Katy Perry and Orlando Bloom Are Blonde! 8 Celebrity Couples Who Dyed Their Hair Together

Photo: Getty Images

As of last night, Katy Perry and Orlando Bloom have officially taken their relationship to the next level: The duo are now both blonde. Just as Narcissus was enamored with his own reflection, and as BFFs are known to embrace #twinning looks, many of our favorite celebrity couples have aesthetically declared their love with matching manes, snipping and dying hair and, in the process, making mirrors of each other.

Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain famously hit the red carpet of the 1993 MTV Video Music Awards with daughter Frances Bean in tow, the duo each rocking sun-streaked chops, Love’s crimson lip an echo of Cobain’s raspberry-framed shades, baby Frances’s feathery blonde a sign of more matching to come.

Johnny Depp’s slicked-back brunette crop looked even better next to then-girlfriend Kate Moss’s flirtation with the dark side, while Brad Pitt and Gwyneth Paltrow took the leap from coordinated to identical with a set of mimetically highlighted side-parted pixies primed for ocean blue gazes and incomparable bone structure. And though both Beckhams love a good hair metamorphosis, the couple’s most double-take-worthy moment came in 1997 with matching piece-y, in-their face golden chops that was as much of a sign of commitment as an actual wedding ring. Here, eight couples who make the case for hair pairings.

 

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Cameron Dallas Takes Us Inside His Milan Men’s Fashion Week Experience

Domenico and I always have fun together.

For 22-year-old Cameron Dallas, life is looking pretty good. The former Vine star made the move to television with his own Netlix series, Chasing Cameron, and conquered Fashion Week last season in the front row at Calvin Klein and Dolce & Gabbana. And on Saturday, he made his debut at Dolce & Gabbana’s men’s show in Milan and was anointed as a #DGMillennial. Here, Dallas breaks down his time in the Italian fashion capital with his mom—it was her first time!—and what it was like hanging out with everyone from designers to pop star Austin Mahone.

 

 

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All the Fashion Lessons Michelle Obama Taught Us as First Lady

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Nearly eight years ago, when Barack Obama became the first African-American president of the United States, there wasn’t necessarily a template for the newly minted African-American First Lady, either.

To be sure, there were responsibilities—state dinners, holiday decorations—inherent to the role that Michelle Obama would step into. But the Princeton University–educated, South Side Chicago–born lawyer was the first woman of color to occupy such a role of vast influence and impact. Seemingly without hesitation, Mrs. Obama enacted a tactic that cut across racial, class, and political lines: indisputable style. Whether she was wearing budget-friendly J.Crew or the more daring designs of Alexander McQueen, she used exuberant, progressive fashion to make multiple generations of Americans feel decidedly modern and part of a political system that for so long appeared far too insular.

In a pop of canary yellow or holding court in regal purple, there was a sense of optimism that combated, say, a tenuous economic recession. Intuitive to the customs and traditions of our international allies, the First Lady welcomed heads of state in inviting and thoughtful fashions: rose-gold chain-mail Atelier Versace to dine with the Italian Prime Minister; a red Alexander McQueen gown for the Chinese state dinner. To be sure Mrs. Obama’s look was consistent—but always surprising—she mixed in clothes by younger American designers with fashion-forward pieces that instantly became headline-making news. With such growing traction, FLOTUS used her position to bring awareness to the causes dear to her: women’s rights, child obesity, and military families. Michelle, as President Obama said just last week in his already historic farewell speech, took on a role “[she] didn’t ask for” but made it her own with grace and grit.

It’s perhaps why it’s difficult to see Michelle Obama leave the White House this Friday. Her tenure as First Lady, quite simply, was a game changer, upending the rules and rewriting them entirely. But luckily, her legacy remains a template we can all follow—from our wardrobes to the kind of political impact we’d like to make in the next four years.

