Successful women talk about managing their careers and their lives.
Illustration: Samantha Hahn
For this special Fashion Week edition of “How I Do It,” we asked successful women how to navigate their careers and lives during this hectic time of year.
Cathy Horyn is one of today’s most esteemed fashion critics and journalists. After a prolific 16-year career at The Times, she joined Cut in 2015 as a general critic. Since then, she has profiled a variety of designers, including a young Marine Serre, Shayne Oliver, Simone Rocha, Rachel Comey, Demna, and most recently Jonathan Anderson. In 2018 she traveled to Germany to better understand the cult of Birkenstock. She broke the scoop on Raf Simons’ move to Prada and has covered his moves from Dior to Calvin Klein. She took the pulse of the industry during the height of the pandemic. And of course, during Fashion Month, she continues to share her unfiltered views of hers and her sharp and thoughtful insights on the New York, Milan and Paris shows. In such a shallow industry, Horyn’s no-nonsense approach stands out. Giorgio Armani and Hedi Slimane have infamously banned her from her shows after negative reviews. (She was only recently invited to Slimane’s shows at Celine.)
Although his most negative reviews have caused the most waves, his writing is full of pleasure and fun, and many designers are eager to get involved. He will take you with her on the back of a motorcycle as she happily rides around Paris. Her various pit stops at bars and restaurants of hers, from Prune to Fanelli, often find their way into reviews of her and help elucidate why she really likes (or doesn’t) something. One of my favorite stories of hers (there are a lot of hers, including hers from Snooki’s profile of her in the Times) is about when she wore a Thom Browne dachshund bag to Fashion Week. After all these seasons, Horyn is still curious, energetic, and open to new ideas and revising her opinions. When she’s not writing about fashion, she’s flexing her green thumb on her little cut flower farm. Before the whirlwind of New York Fashion Week, we called her at her house to talk about how she does it all.
On her writing routine during Fashion Week:
If I’m writing, which I do most days, I get up around 4:30 in the morning. I stay in different hotels in Times Square. It’s not the fanciest neighborhood, but I’ve learned over time that it’s incredibly convenient. I find a coffee truck nearby or go to an all-night deli and pick up oatmeal or a classic egg sandwich. Then I take it back to my hotel room and start writing about things I’ve seen, usually around three or four shows. If there is a show that day at 10am, the goal is to do it at 9:30. And I’m pretty efficient at doing that. It’s just a habit. If I missed something or if I still have more to write, I’ll pop back in the middle to finish. But there’s rarely an opportunity to do that, so I’ll try to do it. In Europe, a lot is accomplished on your phone while you’re in the car.
On dressing for shows:
I never think about what I’m going to wear. Never. Last season, I traveled for two weeks with a wheeled carry-on and I’m determined to do it again. I just don’t want to take a lot of stuff. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I don’t want to think about what I’m wearing. Ease my mind. I just want to have something that looks tailored and stylish and is comfortable. Like a lot of writers and editors, I have like three pairs of dark pants and a skirt, then I have a dress to go out with if I feel like going out. And then I have all the other separations that go with it. It’s a boring uniform. But invariably, I come home and I’m always surprised to have two or three looks that I didn’t even wear.
I’m more worried about the hair, actually. In Paris, I always have a hair appointment standing at Dessange on St-Germain. Not every day, but I get my hair cut and blow dried a couple of times while I’m there. The same in New York. That’s more of an encouragement than anything else.
When moving:
In New York, I’m taking the subway more. It’s efficient, and New York Fashion Week is gritty, it always has been, so it puts you more on the ground in a way. It makes me think of Bill Cunningham. In Europe, I’ve had some really good drivers over the years. We remain friends and exchange Christmas notes. I had this driver for a long time at the Times. He’s now Vanessa Friedman’s driver and I think she’s about to retire. But he is a very good cook, and when he had a deadline, he used to bring me an apple pie or something from some wonderful bakery, he knew the best in Paris. But in New York, you really feel alone. That’s why I mentioned Bill Cunningham. I felt that Bill and I were compadres because we worked at the Times, but also because our approach was very similar: he goes to the show and he goes back to the office. No fanfare.
On the importance of stopping to eat or drink:
Sometimes it is a reward; sometimes it is a way to reconnect with the rest of humanity. I remember going to Le Bernardin one night after the shows, not for dinner but to sit at the bar, and you see how people dress. You see what’s interesting to other people, rather than the craziness of Fashion Week. A lot of food has found its way into the trendy copy. The principle behind this is just discovery, rather than just staying on your narrow path. I love my colleagues, but sometimes it’s good to be alone.
