Presenting Image Issue 36: Time
An accessory is an opportunity for fantasy, for gently trying on a new vibe or look — it's a suggestion, an accent, a little risk. This was especially true for me when I was coming of age. But in truth, I feel like I've never stopped coming of age. Aren't we always stepping into new phases and roles in life?
My latest experiment has been a pair of plastic, exaggerated cat-eye sunglasses, striped in rainbow colors. My partner got them for me for $5 from a neighbor's garage sale. When he gave them to me, I placed them on the dresser by the doorway, so that the next time I went out for a walk I ended up grabbing them (gotta protect my genetically predisposed macular degeneration!). I hadn't seen what they actually looked like on me until I caught a reflection of myself in a car window, and thought I looked insane. A block later, I received an enthusiastic compliment from a stranger — I love your sunglasses! — that surprised and encouraged me. I continued to wear them, fueled by compliments (on average multiple in one outing), until the sunglasses that I initially found too ridiculous to wear became a part of me. Just a few months ago, I made my friends go back into Disneyland's hellscape, after we had already exited the park, when I realized I'd left the rainbow sunglasses at Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin.
This issue explores accessories as a form of time travel, whether through your grandmother's jewelry collection or a night out dancing. For many, accessories are a means to reinvention and stepping into a new self — a truer one. They tap into different versions of ourselves; they help break them open. Together they form a colorful timeline of what it feels like to keep changing and growing up.
Elisa Wouk Almino
Editor in Chief
Image lettering by Zoe Zhou For The Times
Behind shades and a moniker, Princess Gollum bridges the gap between her two selves A decade ago, L.A.-based artist Josephine Lee took on the moniker Princess Gollum. The online alias helps the model push her looks to the extreme, while keeping her grounded in her everyday life. Read the story
Meet the new Sudan Archives. She is transcendent and disarmingly authentic Basking in a post-breakup glow, Sudan has recorded an album that sounds as carefree and earnest as the new way of life she's cultivating. Read the story
My grandmother taught me that jewelry is the ultimate form of reinvention People seem to think that clothing is the best representation of our personalities, of who we want to be. But it's actually the jewelry we wear that most often speaks to who we think we are. Read the story Issue 36: Time Order now
Speaker freaker: Transcend time on the dance floor Emerging from the warehouse fog in full vintage designer. Read the story
Accessories are opportunities for experimentation and self-expression. Takes notes from stylist Kaamilah Thomas Thomas, a personal stylist to singer Foushée, pulls out her 7 favorite accessories from her closet — each worth its own story. Read the story
A morning with Takako Yamaguchi, the L.A. artist we should've already known At 72, the artist is having her first institutional show at MOCA, and she's having the most fun she's ever had. Read the story
An L.A. Craftsman home channels 'In the Mood for Love' and the art of the everyday 'I almost see the role of an architect as a kind of director: behind the scenes, setting up the sets and allowing life to unfold within these spaces.' Read the story
Is it okay if your partner still follows their ex on social media? Here are some questions to think through There's no black-and-white answer to this dilemma. Because, to put it bluntly, some people cannot be trusted to follow (or be connected to) their exes. Read the story
From a Fendi It Bag to Frank Ocean's Homer bracelet, 15 accessories that will carry a conversation Our curation of must-have accessories this August. Read the story
The hottest fashion and art happenings for an endless L.A. summer From bag drops to flip-flops, embrace August with these exhibitions, openings and releases. Read the story
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Los Angeles Times
4 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
Presenting Image Issue 36: Time
The first piece I ever wrote for Image was about my love of hats. It's a love I trace to my cotton, wide-brimmed hat that I wore when I was 6, probably from the Gap, that had a large sunflower beaming from my forehead. In photos, when I was wearing it, I always seemed happier. I can think of various beloved accessories that I've owned through time. In middle school, dangly earrings defined me — hoop earrings especially (gold ones, silver ones, ones with white hearts hanging from them). I felt sexier because of them. Then there was the 'evil ring': carved from metal, it rose from my index finger like a temple and opened at the top like a box, the kind of thing people usually use to store, let's say, valuables (even if I had snorted drugs, there were holes in the base of the ring, so it wasn't practical). It was the first thing I bought upon moving to New York City for college, manifesting some edgier version of myself. An accessory is an opportunity for fantasy, for gently trying on a new vibe or look — it's a suggestion, an accent, a little risk. This was especially true for me when I was coming of age. But in truth, I feel like I've never stopped coming of age. Aren't we always stepping into new phases and roles in life? My latest experiment has been a pair of plastic, exaggerated cat-eye sunglasses, striped in rainbow colors. My partner got them for me for $5 from a neighbor's garage sale. When he gave them to me, I placed them on the dresser by the doorway, so that the next time I went out for a walk I ended up grabbing them (gotta protect my genetically predisposed macular degeneration!). I hadn't seen what they actually looked like on me until I caught a reflection of myself in a car window, and thought I looked insane. A block later, I received an