Some aspirations are rooted in the artifacts of our childhood: lifelong interests, passions, and career ambitions. Do you recall dreaming of becoming an astronaut but later turning to finance? Or perhaps you were certain you would become a doctor and are currently working towards achieving your childhood dreams? If your answer is the latter, you are not alone: Rachel Tashjian (C ‘11), a New York–based fashion critic and journalist, is one of those individuals who turned her early passions into a thriving career.
Her grandmothers’ looks were her first fashion inspirations. They were “not necessarily extravagant, just always elegant,” she says. These women shaped Tashjian’s interest. Simultaneously, her father, who enjoyed shopping, would often take the future fashion critic and her brother to buy new clothes. Tashjian grew up trading clothes with her brother, borrowing vintage pieces from her parents, and experimenting with outfit combinations—early experiences that would later shape her relationship with fashion.
When Tashjian graduated from Penn with a degree in English and art history, many people were disillusioned with traditional fashion magazines and began turning to blogs. It was hard for Vogue and other titans of fashion journalism to continue encouraging people to buy $10,000 coats and $5,000 handbags, so passionate fashionable youth turned to the new format—and Tashjian was one among them. Her fashion blog emerged and received attention from various magazine outlets. Editors started contacting her to write for their publications, although she had been rejected from their internships not so long ago. This was a starting point of Tashjian’s big career in journalism, while she continued to develop her own independent media.
Tashjian directed her attention to the often overlooked sphere of fashion in politics. The idea to pursue journalism had already been rooted in Tashjian’s mind since college, though at the time, she envisioned a different path within the field—one that might lead her to become a political or foreign correspondent. For Tashjian, the meaning of visual presentation unites her interests in fashion and politics. “Politics is a kind of presentation too; even if politicians are wearing the same thing every day, they are thinking about it as much as people who wear different clothes every day,” she says. She recalls Laura Bush on the cover of Vogue wearing Oscar de la Renta, and George W. Bush who chose to be captured playing golf during important press conferences. In these cases, “clothing helped the story of how politics is done.”
When Tashjian moved on to being published in major outlets, she continued to explore this theme. She has become an expert in the find, listing politicians with bold personal styles such as President of Mexico Claudia Sheinbaum, First Lady of France Brigitte Macron, and Supreme Leader of North Korea Kim Jong Un. Tashjian is quick to explain what makes these political figures’ styles so distinct. Sheinbaum often pairs indigenous Mexican prints and textiles with more standard business casual clothing to craft her image. As Tashjian notes, it is interesting to see the first female president of Mexico wearing really expressive colors to narrate her connection to the people who have voted her into office. In this sense, Macron is also pursuing national ideals through her style. “In France, there is this idea of fashion as being as important and almost as nationalist as the concept of champagne and cheese,” Tashjian says. By borrowing a lot of clothing from Louis Vuitton, France’s first lady is representing and showcasing the innovative fashion of the country she is serving. Compared to the United States, where such an approach would be widely criticized, France is one of the few places where these kinds of fashion choices are embraced, representing the country’s deep appreciation for style as a form of national representation. On the other hand, Kim’s preservationist uniform, characterized by its severity and specificity, exposes the gap in social values between cut–off North Korea and the rest of the world. “Uniform means something totally different and more serious there than it might in other places,” says Tashjian.
Tashjian’s role extends beyond analyzing political fashion aesthetics: She also frequents fashion weeks and covers international runways through journalism. Tashjian fondly recalls the first Chanel couture show she attended back in 2018. She compares that event to Coachella with Chanel’s top clients being decked out in their limited edition items: “Everyone is so happy to be there. No one is stressed; very often a fashion show is a stressful environment.” She still thinks about 18th–century–styled dresses with hand–painted resin flowers that she saw on the models. “It was a completely different level of clothing than I had imagined would be possible,” Tashjian says.
Since 2018, Tashjian has frequented numerous events, each sparking as much delight as her first memorable Chanel couture show. However, she has since adopted a more discerning approach, carefully selecting the occasions she attends. “I find it is better for my writing and reporting if I can do a research or reconnaissance beforehand and figure out what the newsworthy shows are going to be,” she says. Tashjian consults the brand presenting before coming to fashion weeks, talking with designers and their publicists and discussing what other people in the industry are paying attention to. Still, the devil is in the details of the everyday routine of fashion week.
When knee–deep in the chaos of a day during big fashion events, Tashjian gets up at 6 a.m. to write for two or so hours and then dedicates one hour to getting dressed, relaxing, and reflecting on what she has just written. She prefers not to wear recognizable labels and pieces in order to maintain her objectivity as a critic. Instead, she opts for personal style, comfort, and minimalism. When arriving at the airport along with other critics and journalists, packing a navy and black capsule wardrobe allows Tashjian to minimize her luggage, while the others might land with four enormous suitcases for two weeks. For runway shows, Tashjian only brings a notebook to jot down notes during the day and a book to read so that she “can not think about fashion for 40 minutes” during lunch. In the evening, she comes back to the hotel and continues to work on her pieces.
With professionalism comes a formality; while some may see it as a detriment to personal style, Tashjian opposes this dogma. “When I started my job at The Washington Post, I really felt that I did not want to de–fashion what I was wearing,” she says. Tashjian explains that her closet is made up of “interesting and strange avant–garde” pieces. The outside world may find eccentric, but in the fashion world, it is not only not uncommon but rather welcomed.
While confident in her approach, she sometimes gets feedback from readers upset about something she has written, who try to criticize her outfits to justify their complaints. “Women are really pressured to look a certain way and especially to attune themselves or to modify themselves for particular environments.” She feels that it is important to maintain her personal style against the expectation to prove qualification through conformity.
Embracing intersections of fashion, politics, and identity, Tashjian brings a fresh lens to fashion journalism. In a field often saturated with predictable, standard narratives, her critique remains buoyant amidst a sea of conformity as the role of fashion journalism evolves. When lacking individuality and a distinct voice, fashion journalism risks becoming a mere echo chamber, devoid of meaningful insights or thought provoking analysis. Fostering a dynamic discourse that pushes beyond surface–level aesthetics is now more important than ever. More than fabric and trends, fashion reflects society, personal, and political expression. Tashjian’s work exemplifies this understanding, as she navigates the intersection of fashion and deeper societal phenomena, ensuring her critiques can rise above the industry’s clichéd superficiality.