 

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A Solid Men’s Season in Milan: Vogue Runway’s Editors Discuss Prada, Zegna, Marni, and More

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Luke Leitch, Contributing Editor
When times are tough, what do you do? Prada, almost always the bellwether of the season, looked inward. As Ms. Prada said, she searched for smallness to undercut bigness. This was strange, because Prada is almost the biggest brand—and certainly has the biggest reputation—in all of fashion. So this season’s collection seemed almost apologetic. The buyers will be delighted, though—as were many of the mainstream men’s magazine editors I spoke to—because it was both highly shootable and wearable.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

More assertive, far more, was Jeremy Scott at Moschino. As we did a Facebook Live video after his show, Scott’s voice cracked when he urged you, me, anyone to start writing to their congressmen and women to defend the rights that the incoming president has committed to undo. The collection, spoken in fashionese, was dark with warning and gloomy portend. And the insertion of Judy Blame’s gleaming mundanities, made beautiful because of the eye more than the subject, was inspired.

At Zegna the arrival of Alessandro Sartori was a big deal for another brand in flux. I really enjoyed the clothes but thought the production was oversize. Zegna might be the biggest single menswear brand in the world, but each customer has an intimate relationship with their clothes. This should be reflected on the runway. Up close in Florence, Zegna’s cousin brand, Z Zegna, was far more approachable.

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Photo: Courtesy of Federico Curradi

A few more points. Federico Curradi is an interesting newcomer; a barefoot-modeled, ecologically aware brand is a rare thing in Milan. I wish I hadn’t missed Damir Doma—unavoidably—who is one of the strongest artistic designers here. If I died and went to heaven, I’d wear Brunello Cucinelli, Missoni, and Massimo Alba every day. With Car Shoes.

Amy Verner, Contributing Editor
Luke, I can confirm you missed yet another evocative show from Damir. Having written about him when he was still installed in Paris, I was pleased to see the merging of his men’s and women’s collections; he’s set out to live by the notion of Always for Love without such presumed naïveté appearing in the clothes.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

I suppose I was most curious to see how Marni would fare post–Consuelo Castiglioni’s departure, especially since the final collection under her direction seemed so on message. So what if the clothes looked a little Prada—creative director Francesco Risso is an alum, after all. The real takeaway was how much his high-style coder persona fit nicely into a geeks-shall-inherit vision of the future. But unlike the usual archetype, these guys had attitude and have every intention of going out. Now we wait to see how Risso envisions the women.

Here is where I backtrack to point out that this was my first men’s Fashion Week in Milan. No jaded views yet no previous seasons to measure against. So the fact that Canali opted for a presentation over a show, allowing people contact with the fabrics—so wondrously soft and weightless—seemed like a no-brainer to me, never mind the Dario Marianelli score filling the space as part of Ivan Cotroneo’s poetic film backtracking through the construction of a jacket.

Marianelli’s music piped through the winter scene at Moncler Gamme Bleu, where Thom Browne’s concept of mountain climbing meant lacing the models’ legs together so they trudged through faux snow. As they were doing so, I tried to imagine all the real-world uses of a jacket covered in carabiners and couldn’t really come up with any, aside from clipping myself into place on the Paris Métro to avoid touching the poles. Which makes me realize that the beaver fur beards would be cool cough guards.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

Germ phobias aside: Lee Wood is going to ensure that Dirk Bikkembergs doesn’t descend back into tacky, but a complete brand turnaround is going to require a lot more than a respectable runway show.

Nick Remsen, Contributing Editor
Luke, regarding your point about Prada seeming almost apologetic: At the show, my thoughts veered toward . . . let’s call them vagaries in chronology. Weird time warps. Here was Prada designing for later this year, but with such a plainly ’70s time stamp. So ’70s, in fact, that it didn’t seem, and still doesn’t seem, very fresh—the decade and its duds have been done to death. I think I told you this over WhatsApp, but it had me imagining what my dad would’ve worn on a freak cold day in Hawaii in 1976 (which was odd, because my dad is from New York). Prada’s contemporary twists—or even post-contemporary, as they reminded me of the consequences of gene splicing—were in her freaky little details, like fur-covered whelk necklaces. Those I liked.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

