Get Out
IMDb/Universal Pictures/Justin Lubin

Being Black For 103 Minutes: 'Get Out' From A White Millennial's Perspective

On February 24, a 24-year-old kid from the suburbs ended his decade long horror movie drought (Texas Chainsaw Massacre did me dirty) by going to see Get Out, and without the push from three friends of my closest friends growing up, I don’t think I would have gone. My friends, all the same age as me, had a history of good taste in cinema, so I figured to trust their instincts. All four of us have lived in the mostly white suburban bubble of Westchester County, NY our entire lives, and they did not inform me of the racial aspect of the film going in. The trailer piqued my interest, but I really had no clue what I was getting myself into and just didn’t want to leave with a week’s worth of nightmares. I guess you could say I was numb to how poignantly the film would prey on racism within genious but subtle language, imagery and symbolism. What really put me all in was the Jordan Peele effect, the promise of comedic relief to be intertwined throughout the 103-minute social thriller.

My friends and I rolled up to the AMC Loews theater in Portchester, NY on a very cold Friday night for a prime time 8 p.m. showing. The crowd was diverse in age and ethnicity. I remember scoping out the scene, seeing black couples, white people and Latinos varied throughout, co-mingling in the spacious theater. Viewers looked to range from their early twenties to 50-plus, echoing the mixed-bag demographic of the town. More than anything, I was curious about the clientele because I had never been to the theater, and it wasn’t until after the film that I surveyed the crowd from our overhanging corner balcony seats more closely with race in mind.

I’ve never been in a theater where its viewers were so collectively engaged in the film. I remember hearing one black guy sitting behind me utter under his breathe, “this f**king b***h,” as Rose Armitage continued to bamboozle Chris Washington, her unsuspecting black boyfriend. The atmosphere almost felt as if we were right there with Chris sinking into his own nightmare, trying to help him will his way out of the Armitage insane asylum. The “social horror” kept my stomach churning and my brain knotted in anxiety as I awaited the film’s next on-the-edge-of-your-seat moment, eyes wide open just like Chris’ much-memed expression. Daniel Kaluuya and Allison Williams star as an interracial couple who visit her parents in the suburbs for the weekend, and any and everyone can identify with this kind of potential disaster of a situation. However, while wrapped up in the couple’s obviously complicated scenario, there are some key things that I walked away from the theater with.

The Jordan Peele Effect: Comedic Relief Keeps Us Sane

The funny moments in Get Out take you out of the thriller mentality at various points throughout its gasp-worthy turns. I think that’s what made me appreciate the film even more. Just when you’re ready to let your guard down, the thrilling factor comes back into play. Whether it was the awkward punchlines featuring racial undertones from Dean, Rose’s father (“If Obama could've run for a third term I would've voted for him”) or hilarious, borderline inappropriate friend advice from Rod, who began joking with Chris about how they would turn him into a sex slave, Peele’s genius shined through as someone who perfected the satire comedy lane.

“It's horrifying watching poor Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) paralyzed in that chair while his will and body are being stolen, because growing up, I felt as paralyzed as him,” Kareem Abdul-Jabbar wrote for The Hollywood Reporter.

Peele is of a bi-racial background, raised by his white mother, and channelled racist experiences with the older white generation growing up through painfully oblivious jokes and stereotypes of how the younger generation perceives our white elders within Get Out. Take, for example, when one of the party guests Gordon tells Chris, “I do know Tiger [Woods].” He believes that since Chris is black, that’s the only thing he would know about golf, which is a scary reality that some have that slightly condescending mentality. All I could do was laugh it off along with a few others in the theater.

Separate But Equal: Hidden Imagery & Subtle Foreshadowing

Peele’s clever use of imagery and foreshadowing could not go unnoticed and is layered to the point that you’ll need a second watch to figure out the parts that went over your head. The deer Rose hit dead at the start of the film went on to be symbolic of future parts of the film’s complex plot, and way more important than just a ploy to make you pop out of your seat. Notice how Chris was way more empathetic to the dead animal than Rose was. When Chris walks into the bushes to assess the damage, she stays planted by the car, incurious. The couple then arrives at the Armitage house, where Dean ashes the deer’s very existence. “One down, a couple hundred thousand to go,” he says dismissively. “They’re like rats. I see a dead deer on the side of the road, I say that’s a start.” It seemed rude but harmless at the time, but we later see that his true feelings about the deer reflect how he feels about black people.

