Very little about the whole John Galliano mess surprised me - the allegations seemed plausible, and the video was just the proverbial nail in the coffin. Even though I know it’s supposed to be innocent until proven guilty, I also know that where there is smoke there is usually a racist. (That’s the expression, right?)

What did surprise me, and I mean this in the best possible way, was LVMH’s swift and decisive action: immediate suspension, followed by termination. It surprised me because it seemed like such a reasonable response to a terrible situation. Lets be real, the fashion industry is not known for handling these situations reasonably.

In any other profession, just the allegations of offenses like anti-Semitism, racism, sexual assault, or child labour law violations would be enough to get someone fired. Yet when it comes to people in fashion - be they designers like Galliano, editors, stylists, photographers - there seems to be a never-ending stream of people who rush to the guilty party’s defense. It’s all a conspiracy. He’s a sweetheart. He was provoked. She apologized. You’re being too hasty. By far the worst defense I saw was that Galliano could not possibly be racist because “[his] multi-ethnic shows, celebrating the beauty of nomadic worlds, and looking into visual languages of forgotten minorities (from everywhere on this planet), has brilliantly proved it to everyone from collection to collection since years.” Being “inspired” by a culture’s fashion doesn’t mean you can’t hate the people wearing it.

The fashion industry does not get a free pass on bad behaviour just because they happen to create great clothes. It goes without saying that John Galliano is an incredibly talented designer, but he’s an employee of LVMH first. An employee who professes to love Hitler simply cannot remain on the payroll of a responsible corporation. Well played, LVMH - I hope that more businesses follow in your example. Most importantly I hope one day I won’t feel like applauding those who stand up for basic ethics like “don’t be racist.”

- Haley Mlotek

While it is a great honour to be the first male Wornette, it is also a great responsibility, one which I will not take lightly. I know my historic internship shatters boundaries and I hope I represent my gender well. Although my academic background is in history, I have avidly followed fashion since I was 14 and the glittering world of John Galliano broke up the bleak days of high school. After a Kafkaesque Masters program and a quarter-life existential crisis, I escaped to Ireland where I got to read for fun, make international friends and visit Amsterdam, Edinburgh, and Berlin. But, like Dorothy Gale, I’m figuring out that to find happiness, sometimes you need to go no further than your own backyard. I am currently taking journalism classes at Ryerson, pondering the possibilities of freelance writing, and am overjoyed to be involved with a publication for which sorting through my cluttered stacks of old fashion magazines can be considered research.

Current Inspirations

Manish Arora
I just saw this designer, who has been referred to as the John Galliano of Indian fashion on Fashion Television. He spoke about how India, long acknowledged for its incredibly beautiful textiles, has not been traditionally known for interesting shapes, the sari being essentially a large piece of rectangular fabric. I’d love it if Mumbai became the next Milan.

Go Fug Yourself
I have become addicted to this blog written by two smart, sassy women about the (mostly) fashion mistakes that celebrities make. Although their snarkiness is laugh-out-loud funny, deep down you know that they have a sincere fondness for the zany stars and outfits that they lampoon.

Zachary Koski
Zachary Koski is a Toronto-based photographer I just heard about. Some of his photos are fashion-y, others are just simply gorgeous.

Shorpy
Shorpy updates constantly with high-definition old photographs of, among other things, cities, buildings, cars, athletes and well-dressed women. It is so easy to only associate past eras of clothing with their perspective cinematic eras and I’d found it useful to follow this site to see what women who were not movie stars dressed like in the past.

What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear?
This blog is dedicated to the prim fashions of Jayma Mays’s neurotic but sweet teacher character on Glee, which by this point you’re either watching or you’re not. Each era needs its television style icon, and is it too early to suggest cute Miss. Pillsbury as the Carrie Bradshaw for our jittering, anxious times?