In September, during New York Fashion Week, the artist Maia Ruth Lee walked the runway at Eckhaus Latta in a blush cardigan dress, its middle buttons undone around her 35-week pregnant belly, her navel a button punctuating the look. It was splendid, stylish and rare.
A month later, Hatch, a modern maternity label founded in 2011 by Ariane Goldman, opened its first brick-and-mortar store, on Bleecker Street. Hatch makes “clothing for before, during and after” pregnancy, an assertion that, along with the Eckhaus Latta casting, feels like a shiver in a water glass, a sign of rumblings around the aesthetic ownership of pregnancy.
To go to Hatch unpregnant is apparently welcome and can be fruitful (Ms. Goldman told Vogue.com in October that a quarter of her customers aren’t pregnant), but to explore it through the eyes of an expecting mother, I brought along Marz Lovejoy, 26, a musician, model and artist who is six months along.
“I have from the jump been really outspoken about how society has this fear of pregnant women,” she told me. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m weak. I’m actually stronger, there’s two of me right now.”
It may have just been the spitty, wet weather, but Hatch actually feels like a womb. The store is decorated in soft tones, with seating so cozy and touchable that it would invite a baby to reach up and stand for the first time. Chiara de Rege, whose company CDR Interiors did the décor for the women’s social club the Wing, designed the space, and I noticed later that day that the wallpaper in the beauty area in back is the same as in the Wing SoHo’s beauty room and, surreally, that it’s also on the walls at the Real Real store on Wooster Street.
The pattern, called Coven, shows stark-white women (at the Wing not all of the women are white) heavily outlined, blindfolded and naked, frozen in balletic handholds. Whatever they are summoning — fertility, revenge, a benevolent leader, an Uber — its arrival is imminent.