To Flog Gnaw, Love Converse

November 22, 2024

This weekend, Dodger Stadium was home to thousands of fans, fashion aficionados, and a surprisingly high number of furries. Between the Teletubbies and the Tron Cat / Sasquatch dance battle, Camp Flog Gnaw kept it freaky (in a good way). “I wanted to build a place where people could just come and be,” says Tyler, The Creator. “And it’s beautiful to see that y’all have been rocking with me.”

For Flog's tenth anniversary, the festival continues to cement itself as a place where the fringe is brought to the center without dilution. Tyler is continuing his 7-year collaboration with Converse, the official shoe partners of the festival. I spend the weekend bonding with strangers over Converse memories and picking their brains on their craziest Flog experiences. Maybe there’s something about to be said — that all the coolest people I met were wearing Converse. Maybe there’s an argument for correlation vs. causation. Either way, my Converse got me through the Carti pit. That says enough. With creative reimaginings of classic silhouettes, the Tyler / Converse collab is colored with the Flog ethos. Doechii said it best — “This isn’t just about Flog Gnaw. This is about celebrating hip hop and celebrating the weirdos and artists.” The dedication is undeniable. There was a rowing pit at the André 3000 flute serenade. Nardwuar was walking around scaring people with his FBI-level knowledge. After Doechii and Tyler's performance, someone (very out of breath) said behind me, "They matched each other's freak." And isn't that what Flog Gnaw is all about?

Words and photos by Izzy Capulong

Friday, 6am: At the airport I get some looks. Maybe it’s because I have the baggiest jeans in Ohio. Maybe it’s because my new GOLF le FLEUR x Converse Darryl Chuck 70s make me the coolest chick in the Midwest. The shoes remind me of the first pair of Converse I ever owned (also a pair of red Chucks). I remember wearing those and dreaming of getting out of Ohio to be with kindred spirits (other tumblr users). I watch Challengers on the flight to LA. That scene comes on while I’m served breakfast and all I can do is shoot an apologetic look at the flight attendant.

10am. I’ve touched down in LA. It's baggy jeans central. I ask my driver how he’s doing. “Not in jail, not in war. You tell me how I’m doing.” Touché. It’s a sweet full-circle moment that Converse takes me to LA for the first time. I think my middle school self would be proud of me. I also think she’d want me to take a picture of my Chucks with the Rio De Janero Instagram filter. She’d be happy to know we’re still listening to Blood Orange and The Marías.

6pm. Reunited with the Converse team, we reminisce about our Chuck Taylor memories — Warped Tour (or not being allowed to go to Warped Tour). Wanting the knee high Converse in 2014 (and wanting them again when they were re-released this summer).

Saturday, 3pm. On the way to Dodger Stadium, we drive past the Chromakopia billboards. It’s been a big year for the color green. I’m seeing a lot of fun takes on Tyler’s Chromakopia suit / mask getup. Flog is as much fashion show as it is music festival and block party. "Flog is just a big fit off." It's Chuck-chella. Every fur hat on the West Coast is here. I can joke about the Flog uniform, but there was also an unspoken understanding — pay homage, but don't be a copy. We speculate potential secret performances. “Imagine SZA comes out,” I joke.

4pm. Doechii brings out SZA. I’m too excited to feel smug. She’s so chic in her Miu Miu booty shorts. Her heel breaks but she has DJ Miss Milan fix them while she sings. “Flog Gnaw, y’all kinda freaky.” she tells us. “Put a finger down if you’ve been in love,” she starts. Fingers down all throughout the crowd. “Now put a finger down if you fell in love with a guy who turned out to be DL and then he broke into your house.” Damn. She won that one.

5pm. Omar Apollo talks to the crowd: “I know there’s hella Mexicans out here.” Cheers all around. “Hold on, where my gay people at?” Earth-shattering screams. I strike up a conversation with a girl next to me in full GOLF flame print (with matching Converse). We share memories of our first pair of Converse signaling our entry into true middle school emo. I ask her the craziest thing she’s seen at Flog. “The Teletubbies,” she tells me before running off. I won’t know what she’s talking about until later.

6pm. The moon is low and the ferris wheel is green. In between beat drops, Kaytranada adlibs, rapidly calling for medics. Someone I used to watch on TV asks me about the bathroom line.

8pm. These boys behind me talk about Daniel Caesar, saying, “He’s rizzing.” They speak too earnestly for me to think they're being ironic. Daniel continues to signal for medics, gently chastising the crowd. “Y’all are dropping like flies,” he teases. “That was hella nonchalant,” says one of the boys. I notice their Chucks. We have something in common, even if I can’t understand a word they’re saying.

A plane flies overhead carrying a banner that reads "The world is small. Los Angeles is smaller." Later, I find out that someone got engaged on the ferris wheel. Flog Gnaw is for lovers.

10pm. Fans are walking around with Tyler dolls (dressed in their own mini Converse), despite the 2015 interview where he rebuked any possibilities of a doll in his likeness. Whatever. It's Tyler time. He conducts us as the entire stadium sings to St. Chroma. After his dramatic opening, he goes into his usual riffs. “Hi mom!” he says. This is his victory lap. And well-deserved. Chromakopia has been at #1 for three weeks now. “To do that and my tenth carnival in my fuckin city, that’s what I’m talking about. I don’t even have a heartfelt message…All this shit really be straight from my notebook, man. It’s fucking crazy.”

