After the year we've all had, most of us would probably respond "Whoa, there" to the concept of putting on any footwear less buoyant than house slippers. But as both temperatures and the number of vaccinated Americans rises, it's time to consider shoes that can't double as memory-foam pillows in the event of an emergency disco nap.
Thankfully, with REEF's latest sandal styles, you won't need to sacrifice all-day comfort as you relearn how to dress for The Outside. The sandals combine the perfect amount of cushioning with sleek shapes that can handily take you from drinking Bloody Marias behind a partition to the socially distanced beach and beyond. Ahead, see our top picks from the new collection, with some highly specific ideas for how and where we'd wear them.
How we'd wear it: With a bricoleur-ed suit consisting of a vest and low-slung trousers in a neutral to complement the super-soft vegan leather and espadrille detailing.
Where we'd wear it: To lunch (chicken paillard, anyone?) on a veranda that turns into a night of dancing to circa-2018 hits on a rooftop (the bounce footbed can handle it.)
Reef Cushion Sol, $, available at ReefHow we'd wear it: With our flashiest bikini, an out-of-season cardigan as a coverup, and anklets galore.
Where we'd wear it: First, to the quietest beach we can find. Then, post-rinse-off (they're water-resistant!), to eat a selection of fresh seafood.
Reef Water Vista, $, available at ReefHow we'd wear it: With very abbreviated cutoff shorts.
Where we'd wear it: To do the two step — the double-strap design will make sure the sandals stay put, while the lug sole adds height so you can tower over your partner to establish dominance.
Reef Cushion Vista Hi, $, available at ReefHow we'd wear it: Head-to-toe white linen, of course.
Where we'd wear it: Primo arch support means we're hitting three block parties — at the very least.
Reef Cushion Court, $, available at ReefHow we'd wear it: With a high-cut maillot (in a bright color to offset the oversized straps), saucer-size sunglasses, and a coconut-milk-based beverage.
Where we'd wear it: Grifting our way into a private pool.
Reef Pool Float, $, available at ReefHow we'd wear it: With the biggest, tulle-iest princess dress we own.
Where we'd wear it: All over town, alternating between flouncing and biking —
with foam padding on the inside of straps, we won't be home until the wee hours, don't wait up.
Rihanna’s lingerie line Savage X Fenty has long prided itself on being inclusive, from its ads, which are populated with models (and sometimes, non-models!) of all backgrounds and sizes, to its products, which are consistently size-inclusive. Next up? The brand’s first-ever Pride collection, which launched on Tuesday and was designed to celebrate the individuality and beauty within the LGBTQIA+ community. The campaign for the 41-piece collection, available in sizes 30A to 42H and XS to 3X, features some of the fastest rising stars, from Jazzmyne Robbins, a model and diversity consultant, to artist and activist MaryV Benoit. Joining them is RuPaul’s Drag Race favorite Gigi Goode.
“Diva, when I got that call, I jumped up out of my makeup chair and sprinted to the nearest Uber,” Goode says of their reaction to being selected for the campaign. “It was all so sudden, so there wasn’t much time to process, but I was elated.” In the images, Goode models a highlighter orange smoking jacket with matching boxer shorts, as well as a sheer, black bra-and-jock-strap set embroidered with rainbows.
“I have done a lot of reflecting on [my] gender identity over these past couple of years, and though I’m still growing and figuring it out, I have pretty much come to the conclusion that it’s okay for your identity to shift and waver as time goes on,” Goode tells Refinery29. “That’s what fluidity is!” As for their advice to others, Goode says to really hone in on yourself, rather than listening to what others have to say. “The only reason you might feel like you have to choose an identity is for the convenience of the people around you,” says Goode. “Just know what pronouns make you feel the most at home, and let your close friends and family know.” For people outside of that bubble, Goode is comfortable with a number of different pronouns, “as long as [people are] using respect!”
Fashion is at the center of Goode’s life, so starring in one of Rihanna’s campaigns is a dream come true. “Not only is [fashion] my main source of work, but it’s the only thing my friends and I talk about — it’s basically our lifeblood,” Goode says. Fashion is also what ties Goode to their mom, Kristi Geggie, an interior and costume designer who designed most of Goode’s looks from Drag Race. “We have gotten so close because of clothes, which sounds crazy because it’s just a material thing,” says Goode. “But to collaborate and put so much effort and love in every stitch is something you can’t replace.”
