Nike Elite socks were suctioned to his hairless calves.

Now, he’s just graduated college, and the boys have barely evolved: it’s reversible belts and polyester button-ups and Lululemon tech fabric “dress pants” as far as the eye can see. I feel an overwhelming compulsion to save him from this hell scape.

Thankfully, the older he gets, the more he seeks out my advice (lord knows I was gonna give it any way), and the more he seems to care about how he presents himself to the world. A natural progression for a budding young adult!

But the average 20-something man is more removed from fashion conversations than the average woman (often by self-exclusion but also because the industry doesn’t care about the demographic as much), and most are floundering to develop anything that resembles a “personal style.” Even that phrase alone is entirely played out in the femme fashion discourse, but a 22-year-old guy off the street has no clue what you’re talking about.

So how does one graduate from Dri-Fit boy to well dressed man?

It’s taken me years of subtle suggesting and course correcting and fashion-meme-sending to both subliminally and overtly influence his wardrobe. He FaceTimes me before he goes out with his friends asking which shirt goes with his pants, to which I usually reply neither, and you should probably change the shoes too while you’re at it.

When he visits me in New York, we dedicate entire days to window shopping where I throw pieces at him to try on and bore him to death explaining why the 100% cotton option is preferred over its polyester evil twin.

And at this point he’s come a long way: a month ago he sent me pictures from a dressing room asking for my opinion on a linen long-sleeve button up in a perfect shade of blue to match his eyes. I didn’t even know he knew what linen was! Let alone the color match, branching out from his reliable neutral palette into the light summer I suspect he is. Sometimes men do learn.

So this is a comprehensive list of everything I’ve bullied him into wearing over the last couple of years — me poised with my chisel and brush like a men’s department Michelangelo — and all the swaps I’ve gently (forcefully) suggested he make in his closet as his personal style begins to take shape.

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My 4 tenets for re-building his wardrobe:

• It’s a useless suggestion unless he actually wears it. Evolution takes time, and attempting to flip his style 180° overnight would likely end up with him feeling uncomfortable and not like himself and rejecting it all (understandably so). I take small steps and work up to fashion choices that intimidate him.

• Focus on well constructed basics: natural fibers when possible; classic silhouettes that won’t be out of style within a year; pieces that go with each other and don’t require a lot of thought to wear. The easier it is to put together an outfit, the more likely he is to wear it.

• A little dressier the better. It’s my personal belief that men are often in general dressed too casually for things. I want him to feel good wearing a nice button-up to even a relaxed hang, and I don’t want him to treat athletic clothing like the standard option.

• Basics + vintage gems = effortlessly cool. We’re still working on this… He defaults to buying new, while I default to buying secondhand, so this is one of my longer term goals. I’ll reach a new level of personal gratification once I get him to realize that the coolest one-of-a-kind pieces are vintage.

Instead of tapered poly-blend jeans, try a 100% cotton straight leg pair

Like the JW Anderson x Uniqlo Straight Jeans or Rag and Bone Fit 4 Straight Jeans

I gave him these JWA Uniqlo jeans last Christmas as an attempt to introduce designer labels in an approachable way. (Also intentionally approachable in the sense that if he liked them, he could easily repurchase in another color.)

They’re a pretty perfect straight leg — just the right width as to not feel baggy nor skinny — and they look soooo good on (wanted to keep them for myself). I chose the deep indigo shade, which seems to be out of stock, but this medium blue is the most classic, and this selvedge pair is great too.

Now that he’s into straight leg jeans, he’s recently been obsessed with this Rag and Bone style that he first tried on in-store while visiting me. He’s Rag and Bone’s #1 fan now. I’ve been planting vintage Levi’s seeds for a long time, trust that they will sprout soon enough…

Instead of trendy athletic sneakers, try timeless canvas styles

Like the Vans Authentic Shoe or Converse Taylor All Stars

I’ve been urging him away from the sneaker of the moment because they feel dated so quickly. Every few months the chatter restarts, “what sneaker are we all wearing right now!?”, and while testing out trends can be fun, it can also leave you reeling wondering whether you actually like what you’re wearing or you’ve just been influenced by an avalanche of ads.

Instead, I’ve been pushing him toward classic canvas options like Vans and Converse that (imo) never go out of style. This swap in particular was hard won though lol. I got major points when, after he initially resisted my suggestion to switch white leather New Balances for black classic Vans before we went out, a cool sales associate complimented the Vans and gave him an “I see you” kind of approval. Sisters are always right.

Instead of overpriced poorly fitting button-downs, try secondhand Ralph Lauren

Affordable and available in abundance on eBay

Red shirt ($20) / plaid shirt ($23) / yellow shirt ($27) / brown shirt ($45)

The number of links to Ralph Lauren 100% cotton button-downs I’ve sent the boy… He’s slowly but surely coming around, currently feeling more comfortable in the Abercrombie lane of button-ups than the daunting clusterfuck of secondhand shopping (fair). I let him have that — for now — as long as he’s ensuring they’re 100% natural fibers.

Instead of a corny tourist hat, try a clout-y design from a local brand

Like the ALD Unisphere Hat

Hellbent on a cool New York City souvenir hat, I steered him away from somewhere like New York or Nowhere (a brand that truly confounds me because the only people who appear to be into it are people who seem to have chosen to live in the “nowhere” category). Rather, I took him to Aimé Leon Dore for their signature navy snapback with a yellow-stitched Queens design.

If you’re a New York City fashion person, this probably feels played out, but he’s not a New York City fashion person, and he doesn’t live in New York City, so it’s still fresh in his circle. It’s an IYKYK kind of souvenir — touristy in its ubiquity, but it also represents New York in a way that pays more homage to the city than a lot of other options.