I accidentally hit a woman with my camera. I apologize profusely but she’s unfazed. “My head is like a helmet!” she says. She introduces me to her 12-year-old son — it’s his first concert. She’s not missing a beat on any of T’s songs. The kid seems excited to see his mom curse.

Tyler takes a puff from his inhaler. He brings out Daniel Caesar for a song. “I love you,” he says. “Lick my neck.” He twerks with Sexxy Red. Someone behind me speculates that he was practicing in the mirror. Sexxy jokes that Tyler wrote Sticky about her. T gives a look to the audience — half shocked, and then giggles and shrugs in concession. The stadium shakes when he plays Tamale. Doechii comes onstage for Balloon. I will not apologize for the person I become during her verse. Tyler leaves us with one request. “Get home safe and keep dreaming.”

Sunday, 2pm. I talk to someone in a decora get-up and ask her about her first Converse memory. “My mom got me my first pair,” she reminisces. “The OG black Chuck Taylors.” I ask her the craziest thing she’s seen at Flog — “The guy in the Sasquatch costume,” she says. Again, it’ll be a few hours until I know what she’s talking about.

Backstage I pass Hana Vu, who I’d seen in 2018 as an opener at my old haunt, a definitely-not-up-to-code venue in Cleveland. I later looked at the pictures I took from the show — I was wearing black Chucks. Some things never change.

3pm. I chat with some more people about their Converse. “I have a pair for partying and a pair for class,” they tell me. My shoes still look close to brand new, but Carti is tonight, so we’ll see how long that lasts. I see some people on a ride that would definitely make me lose my brunch. I can tell from the undersides of their dangling feet that they have Chucks on.

4pm. In line for a ride, we fawn over this girl's Converse — she has flowers on the rivets! She proudly announces she was one of the people who passed out during the Daniel Caesar set. Our faces must give away how concerned we are, but she assures us she's fine now. The experience ages me.

I find Sasquatch. I also find someone dressed as Tron Cat. The two will later duke it out in the pit.

5pm. I pass a shirt that says, “I miss when OF stood for Odd Future.” People are moshing to André 3000’s flute until they decide that it would be more fitting to sit on the ground and pretend to row. Numerous Chucks are spotted in this formation.

6pm. I come across a guy dressed up as MF DOOM. We both chat and bond over having gotten our first pair of Converse as 5th grade birthday presents. “I wore mine til they were cracking all up the side,” he tells me. I ask him the craziest thing he’s seen at Flog. “Probably Sexxy Red slapping Tyler’s ass.” I make it to Sexxy’s set in time to see her shaking ass on the big screen, as well as people on the ground shaking ass alongside her. The people’s princess.

7pm. Everyone is running to The Marías. “Sing with me if you want your ex back,” says María Zardoya. I don’t want my ex back, but I do love the band. She waltzes between the crowd until someone almost pulls her into the pit — security freaks out for a second but all is well. She gives the mic to the crowd for Cariño and an unseen man sings what could be a screamo version of the song. Rock on.

I chat it up with another furry, who remembers wearing their high top Converse to their first middle school softball game. I ask the craziest thing they’ve seen at Flog and get an answer I should’ve expected from a furry — “Everything here just kinda levels out. Everything is equally crazy.” I find the Teletubbies, who’ve since become festival celebrities.

8pm. We’re torn between going to Mustard or Blood Orange. Good problems. People are running to Blood Orange while singing along to Rack City. Mustard brings out Roddy Ricch, Shoreline Mafia, Tyga, Ty Dolla $ign, Big Sean, and YG. “This is so college.” He fakes out the crowd and skips Drake’s verse with a triumphant, “Sike!” Someone steals one of the giant wooden flames hanging from the carnival entry. Later, I see that someone else stole the giant bees off the GNAW sign. Respect.

9pm. We make it to Blood Orange. It’s been a big day for middle school me. I remember being 14 and sitting in my bedroom, reblogging pictures of palm trees silhouetted against a California sunset. There was a life I aspired to that I seem to be living now. Dev Hynes brings out Brendan Yates of Turnstile and they cover Love Will Tear Us Apart. They close with Champagne Coast. A few people are crying. A few people are holding each other. A shooting star appears over FM MOOD’s MF DOOM tribute set. Magic.

10pm. We're live from the Carti pit. The monitors read “Please take a few steps back.” I may be in danger. I can’t see a thing because I’m a whole head shorter than everyone here. Carti brings out The Weeknd but I can only hear him. I’m too busy trying not to get trampled by eighteen-year-old boys. I help someone dressed in full IGOR garb to their feet — his blonde bowlcut wig stays on the entire time. Someone rips their sweat-soaked shirt off and swings it around, baptizing everyone in a 10-foot radius. Carti doesn’t play FEIN. The shirtless dude scolds the crowd, yelling — “If you guys don’t open up this pit, you’re all losers!” The lights come on and he's (satisfyingly) embarrassed.

We make it back to the rest of the group who watched Carti safely from the back. “Izzy, no offense, but you look like you’ve been through war.” I may as well. A mosh pit is best judged by its aftermath. Loose batteries, a trampled keffiyeh, and socks (?) litter the ground. We found loose bra padding and I can only imagine what had to happen for those to be abandoned. A few spare shoes were found — none of them matching, and none of them Converse (10/10 for durability). All of our Chucks, now very broken in, stay attached to our feet. We kept it fun. We kept it freaky. We kept our shoes. What more could I ask for.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.