enthusiastic compliment from a stranger — I love your sunglasses! — that surprised and encouraged me. I continued to wear them, fueled by compliments (on average multiple in one outing), until the sunglasses that I initially found too ridiculous to wear became a part of me. Just a few months ago, I made my friends go back into Disneyland's hellscape, after we had already exited the park, when I realized I'd left the rainbow sunglasses at Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin. This issue explores accessories as a form of time travel, whether through your grandmother's jewelry collection or a night out dancing. For many, accessories are a means to reinvention and stepping into a new self — a truer one. They tap into different versions of ourselves; they help break them open. Together they form a colorful timeline of what it feels like to keep changing and growing up. Elisa Wouk Almino Editor in Chief Image lettering by Zoe Zhou For The Times Behind shades and a moniker, Princess Gollum bridges the gap between her two selves A decade ago, L.A.-based artist Josephine Lee took on the moniker Princess Gollum. The online alias helps the model push her looks to the extreme, while keeping her grounded in her everyday life. Read the story Meet the new Sudan Archives. She is transcendent and disarmingly authentic Basking in a post-breakup glow, Sudan has recorded an album that sounds as carefree and earnest as the new way of life she's cultivating. Read the story My grandmother taught me that jewelry is the ultimate form of reinvention People seem to think that clothing is the best representation of our personalities, of who we want to be. But it's actually the jewelry we wear that most often speaks to who we think we are. Read the story Issue 36: Time Order now Speaker freaker: Transcend time on the dance floor Emerging from the warehouse fog in full vintage designer. Read the story Accessories are opportunities for experimentation and self-expression. Takes notes from stylist Kaamilah Thomas Thomas, a personal stylist to singer Foushée, pulls out her 7 favorite accessories from her closet — each worth its own story. Read the story A morning with Takako Yamaguchi, the L.A. artist we should've already known At 72, the artist is having her first institutional show at MOCA, and she's having the most fun she's ever had. Read the story An L.A. Craftsman home channels 'In the Mood for Love' and the art of the everyday 'I almost see the role of an architect as a kind of director: behind the scenes, setting up the sets and allowing life to unfold within these spaces.' Read the story Is it okay if your partner still follows their ex on social media? Here are some questions to think through There's no black-and-white answer to this dilemma. Because, to put it bluntly, some people cannot be trusted to follow (or be connected to) their exes. Read the story From a Fendi It Bag to Frank Ocean's Homer bracelet, 15 accessories that will carry a conversation Our curation of must-have accessories this August. Read the story The hottest fashion and art happenings for an endless L.A. summer From bag drops to flip-flops, embrace August with these exhibitions, openings and releases. Read the story
Los Angeles Times
17 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
Accessories tap into different versions of ourselves — and they help break them open
The first piece I ever wrote for Image was about my love of hats. It's a love I trace to my cotton, wide-brimmed hat that I wore when I was 6, probably from the Gap, that had a large sunflower beaming from my forehead. In photos, when I was wearing it, I always seemed happier. I can think of various beloved accessories that I've owned through time. In middle school, dangly earrings defined me — hoop earrings especially (gold ones, silver ones, ones with white hearts hanging from them). I felt sexier because of them. Then there was the 'evil ring': carved from metal, it rose from my index finger like a temple and opened at the top like a box, the kind of thing people usually use to store, let's say, valuables (even if I had snorted drugs, there were holes in the base of the ring, so it wasn't practical). It was the first thing I bought upon moving to New York City for college, manifesting some edgier version of myself. An accessory is an opportunity for fantasy, for gently trying on a new vibe or look — it's a suggestion, an accent, a little risk. This was especially the case when I was coming of age. But in truth, I feel like I've never stopped coming of age. Aren't we always stepping into new phases and roles in life? My latest experiment has been a pair of plastic, exaggerated cat-eye sunglasses, striped in rainbow colors. My partner got them for me for $5 from a neighbor's garage sale. When he gave them to me, I placed them on the dresser by the doorway, so that the next time I went out for a walk I ended up grabbing them (gotta protect my genetically predisposed macular degeneration!). I hadn't seen what they actually looked like on me until I caught a reflection of myself in a car window, and thought I looked insane. A block later, I received an enthusiastic compliment from a stranger — I love your sunglasses! — that surprised and encouraged me. I continued to wear them, fueled by compliments (on average multiple in one outing), until the sunglasses that I initially found too ridiculous to wear became a part of me. Just a few months ago, I made my friends go back into Disneyland's hellscape, after we had already exited the park, when I realized I'd left the rainbow sunglasses at Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin. This issue explores accessories as a form of time travel, whether through your grandmother's jewelry collection or a night out dancing. For many, accessories are a means to reinvention and stepping into a new self — a truer one. They tap into different versions of ourselves; they help break them open. Together they form a colorful timeline of what it feels like to keep changing and growing up.