Instead of a hoodie, try a zip-up sweatshirt in an interesting color

Like the Kotn Men’s Cozy Zip Hoodie

The kid loves a hooded sweatshirt. I’ve given him a few over the years (cool tie-dyes from Online Ceramics; funky graphics from Brain Dead), but I pushed him to branch out into zip-up territory and convinced him to buy a 100% cotton dark brown number from Kotn. It’s more versatile in its layering capabilities, I argued, and looks less like pajamas without sacrificing comfort. He wasn’t so sure about the color either — brown can feel scary when you’re used to wearing all black — but I promised him it was still neutral.

He later said verbatim: “Thank you for bullying me into buying this, I wear it every single day.” Dream feedback!

Instead of faux dress pants, try vintage designer

Easy to find on The RealReal

Lululemon trousers retail for around ~$150, and for that price range you can snag 100% wool Pradas ($125), cotton-silk blend Valentinos ($113), 100% cotton Loro Pianas ($128), or three pairs of Polo Ralph Lauren chinos ($38).

I got him a killer vintage YSL pinstripe suit from eBay as a graduation present that he loved, so my work in that department is looking promising. Next is to convince him that you can wear dressier trousers pants even in more casual environments.

And my wishlist for his wardrobe:

• LOAFERS. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been working on this one. He sent me a TikTok recently about loafers that made me feel like I was observing an animal in captivity. Don’t get too excited… don’t scare him… don’t interfere… let him come upon the loafers on his own…

• Shorter t-shirts. I’m so anti-long t-shirt shirts on men, and I’m always pushing him to pick the shortest tee in his closet. I like men’s t-shirts to hit right below the top of their pants, and I think some midriff should show when they reach their arms over their heads. Something boxier with a bit of structure looks more put together than something saggy, thin, and slouchy. He’s tall and lanky and is terrified of what he calls “the Sombr crop” (apparently the kids think Sombr’s t-shirts are comically short), and I’m trying counteract this fear by sharing reference photos of Role Model looking cool in baby tees.

  

• More color. His wardrobe is a beige rainbow. I’ve been working hard to help him understand how to mix colors better — he doesn’t totally get how something can go together if it’s not exactly the same shade, but this is another muscle you can train. I’m hoping he lets some bright yellows, blues, and greens into his closet soon.

• Vintage!!!! I’m gonna pop a bottle of champagne the day he starts shopping for vintage band tees and Levi’s jeans. Maybe he needs to be a little older to appreciate old stuff, so I hope this is on the horizon soon. I don’t really care if he ever develops a real working knowledge of trends or the fashion industry, but I’d love if he had a memory bank of people he thinks dress cool to draw inspiration from. I think vintage shopping will help introduce him to new reference material. Thankfully, though, our dad’s ‘80s t-shirts are too small for him now, so I won’t have to duke it out when he comes around to vintage.

What have you bullied your family members into wearing? Please indulge me in the comments…

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I peel myself out of bed on the second alarm. My partner’s wake-up services allow one brief snooze, but he’s pretty insistent on the second try.

I sink into the couch with a cup of coffee he has waiting for me — tar-colored moka pot brew with a teaspoon of hot cocoa mix and a splash of whole milk — and stuff my phone in between the couch cushions. Jagged grooves in the double handle of my self-sculpted mug stab my fingers when I hold it properly. I have a lot to learn about ergonomics.

I grab my plastic-bound library hardback du jour resting on the wobbly side table I picked up off the curb last summer and disappear into the pages while alternating sips of coffee and water. Cereal follows, something full of bran coated in a sugary film, and I emerge from the story feeling anew.

You’ll never be first in Central Park — a buff mom jogging behind a double stroller or an elderly man in a three-piece suit reading the paper with his dachshund will always beat you — but you can be early. There’s a race happening on the pavement loop and I wait for a gap to cross the street, the park a cacophony of air horns and cow bells and house music.

Before leaving the house, I throw on a linen blend set from Gap: a loose-off-the-body, boxy tank with just the right amount of structure and a knee-length pair of culottes that feel like pajamas. A perfect middle on the easy shorts to easy pants spectrum.

When the weather is oppressive — absurdly hot or tragically cold — all I really want to wear is pajamas. This set is my outdoor summer pjs. I sling a vintage bag over my shoulder, slip my feet into jelly sandals, and reach for a pair of sunglasses with pink-hued lenses. Rose-colored glasses make any day better, sort of famously.

Veering off from the main route (away from the runners), after the boat landing (inhabited by a man and his cello), down the stone path by the water (usually lined with turtles), past the Ladies Pavilion (cast iron and full of secrets), I land on Hernshead. This early in the morning it’s just me and a couple of people in meditative criss-crosses dotting the boulders.

The rowboats and their captains haven’t yet been released onto the lake, so for one brief moment, the whole thing is still.

I see the MET from behind, appearing in pieces through the trees and then all at once. Summer is costume exhibit mayhem at the museum — accompanied usually by a long digital queue or a physical line that sticks you in Baroque painting purgatory, feeling ungrateful for clock-watching while surrounded by priceless works of art. I arrive minutes after it opens and there is no line at all.

It’s a sea of feminine bodies in white sets, all linen, cotton, silk, and marble. I feel connected to them in a visceral way. We all stand in the temperature controlled environment and listen to the fashion chatter around us: visitors discussing the origins of the fabric dye; admiring the sculpted buttons on the Schiaparelli dress in the back; gently correcting a friend on the pronunciation of Margiela.

I weave my way through the rows of body, dressed in petticoats and armor and sheer drapery and beadwork, until I’m standing before mannequins wearing hearts and organs and skeletons stitched into fabric. I suppose I’m matching them too.

I take the train downtown and head toward coffee number two when I’m pulled by a magnetic force into Theo’s Haberdashery. I drool over the turquoise in the front display, the watches in the back display, and eavesdrop on the man behind the counter dating time pieces for customers. It’s comforting like a bed time story as I flip through the collection of vintage matchbooks, wishing I could know what made Sichuan Pavilion the most unique Chinese restaurant in America.