While Mr. Armitage is giving Chris a tour of the house, he foreshadows many future integral parts of the plot, but his statements flowed within the conversation and didn’t make you question his words. “It’s a privilege to experience another person’s culture,” Dean says while showing off his collection of travel trinkets to Chris, another harmless statement until you realize his envy for black traits. It took me two viewings to catch the meaning behind what Dean told Chris when giving a tour of the house: “That’s the basement. We had to seal it up, got some black mold down there.” Pure genius screenwriting by Peele once again. There are multiple layers contained within the script that keep you focused throughout.

The last half hour of the film, in which Chris looks to make his escape out of the Armitage lockdown, felt like an eternity. After he discovers the photos of Rose and prior black suitors, including Walter the groundskeeper and even Georgina the maid, my heart immediately began beating abnormally as I tried to figure out his next move, praying for a positive outcome. As everyone in the theater knew by this time, Rose is in on the psychotic plan and won’t give Chris the car keys, while her brother Jeremy guards the front door with a lacrosse stick, a symbolism of a predominantly white sport. Peele later revealed he went with lacrosse over a golf club since that was already done before in a previous film.

Sparking An Uncomfortable Conversation From “The Sunken Place”

Many scenes throughout the film did make me feel uncomfortable, though, almost to the point where I had to get up and leave for a 30 second timeout. A prime example is when Chris is subjected to many awkward encounters and subtle racist comments at the family “party,” beginning with everyone’s black car arrival up to the painful conversations with the white guests where Chris is looked at as a puppet there for entertainment. I cringed when guests said things to Chris like, “black is in fashion,” or ask “how has the African-American experience been” for him. That was only the start. His interactions with Georgina and Logan, both robotic, were mind-boggling. The most unsettling of all was the bingo scene. I was in disgust of what was going on, as it drew eerily similar comparisons to the slave trade from America’s past.

When Chris is shackled down to an armchair in the “mold infested” basement awaiting the coagula procedure, it’s after he’s disappeared into the ground to The Sunken Place as Rose says, “You were one of my favorites.” The Sunken Place symbolizes the marginalization of black America, no matter the injustice, the systems in place whether the prison or education system to name a couple, are tactically designed to silence the people. Phase one of the procedure is the hypnotism where Chris is being broken down mentally, phase two follows with prepping his “new” psyche and finally the transmutation is performed. The scene invoked uneasy feelings reminiscent of slavery, as he’s chained against his will, freedom stripped. It wasn’t until after the film, strolling through the theater’s parking lot, that one of my childhood friends I saw the film with intelligently drew the comparison of Chris picking the cotton out of the chair to use as ear plugs to deny the hypnosis, another subdued use of symbolism.

When Chris ended up clubbing Jeremy in the head with a bloodied yellow bocce ball, another typically white sport instrument, the crowd let out a collective cheer and fist pumped, as I gasped the words, “Let’s go!” Chris ironically driving the deer head antlers through Mr. Armitage as he was prepping for the lobotomy is poetic justice at its finest. Meanwhile, Rose is upstairs minding her own business like nothing happened, too busy Googling her next victim (preferably a “Top NCAA prospect”) with framed photos of her previous boos—all of whom are now in the sunken place—hanging above her bed. Notice the snack choice: colorful Fruit Loops in one cup, with a white glass of milk kept separately, symbolizing the severed racial relations in society today and in their family.

As Chris successfully made his escape from the Armitage experiment, Rod, who had been trying to call attention to his missing friend the whole time, pulled up to save the day, a symbolism of loyalty in friendship. Admittedly, my stomach sank as I pictured the sirens being a cop rolling up to the scene to arrest Chris, but once I saw that TSA car, I let out a huge sigh of relief. The thriller ended on a positive and funny note, and the theater collectively gave a standing ovation with the credits rolling. It was a sight of beauty; I’ve never been in a theater where that was the case.