There were other moments of temporal turmoil. At Moschino, Jeremy Scott took Renaissance frescoes and clashed them with futuristic robotic space battles. At Malibu 1992, the new sportswear label from Dorian Stefano Tarantini, the edgy outerwear felt very modern, almost pioneering even, but Tarantini was inspired by ’90s-era Blumarine and Milanese nightlife from that same decade. Armani took tried-and-true tailoring from the ’80s and enlivened it with innovative wrapped accents, like “sleeve scarves.” I hadn’t seen those before. Even Fendi gave me Margot Tenenbaum early-2000s vibes with a perhaps prescient, as-yet-to-arrive cleanness apparent, too.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

Dolce & Gabbana tried to seize the moment, our now, by hosting a cast of dozens of social media–famous faces. The best thing about this show was its excellent choreography and production. But the big splash didn’t really do it for me; the intent fell flat. I thought to myself, over-dramatically: “Social media is dead.” It’s not; there were hundreds of people outside of Cameron Dallas’s hotel. But it makes you think, with our present being so muddied and uncertain and ID-less, in a way, perhaps that’s what drove Milan’s creatives to pull more so from the past and the unknown.

Tiziana Cardini, Contributing Editor
My Milanese Fashion Week always starts in Florence at Pitti, which I always look forward to because the guys there are doing a tremendous job; they’re smart and cool and always with the finger on the pulse. After all, before flying all the applauding fashion flock over to exotic Kaliningrad for his extravaganza, Gosha Rubchinskiy had his first grand fashion show staged in a quite Soviet-looking Florentine location just last season, thanks to the always-alert Pitti guys. So, hey! Please stop thinking that the Italian fashion sense is as modern as the Colosseum.

On menswear, Florence and Milan are more and more working as a continuum, which I really think is great. Florence has the incommensurable bonus of mind-blowing locations, which often become the set for exquisite, cultured fashion exhibitions like the one Angelo Flaccavento curated this season for Kiton. I’d love to see more of the same spirit here in Milano—fashion people love to be entertained, and to be thrown a juicy bone to pick. A good controversy goes a long way. But no worries, Milano will get there.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

Talking of controversial, of course, Miuccia is the undisputed Queen, ça va sans dire. I have to say that I’m totally partial to her taste, and not just because I’m Milanese. I just love it—in whatsoever form. Not much of a fashion critique here, I’m afraid. I’m always amused by her perverse thinking and her twisted intellectual mockery; the way she’s able to keep everybody on their toes guessing what she’s thinking is just too brilliant. Yet what never fails to fascinate me is the sublime good taste of her quirk. And the clothes! At every single Prada show—men’s or women’s, it makes no difference—the feeling I have is probably the same that Ulysses had when listening to the Sirens. Better I’d be glued to the seat, if not I’d run to the store and buy everything immediately, in irrepressible see-now-buy-now mode, flagging my exhausted credit card.

This long preamble is just to say that I loved her men’s show; I just can’t resist a good rendition of the ’70s, and hers was the best I’ve seen of the many silly ones that have populated the catwalks from the beginning of fashion time. I didn’t find it apologetic one bit—apologies just don’t seem to suit her.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

Which leads me to the following consideration. Unfortunately, working with a genius doesn’t make you one. As Sigmund Freud always stressed, to really give birth to your true creative self, you’ve got to get rid of the mother, or of the father, inside you. Francesco Risso at Marni should consider such advice—not that he has to undergo any kind of psychoanalysis, he seems perfectly sane and his talent is obvious. His many years at Prada are a tremendous bonus, a privilege that many designers of his generation can only dream of. Marni also has a fabulous pedigree and a story full of the finest quirk. He’s got a stellar vocabulary from both sides. Which means that the guy had to deal not only with one, but with two mothers here, so I guess the burden for him could’ve been quite substantial. No wonder that in his first outing the references were aplenty—easily traceable for a Prada fanatic like this writer who can reference every single collection since the beginning of the Prada-sphere. Yet now Risso’s got to find the chops to get rid of both ladies, one way or another. His first Marni show had a sort of demented, poetic freshness that was as irritating as it was appealing—it felt totally bonkers and totally his own, and that is the peculiar style that I think he should build upon. I really look forward to seeing him flying at full force the banner of his new whimsy, and seeing it develop an unadulterated, original vision. Milano definitely needs it.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