The theme of the day is cool cavernous spaces. Anywhere I can crawl lower into the earth, below where the hot air rises, is where I wanted to be. Having spent the morning time traveling in a great hall of stone, I arrive back in the present day as I descend into Abraço, letting the music on vinyl and the chatter and the clinking of spoons on ceramic cups envelop me.

I order something with espresso + sugar + seltzer + a fat dollop of cream and I start the awkward dance that is trying to spot someone slip out of a chair at just the right moment. I spill the coffee immediately but miraculously spare my outfit. I curse myself for leaving the Tide pen at home.

We slip into the communal picnic table in the back, two people reading on my right and a dad with a stroller to my left. A stream of chilly air aims directly at me from the wall-mounted A/C unit across the room. I win four rounds of Golf and lose two — what can you do when your opponent had an ace and a two hiding under there all along? On my way out of the cafe, I run into a magician I know. Perhaps it was his spell that spared my white set.

Down the street, I poke my head into Juicy Lucy and decide I can’t go another minute without a frosty cup of lemonade. They ask if I want it more sweet or more tart and I say somewhere in the middle would be nice. It’s $9 with tip and worth every penny.

Mast Books beckons from across the road — just for a quick peak at the front table offerings — and I flip through a May 1978 copy of British Vogue.

My eyes glaze over rifling through the center spread, daydreaming of retro blue one-pieces and feeling a phantom soreness in my arms thinking about swimming laps in the sun.

The lemonade is gone and my walk to the Lower East Side needs another hydrating companion. I procure the largest water bottle the bodega has to offer and gulp until I can feel the coolness coursing through my veins.

A few steps down into Edith Machinist and I bee-line to the right — an orange mini dress with delicate floral print and a subtle V at the neck is a lighthouse in the sea of vintage. My peripheral vision is blurred once I spot it, and I can’t focus on looking at anything else until I’ve tried it on. I peep the tag — Gap!

I’m like a truffle pig for vintage Gap so that shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does, but I feel a wave of kismet roll over me as I pull off my modern Gap set to slip on a 30-year-old Gap dress.

Edith and I chat about the wonders of vintage Gap. She shows me another piece she has in the same fabric as the dress, and I tell her about the snap-button cardigan I snagged last summer. We talk in hushed tones like we’re in on a fabulous secret.

The second I step out of the dressing room after changing back in my original outfit, a woman asks me if I’m going to buy the dress or if can she can have it. I oblige — it saddens me to hand the dress over, but I ration that if it’s meant to be in my closet, another one will appear to me during one of my routine eBay Gap hunts.

Ellen of Ellen is in just around the corner and we lament about the heat. Venus the dog perches on the chair, happily accepting belly rubs and sweet talk. A retro blue one-piece answers my Mast Books prayers, and I slide my fingers over the shimmering jersey like a devotion.

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It’s hot on Ludlow and it’s hot on Orchard and the narrow streets are lined with sweating packs of friends sipping frosty mugs of beer and chilled coups of bubbly wine. Hair sticks to the back of my damp neck, but I’m not ready to give up on the blowout and throw it in a clip.

A flock of pigeons circling something mysterious on the sidewalk elicits an out-loud “Woah!” from me as I cross into Chinatown. They don’t spook when I walk by, in fact they seem to huddle more fervently as an outsider nears the territory, and I badly wish I could ask them what all the fuss is about.

I enter through the Wo Hop basement portal. The air conditioning hits me first, wrapping me in a arctic hug, then the scent of soy and ginger and everything else good in the world.

It’s much emptier than I’ve ever seen it: a hot day safe haven wallpapered with dollar bills. Sesame noodles cool me down, and garlicky tofu warms me right back up. I somehow avoid spilling on my white outfit again. (Do I have a Gap guardian angel?)

My fortune says “Aim for the stars!” and I tuck it in my wallet.

I leave one deliciously cold room in pursuit of another: there’s nowhere better to be during the hottest part of the day than cradled by a plush rocker at your local movie theater. I suck in the scent of buttered popcorn and feel my cortisol levels dropping.

I see “The Devil Wears Prada 2” and actually… love it? My expectations were low after the onslaught of obnoxious marketing schemes, but it’s heartwarming and fun and I tear up a few times (doesn’t hurt that I’m a giant sucker). The fashion highlight for me is Andy’s assistant’s funky curvy ‘70s-esque eyeglasses.

I stop at home after the movie to pull off a quick outfit change, swapping the day tote for a smaller suede bag and the jellies for white mules I thrifted years ago. The outfit is ready for dinner with just two minutes of closet play — the high neckline and crisp fabric renders it easily dress-up-able. I succumb to the humidity and throw my hair in a ponytail.

I’m craving a specific meal from Malatesta Trattoria in the West Village. This plate tastes like summer: crispy chicken cutlet, zippy arugula, tangy diced tomatoes, and a full teacup of parmesan for leisurely re-sprinkling throughout the meal. The whole cup is empty by the time our food is finished.

An early bird dinner in New York is pretty much anything before 8 p.m., and I’m rewarded for my promptness with an unobstructed view of the outdoor chatter and a perfectly framed World Trade Center posing between the restaurant’s open doors. The wind is balmy and skin temperature, but the free bread helps.

My favorite place for a glass of wine in the West Village is predictably packed — a fully hour’s wait for a seat at the bar is not on my perfect day’s itinerary — so we trot down to Revelie and snag the lovers’ seat in the corner with a view of the street. Today’s orange wine makes my lips pucker and tastes like floating down a lazy river.

As dusk turns to night, the hot day takes a new form, and over the course of a single glass, the sky caves in on itself and rain plummets down in fat lukewarm drops. People immediately pull out umbrellas — am I the only one who didn’t look at the weather report this afternoon? — and I order a second glass to prolong my venture into the wet unknown.

We leave when the rain lightens up a bit, my suede purse tucked under my partner’s shirt on the walk to the train. It survives sans stain, and I don’t even slip down the Subway steps.

