Congratulations to Zohran Mamdani.

Your win is a bright spot in a city that often forgets who it belongs to. It’s bold, necessary, and deeply deserved.

And speaking of New York…

The showroom of American ambition. Where wealth, image, and influence walk hand in hand. The it-place for fashion, media, and everything in between. And at the center of its style empire? Anna Wintour.

A woman I’ve admired. Been infatuated with. Confounded by. Happy with. Angry with.

She’s both myth and machinery—an editor, a gatekeeper, a cultural force. Someone who shaped fashion into something that could sit beside politics, art, and power with equal gravity. I’ve read about her. Studied her moves. Imagined her decisions. And still—what would Anna do? is something I will never understand.

Not because I’m not brilliant. But because a woman like me was never meant to.

There’s something haunting about that.

As the world burns, as wars rage, as our communities fight for breath and dignity—New York fashion just keeps going. It glides forward with its front rows, its exclusives, its velvet ropes and afterparties. Unbothered. Untouched. Just oblivion.

That’s what gets me. The disconnect. The performance of progressiveness. The unwavering calendar. Shows go on. Capsules drop. Influencers twirl on sidewalks. It’s surreal. It’s seductive. It’s maddening.

And still—there’s something about New York City.

It holds a certain magic, doesn’t it? The energy. The ambition. The promise that if you just get in, it might finally all make sense. It makes you dream, even when you know better.

But I’ve stopped waiting to be invited in.

Fashion can’t keep pretending it’s the conscience of culture while ignoring the cost of the world it thrives in. I don’t have the answers. I just know that the runway isn’t enough anymore. That beauty without context is starting to look like denial. That style without justice feels like silence.

I’ll always love fashion. I’ll always pay attention. I might even still wonder about Anna.

But I won’t lose myself in the fantasy of New York.
Because I’m too busy trying to build something real.