Amy Verner
I’m back to pick up where Tiziana left off. Because I sense that Sunnei’s Loris Messina and Simone Rizzo have the potential to shift the perception of Milanese fashion. They understand the importance of polish, but they express it with cool irreverence. The J’adorerei Sunnei speaks more to their interest in co-opting existing codes (in this case, Dior) than being stylistically (or grammatically) correct. I would also like to take this moment to applaud Cédric Charlier for not only making the leap into menswear, but also for adapting the fashion calendar to his needs versus sticking to the status quo. He showed his full Fall ’17 women’s collection simultaneously; and while this presents some benefits, it is not risk-free. But this is what creativity—whether in clothes or in business—is all about.

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Photo: Indigital.tv

Luke Leitch
Okay, so it’s looping back to me. I’ve just seen a strong Giorgio Armani show and a really impressive Milan debut from three designers on the Camera Della Moda’s New Generation initiative. This is the menswear equivalent of the Who Is on Next? events that happen here during womenswear—which were spearheaded by Franca Sozzani, the Editor in Chief of Italian Vogue who died in December. Looking at the three collections today—please check out Moto Guo—plus considering Curradi, Nick’s impressions of Malibu 1992, Amy’s of Sunnei, plus my fond memories of Sansovino 6 back in Florence, all makes me think that this was a solid Italian season for presenting potential. To paraphrase Silvia Venturini Fendi backstage, without optimism and positivity, you’re scuppered; Italian fashion has good grounds for both. Now, where’s my passport?

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Dakota Johnson’s Fancy Flats Steal the Show

Dakota Johnson

While it’s been well documented that Dakota Johnson has one of Hollywood’s most coveted shoe collections, it appears that the Fifty Shades Darker star has added a new pair of fancy flats to her repertoire. Spotted out in Los Angeles yesterday, Johnson kept things casual, letting her luxe loafers from The Row steal the show.

Taking cues from the designers of her shoes, Johnson channeled a West Coast Olsen in a slouchy, oversize cardigan, vintage-inspired button-fly jeans, and a boyfriend-fit T-shirt. Her leather slip-ons feature intricate multicolored beadwork that played off the colors of her outfit. Green juice, salad, and iPhone act as Los Angeles–friendly on-the-go accessories while silver-rimmed shades provide a paparrazi-proof finish.

 

Dakota Johnson Finds Her Inner Supermodel

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What’s Italian for Ceramics? Hamish Bowles Makes the Discovery

Photo: Hamish Bowles

There is nothing I like more than a museum with an in-depth collection in a single area—the Charles Hosmer Morse Museum of American Art in Orlando, Florida, for instance, with its breathtaking collection of Louis Comfort Tiffany’s chimerical glass pieces, or the Pre-Columbian treasury at the Larco Museum in Lima, Peru. And in Turin, Italy, director Ginevra Elkann often curates the galleries in the Pinacoteca Giovanni e Marella Agnelli (founded by her grandparents and based around their own wondrous collections) with exhibitions dedicated to showcasing collector’s passions—from Mario Testino’s collection of (other artists’) photography to Gilbert & George’s postcards and Damien Hirst’s memento mori.

So en route to New Year’s Eve festivities in Umbria, I was delighted to discover a delightful museum of local ceramics when I made a pit stop in Deruta, the quaint hilltop town between Rome and Florence.

Even from the motorway it is evident that this town has been the cradle of ceramics production in Italy since the Middle Ages, when it was discovered that the local clay was ideally suited to manufacturing china. There are ceramics shops everywhere, from vast galleries filled with Vegas-scaled majolica extravaganzas to tiny little artisans’ boutiques crowded with irresistible cups and mugs priced for every pocket. (My bubble-wrapped carry-on, of course, became both a worry and a headache.)