Get Out has raked in over $100 million at the box office in less than three weeks, so clearly Peele and his team are onto something and striking a nerve within the American people. The cinematic experience is a must-see in the theater, definitely worth the expensive $13 admission, which is a rarity these days. A film of this magnitude will help push the conversation about systematic racial oppression forward, but ultimately the burden falls on the shoulders of the millennial generation to invoke change.

“I wanted to make something that has a perspective that you don’t often see, but I also wanted it to be an inclusive movie,” Peele told the New York Times. “That’s the power of story and genre. You can ask a white person to see the world through the eyes of a black person for an hour and a half.”

The thought-provoking film still has my mind racing back to the strong symbolism and understated messaging from Get Out, easily the best movie I’ve seen in a long time. When I left the theater, I begin to take note of the audience standing up as the lights went on, listening into the chatter and it was unanimous approval, with biracial post-movie chatter higher than usual, debates of the film ensued immediately. I felt as if I went through a traumatic outer-body experience myself, trying to get my brain acclimated to reality once again. Peele has set the standard in the horror-satire lane with an original piece that entertained, but also left an impression on its viewers from a political, as well as racial perspective in American society. The response lead me to believe that if a powerful motion picture could ruffle the feathers of just a portion of white America, it has done its job.

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Director John Singleton poses for a portrait in Los Angeles, California.
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For John Singleton

The last time I saw my friend and brother John Singleton was last year, the year 2018, what month exactly I cannot recall. But the meet-up was for me to spend several hours with him to interview John for the book I am still writing on the life and times of Tupac Shakur. John asked me to visit his production office in Los Angeles, where I got to sit in with his team of writers, including famed novelist Walter Mosley (one of John’s mentors and heroes). John was very proud of his FX network television show Snowfall, and how it was like a prequel to his most famous movie, his first, Boyz N The Hood. During my interview with John, he mentioned several times he rarely did interviews, but that he trusted me. Little did I know it would be the final time I would ever see him in person.

I first met John Singleton in 1992, when we were both 20-something upstarts, him as the creator of a critically-acclaimed and Oscar-nominated film (when John was only 23, 24), and me a staff writer for Quincy Jones’ VIBE magazine. I do not think John even remembered our first encounter in New York City, where he simply asked myself and some other heads if we dug Boyz N The Hood, being East Coast folks. Dug it? Heck, it was and is a classic of American and world cinema. What also connected John Singleton and I through all these years was our relationships with Tupac Shakur. In one of my early VIBE cover stories on ‘Pac, John said he wanted Tupac to be Robert DeNiro to his Martin Scorsese. Sadly they only did one film together, Poetic Justice. I’ve long imagined what they could have manifested, two racially proud black sons of two strong black mothers.

In an interview last year for my Tupac book, John cried on several occasions: about the lost potential of Tupac’s life and art, of the many lost black male lives. I also noticed that John sweated quite a bit. Little did I know he was suffering from the high blood pressure that would lead to the stroke that just took his life. John gave me a lot of information he has never shared with anyone and asked me to do the right thing, over and over, with this Tupac book, especially given his great disappointment that he did not get to direct the biopic on ‘Pac.

Like me, John was a fighter, to the very end, and what they called back in the day, a race man: his life and work were for black people, largely, to correct all the racist wrongs we have seen across American pop culture from the beginning to now. John was not afraid to speak his mind, to challenge, even if it cost him many career opportunities, which I feel it did. He understood he had to speak for all of us, not just himself; that he had to sacrifice himself, his art, for the greater good of real diversity and real inclusion; that Hollywood, or America, would never change without being pushed, nonstop. John was our cinematic resister, our cinematic revolutionary. He was a USC-trained filmmaker with the independent spirit of a Melvin Van Peebles and our beloved hip-hop culture. John was high art and he was also games of spades at a fish fry in the ghetto on a Friday night.

