HeyJaredMaximalist Musings
Essays on style, vintage, taste, culture, the odd romantic entanglement, New York living, and highly specific obsessions.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 12
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- Oct 1, 2026
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- Jul 29, 2026
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Are We Condemned To Live Like This (opens the original)
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It won’t surprise you that I couldn’t sleep last night. My mind caught on a hamster wheel spinning my heart rate faster as I replayed every moment I almost became a Jane Doe. A Sarah Everard. A Junko Furuta.Every year that I get older, I learn something about the horrors that man forces onto woman that my sheltered imagination could never have fathomed possible. I’ve learnt that this violence is boundless in its grotesquerie, in its banality, in its popularity.In the morning, I wake up tired and
Unsexy Spending Advice I Live By (opens the original)
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Let’s start with an admission: I am extremely financially anxious.Or at least, I have been my entire working life. You see, I work in fashion (notoriously underpaid), have ambitious savings goals (hello dream of buying an apartment in Paris), am financially independent, single, and I live alone. There is sadly no boyfriend to split the rent with nor a husband in finance to make fronting random bills feel slightly less painful. To complicate matters further, almost all of my friends in the city e
NYFW Isn’t Dead, You Are!!!! (opens the original)
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For those of you unfamiliar, I am both a New York-resident and a fashion puppy working in the industry here in the city.So, it goes without saying that fashion month is always a big deal to me, although my hierarchy of interests is usually the following: Paris first, of course, followed by Milan (I’m a sucker for an Italian designer), and then quite a way later, New York, and then London (sorry London, you’re number one everywhere else!!). London aside, New York is a fashion week I rarely keep u
Gird Your Loins, It’s Time for a Reset (opens the original)
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With September comes the zip of fresh pencil cases being opened, the crushing end of summer flings, burnt browns of tomato season, new notebooks, fashion month, the first crisp autumn morning, and a perfect opportunity to get your affairs in order following what I can only assume was a rowdy, sexy summer for all.I stumbled back to New York a month ago with hair and skin so abused by the mediterranean that my dermatologist asked me accusingly, and without even a hint of humour, if I realised just
The Maximalist Almanac, Vol 08 (opens the original)
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August, I am in equal parts sad and relieved to see you go. I’ve been gallivanting around Europe for the past few weeks (god its tough being an international diva princess) and finally made a reluctant reappearance in a hot, humid New York halfway through the month. Thus, what began in a stripped back sun haze inevitably gave way to a slightly wistful and restless stillness, which, coupled with the furtive approach of the end of summer, has left me feeling a little lost in my way.It always takes
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