Many of these modern pieces are fashioned after Renaissance models and made the time-honored way, and it was a thrill to see the originals in the Ceramics Museum, housed in a sprawling municipal castle in the heart of the old town at the top of the hill. Its galleries are groaning with amazing items. There are 15th-century Bella Donna plates and ewers depicting period beauties, and Raffael-esque ware decorated with fanciful creatures and grotesques like the frescoes in the Palazzo Medici. There is even a pavement of ceramic tiles dating from 1524 and discovered just in the last century, preserved under a later floor in the local church of Saint Francis. There are 18th-century rococo swirls and early-20th-century Deco geometrics—and in the mid-century period, the town discovered a new source of ceramic revenue when they began producing the delightfully kitschy candy bowls in which the country’s famed Baci Perugina chocolates were gift wrapped—you simply ate the bonbons and kept the china.

I just love another knickknack to dust.

 

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Why Die Antwoord’s Ninja Has the Ultimate Weird Dad Style

alexander wang

Dad style doesn’t have to mean flubbish sweaters or awkwardly fitting jeans. Take Ninja, of the South African rap group Die Antwoord who has been putting a freaky bite into the concept of paternal style for years. And, as of late, the father has become a bit of a runway sensation. Already a regular at Alexander Wang shows with bandmate Yolandi Visser, Ninja went to the Spring 2017 runway show with his daughter Sixteen Jones instead, and starred solo in the season’s campaign, wearing an unbuttoned pert blue shirt to reveal a chest of his tattoos, and a matching pair of boxer shorts.

Even when he’s not flashing his gold cap–flecked smile for designers, his off-duty style still boasts that same crude and lewd appeal: crotch grabs in loose velour basketball sweats, shirtless moments in a highlighter orange Die Antwoord tracksuit, and an illegal, dagger-tipped brass knuckle accessory to go with his signature scowl.

 

 

His laze-about, slightly sleazy, and sand-strewn XXL style was right in line with Wang’s Spring 2017 slacker, beach bum–theme collection. Ninja’s look is also reminiscent of the more recent Fall 2017 menswear collections like Palm Angels and Malibu 1992, which both showed a bevy of suburban outcast, mall-loitering looks. But Ninja’s getups aren’t all plucked from a T-shirt mart discount rack; many can, in fact, be chicly pared back, too: Note his dapper look in a white Alexander Wang tee, tailored pants, and Gucci fur slippers. But no matter how polished he presents himself, the loudmouth rapper won’t forget his roots: His live snake necklace is Zef Side to the core, while his sock-and-slide combo will give other dads a run for their money.

 

 

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A Cheater’s Guide to Growing Out Your Brows in 2017

Photographed by Irving Penn, Vogue, April 2008

There is a photo of me in the student activities section of my high school yearbook in which I’m wearing a child’s-size thrifted thermal shirt (it was the ’90s) and sitting in the library, leafing through a book. Unremarkable in composition, it stands out in memory—not so much for the nostalgia of youth, but because it was the first time I realized I had been over-plucking my eyebrows. Having recently purchased a magnifying mirror to facilitate the meticulous removal of individual hairs from my genetically high arches, my dark black brows are so thin, so pointy, I look like a visibly evil Disney-conceived stepmother.

The revelation didn’t make enough of an impact to stop me from sculpting two dismembered batwings on either side of my nose bridge in college. But when I moved to New York in the early aughts, I was given an intervention during an impromptu appointment with arch guru Jimena Garcia. “You should grow your brows out,” she said. “Then just brush them up with gel so they look feral.”

I bought in—especially after Jimena introduced me to the game-changing power of vegetable dye tinting. She is the only person who has touched my eyebrows in the last 12 years, which is why she squealed with delight when I revealed right before the new year that I wanted to take our grow-out scheme one step further, and stop cleaning up the small hairs beneath my natural brow line, too—a Taylor Hill–inspired move meant to eliminate the risk of looking too “done” (my ultimate 2017 beauty fear).

