Many people ask me why I love fashion so much.

Was it because my mother introduced the sport of shopping at an early age? Was it that I grew up in the fashion and street style capital of Tokyo? Was it because I never grew out of my dress-up stage at six years old?

I do have to admit, part of it comes from ogling album covers and worshiping wedding dress catalogs, but mostly because my parents — mother and father — always took great care in dressing my sister and me up. Whether it was my favorite red dress from Un Deux Trois, a silk brown dress from Rome or a qipao my grandmother found at a market in China over the summer, they always loved to dress us up.

Truthfully, I wasn’t always a fashion girlie: I did have a rebellious phase where I religiously only wore shorts and T-shirts, even angering my father to the point that he banned me from buying any new T-shirts. 

Eventually I began to resent my school uniform and discovered those stencil fashion-design drawing games. I ended up watching “The Devil Wears Prada” (2006) through a side-eye on my mom’s Air China screen, and I was hooked on fashion. My love did turn into an obsession, and I only began to intentionally develop it in 2020. I dreamed of the Betty Suarez and Andy Sachs lifestyle, tirelessly running to and from Starbucks between shifts in Fendi pumps, Alaïa jackets and Ferragamo bags. 

While I ended up working in fashion for a little bit (a retail job at Nordstrom and helping out a prominent Los Angeles stylist over the summer, specifically on Billie Eilish’s Meta Quest 2 headset commercial), I soon found a second love: cybersecurity and technology. 

Although I left my Carrie Bradshaw dreams behind as I picked up my second major, I still believe my dream career would be full-time in cybersecurity with a freelance or columnist fashion role, just as I do here weekly. 

At this point, you’re probably thinking: Is this even an article? Where is the fashion besides the dreamy and (possibly) cringe reminiscence of her pre-20 years? 

The reason I’m getting all emotional is because that same giddy feeling in my heart was revived with Markgong’s Shanghai Spring 2024 show. Mark Gong, a Parsons School of Design graduate and Shanghai-based designer, debuted a new satiating and enticing collection that is the ultimate entry-level fashion lover’s dream. 

Gong created a chic selection of corporate outfits with an early-Miranda Priestly, classic Chanel and Dior twist. The models donned thigh-high gartered stockings with gray mini dresses, polka dot pencil skirts, one-shouldered sweaters and sheerly-layered cardigans. The two key elements, though? The keycards around their neck which gave them access to the train stop-like gate at the beginning of the runway and what they physically carried. 

Instead of Birkins or briefcases or backpacks, some carried small clutches and books while others carried spilled coffees and dry cleaning. One model even had a metal scarf, suspended in mid-air, that the model was “trying” to keep from flying away. 

Gong revealed to Vogue that his inspiration was drawn from Kim Cattrall — best known as Samantha Jones from “Sex and the City.” He noted he was drawn to her “ethos,” “sex positive attitude,” and “admiration for women that are successful and self-reliant, who live their lives without apologizing, started with her, together with the dream of New York.” The “Gong-girl” may very much be the next Lily-Rose Depp, bow-galore Sandy Liang or Alexa Chung it-girl. 

Still, if playing into the fantasy of the working girl makes a corporate future seem less daunting, why does the collection still make the workforce seem too idealistic?

Obviously, a big role is the fact that this is a fashion collection and these outfits wouldn’t be accepted in (most) workplaces. The second, though, is that it almost feels as if these beautifully-constructed pieces are consolation for common mistreatment. Whether it’s the fact that fashion still does unpaid internships for over 40 hours of work, or qualified candidates are being passed up for career advancement opportunities due to gender identity or race, it feels like being handed the most beautiful rose in the world, but the entire stem is covered in thorns. 

It’s almost as if looking good is a consolation — which is logic I have to admit I use. For example, if I dress up nice to go to class but don’t understand anything, at least I looked good. Clothes play an integral role in our psyche and how we view ourselves, so will looking fashionable make us feel good enough to substitute what we really desire or were looking forward to?

Of course, this is not Gong’s intention: His muse, Samantha, was a top PR executive living her best life physically, spiritually and emotionally. But even in the series, she faced backlash on her active, sexual lifestyle from peers and had instances where her personal life affected her business when it shouldn’t have. 

Industries, especially those that are male-dominated, have gotten better at inclusivity, leaving behind the “Mad Men” treatment, but a cute outfit isn’t going to soften the blow of being passed up due to a reason beyond the scope of your control. 

But what doesn’t hurt as much is playing dress up in your head where you’re C-suite of buttonless onesies or Bluetooth grills — all while wearing Markgong’s collection. 

Hadyn Phillips is a junior writing about fashion in the 21st century, specifically spotlighting new trends and popular controversy. Her column, “That’s Fashion, Sweetie,” runs every Wednesday.