And John was not afraid of looking himself in the mirror. In that same interview I did with him for the Tupac book, he and I spoke at length about the pitfalls of fame, especially when it comes mad young, mad early. John spoke to me about how he carried guns then, how he became something he was not, and how it could have ended his life before 30, the recklessness of it all. But because we had outlived famous and not-famous black males around us, both John and I also shared this thing called survivor’s guilt. Like why me God, why am I still here? This is the question virtually every black male in America will ask himself as he sees those around him, including those more gifted, smarter, fall, one by one. John was determined not to fall. That is what I felt in my bones when I left his office that day from what turned out to be one of the best interviews I’ve gotten for the Tupac book. John and I always stayed in touch, usually by text, but John also liked to pick up the phone and just kick it voice to voice. He was accessible in a way many in the entertainment industry are not. John did not, to me, believe his own hype. He was always about the next TV show, the next film, the next thing he had to do, and he always thought of helping others.

When I first heard John Singleton had had a stroke, all the conflicting information made me think he would pull through. But today, ironically, as I flew from my city of New York to John’s city of Los Angeles, I learned it was over, that he was being taken off life support. I cried on that plane ride, I cry in my heart as I write this now. Another black man gone too soon, from something that was preventable. But given the many challenges we face in America, the ugliness of racism, the constant need to prove ourselves, over and over, it is little wonder that so many of us are sick, are walking wounded, are working ourselves, quite literally at times, to death. I am sad because I never got on that boat of John’s for a ride he was always offering. Sailing was one of the great joys of John’s life, and I spoke with him many a day when he was on his boat. I am extremely sad because just this past Saturday, I directed and produced and wrote my very first short film, about black men and black boys, and I thought about John Singleton the entire time, how I wanted to create something with him. And how I was going to ask him to support my short film entitled “Brotha Man.”

Indeed, we had kicked around some ideas the past year or so, he had quietly supported financially my wife Jinah Parker’s theater production, SHE, a Choreoplay, and John stood by me when I filed a lawsuit against the producers of the Tupac biopic, even as I was being ridiculed by some due to false media information. John, in a word, was a friend, to me, to many, a supporter, to me, to many; and because he is of my generation, of my race, of my gender identity, he also spoke for me and to me, through his films. So a part of me has died, too, with him, and you wonder every single time you see one of your peers gone how much time you have yourself before God, the ancestors, the universe, some spirit force calls on you next. I have no idea, I am not afraid, I am stunned, yes, but I have done everything I can to prepare myself for how long or how short the rest of my life will be. And it is my humble hope that like John Singleton, when I am gone, I will have left something behind for all time. Because he did, he truly did.

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Eminem performs on stage during the MTV EMAs 2017 held at The SSE Arena, Wembley on November 12, 2017 in London, England.
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Why Would Sada Baby Not Rank Eminem In His Top Five From Detroit?

Eminem is the most prolific and successful rapper of all time. His stats can’t be faded. When it’s all said and done, we’ll be retiring his number in every stadium he’s ever sold out.

With over 100 million records sold worldwide, an Oscar for Best Original Song, 10 No. 1 albums, more than 1 billion streams on Spotify, two top 100, all-time best selling albums, Marshall Bruce Mathers III is the highest selling rapper of all time. His top five status should be firmly cemented.

The respect for Em also extends to the greatest names in hip-hop. In 2012, VIBE compiled a list of the top 40 compliments Eminem has been given from his peers with names stretching from Scarface to Redman to Jay-Z. In a 2008 interview with BBC, Nas says of Em, “He contributes so much lyrically and musically. He’s amazing.” In a 2010 conversation with Hot 97, Kanye West is on record as saying, “Nobody’s gonna be bigger than Eminem.”

So why does it seem like he isn’t getting the respect he deserves in his own city?

In a recent interview with Say Cheese TV, Detroit rapper Sada Baby – when asked if Eminem was a top five rapper – said, “Out of Detroit? Hell naw. You talking about my Detroit?” While the internet took that quote and decided their varying levels of agreement or anger, there was one thing Sada said that stood out.

“My Detroit.”

While that phrase may not mean anything to outsiders, that distinction means the world to Detroiters.

Detroit is a tale of two cities when it comes to rap. Many know iconic producer J Dilla and wordsmiths like eLZhi and Royce Da 5’9”, but the D has a long, legendary history of street rappers who have helped pave the way. That’s a legacy that younger artists such as Icewear Vezzo, Payroll Giovanni of Doughboyz Cashout, Tee Grizzley, and Sada Baby are pushing forward to this day. As a native Metro Detroiter, artist manager, and digital label manager for Soulspazm Records, Eric “Soko” Reynaert sees both sides as equally important. “The different circles carry a lot of importance in encompassing the variety we have to offer. It's all important equally because it's what makes Detroit hip-hop what it is. Detroit's been running the overseas market touring wise for years, Detroit street rap is making noise in the major label market, Danny Brown's a fucking star: it's all good for Detroit hip-hop as a whole.”