“It’s the trend right now,” Jimena tells me in Tenoverten’s Fulton Street salon. “Psychologically, where we are as people, we’re just really into that freedom of letting go.” That “letting go” can land you on the right side of Olsen twin– or Kaia Gerber–caliber brows is an added incentive. But it also comes with a painful “grow out” phase, as I learned over the past month, plagued by holes, horizontally oriented follicles, and a whole lot of uncertainty. Looking “feral” is all well and good, until you just look like an unkempt mess.

While real, true grow out can take a full year, “You can see a huge difference in six to eight weeks—that’s the hardest hump,” Jimena explains. “You just have to find things to maintain your brows while they look unruly.” Things like filling in patchiness with a growth serum, such as RevitaBrow, or a wax-laced tinted gel, like Glossier’s excellent Boy-Brow; asking a friend to go through the tweezer withdrawal alongside you; or carrying around a picture of your dream brows (Lourdes Leon!) as a reminder of what all the awkward, hard work is for.

“You have to have a game plan,” Jimena insists, advising regular check-ins with a brow groomer every month to two months, for continued shaping and tinting, which will “bring out the fuzz” and allow you to see the incremental progress. When the momentary impulse to pluck seems insurmountable, distracting yourself with a bright statement lip habit—or a colored mascara, like Marc Jacobs Beauty O!Mega Lash Volumizing Mascara in All About Yves—is a help.

Having just hit the seven-week mark, I can confirm that the struggle has been real. But I’m finally turning a corner: At an event last week in Midtown, while playing with different products via the YouCam Makeup virtual cosmetics app, a technician selected one of the preloaded brow filters to “complete my look”—a thin, flat, lifeless line that paled in comparison to the wild but well-heeled thickness I can now proudly call my own.

The resulting pictures—my unaltered selfie on the left, and my digitally enhanced avatar on the right—presented yet another image that will forever stand out in my memory: the first time I actively chose the “before” photo.

 

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Fresh Powder and Thermal Waterfalls: Whistler BC Has Everything You Need for a Dreamy Ski Trip

Photo: Courtesy of Whistler-Blackcomb

Canada has a lot going for it right now: Justin Trudeau, universal health care, and an exchange rate that will get Americans close to 30 extra cents on the dollar. It was also just named the number one place to visit in 2017 by the New York Times. Embrace the winter season in the Great White North by heading to Whistler, the picturesque ski town that offers a little something for everybody. Here, a look at what to do, where to eat, and where to sleep in the famed Canadian mountain village that’s located just a few hours north of Vancouver, BC.

Where to Stay:
For the ultimate in alpine luxury, opt for one of the luxury townhouses or private residences at the Four Seasons Resort and Residences Whistler. Tucked away in the Upper Village near the base of Blackcomb mountain, this resort checks all the boxes: spacious rooms outfitted in earthy wood accents and rugged slate, all the amenities (spa, heated outdoor pool, and fitness center) and exceptional service, including a ski concierge who will take care of everything from lessons to rentals to meeting you post-piste to take your gear, leaving you free to après unencumbered.

Skiers and nonskiers alike will find themselves settling right in at the Zen-like Nita Lake Lodge, perched on the edge of a glacier-fed lake in Whistler’s Creekside Village and consistently ranked amongst the best boutique hotels in the country. Each of the lodge’s 77 guestrooms has its own fireplace, and your stay includes complimentary snowshoe rentals, as well as an onsite yoga studio and personal trainers. Plus: Locals swear by the burger at Cure Lounge, one of the lobby restaurants.

What to do:
Voted the number one ski resort in North America three years in a row, Whistler-Blackcomb has 8,171 acres and 200+ runs that should take up the bulk of your itinerary. Don’t know where to start? If there’s fresh powder, make your way up Whistler to Harmony and Symphony Bowls. Otherwise, Blackcomb’s 7th Heaven is a perennial crowd-pleaser. Pro-tip: Be sure to pack a bag of peanuts for the 7th Heaven lift line. You’ll see why when you get there. (Here’s a hint.)

