(Mostly) Vintage Outfits Inspired by the 6 Best Books I Read in 2025
I definitely judge a book by it's cover
I’ve moved around a lot. I went to preschool in Japan, kindergarten in Singapore, and middle school in Kansas. I’ve had a bedroom window that looked out into the central California desert, another that overlooked a faded Connecticut barn, and one in Flatbush that faced a brick wall. Despite dozens of different street names and roommates and floors that creaked in different places, my one constant has always been my books. No matter where my room was, there has always been a colorful little stack by my bedside.
Certain book covers have come to define different times in my life, their fonts and illustrations instantly transporting me to where I was when I first read them. Compelling design has guided me to stories that changed the way I saw the world, and the spines of my favorites occasionally seem to wave at me from my bookshelf, like a wink from a past self. In my ways, book design is one of the art forms that has transformed me the most, and yet I recently realized I have no idea who’s even responsible for my favorites. Yes, I love to read. But I also love to look at books.
I decided I want to celebrate not just my favorite books I read in 2025, but their designs and the artists who made them. I styled a vintage look to compliment each of the covers for the six books I enjoyed the most this year.
All of my 2025 favorites were were fiction, and they were all written by women. There’s only one that isn’t particularly fantastical, and only one other that isn’t at least a little bit gay. One was originally written in Spanish, another in French, and two in Japanese.
Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez (2019)
Paired with: a 1960’s electric blue nylon chiffon peignoir & a 1990’s silk and paillette mini dress.
I’ll probably be thinking of Gaspar Peterson for the rest of my life.
Our Share of Night was my favorite thing I read this year. A sweeping gothic horror, the story slowly unveils a disturbing family history that extends beyond the human realm. Set in Argentina between the 1960’s and the 1990’s, Enriquez masterfully presents pieces of the country’s real political history through a rich parallel fantasy. There are deeply disturbing scenes of violent rituals and abuse, but never simply for the sake of shock and gore. The horror is used to set up masterful explorations of Indigenous spirituality, colonization, class struggle, and sexuality.
This book didn’t grab me immediately, but as soon as I really started to piece things together, I couldn’t put it down. I can’t wait to read this again.
Butter by Asako Yuzuki (2017)
Paired with: a thrifted ballet sleeve yellow cotton top, a Y2K faux fur cow skirt, and mid century bakelite bangles.
With a name like Butter, I should have known that this book was going to be just my taste. I read a lot of Japanese fiction - my mom grew up in Tokyo, and reading stories by Japanese authors is one of the ways I connect to a culture that feels equal parts very within me and very far away. There are always moments of familiarity when I read about Japan, but I was surprised by how many themes in this story touched on the exact the ideas I find myself ruminating on so often. There were moments when I actually felt unmoored by seeing so many of my specific topical interests one after the other.
Butter is billed as a serial killer story, which I think would inevitably disappoint anyone expecting anything true-crime-adjacent. Yuzuki instead spends time exploring gender roles, identity, and fatphobia in Japan through food culture, devoting large portions of the story to characters grocery shopping, going to restaurants, cooking, baking, and even doing dishes. I’ve found that it’s quite common for Japanese authors to interject their stories with detailed descriptions of the mundane, especially around food - it’s one of the hallmarks of Japanese fiction that I always love, and Butter was more devoted to the practice than anything else I’ve read yet.
Rogue by Mona Awad (2023)
Paired with: a Y2K beaded crochet dress & a 1990’s Pleats Please skirt.
A surreal tale of memory, obsession, and the dangerous side of beauty. I’ve seen people describe the book as Lynchian, an apt comparison for a dreamlike story that retains an unsettling darkness despite a California beachfront setting. Many of Rogue’s sequences remain open to interpretation, with hazy descriptions and numerous outside references that allowed readers to latch on to an array of possible connections. Tom Cruise is a surprisingly important part of this book in a very weird way. Many reviewers found it annoying - I thought it was wildly entertaining.
I know Awad is divisive! I loved Rogue so much that I finally bought a copy of Bunny, but gave up after I noticed the use of the phrase “like so” repeated twice on page 4 (“like so much inane frosting” followed a few paragraphs later by “like so many ghosts”). Specific repetitive phrasing is something I dislike (and try to correct) in my own writing, so it could just be projecting. I may give Bunny another try again in 2026.
The Factory by Hiroko Oyamada (2013)
Cover art designed by Janet Hansen, photographed by Arthur Woodcroft
Paired with: a 1940’s fuchsia chenille housecoat, and unlabeled secondhand tulle dress, and a 1960’s glass necklace.
This strange little book actually found its way to me.
My apartment building has a free bookshelf in our communal laundry room where residents drop off things that, frankly, they’re usually getting rid of for good reason. The selection is mostly made up of cheesy airport novels, outdated travel guides, and the occasional coffee-stained best seller. One day I spotted this pristine little pink and green novella sitting on the top shelf.
Once I looked past the intriguing cover, I noticed two more details that drew me in further: a Japanese woman was the author, and the teeny little blurb was mysteriously credited simply to PW. Book covers are typically so busy these days, their designs layered with embossed awards and blurbs from familiar names and banners that remind you that it’s Now a Major Motion Picture! Something about the complete lack of extra information made The Factory feel especially compelling - almost like it wasn’t even a real book.
The story itself proved as odd as our introduction. Brief, eerie, and utterly captivating. I flew through the 100-ish pages in a single sitting, and despite our short dalliance, I’ve find myself thinking about its “washer lizards” every time I do laundry. I’ve yet to pick up anything else even half as good from the free bookshelf since.
My last two favorites were both fantasy trilogies that I’ve actually already read before. I often find that people are surprised to hear that I re-read things, which is a reaction no one seems to have when you revisit a favorite film. Most people seem to think they just don’t have the time, though those same hours are apparently available to re-watch 9 seasons of The Office every year.
