{ "article": { "title" : "Yasmin Ali", "author" : "Yasmin Ali", "category" : "interviews", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/global-resistance-art-yasmin-ali", "date" : "2025-02-04 15:33:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/yasmin-ali-walking-dead-1.jpg", "excerpt" : "", "content" : "EIP: Can you share your journey to becoming a costume designer & stylist?YASMIN: My journey to becoming a costume designer and stylist has been deeply intertwined with my identity and heritage. Growing up as a Spanish-born, Palestinian American, I was constantly surrounded by stories, textiles, and cultural expressions that reflected resilience and artistry. My love for fashion and storytelling began early, as I watched my family celebrate traditions through clothing and Tatreez embroidery that carried centuries of meaning.My venture into costume design and styling wasn’t exactly linear. I started working in the fashion industry with brands like Ralph Lauren and J.Crew, but I quickly became disillusioned by the wastefulness and monotony of the industry. It felt like there was a lack of soul and variety, and I craved something that allowed me to express my creativity in a more dynamic way.By chance, I attended a plant medicine retreat in upstate New York, where I befriended a quirky director. Later that year, he hired me to design costumes for RuPaul’s Drag Race Christmas music videos. That project was a revelation for me. It combined everything I loved—creativity, storytelling, and collaboration with bold, inspiring people.I also realized that my ADHD, which can make routine work challenging, thrives in the kind of environment costume design provides. Each project is different, requiring a wide variety of skills and offering endless opportunities to meet and work with fascinating, creative individuals. It felt like I had finally found my calling.Whether working on a film, a theatrical production, or styling an individual, I see each project as a chance to weave narratives through fabric, texture, and form.Over time, I’ve learned to use my role to amplify voices and explore the intersections of identity, culture, and fashion. My goal is always to create designs that resonate emotionally, while also celebrating diversity and creativity.EIP: Over the years, do you have a wearable piece that has become your absolute favorite?YASMIN: One of my favorite pieces is a wrap skirt by the Palestinian brand Trashy Clothing. Their designs are rebellious, playful and impenitently political, blending satire and wit to tackle heavy topics like colonialism and cultural appropriation. What I love most is how they use fashion to tell stories—turning everyday garments into symbols of resistance and pride. This skirt, for example, feels like more than just clothing; it’s a reminder of the power of joy and creativity as tools for resilience. Trashy’s work always challenges conventional norms, and wearing their pieces makes me feel connected to both my roots and a broader, unapologetically rebellious spirit. It’s a piece that feels both nostalgic and contemporary, and it’s such a fun way to celebrate Palestinian culture with a sense of humor.EIP: How has your childhood and upbringing shaped your style and approach to fashion today?YASMIN: I’ve always been drawn to wearing a ‘conversation piece’—something that invites connection and sparks dialogue.Growing up, I was also ridiculed for being different and experimental with my style, so fashion became a way for me to carve out a space where I felt safe and expressed my individuality. I still carry that desire for connection through my style, using it as a bridge to communicate and interact with others in a way that feels authentic to me. I was incredibly protective of my hijabi mother and friends. Going to high school in a post-9/11 world, during the Iraqi war, made me hyper- aware of the xenophobia and hatred directed at Arabs and Muslims. I remember getting into fights and standing up to cis-het white men who bullied me and my Muslim sisters. This fierce sense of protection for my community has always been a part of me. Because of that, I’m so proud to have been part of projects like Ms. Marvel and Ramy, which portray the diverse, multifaceted world of Muslims and the SWANA community and diaspora. These projects are personal to me, as they show that our stories and identities are complex and beautiful, and they push against stereotypes while highlighting our strength and resilience.EIP: Tell us about politics and how it crosses over with your work?YASMIN: Being a Palestinian American designer and stylist intoday’s world has been challenging, to say the least. I took my first trip to my homeland in October 2023, and I landed on the 2nd, right in the midst of the atrocities unfolding. Being there, just kilometers away from the genocide, changed me in ways I can’t fully describe. I’ve always been politically active—so much so that it’s cost me jobs in the past—but witnessing this level of violence firsthand redefined my sense of activism.Fashion and style are a form of expression, but what does ‘expression’ mean when you’re silenced for simply calling out atrocities? For me, clothing is a language. It speaks without words. Just walking by someone wearing a keffiyeh can provoke a nod of approval or a look of disgust. It’s incredible how powerful a single piece of fabric can be.The film and TV industry has faced numerous setbacks, from COVID to the writers’ and SAG strikes, but for me, it became crystal clear that this industry, as it stands, needs disruption. If I’m going to lose opportunities for standing up against genocide, I don’t want to be working with soulless people. I’ve had countless colleagues and friends tell me they sympathize with Palestinians but can’t post anything for fear of losing their jobs. What does that tell you? Who holds the power?So, to be able to collaborate with people and projects aligned with my values has been a blessing. From Mona Chalabi reaching out to create a custom keffiyeh dress, to styling the ‘Gaza is Calling’ music video for Mustafa, working with Bella Hadid, and designing a short film for my friend Laith Nakli, these are the kinds of projects that fuel me. This is why I do what I do—to help my community share their stories, to inspire others, and to unapologetically celebrate who we are and where we come from." } , "relatedposts": [ { "title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine", "author" : "EIP Editors", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine", "date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg", "excerpt" : "", "content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}" } , { "title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP", "author" : "EIP Editors", "category" : "events", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip", "date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg", "excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing", "content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine " } , { "title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment", "author" : "Khaoula Ghanem", "category" : "", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady", "date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg", "excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.", "content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last." } ] }