I’m called back home by the hunks of Ina Garten’s chewy chocolate chip cookie dough in my fridge and the pint of vanilla bean Häagen-Dazs in my freezer. I toss dessert in the oven, changed back into the morning’s boxers and tank top, and scrub my face clean.

The microwave timer dings as I’m slathering moisturizer over my skin and I leap from the bathroom to yank the dough from the oven. Under a scoop of ice cream with two spoons surrounding them, the cookies don’t stand a chance. It tastes even better now that it’s raining outside.

Perfect day.

Where do you go on a hot sticky summer day? And who has the best air conditioning in New York City? Please sound off in the comments…

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Thank you again to Gap for partnering with me on this letter today! Get in touch at mackinley@yeehawt.com if you’d like to work together, browse my shelves here, or follow me for more vintage and fashion chatter on IG and TT.

Hello from the Jefferson Market Library basement. I met a friend for lunch with the intention of posting up at a coffee shop afterward, but my laptop is dead, and there’s a greater chance of winning the lottery than finding an outlet at a New York City cafe, so I’m here. In exchange for my library card number, I receive computer access for 48 minutes. Sweet deal.

It’s cool and dry and I’m seated at a rectangular wooden table facing the magazine shelves. Shakira and Jimmy Kimmel and that OpenAI guy are staring me down from covers across the room.

The bathroom hand dryer makes itself known every few minutes like a guy you met once at a party who always likes your Instagram stories. Just reminding you I’m here! Chairs squeak and thud and screech against the cracked concrete floors, shoes shuffle across in a soft white noise, the security guard promptly pushes in chairs left askew by people whose computer time is up. Wired earbuds outnumber wireless in the room.

I never write in public not on a laptop of my own — with its safety blanket brightness dimmer and screen-angling abilities — and I’m acutely aware of the fact that my document is visible to anyone passing by. This feels like an autopsy. Worse, like an autopsy that I’m also narrating. Like I’ve projected slides of my organs onto a wall and given the crowd 3D glasses.

I’ve shrunk my window down to the smallest possible size that isn’t completely insane and hope no one cares enough to peep. But of course they don’t. It’s New York. My tiny, ridiculous window and I digress.

Today’s dispatch is a love letter-style edit of 32 vintage dresses, an homage to the highlighter yellow ‘60s number that’s been the unequivocal star of my warm weather wardrobe so far. I’ve already mentioned it in a couple previous letters, but there’s still so much to say! The more I wear it, the more I come to understand it…

The dress feels kind of magic, actually.

• It’s an outfit in one piece: a full color story with an interesting silhouette that removes the need to thoughtfully pair a top and bottom.

• It’s humidity-friendly, made of breezy loose cotton that doesn’t suction itself to sticky skin.

• It’s inviting, for better or worse (mostly better lol). I have received a few disgusted glares from random men in public who might be offended by how loud the dress is or maybe just think it’s ugly (I’m not dressing for them so who cares!), but mostly I get compliments from friends and waitresses and women passing by me on the street. The latter outweighs the weirdness of the former by a lot.

It’s so bright and so loud that it might even circle back around to being… a neutral? I’ve sort of been treating it as such, just throwing on whatever bag and shoes feel good in the moment. Maroon? Sure. Turquoise? Why not. Black? Pink? Loafers and navy socks? Who’s gonna stop me! If I decide I hate it mid-day, there’s always tomorrow.

Mostly the dress is just fun. Humidity’s a sticky devil on my shoulder, pushing me to settle on something meh that prioritizes comfort over feeling at home in my outfit. This dress refuses to let me settle. And now I won’t let you either!

For paid readers: 32 vintage sundresses, loud enough to get a scowl and a “great dress, girl!” in the same afternoon (and the keywords I use to find them) ★

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I wasn’t paying attention to this transformation — I only realized June had arrived when I noticed it buzzing around me. May was weird!! I generally have some sense of a thematic through-line as I reflect on the month, but the pieces aren’t clicking into place so much as they’re floating around untethered. But even as I was in a daze, apparently, summer still showed up on time. Very thankful for Mother Nature’s punctuality.

This is everything I had on repeat in May: jewelry, jackets, summer skin hydration, and more.

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A backwards necklace and a stolen jacket

I hung the moon around my neck in May. By moon I am of course referring to this solar eclipse silver pendant, suspended from a stiff collar over the center of my sternum. Nearly every outfit seemed to benefit from the extra dose of drama: dressing up graphic tees and tanks; anchoring billowy runaway linen; and balancing out low necklines with something metallic and tactile.

It is also backwards! A family member gave me the necklace a few weeks ago and I liked the look of an all-silver pendant, so I just flipped it around. It’s a good reminder to me that everything in a closet is reworkable — you just have to shift your perspective. I found a few on eBay with similar vibes: one, two, three, four.

I also reached for this brown cotton jacket quite a bit (and paired it with the necklace often, as you can see). My partner snagged it at Arquívos in Portugal — full Lisbon vintage guide here — and much to his dismay, it works on me too.

“Can I wear that?” “Well, I was gonna wear it… but yes,” is a common exchange in our house.

I’m a huge proponent of black and brown styled together, and I love the texture it brings to an outfit centered around a black t-shirt. Makes it feel a bit more summery and a little less severe.

You’ve met me at a very cheese curds time in my life

Bookending the month of May were greasy baskets of fried cheese. I couldn’t tell you the last time I ate cheese curds prior to May, but when I looked back through my camera roll, I was struck by not one but two orders. The only through-line of the month, perhaps?

Basket 1 from The Long Island Bar in Cobble Hill. A battered curd with errant blobs of dough forming funnel-cake-like crunchy beads throughout. Comes with a french onion dip. Slightly under salted for my taste, but I’m a salt fiend, so take that with a grain or two. Their fries also rock. (Pictured above.)

