Brooklyn Academy of Music

For as long as I can remember, people have been saying that I remind them a lot of Nicole Kidman. So when Adam Ginsberg and I were asked to make a piece of content promoting Brooklyn Academy of Music's state-of-the-art new BAM Rose Cinemas at BAM KBH, we decided to pay homage to Nicole's indisputable second greatest performance of all time (the first being Paddington). Thanks to all of the people above me who let this slip through. New screens open TODAY at BAM KBH—come see something!

Last week at Brooklyn Academy of Music, I went to see LACRIMA - and haven't stopped thinking about it since. I've been going to BAM's Next Wave Festival for years, but this one hit close to home. Caroline Guiela Nguyen's three hour exploration of a royal wedding dress's creation left me both devastated and oddly seen. The production is ambitious in its scope—following the journey of a single dress from a Parisian haute couture atelier to lacemakers in Alençon to an embroidery workshop in Mumbai. The innovative staging was mesmerizing: moveable pattern tables transformed into different workspaces, screens showed close-ups of actors' hands sewing pearls while performing live on stage. The audience felt like we were inside the workshop itself, witnessing the relentless tick of the deadline clock. But what struck me most was watching these artisans destroy themselves in pursuit of perfection. Abdul, the embroiderer, slowly going blind as he fastens 150,000 pearls onto duchesse satin. Marion, the head seamstress, sacrificing her safety and sanity to meet an impossible deadline. The lacemakers of Alençon spending 2,000 hours restoring a veil that will be worn for just 27 minutes. As someone who has spent most of her career behind the scenes in fashion, I felt this in my bones. Our industry asks so much from those who love it most. It's punishing, often cruel, to the very people who give it life. The play exposed what we rarely discuss openly: the devastating gap between those who create beauty and those who can afford to wear it. Luxury fashion depends on the extraordinary skills of artisans whose expertise takes decades to develop, yet their work remains undervalued and often invisible. Fast fashion exploits skilled sewers whose labor must be kept cheap to maintain those impossibly low price points. In both cases, the human cost is hidden beneath the surface of the garments we covet. This isn't just about fashion—it's about how we value craft, expertise, and human labor. It's about the stories we tell ourselves about "passion" and "dedication" to justify unsustainable working conditions. It's about who gets credit and who remains nameless. The production asks a question I've been grappling with in my career: In the space between what destroys us and what gives us purpose, how do we find meaning? Why do we continue to pour ourselves into an industry that can be so unrelenting? Seeing our reality reflected back on stage—the beauty and the brutality intertwined—felt like a kind of reckoning. It reminded me why conversations about sustainability in fashion can't just be about overproduction, materials and supply chains. They must also be about the people whose hands create what we wear. LACRIMA is uncomfortable viewing, bordering on stressful, but perhaps these are the stories need to be more prevelant. What would it take to reimagine fashion as an industry that truly values the people it depends on? https://lnkd.in/eZUhTi7S