Give your legs a break (both mountains boast seven-mile-long runs!) with a massage followed by a cycle through the steam rooms, saunas, thermal waterfalls, and outdoor baths at Scandinave Spa Whistler, a 25,000-square-foot Nordic-inspired spa just begging to be Instagrammed. (The signs say no phones, but we won’t tell if you won’t.)

Once you’ve recovered, take a stroll through the Whistler Village, pick up a globally sourced handmade gift or something from a local designer at 3 Singing Birds before making your way to the “uncommonly beautiful” and newly opened Audain Art Museum to take in one of the most comprehensive collections of Canadian and, more specifically, Northwest Canadian art in the country, including works by Emily Carr, Jack Shadbolt, and Jeff Wall. (If you’ve got the shopping itch, in true ski-village style, your best bet is to scratch it by stopping into Can-Ski to peruse its international collection of top-rated ski gear from brands like Bogner and J. Lindeberg.)

Where to eat:
You won’t want for good food while in Whistler. You will, however, want to make reservations. Start with a midday ski-break one at Christine’s on Blackcomb, a sleekly designed and exceptionally executed fine-dining option situated atop Blackcomb mountain. (Why not kick things off with a bottle of Champagne while you’re at it?) Check Araxi, known for its seasonally focused menu made with locally sourced ingredients, off your list with an 8:00-p.m.-or-after booking to give yourself enough time for a pre-dinner drink at its sibling restaurant Bar Oso. (The cocktails there hold their own against any in New York and you wouldn’t be wrong for losing track of time, eating there, and re-booking Araxi for another night.)

Soak up your hangover the next day with a slice of fresh bread or still-warm pastry from purebread bakery in the village, or do penance with a grain bowl and Dr. G’s Ultimate Green juice from The Green Moustache.

And for a real under-the-PR-radar hit, head to Sachi Sushi for some of the freshest no-frills sushi in the province, including in-season-only British Columbia uni, from everybody-knows-how-good-he-is-but-no-one-wants-to-spoil-the-secret Chef Toshiyuki Kobayashi. (Sorry!)

Where to drink:
Après-ski will find most revelers in the main square of lower Whistler village, where no less than four bars open amphitheater-style onto the base of both mountains. Start at Garibaldi Lift Co. where you can look down (literally, but figuratively, too, if you so choose) on the whole scene from their outdoor terrace dotted with gas fireplaces and heating lamps. What happens after that is up to you.

If your après inclinations lean more chalet-chic than shotski, cozy into the lobby bar of the baronial Fairmont Chateau Whistler for martinis or a warming tonic made with honey from the hotel’s rooftop bees. Bonus: Indulge your sweet tooth and make yourself a maple-syrup melt, Laura Ingalls Wilder–style, on the snow outside.

For a true local experience, head directly to Dusty’s Backside in Creekside Base or Merlin’s at the bottom of Blackcomb. Better yet, time your visit to the former on Friday or the latter on Saturday to watch hometown heroes The Hairfarmers play. Buy your tablemates a round or two of beers and, with any luck, you’ll end up with a personal ski guide by morning. Canadians are friendly.

 

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Chelsea Manning Will Be Free in May 2017

Photo: AP Images

President Obama announced today that he will commute the remainder of Chelsea Manning’s prison sentence after almost four years; the 29-year-old army intelligence analyst had been convicted in 2013 of leaking files to WikiLeaks that exposed military and diplomatic activities around the world, and was issued a record-setting 35-year sentence. She will be freed on May 17 of 2017, rather than in 2045.

Manning, who announced that she was transgender after her sentencing, has attempted suicide twice while incarcerated in a male military prison at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where she has spent large stretches in solitary confinement. She gave an in-depth interview to The New York Times last week detailing life behind bars as what the newspaper called “America’s most famous convicted leaker,” telling reporters that “Being me is a full-time job.” Her motivation for the leaks, she wrote at the time, was that they would spark “worldwide discussion, debates, and reforms,” a conceit that she apologized for during her trial, citing her fragile mental and emotional state as a person transitioning in a war zone.