Basket 2 from Bar Snack in the East Village. The place has some unsettling trendy vibes, but they are, in fact, nailing the cheese curds. Crumbed exterior dusted with something that has to be 90% MSG. Unreal. Comes with a burger-sauce-type pink concoction that was pretty good. Might be the best cheese curds I’ve ever had. Might be the worst espresso martini too.

Where are your favorite cheese curds in New York? Now I feel like I’m on some sort of quest…

Poolside, jarred

I plucked this jar of Oaui body lotion from my family’s bathroom cabinet while visiting this month and it was love at first sniff. It works, which is obviously the most important part, keeping me supple in even the driest, most soul-sucking of Sonoran Desert temperatures. But it also smells like a vacation.

When I close my eyes, I am transported poolside with a frozen drink in hand and a stupidly floppy hat atop my head, as blissful as the steamy spa woman emoji 🧖‍♀️. Devastated to leave it behind when I traveled home, my family kindly mailed a tub to my doorstep. I’ve reached a new level of post-shower euphoria.

Reading highlights!

I finally read Heartburn by Nora Ephron after CRB’s Hawt Seat reminded me how long it had been floating around on my TBR. Uhmmmm it’s a crime I waited this long. Felt like falling into step with an old friend the way Nora’s voice comes through so immediately and wraps you in a warm hug. (The idea that timeline-wise Heartburn is to me what, like, For Whom the Bell Tolls was to Ephron makes my head spin.)

I gulped down American Spirits by . A must-read for anyone with interests in Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift, pop music, gay women, delusional parasocial relationships, niche subreddits, or any intersection of the above. Not to mention it has one of my favorite book covers in yeeeeears…

I got my hands on a library copy of Yesteryear by only a couple short weeks after release (I put it on hold last year lol) and loved it as much as I expected — a rare feat! Equal parts hilarious and disturbing. Ideal combo for me personally.

Also the perfect companion read to Like, Follow, Subscribe by (also on Hawt Seat!). They’re like the fiction and nonfiction sides of the same coin, and reading them so close together enriched both works in an interesting way.

Last month, I wanted “to spend copious amounts of time on a picnic blanket, wear flip-flops as much as possible, and maybe do a little dancing?” Boy did I wear down the soles of my $1.25 K-Mart flip-flops. I didn’t spend much time on a picnic blanket, nor did I do much dancing, but luckily those never go out of style.

In June, I want to be in the woods. I’d like to take a couple day trips upstate, and I hope science quickly finds a way to allow me to remove my brain and eyeballs so I can wash them in a cold stream. If anyone has any leads, let me know.

I’d love to hear about your recent repeats (and your favorite fried apps). Happy June!

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Yeehawt features gifted items and affiliate links, at no cost to you of course. Get in touch at mackinley@yeehawt.com if you’d like to work together, browse my shelves here, or follow me for more vintage and fashion chatter on IG and TT.

Today’s letter: seven L’etiquette Homme outfits translated into fem summer looks. Built with 60 vintage and secondhand pieces, all linked below ★

I grabbed the latest menswear issue while in Portugal recently (only €11.90 at a local mag stand versus the $12 PLUS $25 tariff I got hit with last time I ordered it to the U.S.) and sunk deep into the pages this week to glean styling notes from the dashingly outfitted Frenchmen inside.

Americana influences weave into every L’etiquette look — from repeated favorites like Levi’s jeans and Sebago loafers to a niche vintage Disneyland sweatshirt (Homme issue #14) and an almost meme-worthy American flag Von Dutch duffel (Femme issue #3). It’s a nice comfort that everywhere you go, there your closet is. We’re all in conversation with each other’s style all the time.

Details that come up frequently in this issue’s looks:

• ‘70s everywhere, from flared pants to paper thin graphic tees to retro suiting

• Indigenous American jewelry, specifically Navajo turquoise (my personal favorite category of jewelry — you can read more about Indigenous turquoise and silver here and here)

• Pops of orange! Hats, jackets, shirts, and more

• Homemade belts — I have to admit I didn’t know this was happening

• High-top Converse in all colorways (I find Chuck 70s more comfy than the originals, but you can’t go wrong either way)

Look 1: Jean-Phillipe goes to summer camp

My reinterpretation of Jean-Phillipe’s dungarees look is one well suited for summer camp. This is an outfit for spending time near a creek; for playing tennis with a worn out racket; for picking berries directly off the bush; for discovering you have a long lost twin sister who has a British accent.

1. Vtg No Boundaries denim short alls, $25

2. Vtg striped tankini top, $20

3. Vtg ‘90s Polo Ralph Lauren long sleeve polo, $35 (tied around the waist most of the day, thrown on top when the sun goes down)

4. Vtg Converse Jack Purcell sneakers, $140

5. Vtg Coach orange crossbody bag, bid at $99

6. Vtg L.L.Bean canvas weekender bag, $128

7. Liz Claiborne crochet sun hat, $13

8. Vtg ‘90s Tommy Hilfiger sunnies, $25

Look 2: Roasting marshmallows in Prada Sport

My version translates the textured denim into grey cropped easy pants, a baseball cap into a bandana, and black patent leather loafers into buttery Prada Sport laser-cut mules. Inside that tote is a pack of hot dogs and ten Hershey’s bars.

9. 100% cotton slimy green cable knit jumper, $37

10. Vtg ‘90s daffodil “Connecticut” t-shirt, $26

11. Eileen Fisher linen blend pants, $37

12. Prada Sport leather mules size 38.5, $108

13. Vtg Moschino floral bandana, $31

14. Vtg ‘90s duck canvas tote bag, $75

15. Vtg ‘90s Mexican sterling silver necklace, $150

16. Vtg Mexican sterling silver hammered ring, $48

17. Vtg sterling silver celestial ring, $54

40+ more secondhand picks for paid readers including ‘60s swim, ‘70s sunnies, ‘80s graphic tees, and more.