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
She was one of the first influencers. It nearly ruined her life.
To post, or not to post? Each day across America, millions of people ask themselves this question, a once-innocuous inquiry that has morphed the casual (if occasionally tedious) tradition of sharing vacation photos, baby pictures, new boyfriend snaps and half-formed opinions with friends into an existential referendum on one's sense of self. For influencers — the backbone of an industry Goldman Sachs said was worth approximately $250 billion in 2024 and projects to grow to almost $500 billion by 2027 — the question of posting is particularly fraught. Who owes you — in money, free product or clout? And what do you owe your followers: Reliable advice? A fantasy? Your entire life? For Lee Tilghman, known online as Lee From America and one of the first women to build an empire-worthy Instagram following of more than 370,000 people as a wellness influencer, she is at last posting from a place of purity. 'Posting has been, for me, at least since October, something I'm only doing out of my own joy,' said Tilghman, 35, speaking on a bench in Brooklyn Heights on a sweltering day in late July. Tilghman, as the inventor of the viral smoothie bowl and peddler of philosophies and products that, when done together, she now admits were extreme, has been through the gamut of online women's experiences. She became a celebrity followed by many but known only to a niche audience. She received free stuff from famous millennial brands — then was paid to post about it. She invented a viral food, the aforementioned smoothie bowl. She was canceled. She logged off forever. She logged back on, revealing a crazy new haircut, and people unfollowed her. She shared her story of feeling limited by her personal brand to such an extent that it led to an eating disorder relapse. She got a normal job. She became a de-influencer. And now, what has brought Tilghman back to the internet is not a brand deal or an irresistibly pretty (and free!) vacation, but something as old school as the rotary phone: She wants you to buy her memoir. It is about her traumatic years (and they are, indeed, very traumatic) as an influencer. It is called 'If You Don't Like This, I Will Die.' (Sad emoji.) 'It's not a manifesto on whether or not you're online,' she said. Instead, Tilghman said, it's a book about seeing influencers beyond their one-dimensional personal brand. 'Most people can only handle one side of a public figure. They can't handle a whole person. I kind of describe it as a hexagon. We're all hexagons. We all have multiple sides, multiple facets,' she said, immaculately groomed in a Dôen x Gap top, a Gap skirt embroidered with sea creatures, and Tevas, a much different look than her previous wardrobe of gifted workout gear. 'But when you're an influencer, you have to be, 'What are you in one sentence? I am a wellness girl. I am a travel influencer. I do makeup in under five minutes. I do beach skin care. I do New England. I'm coastal granddaughter. I'm Rodeo Malibu Barbie influencer.' 'And that has not changed: the public's necessity to have you be your elevator-pitch person.' When a woman is canceled, Tilghman is often her first defender. 'When those women went to space,' she said, referring to Lauren Sánchez and her merry band of celebrity astronauts, 'I was like: 'Guys, I don't really care that they went to space. I'm not saying that this is the greatest thing, but why are we just so mad at women?'' Tilghman's book lays out the reality that being an influencer is a total bore. Being a person, whether private or public, is much more interesting. But can we see influencers as people? 'My first feeling reading it, I kind of got 'American Psycho' vibes,' said Sean Manning, Tilghman's editor and the publisher of Simon & Schuster. 'There's an overload of detail, one thing happening after another, the name-checking of brands, whether it's Outdoor Voices, or Free People, or Kashi. It's an accumulation of detail through brands, through consumerism — the attention to detail is such that she doesn't have to editorialize too much.' You read the running list of brands and tasks and the never-ending demands of posting — and feel empty, much as Tilghman did. Manning was interested in the question of, 'When does the character become a human being?' Tilghman studied creative writing at St. Joseph's University in Philadelphia, and, from her blog beginnings, her ability to tell a compulsively readable story was clear. Agents had approached her about book projects when she was at the peak of her Instagram powers: a recipe book, a self-care book, a self-care planner — 'Lee's Guide to Glow,' she said, 'you know, that totally could have been a book.' 'Funnily enough,' Tilghman said, 'when I stopped influencing, that's when this book came to me.' When she stopped influencing? Some of her detractors — including those on the parasocial but addictively readable Influencer Snarking subreddits — see Tilghman's memoir simply as her latest #product to #promo. 'I think of it as an evolution,' she clarified. 'I guess I am still influencing — 100 percent. I mean, that era when I was in such a routine, and it was like a channel: weekly recipes, updates, self-care tips, everything updates. I was posting on [Instagram] Stories nine times a day, every day, and then three or four times on the grid per day. 