“I am not asking for a pardon of my conviction,” Manning wrote in the commutation application the Times printed last week, “I understand that the various collateral consequences of the court-martial conviction will stay on my record forever . . . I am merely asking for a first chance to live my life outside the U.S.D.B. as the person I was born to be.”

 

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Liana Is the Label With Elevated Basics That You Never Knew You Needed

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I recently received an Instagram direct message from a colleague that read: “Did you start a line and not tell us?!” She linked the handle @lianaclothing, whose feed boasted girls lounging in retro velvet ringer tees, lazing about in striped mock-necks, and kicking up their feet in Lurex-threaded socks. Intrigued, I replied: “No, but if I did create a line, this would be it! My name or not!”

Turns out, the designer—not technically a “Liana” tribe member—is Lili Chemla, who came up with the label’s moniker by combining parts of her first and middle names. The native New Yorker, now based in Los Angeles, first cut her teeth working with It-girl label Staud and launched Liana last October with the idea of producing a line of elevated basics. “Athleisure is trending so much right now, and I noticed a lack in the market for a sophisticated casual brand,” says Chemla via phone. “It’s something that you can wear out and be comfortable in but not too underdressed.” Chemla translates her sophisticated-casual mantra through luxury touches like eyelash fur fringe on pockets and glittery collar trims, bringing the simple tee out of the weekend-verse and more into cocktail hour.

So far, Chemla’s most popular easy-chic pieces are the velvet T-shirts, modeled by the likes of Laura Love, and also the Liana tee, a shirt with a slightly cropped hem; short, angularly cut sleeves; and Liana stitched onto the pocket. Chemla, a self-proclaimed vintage T-shirt addict, modeled the shirt after the seamlessly sitting fits of vintage tees that are hard to find in modern-day labels. “That ‘Liana cut’ started with a vintage Hanes T-shirt that I got a while back,” says Chemla. “I started with that cut and built off of it. I had so many fittings to get it perfect.” The tees are a hot sell, but Chemla is also branching out: She recently created a set of velvet zip-ups in maroon and gray with varsity stripes down the sleeves and plain black hoodies.

According to the designer, the line has gained a “cult following of people with the name Liana.” Though, with the introduction of more hit pieces, other women outside of this rarefied name group will be sure to follow, too.

 

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Philipp Plein Flexes His Empire-Expansion Muscle With 2 New Shows in Milan

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Last night in Milan, Philipp Plein took a postshow lap around a real helicopter that had been coated in iridescent gold. Except, this was not a bow at one of his riotous namesake runways. No. This was for Billionaire Couture, the menswear label founded by Flavio Briatore in 2005. Plein took a majority stake in it last year.

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Photo: Courtesy of Billionaire

The firebrand designer and entrepreneur’s penchant for big-budget spectacle was thus alive and well. Projections spun around the cavernous room, depicting credits from old Western movies. Distinguished(-ish) gents arrived in cowboy regalia, one in an eggplant-purple crocodile trench that will cost well into the six figures. Billionaire, ostensibly, will serve Plein’s client down the line—once a young guy ages out of embellished denim and leather, he can turn to pieces that are breathtaking more in price tag than in bite.

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Photo: Courtesy of Billionaire

But that’s not all. Plein also hosted his first runway show for Plein Sport, his new activewear brand, in Milan. (And, just earlier today, I saw a Plein Sport store on Paris’s Rue de Rivoli—the man moves quickly, you can’t argue that.) There, outerwear, splashy logos, and lean leggings-and-shorts combos led the charge. For Plein, the phrase “thinking big” seems almost paltry—he clearly has ambition, and it must be working. On February 13, in a time slot once owned by Marc Jacobs, he’ll show his eponymous line in New York City. Expect him to alight in something even wilder than a gilded chopper. Is Donald Trump’s 757 available? Hell, even that would be small peas.

 

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