The blunt, straightforward approach of Detroit’s street rappers just doesn’t mesh well with Eminem’s style of storytelling and wordplay. Slim Shady’s knack for entendres, stuffing multisyllabic rhyme schemes inside of each bar and floating between different pockets is a dense, complex style that, in Sada Baby’s own admission, most people just don’t get. “Eminem will get to saying some shit [that’s] going over everybody’s head,” Sada shrugged. “I might be able to decipher some of that shit but that nigga’s shit going over everybody head”.

That’s Sada’s Detroit. Among his musical influences are the late, great Detroit street rappers Blade Icewood and Wipeout - both murdered over the beef between their respective crews, Street Lord'z and the Eastside Chedda Boyz. If you truly want to know what a Detroit native lives by, take a listen to the Eastside Chedda Boyz’s “Oh Boy” and Blade Icewood’s “Boy Would You.” The true anthems of the city, both songs deified by their infectious hooks, blunt and deliberate lyrics, and a simplistic yet highly effective message draped in the energy that Detroiters carry with them. They’re not trying to win you over with metaphors and similes, but rather connect to their audience with honesty and directness in their rhyming. Similar styles can be heard in other 313 legends like Big Herk, K Deezy, and even Trick Trick and his Goon Sqwad click that has been active on the city’s music scene since the mid-‘90s. These are the artists that dominated the streets and Detroit radio. Not J Dilla. Not Slum Village. Not Black Milk. Detroit’s lyrical rappers tout immense worldwide respect but have always been relegated to the background in Detroit’s hierarchy, only sniffing radio play by doing jingles for local disc jockeys.

“There’s a street side and a hip-hop side to the music scene in Detroit,” says battle rap pioneer and Detroit MC Marvwon, while explaining the differences amongst the city’s musical landscape. “The funny thing is [that] there’s no difference in level of talent. The only difference is the backdrops.”

Those backdrops are also socioeconomic in nature as Detroit is a city whose residents have been denied basic human necessities. And for the Motor City? There’s no better representation of the city than the music at the most fundamental, street level. As Marv continued to explain, “The division comes from perception. The street cats believe that there hasn’t been an accurate representation of Detroit in the music world.”

Those feelings are echoed throughout the scene. Detroit MC Seven The General traverses through both worlds in a manner that the city hasn’t seen since the late Big Proof (known as Eminem’s close friend, as a member of his group D12). As Seven explains, “When I was incarcerated, we felt that the street aspect of Detroit wasn’t being heard with Eminem. But when I came home in ‘03 and heard Rock Bottom, I realized it was there but it just wasn’t receiving the same attention nationally. It had been held back and secluded to the streets for so long that people felt Eminem didn’t like it or care. It caused a resentment and caused rappers to feel like he doesn’t listen to us so why should we listen to him. It made us ask, ‘Where on the list of Eminem‘s top five Detroit artists would any of us fit?’”

When taking in these factors, it’s easy to see why Eminem doesn’t translate well for Sada Baby. However, Eminem’s impact has transcended not only Detroit but the world. Artists such as Kendrick Lamar, Hopsin, Tyler The Creator, and Juice WRLD are amongst today’s generation of rappers that all list him as a major influence. For better or worse, Em is also a catalyst for today’s druggie rap scene. Street rappers have gone from rapping about selling drugs to today’s scene glorifying the use of Xanax and Percocet - something that Marshall pioneered on his early albums with songs like “Drug Ballad” and “Purple Pills.” And with the blockbuster film 8 Mile and its hit song “Lose Yourself,” Eminem helped take battle rap culture mainstream to unfamiliar audiences.