Following a year-plus in quarantine, though, Goode says they’ve become more and more comfortable wearing minimal clothing, rather than the larger-than-life costumes they’re known for. “Less than a year ago, you wouldn’t catch me without hip pads and six pairs of tights,” they say. “Now I want to be naked all the time!” Well, mostly naked — Goode’s wearing Savage X Fenty, too.
At Refinery29, we’re here to help you navigate this overwhelming world of stuff. All of our market picks are independently selected and curated by the editorial team. If you buy something we link to on our site, Refinery29 may earn commission.
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PARIS, FRANCE – MAY 11: A passerby wears a gray jacket and holds a white Chanel shopping bag, in the streets of Paris, on May 11, 2020 in Paris, France. (Photo by Edward Berthelot/Getty Images)
While luxury spending plummeted when the pandemic first took hold, the desire for designer goods never went away. Which might help explain the curious rise of the fashion packaging market. Over the last year-plus, a certain subset of ingenious COVID-era sellers not only listed their designer bags, shoes, and garments for cash, but also the boxes, dust bags, and tote bags that their treasures arrived in.
According to Money, a credit broker in the U.K., the practice is not only common but head-scratchingly lucrative. In April, Money ran an analysis of empty luxury brand packaging for sale on eBay. What they found will have you pulling any burnt-out Diptyque candles or Tiffany-blue jewelry boxes out of the recycling bin. According to the company’s report, watch boxes from brands like Rolex, Omega, Tag Heuer, and Seiko fetch an average resale price of £126 (roughly $178). Of course, a Tag Heuer watch could set you back $1,300, but $200 — Tag Heuer watch boxes have an average value of £149 — is hardly chump change.
Shopping bags and shoeboxes from fashion brands like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Dior, and Chanel, also command top dollar on sites like eBay and Poshmark. Say you recently bought a pair of Sophie Turner’s slipper boots from Louis Vuitton, which cost $1,170, you could sell the box they came in for an average price of £74, or $104, according to Money. Since you get a fancy shoebox no matter the shoe model, you could, instead, purchase a lower-priced pair, say Louis Vuitton’s $535 pool slides, and get back a good chunk of your investment by reselling the box. Nike, Christian Louboutin, Saint Laurent, Fendi, Breitling, and Cartier, too, made Money’s list of the top 20 most valuable luxury brand packages.
According to a Danish Mathematical Economics student named Christian Bendsten — who is currently listing a Rick Owens tote bag, which comes free with any purchase from the brand, for $97 on Grailed — this phenomenon isn’t new to the pandemic era. “[Resold packaging] really started with things like Chanel coathangers, [and evolved from there],” he tells Refinery29. On Grailed and other sites, he often sees listings for Dior and Louis Vuitton chains that come attached to duffles, as well as Carol Christian Poell garment bags and Supreme stickers. Some of the items being sold are useful, like his Rick Owens tote bag, while others are strictly marketing add-ons, like the stickers or bag chains that brands typically give away for free with purchases.
“You attain some of the clout that you would have from wearing the actual brand, without having to spend excessive amounts of money.”
– Christian Bendsten, Grailed seller
What gives them value on the secondhand market, according to Bendsten, is the brand name: “You attain some of the clout that you would have from wearing the actual brand, without having to spend excessive amounts of money.” Carrying around a Rick Owens tote bag, or having a big Chanel shopping bag in the background of your Instagram photos, automatically gives off the perception that you purchased items from the fashion houses.
Poshmark seller Stephanie C. agrees with Bendsten, attributing the demand for designer packages to the rise of influencers. “It’s become quite trendy for them to have [designer boxes and shopping bags] in the background of their photos,” she tells Refinery29, “even if they’ve never shopped at those places.” According to her, these items are all just social media window dressing.
Bendsten sees luxury packaging as an introduction to high fashion, likening a designer dust bag or shopping tote to diffusion lines, like MM6 Maison Margiela or the now-defunct Marc by Marc Jacobs. These brands are easily recognizable, he says, but can cost a fraction of the price of a mainline designer item. With a Chanel shopping bag, you get the clout without the hefty price tag. It’s not dissimilar to the way lesser-priced beauty products can function as gateways to a brand. Maybe you start with a Gucci perfume before you work up the courage (and the funds) to invest in a Jackie bag or a pair of loafers. An $85 expenditure is a lot easier to justify than $850. Plus, according to Money, you can make £16, or $22, by selling the bottle once the perfume runs out.