'In a lot of ways, for these brands, you're just kind of an actor. You have to act. Especially on these brand trips, where you're paid to look like you're having a good time.' The roller coaster of affirmative and negative comments constantly wore on her, but so did the grind of pretending to enjoy brand trips with other influencers, in which attendees would pose together and then go back to staring at their phones, counting their likes in silence. Tilghman's personality is not so easily boiled down. She is a weirdo — quirky, a bit manic pixie dream girl, but with the grit of a screwball heroine. Revealing more of that side has lost her followers — some 160,000 after she revealed a bowl haircut and weight gain following her eating disorder treatment in 2019. Perhaps Tilghman's realest and most relatable quality is that she loves to post. When she sold her book two years ago, she was no longer active on social media. 'Every couple of months, I would maybe post something being like, I'm alive, everything's good. But I didn't have a purpose on there, and I was fine with that.' The neat ending to the memoir would be to conclude that social media is evil and that she (and we) must never post again. 'I believe that social media isn't going anywhere. Technology is not going anywhere,' she said. Tilghman considered not using social media to promote her book. After all, she had gone viral for leaving Instagram in 2023 and was afraid that followers would criticize her for reneging on her promise to 'de-influence.' But then she realized: 'You know what? I've spent so much time on this book. I'm going to do everything I can to make this book a super success. I'm going to use my audience that gave me this book deal. They are a big part of the story. 'The biggest difference is that I don't have a manager or agent on my phone saying, 'Hey, have you posted the Stories?' … It's just on me.' The shift in algorithms from a feed ordered by the time of posts to a discovery-based algorithm that surfaces content by mysterious means has given us much more anxiety around sharing online, said Rachel Karten, a social media consultant. 'There wasn't this jet-fueled algorithm that exists today' when Tilghman was influencing. 'The algorithms now can turn anyone into an influencer overnight. 'There's a certain level of cringe to posting,' Karten continued. 'Because of the way the algorithm works, it makes it seem like you're trying to become an influencer, even if you're just innocuously posting or sharing vacation photos, because that's the way that [influencing] starts now.' It may be hard to understand how someone could have such anxiety around putting a video or picture of themselves online, but Tilghman, as she writes about in her book, was one of the first women to have the influencer economy turn on her. In 2018, Tilghman announced a three-hour workshop to her followers with 'cooking tutorials for pumpkin fat balls and creamy coconut butter adaptogenic drinks, seminars on mindful eating and Ayurvedic practices, tips on cultivating true self-love and self-care and so much more that I don't cover online,' she said in a video revealing the event. Tickets would start at $350, with a VIP option of $650. Within five minutes, the criticisms began pouring in: that this was 'ludicrous freelancer capitalism'; 'You are NOT spreading inclusivity'; 'A white girl doing a workshop inspired by matcha (Japanese) and ayurveda (Indian) and charging $350???? This workshop is for white people.' Tilghman brought on a crisis PR consultant to navigate the fallout, but the confluence of the criticism and her growing awareness that her obsession with wellness had led to an eating disorder relapse led her to leave the platform the following summer. The morning of our interview, the entrepreneur behind Outdoor Voices, Ty Haney, said that she was rejoining her brand, which helped transform chic-leggings-and-little-sexy-top workout wear into the go-to uniform for millennial women running errands. (Haney was ousted in 2020 following accusations of poor leadership.) Earlier in the summer, Audrey Gelman, who was similarly pushed out of her co-working space the Wing in 2020, reentered the fray with a small, ornately decorated inn in Upstate New York called the Six Bells. And now, Tilghman is returning with her own project. Does she feel a part of a cohort of canceled women making a comeback? 'Oh my god! I don't know, but if that's what you're saying, then that's really nice,' she said. 'Whether or not it's similar stories as theirs, and potentially it is — it's so funny, I remember, in 2020, everyone was like, 'Ty Haney is so problematic.' And then last week, when there was this buzz that she might be buying back Outdoor Voices, everyone's like, 'We want Ty back!' And again, I'm just like, 'Huh? You guys were all so mean to her and now you miss her?' Same with Audrey.' She thought for a few more minutes. 'When we see a woman get too powerful — and when it's women seeing other women get way too powerful — we can't handle it. We have to take them down, because it's like a threat to us. We don't see it as like, 'Oh wow, if they've done it, I can do it, too.' 'Because, to be honest, there are limited spots for women to gain power. It's already hard enough for people. And so it really threatens us when a woman is gaining power too. And I get it, like I was very competitive. I still am. I just don't let that competition eat me alive, because it can eat you alive.' Solve the daily Crossword