Thanks to Eminem, Detroit’s street rap and lyrical scenes have crossed over. Somewhere at the intersection of manager/A&R Hex Murda and Big Sean, the worlds collided. As Marv states, “Big Sean, Danny Brown, and anyone else from the city mostly talk about the same things: money, bitches, and bossing up.” For every J Dilla, we now have a Black Milk who can equally rap and produce between both worlds. Where there’s a Dex Osama, there’s a Guilty Simpson and Seven The General whose blunt and brash flows hit you in the chest as hard as their lyrical ability and wordplay.

And don’t get it twisted; Em definitely sees the work that Detroit’s street rappers are putting in. “I have a personal relationship with all of the rappers around him,” Seven says. “I feel he rocks with me and has love for me. If he could see a way for us to make bread together, I feel like he’d pull me in; but D12 is actively in the streets assisting artists. I’ve personally seen what Em does for Detroit like his partnerships with (Metro Detroit sneaker boutique) Burn Rubber and (locally-founded clothing company) Detroit vs Everybody.”

He may not be your flavor but there’s no denying the skill and impact that Em has had on the city of Detroit and the genre as a whole. If Eminem isn’t top five in Detroit, you’re doing it wrong.

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Cardi B and Beautycon co-founder and CEO Moj Mahdara in conversation at the "Making Money Moves" panel.
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Beautycon NYC: 4 Takeaways From The 5th Annual Event

For the fifth year in a row, Beautycon — an annual festival bringing together beauty and fashion brands, fans, celebrities, and influencers — packed the Jacob Javits Center in Manhattan, N.Y.

On April 6 and 7, thousands of women, men, gender non-conforming individuals and more took part in the exciting, sold-out event, which saw stars such as Cardi B, Issa Rae, Yara Shahidi, Marsai Martin and Regina Hall partaking in panels, workshops, tutorials, meet-and-greets and much more. Brands like The Mane Choice, Too Faced, Sally Beauty, and Rimmel were on hand to promote and sell products, and all festivalgoers went home with a multitude of free products.

The annual two-day event’s underlying message is to highlight a more diverse, inclusive world, with hopes of filtering out judgment and negativity. Whether you’re just starting out in the beauty game or you’ve got hundreds of thousands of followers aiming to learn your ways, Beautycon aims to make everyone feel safe, welcome and ultimately beautiful in the skin they’re in.

“We are far from perfect, we are still learning,” Beautycon co-founder and CEO Moj Mahdara said during the event. “We are growing every day, and it’s really all of you that make this better and better.” Beautycon festivals are held in New York City, Los Angeles, London, and recently, the company announced that for the first time this June, Beautycon is heading to Japan.

VIBE Vixen got a chance to sit in on panels, partake in the various installations and take in all of the sights of the Beautycon NYC Festival. Here are four things we learned while at this year’s edition in the Big Apple.

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Inclusion Is Finally In, So Now It’s Time For Allyship

While makeup companies are starting to be more inclusive as it pertains to consumers of color, it’s important for brands to continue the crusade by being allies.

During a panel called “The Intersection of Fashion and Beauty,” moderator Priscilla Ono praised makeup artist Raisa Flowers for being open and honest about the disadvantages makeup artists of color face. While their work is championed online “for clicks,” Flowers noted that some of the best makeup artists of color are still unable to find work in the industry. A similar sentiment trended on Twitter earlier in the year regarding the lack of black makeup artists and hairstylists in Hollywood.

“In the industry, they don’t really bring us out,” Flowers said of the power of social media for beauty gurus. “I work with mostly black women, but I can do [makeup on] everyone, and [I’m hired] to [work with] certain people… even if it’s not on a black woman, the work I do is powerful enough to change the energy in the room.”

Of course, the importance of allyship and knowing consumers translates to clothing brands. As we’ve seen this year with luxury brands such as Gucci, it’s imperative to make sure that the history of certain communities is known, so that brands won’t make massive mistakes or exclude a group through their work or designs. This can be done by employing diverse, qualified members to these teams and taking into consideration the lives of all people who buy into these brands.

 

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My Collab with @eloquii has been a dream to create over the past year! Getting to design for sizes 14+ with a brand that knows FIT so well! And I had NO LIMITS! Something I’m so grateful for! I hope you enjoy this collection as much as I do💛#PriscillaOnoxEloquii

A post shared by Priscilla Ono (@priscillaono) on Apr 5, 2019 at 8:09am PDT

All Shapes And Sizes Deserve Representation In Beauty And Fashion

With fast-fashion brands such as Fashion Nova, there appears to be just one body type that is championed. Although the Instagram-favorite has extended themselves with lines for men and plus-sized women, it’s important that all shapes and sizes are represented in the fashion and beauty spaces.