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Aside from the two albums above, you may recognize her from her 2020 EP Party City (the titular track is one of my all-time favorites), her newsletter , or her brand new single “Shady” — which has got to be the first time I’ve ever heard the word manatee in a pop song. Brava!

Charlotte, tell us what’s been on repeat for you lately…

7 for all mankind low rise boot cut jeans two sizes too big

It took me a while to figure out where I stand when it comes to what we are all deciding to do re: denim in 2026. I feel slightly contrary to buying new jeans. Not sustainable, sure, but also they just look so void of personality, ya know? Give me a back pocket design! A POV! a little character! The new ones are all so big and sloppy looking!

I thought I had it all figured out in 2024: Levi’s made the perfect jean and all you need in your closet is several variations of vintage 501’s. I’m not abandoning the idea that 501’s are a staple—and the two-sizes-up thing works for them too. Let the waist fall low on your hips and the crotch creep down towards your knees, it looks way cooler and more effortless than whatever Agolde or Still Here is trying to convince you to spend upwards of $300 on.

501’s are a classic, however, they do not deliver that sultry ~Jennifer Aniston low on the hip frayed hem, Keira Knightley in her Jamie Dornan phase circa 2003, Lily Rose Depp with 070 Shake wearing flip flops at Whole Foods~ thing that you’d be a fool to not want to join the club on. When I found my 7 for all mankind low rise boot cut jeans at Tired Thrift in Greenpoint, I knew they would be my new go-to jean. I love how comfy they feel and how relaxed they look. Loose, but not too baggy. Current, but not necessarily trendy because they’re vintage. And cheap too!

Charlotte Tilbury Lip Cheat in Pillow Talk

As I write this, I am exactly one week into my 30s. As I get older, I’m feeling much prettier wearing less makeup. The one thing I do feel absolutely incomplete without (besides extra dewy skin and a slicked-back bun) is lip liner.

Do I carefully trace my lip line to make sure it looks even and natural? Nope. Does the shape of my lips change dramatically on any given day based on a change in the wind or whatever mood I happen to be in the moment I’m lining them? Yes. Do I care if you can tell I’m wearing lip liner? No! Ever heard of making a statement? I think it’s very French to overline the lips and do almost nothing else. I like looking a little messy and undone.

Espresso and tonic over ice with orange zest in the afternoon

My friends in Portland, Maine introduced me to espresso and tonic last summer. It’s an effervescent boost of energy you’ll want to savor like it’s chocolate. So light, yet so rich and indulgent-feeling.

Afternoon caffeine, I’m learning, is actually the biggest life hack that I have only just discovered. You can start your whole day over at 3pm! If my boyfriend is working, he can make you the best one you’ve ever had at Hudson Clearwater in the West Village.

Getting high and going to the Ballet at Lincoln Center

I grew up watching a lot of modern dance when I was a kid and I found it punishingly boring. I used to try to imagine plot lines to make the abstract disjointed choreography make sense. I was certain the dancers were having more fun than anyone in the audience and that we were all suffering through it in some vain competition to seem sophisticated enough to appreciate high art. Now I adore the ballet. And the more ambiguous the better, especially if you have a little weed gummy right when you sit down.

You don’t really have to try to absorb anything other than the shapes, colors, sounds of the orchestra and the dancers’ beautiful bodies. I work out kinks in my mind. It’s like a brain spa. Better than talk-therapy IMO. I prefer The New York City Ballet to The American Ballet Theater because ABT does more story driven stuff which is distracting to my style of watching ballet, but they are both fab.

Strangers by Belle Burden

My favorite genre of anything, be it song, movie, book etc. is ~Betrayed Woman Writing a Tell-All~, so like every other basic bitch New York City and their mom and their cousins and all their friends I can’t stop thinking about Strangers by Belle Burden. I too spent the early days of Covid on Martha’s Vineyard and the way Belle describes the “flat light” is so visceral and true to my experience growing up there in the off season.

When I picture her home in the book I can’t help but imagine my parents’ house (though obviously Belle’s is much fancier). I hate her ex husband. I love reading about her family history. I feel so horrified for her and also very held by this book. Another one of my go-to’s from this category is Heartburn by Norah Ephron. Again, you probably already knew that, but if you haven’t heard Meryl Streep read the audiobook you simply must. If I were a doctor I would prescribe both books as medicine for a breakup.

“Dreamtina”

My debut album, “Dreamtina” just turned 4. Occasionally, Spotify will play something from “Dreamtina” on shuffle and lately it makes me so emotional to hear those songs. I was 23 when I started writing it and I had never worked so hard at anything. I’m really proud of how much blind belief I had in myself back then with absolutely no industry connections or money.

I think it’s a really good album1. To me it was a lightning in a bottle kind of thing I don’t think I could ever replicate. That being said!!!! I have two new songs coming out soon. They are basically just really fun and cool and totally perfect for feeling good and walking around in the summertime :) We’re going to play them both live at Union Pool on June 13th as well, so get a little ticket for that if you want!

Getting older

Everyone is always saying it to you in your 20s, but turning 30 legit is really cool. My personal journey to 30 feels like transitioning from someone as chaotic and messy as Courtney Love to full on Martha Stewart.

I used to send multi-paragraph texts to guys in bands who lived in Bushwick and wouldn’t notice if I moved to Oslo with no warning, begging them to love me. I lived in apartments for years where I never even learned how to use the oven. I famously once sat on a soft-shell taco in a white dress on the L train on my way to a party, tied a denim jacket around my waist, and just kept rockin’!

Things are different now. I quit smoking last year, I made butternut squash soup from scratch last night, I love throwing dinner parties, I keep houseplants alive and frequent the post office. I’m spending less time feeling sorry for myself when I fuck up, and am posting less online. I am honestly kind of learning to love my eleven lines, but sometimes I miss my tight little 22 year old ass.

