This is a newsletter excerpt, originally published by Magasin. Read the full newsletter here
For the better part of a year now (!) Delia Cai has been manning much of Magasin’s backend operations as our managing editor. Aside from a very flattering introduction note that I did not hold a gun to her head to compose, she’s never truly written for the newsletter. Criminal! As any subscriber to her very funny and very influential Deez Links would agree. Today, she emerges from her post behind the curtain to SOLVE WEDDING SEASON.
With every year spent further into my thirties, the matter of wedding-attending has morphed into a rolling perma-season of RSVPs, welcome dinners, and much quizzical decoding of highly specific dress codes. As much as I love to lean on a few special occasion staples—salute to the Reformation wrap dress that has dutifully served a decade in the semi-formal trenches with me—I’ve lately been feeling pretty overwhelmed by the implicit edict, courtesy of our Instagram age, to wear something special (AKA new) to properly celebrate every loved one’s special day.
Last year, I trawled Depop somewhat successfully for fun, splashy vintage dresses that fit the bill (usually for around $70). But as anyone who’s shopped on deadline for a big event knows, the logistics around sizing and postal service speed are never more complex than when your need is the most obvious. And so, shortly ahead of the grand finale of wedding season this year, as I was whining to a friend about how I had absolutely nothing to wear to the last two sets of nuptials, she recommended that I check out the rental service Hauteline.
I’d immediately made a face. I’d tried Rent the Runway several times in my twenties—had vivid memories of scrutinizing user-submitted photos of countless sheath dresses and jumpsuits—and found it to be an all-consuming affair that left me feeling horribly unfashionable. But no, this friend insisted. Hauteline had cool clothes. Even better: though they shipped nationwide, they also had a tidy showroom on Orchard Street, where you could go try stuff on without doing battle with dozens of other customers. Online, I saw that Hauteline offered pieces from dozens of indie designers—Shushu/Tong, Paloma Wool, Sandy Liang, Collina Strada. Better yet, the selection felt fantastically tightly curated; I wouldn’t have to lose myself to hours of Ssense-brained scrolling. Plus, much of the formalwear could be rented for under $100 for a four-day period.
I immediately got in touch with one of the founders, Kristie Chow, who offered to pull any pieces I thought were interesting before I stopped by the store on a rainy Thursday. It took all of 30 minutes to decide on a minty Tyler McGillivary slip (for the Jeans-luncheon-and-Nightmoves “semiformal” wedding that weekend) and an extremely fun Natalie Rolt halterneck gown (for the movie theater “red carpet”-themed wedding the weekend after), with a candy-red Marge Sherwood shoulder bag to boot. (Hauteline also rents shoes, though it’s a much tighter size-based selection.) The entire experience felt like raiding a fashion friend’s closet—convivial and convenient. I walked out with my garment bag—everything hand-steamed shortly before I left—practically swooning with relief.
Over the back-to-back weekends, I practically drowned in compliments. The Natalie Rolt dress was a particularly winning conversation piece and totem of delight. I had never worn, much less owned, anything like it before, which lent the evening a sense of true personal occasion as I cheered on a college friend’s marital bliss. The next morning, hungover and happy, I carried the garment bag back to Orchard Street, the garments inside as lovingly worn as the average item in my own closet, now to be released back into the sartorial wild. And I didn’t even have to handle the dry cleaning.