On going backstage after a show:
As soon as the show is over, the PR will tell you exactly which exit or entrance to take to get backstage because it can be confusing, especially in a large space. And then there’s usually a slight stampede so the writers can get ahead of the well-wishers. Everybody gathers around, and there are probably 15 or 20 people. Sometimes the backstage questions are technical: What was that material? How did you build that? They all hear the same thing, so you’d think the entire copy would end up the same. But I think it’s up to the writer to analyze what you want. I always like talking to Demna because he has thought about what he is going to say but he doesn’t feel rehearsed or canned. It’s fun to ask questions. He is very funny, and laughs a lot. I’ll have my interpretation and give it back to him and see how he responds to it. With Marc Jacobs, he has sometimes done collections where I quote him at length because I’m really interested in what he had to say. And then sometimes, like when he did the Karole Armitage show, I didn’t need to talk to him because he was so clear on what it was about and open to interpretation, which is great. And then you have designers like Margiela who would never talk to you. You had to interpret what you saw; It was food for thought. And in a way, that’s also interesting.
One of the great backstage is with Miuccia Prada. But this was before the pandemic and before Raf Simons. When I was covering her at the Times, you would walk to the backstage area at the old Prada headquarters and there was a little hallway to get to her, and sometimes she would stand in it. And she would be very funny, talking about feminism or whatever she wanted to talk about. But those moments are so warm to me, and someone like Miuccia could make them feel so spontaneous. I’m so glad I had all those opportunities to see her.
On keeping the copy up to date:
One thing I realized, when I was at the Washington Post in the early ’90s, was that every few years, you have to change the way you do things or the way you write about something. You have to improve your style. In the past, he might have been more talkative. Could have been more fun. You could be improvising more with a little more energy, a little more warmth, a little more risk. And then I decided on something different, which was to be more descriptive, more clear, especially in the early years at the Times. And then I go through periods where I’m more interested in the historical context and giving a perspective on where we are in fashion today. The speed of change dictates it. Whatever that beat is, it needs to be reflected in your copy to some degree. It is a reflection of the times. But you have to find some way to keep yourself interested and charged.
On getting feedback from designers:
It’s fun because they read and care about reviews. A couple of them have yelled at me but they’re getting whatever out of their system and then it’s all friendly again. I’m thinking of Donatella Versace in particular, that was years ago. She did a show in New York and it was full of celebrities and it was a bit much. I made fun of the whole thing and then she called me, just furious. But she and I have always been pretty good friends, and I think I saw her the next season and everything was fine. She just let off steam, and that was that. But she always got notes from Karl Lagerfeld. Not for all collections, but she would make a comment or say “Thanks for this” or “I thought that was really cool.” Demna often sends a text message: it’s a type of text. Michael Kors always writes a note about two weeks after the show. If it was a good review, he sometimes sends you flowers, but he always sends you a note, and I really appreciate that he takes the time to do that. There is always some kind of feedback, but it’s usually directly from the designers.
I’ve also revised my opinion, too. One that comes to mind is Stefano Pilati’s first Saint Laurent collection. I just didn’t get it, and thought it was too girly and too over the top given Saint Laurent’s history. But I thought about it, and three months later I wrote a reevaluation. I’ve done it a couple of times, and I like doing those pieces. It’s fun to rethink.
On passing the Fashion Month marathon:
The marathon used to be three weeks long, but the pace was very different. You would have time to go out to lunch. We met friends for dinner or went shopping, and I always thought that was important. He would often write about some department store he visited, just for reporting, as if he were writing a letter from Milan or Paris. It was a very common thing to go to Villa d’Este on Lake Como as it was not far away. And once we went to Parma for an amazing dinner, although it was a bit of a drive; eight of us all crammed into two cars. That is almost non-existent now. Part of the reason is that the traffic is so bad that you don’t have those leisure hours. Now I usually go to London after the Paris shows for three days. So if Paris ends on a Wednesday, I’m on the Eurostar on Wednesday afternoon. Either I go to Berlin or somewhere in Italy. I have been in the Loire Valley for only 36 hours. André Leon Talley and I once went to the American Cemetery on Omaha Beach. I wish we had more time for stuff like that.
Source: www.thecut.com