Keep up with Charlotte Rose Benjamin on Spotify, IG, TT, and subscribe to here on Substack <3

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A chief concern of this fantasy is the wardrobe (obviously) which requires a very specific sophisticated ease, and the piece I’ve been maniacally researching and trying on and secondhand hunting for is the easy pant.

This is a pant you wear in tall grass. It’s a pant that blows in the evening ocean breeze and pairs best with salty air-dried hair and an OOO email signature. The right easy pant is a bullseye dart on the dressy/casual/structured/relaxed chart. Comfy to lounge in, but the design is elevated enough to give you the option to dress up. It requires no thought to wear and works for any occasion. It’s easy. Duh.

Though I’ve been searching on-and-off high-and-low for years, I still haven’t chosen a perfect pair. And it will likely take me years longer given my track record for deciding on wardrobe staples.

My easy pant parameters:

1. A tie or elastic waist—nary a zipper or button in sight—for flexibility and comfort

2. Loose off the leg to maintain breeziness

3. Made with cozy materials, preferably cotton or linen to keep it cool

But all that research belongs somewhere—and given how much I’ve been thinking about them lately during this sunny spring, I’m guessing you might be on a similar hunt too. Here are 40+ good pairs on the market.

The Elastic Waist

Max relax, comfort-forward, slip-on-without-a-care.

Deiji Studios Ease Trouser

Defining details: 100% organic cotton, thinner waistband, ankle length, low- to mid-rise, side pockets, straight leg

Color range: stripes, checks, and solids in a variety of neutrals and light blues

Deiji Studios also carries a linen version in black, white, blue stripe, and lilac.

Sønderhaus Boxer Pant

Defining details: like boxers but pants!, 100% organic cotton, straight leg, thick ruffle at the hem

Color range: cream, navy, blue stripe, blue plaid, green plaid, and brown gingham

Leset Yoko Pocket Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton that feels like “lived in bedsheets,” side pockets, thin waistband, straight leg

Color range: vibrant orange, magenta, black, white, and wine

Le Bon Shoppe Long Arc Pants

One of the classics in the easy pant world (the original cropped length pair is still somehow always sold out).

Defining details: 100% cotton heavy weight canvas, triangular side panels, thick waistband, barrel-style leg shape, side pockets

Color range: white, brown, blue, and denim

Donni Linen Crop Stripe Pant

Donni is like the easy pant headquarters—too many options to list in a wide range of fabrics and colors. And they’ve got the reputation to back it up: broke down how Donni became the go-to “cool mom pants” for the Cut here.

Defining details: 100% linen, racer stripes down the side, slightly cropped fit, thin waistband, straight leg

Color range: black, brown, blue, green, yellow, red, and sage

OZMA California Corlatta Pant

Defining details: 100% organic cotton poplin, elastic waist with a pleat detail, mid-rise, barrel leg, side pockets and back pockets, ankle length

Color range: white, black, and olive

Almina Concept Wool Pants

Defining details: 70% wool 30% polyester, thin waistband, slim straight leg with a slight flare at the hem, side pockets

Color range: brown and black

Assembly Label Pippa Silk Pant

Defining details: 100% silk, medium width elastic waist, wide leg, side pockets

Color range: black, white, butter yellow, brown, and wine

Gardenheir Easy Gardening Pant

Defining details: 100% Japanese cotton, reinforced knees, concealed drawstring, snap front, elastic waist, designated tool pocket

Color range: denim, British tan, olive, and indigo

Home of Hai Nora Trousers

Defining details: 100% cotton poplin, straight/wide leg, medium waistband

Color range: white and black

Wol Hide Wide Trouser

They also have a style literally called “easy pant” with a cool shape, but I think they lean a bit too sweatpant for our purposes.

Defining details: 100% organic cotton, medium waistband, barrel leg, side pockets and one back pocket, textured fabric, fully made in the US

Color range: dark grey, cream, and a light neutral tan

Baserange Cable Pants

Baserange is another brand that has a ton of easy pants options, most with elastic waists in various types of luxurious cotton and silk blends.

Defining details: 100% organic cotton poplin, extra wide cropped leg, medium waistband

Color range: black and light neutral sand

Jungmaven Cambria Pant

Defining details: 100% hemp, billowy, thick waistband, internal drawstring, wide leg, pockets

Color range: many shades of blues and greens and teals, black, white, and a couple neutrals

Big Bud Press Action Pants

I own a different pair of BBP and really love their fabrics.

Defining details: 100% cotton 9oz twill, big front and back pockets, cropped, high waisted, slight flair at the hem, pre-shrunk

Color range: navy, dark green, brown, and black

Horse Track Pant

Defining details: 100% Japanese cotton terry fabric, 31" regular inseam and 35" long inseam, racer stripes down the sides

Color range: navy with white stripes

The Tie-Waist

A drawstring at the waist adds a little more structure. Some of these feature elastic in addition to the tie.

Brooke Callahan Tie Pants

Defining details: 100% cotton poplin, side tie, 30” inseam and 32” inseam options

Color range: every color of the rainbow in bright energizing hues

Leset Kyoto Carpenter Pants

One of the most popular pairs on the list!

Defining details: 100% cotton, front tie, topstitched utility panels, back pockets, gentle curve of the leg, ankle length

Color range: wide range of bright colors and neutrals (below is chartreuse)

OZMA California All Day Pant

Defining details: 100% organic cotton poplin, front tie, subtle barrel leg, mid-rise, side pockets

Color range: black, white, red, tan, white stripe, and navy

Alex Mill Hudson Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton twill or 100% linen, front tie, double pleats, side pockets

Color range: black, blue stripe, olive, brown, cobalt, light grey, navy stripe, tan, off white, tan stripe

Cou Cou Intimates The Pant

Defining details: 100% organicacotton voile, front tie, semi-sheer, full length

Color range: white and black

Salter House The Wendy Pant

Defining details: organic cotton, front tie, straight leg, ankle length, pin tuck detail at the hem

Color range: white and black

Donni The Linen Drawstring Pant

Sickly green FTW!