“Across the board, there are different aesthetics [for plus sized women],” fashion photographer Lydia Hudgens explained during the panel, ‘The Intersection of Fashion and Beauty.’ “When women are plus-sized, there’s a different room for them. She’s different, you’re different, I’m different. Having a voice and a different style heard is important too.”

Beautycon’s commitment to diversity was apparent in the brands they brought to their event. Cacique Intimates is a lingerie brand specializing in sizes from 0-28. Their display and mannequin showcased the plus-sized products in their collection, which was incredibly refreshing to see. Makeup artist Priscilla Ono also debuted her clothing design collaboration with Eloquii, which specializes in eye-popping and trendy fashions catered to women who are a size 14 and up.

 

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We just LOVE our booth @beautycon in NYC. Follow the story for more! #BeautyConNYC 💕

A post shared by Cacique (@caciqueintimates) on Apr 6, 2019 at 11:44am PDT

Bright Colors Are In

If you’re committed to Yeezy Season neutrals such as grays, greens and black in your wardrobe, you’re in for a bit of disappointing news. It was clear at the Beautycon NYC Festival that vibrant fashion is the theme of 2019.

Bright pink and green pastels filled the Convention Center. Regardless of whether you’re trying to be a “Cozy Girl,” or if you’re ready to rip the runway, your best bet is to go with something as bright as humanly possible if you’re trying to make a statement this year.

This suggestion also works with accessories. Patterned head wraps were en vogue at this year’s Beautycon NYC Festival, as well as bright bundles, wigs and weaves. The energetic and fun colors helped these individuals both fit in and stand out.

 

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Struttin through #BeautyConNYC in @fashionnova 💚 @thezurisaddai

A post shared by Aliya Janell (@thealiyajanell) on Apr 8, 2019 at 11:02am PDT

 

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The cast of “Little”, @issarae in @therow, @marsaimartin in @ralphandrusso, and @morereginahall, glam up to attend BeautyCon NYC! #IssaRae #TheRow #MarsaiMartin #RalphandRusso #ReginaHall #LittleMovie #talksandthoughts

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Beautycon’s Tone Could Use A Facelift

As Beautycon co-founder Moj Mahdara said, the five-year-old company is continuing to grow and learn. While Beautycon’s motive is to start necessary, intentional conversations in the fashion, beauty and social justice realms, it seems that the NYC festival needed a little work with keeping a consistent tone throughout the two-day event.

For example, we love Cardi B’s unapologetic, unfiltered approach to life just as much as we love Yara Shahidi’s intelligence and conscious way of looking at the world. Women are multifaceted, and it’s important to show both sides. While it was amazing to have both of these figures at the event, if you’re looking at the full scope of Beautycon, the ebb and flow made the content of the panels just seem a bit all over the place.

Cardi’s explicitness during her panel “Making Money Moves” was expected. However, there were far too many children in the audience for some of the comments she brought forth. The day before, a large group of people ended up leaving Shahidi’s “fireside chat” called “Fighting the Fear of Being Yourself," which some who passed VIBE Vixen called- for lack of a better word- ‘boring.’ It was right after a twerktastic dance performance and motivational speech from dancer and choreographer, Aliya Janell.

Now, this isn’t to say that Beautycon doesn’t know who they’re attempting to reach out to. It’s clear through the brands that attended the festival that the company knows who they’d like to get the attention of. But when it comes to the tone of conversations they were trying to promote, coupled with celebrities and speakers for these particular conversations, they could use some readjusting. There wasn’t the right rhythm most of the time, however, the company continues to grow and thrive. Hopefully, they’ll figure out their tone in due time.

 

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A quick throwback to yesterday when @noor and I reunited at @beautycon to talk about media, social engagement and inclusion 😘❣️ a big merci to @moj

A post shared by Yara (يارا‎) Shahidi (@yarashahidi) on Apr 7, 2019 at 5:30pm PDT

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