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I’ve always had a lot of underwear — but it hasn’t always been good underwear. Since I started buying it for myself around the age of 16, I’ve firmly been in the camp of people who choose to buy another round of 5-for-$25 Aerie underwear rather than do laundry more frequently. I’m also a notorious bargain-hunter — I still wear pairs from the dollar-store pack I bought in 2012 when I ran out of underwear while working as a camp counselor. As far as my underwear went, I was definitely of the opinion that quantity mattered more than quality. That all changed a few years ago, though, when I found myself drawn to a pair of $18 boxer briefs. I saw them at Wildfang’s Portland, OR store, but I didn’t buy them. I held them in my hands, running my fingers over the thick waistband, and then put them back, shaking my head at the price. But, back in my New York apartment, I couldn’t get those briefs out of my head. I found them online and bookmarked them for one day. Two weeks and a bonus from work later, they showed up at my doorstep, and kind of changed everything — or, at least, my underwear drawer.
For too long, I’d worn what I consider default underwear: the forever-in-style bikini-cut. But as a curvy person, that type of underwear, which barely covers my butt, makes me look and feel intensely and uncomfortably feminine. So discovering boxer briefs made for AFAB bodies was revolutionary. I could pull on a pair of underwear and see myself in the androgynous silhouette I longed for. Even more exciting was the ability to hide or show this part of me at will. In those early days of my queerness and gender expression exploration, I continued to dress how the world expected me to dress; how I had always dressed. I wore dresses and heels, push-up bras and low-cut tops, I shaved my legs and had the same long blonde hair I’d had my whole life. But underneath the skirts and tights and deep v-necks, was my little secret — boxer briefs.
Fast forward a few years and I’m now what you might call a boxer brief connoisseur. Though many companies have since jumped on the bandwagon (including Woxer, one of my faves when it comes to fit), TomboyX put boxer briefs for AFAB bodies on the map. Owning a pair of TomboyX boy shorts feels like owning a piece of queer history. Maybe that sounds dramatic, but before they burst onto the underwear scene, boxer briefs only existed in either frilly pink patterns or the men’s section, where they came with extra room, a fly, and a terrible fit for those of us with hips and butts. TomboyX also added to the queer community in an unexpected way — they created a queer bat signal. In the same way Wildfang did with its iconic T-shirts, now when I walk into a room and spot a TomboyX band, I know I’m not alone. That waistband tells me, “Hey, I see you, I got you, you’re safe here.”
My other favorite innovator in the boxer brief space is period product company, Aisle. Though I myself do not experience dysphoria around my period, these boxers are made for those who have periods — regardless of their gender. I got my first pair of Aisle boxer briefs in 2016 back when period underwear was primarily made out of swimsuit-like material and was designed to be as small as possible. But these were different. They fit around my bits and curves and made me feel powerful and sexy at the height of a painful period. I loved them so much, I started wearing them even when I wasn’t on my period. They were like a secret I had with myself: My underwear wasn’t just purely utilitarian; it protected me, and encouraged me to be more myself, even in those moments I felt most uncomfortable.
I still remember the first time I wore boxer briefs to a fancy event. It was a religious wedding and I had a meltdown trying to figure out what to wear. I knew I had to be relatively covered and I knew I was expected to wear something with a skirt. I was still a year away from giving away every dress in my closet and discovering jumpsuits, so I pulled one of my last remaining fancy dresses from the back of my closet and wept. When I put it on, it felt wrong. It felt like an old version of me that somebody else had created. And then, while looking for a pair of socks, my fingers ran over the thick waistband of those Wildfang boxer briefs and I remembered my secret weapon. I pulled them on, switched my push-up bra for a Calvin Klein bralette, and looked in the mirror. On the outside, I looked like the girl the world expected me to be, but underneath the shiny facade, closest to my skin, was my true self. I danced harder that night than I had ever danced before.
Maybe it seems superficial to invest so much power into a single pair of underwear, but perhaps the lack of seriousness is the point. When I look in the mirror now, I see a version of myself that is comfortable in the way that I dress and move through the world, that doesn’t take the business of being me too earnestly, a version of myself that knows how to have fun. I also know that the dress-wearing version of me needed something to look forward to — she needed hope that there would be an iteration of Hannah Rimm who would wear only what she loves, but would also write stories about boxer briefs and jumpsuits and gender expression. Past me needed to hide boxer briefs under a dress so that current me could feel perfectly androgynous in a blazer and lipstick. Past me owned a lot of underwear because it was easier than admitting that not a single pair felt like me. Today, I can open my underwear drawer with a smile — a sea of thick waistbands beaming back at me.
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