Defining details: 100% linen, front tie, full length, side pockets

Color range: black, white, and green

Chan Luu Sailor Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton, front tie, exaggerated cuffs, slightly sheer, extra wide leg

Color range: white and black

Everybody World Tubular Pants

Defining details: 100% reclaimed waste cotton, sustainable practices + fair wages, pre-shrunk, front tie, drapey and voluminous, side pockets, biodegradable (except for the elastic)

Color range: black, berry, brown, bright blue, sand, bright green, lavender

Peachy Den Renee Trousers

Defining details: 97% cotton 3% elastane, front tie, jogger hem with adjustable cord, side seam pin tucks

Color range: navy, blue check, butter yellow, white, and black

Kotn Persea Linen Tie Pant

Defining details: 100% linen, wide straight leg, side tie, side pockets

Color range: white, black, and tan stripe

Also in a cotton poplin version in red and black.

Assembly Label Amara Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton, front tie, hint of a barrel leg (there is another option that’s a full-on barrel if that’s your thing), side pockets and back pockets

Color range: white, black, light blue, olive, rust, and navy

And this 100% cotton side tie pair is on sale for $35.

Soeur Hugues Trousers

Defining details: 100% organic cotton poplin, front tie, baggy fit, extra long, crisp fabric, side pockets and back pockets

Color range: off-white and taupe

Clyque Kira Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton poplin, front tie, side pockets, full length

Color range: white, black, and red

Baserange Kolla Pants

Defining details: 100% organic cotton poplin, front tie, full length, side pockets

Color range: undyed off-white

Sønderhaus Perfect Pants

A friend gave me a pair of these and my partner steals them constantly.

Defining details: 100% cotton, straight leg, side pockets

Color range: red, blue, and navy

AMO Denim Simone Pant

Defining details: 70% cotton 27% linen 3% lycra, subtle barrel leg, ankle length, side pockets and back pockets

Color range: white and greenish-yellow

The Wildcards

Easy, but with extra flair.

Donni Silk Taffeta Polka Cargo Pant

Defining details: 100% silk, polka dot pattern, tie-waist, cargo pockets

Color range: navy + red, brown + white, cream + black

Damson Madder Florintina Bloomers

Defining details: 100% organic cotton, tie-waist, cropped, ultra wide leg, ruffled beneath the knees

Color range: off-white

Chan Luu Soleil Silk Drawstring Pant

Defining details: 100% silk, front tie, full length

Color range: orchid and mustard

Chan Luu Balloon Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton, front tie, balloon shape, adjustable ankle width, ruffled hem

Color range: blue stripe, pink stripe, black stripe, white pinstripe

Eileen Fisher Crushed Silk Wide-Leg Pant

Obviously inspired by (if not a straight up dupe of) Pleats Please, but these are silk with a less uniform texture.

Defining details: 100% silk, elastic waist, crumpled pleated texture, ankle length

Color range: taupe

Home of Hai Mia Trousers

They also make a pull-on elastic pair in this fabric.

Defining details: 100% dupion silk, front tie, subtle texture, cinched at the calf

Color range: white and black

Pistola Denim Liya Balloon Pant

Defining details: 100% cotton, voluminous, cinched at the ankle, thick elastic waistband

Color range: light pink and white

Paloma Wool Weza

Defining details: 100% silk, sheer, thin elastic waistband, cinched at the ankle

Color range: black and tan

Le Bon Shoppe Denim Parachute Pants

Defining details: 100% cotton, thick elastic waistband, big parachute wide leg

Color range: black, blue, khaki, and blue denim

Would love to hear about the easy pants in your closet—which of your favorites did I miss?

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Got your eyes on a skimpier inseam? I dove headfirst into shorts last summer:

Yeehawt shares gifted items (though none in this letter) and affiliate links, never at any cost to you. Get in touch with me at mackinley@yeehawt.com if you’d like to work together, browse my shelves here, or follow me for more vintage and fashion chatter on IG and TT.

In Bug Ballet, creator Orren Fen performs as the fly with a dramatic and pleading papier-mache “O” for a mouth. There are eagle-sized moths circling a lightbulb sculpture commanded by pink tutu-ed ballerinas and maggots and worms of all girths and sizes wriggling about on stage in squirmy fits.

I don’t really know what Bug Ballet is about—but I know I need to be there.

Bug Ballet first came to me through a video on my FYP (a reminder that occasionally the TikTok algorithm does good things for society), but seeing as I don’t live in Minneapolis and that the show’s 10-day-long run was sold out, I didn’t get to attend, and I’ll have to live with that forever. (Unless…? 2027 nationwide bug tour?)

The ballet hasn’t left my mind in the weeks since my discovery of it—in fact, it sort of keeps growing in strength like an arthropod Hydra—and it was right up front in the plumpest folds of my brain when I plucked out a shiny blue trench coat from my closet.

The vintage London Fog, a piece from my late grandmother, is my own shimmering exoskeleton. It’s not a clean metallic (its life’s purpose is to be drenched in mucky rain water, after all) but a grimy, of-the-earth metallic, like a glistening navy scarab or a blue milkweed beetle. It’s got shoulder pads, a chunky lapel, and it’s not afraid to get dirty.

In my metallic blue trench, I’d play a beetle private detective in a bug ballet. A beret atop my beetle head with two cut-outs in the wool for my feathery beetle antennae. My delicate beetle wings would unfold from the back of the trench and carry me away over the audience as the rest of the insects swarm to center for the final big number. It would be bug-tastic. For now, the sidewalk will have to be my stage.

For paid subscribers: 30+ secondhand & vintage finds requested by you.

This batch includes, yes, fab London Fog trenches in beetle-licious colorways, silk going-out tops, oversized raffia totes that won’t break the bank, & more.

More on Beetlecore from Yeehawt’s earlier days -

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