Leandra Medine's Blog, page 106

After 28 Years, I Still Don’t Know What I Look Like

It’s been almost two years since I wrote the below essay, originally published in October 2017, and I’m relieved to say the frisson has since dulled. Although I’m still not certain what I look like, I’m both closer to knowing and more apathetic than ever (oh, the irony of growing up). But this essay was a reminder that coming into ourselves is so often a battle of wills—of feeling one way in spite of knowing better, and unraveling the stories we no longer agree with. So in honor of Vanity Month, we’re republishing this story that tackles both. If you’re on this journey too, know you’re not alone. 

I wish I could stop thinking about what I look like. I wish the number of realizations I’ve had about my self-esteem mapped sensibly to the attention it still requires every day, probably every hour. I keep thinking it has been long enough; that I’m mature and enlightened enough; that, jesus, I’ve fretted, read and written enough that I could move the fuck on. By now I should be able to tackle this thing like a sink of dirty dishes: suddenly, feverishly, and all in one go. None of that’s the case, though, and I kind of miss the version of me naïve enough to disagree.

This obsession is one that’s plagued, at some point, every woman I know. Smart women, generous women, driven women. Talented, insightful, hilarious women. Gorgeous woman, too—the kind of gorgeous that people don’t contest, the kind that lights up your brain faster than you can say, “beauty is on the inside.” The insecurities of drop-dead beauties are kryptonite to my own: How could she not know? What does she see when she looks in the mirror? What does that mean for me? I’ve wondered these things so many times.

When I was little, my dad teased me for looking in any reflective surface I passed. The mirror behind our dinner table, the window of his car, the sliding glass doors to our backyard. Nothing was off-limits so long as I could look in it and see myself looking back. But where he saw a gaze of self-admiration, a vain little habit I needed to break, I saw a girl I didn’t recognize but desperately wanted to. The answer to the question of whether I was pretty, which everyone and everything signaled was important, eluded me in bewildering repetition. I wasn’t vain, I was curious.

That’s really the crux of it, I think. I don’t know what the hell I look like, and I’ve been trying to figure that out for 28 years.

I don’t know what I look like on the train, waiting for my stop. I don’t know what I look like when I’m writing, talking, walking down the street. I can picture myself laughing about as well as I can picture a Rorschach test the moment after it’s flipped face-down. My face is a blurry imprint that fades as fast as it appears. I could argue all day why the answer to what I look like doesn’t matter, but open-ended questions are hard to ignore. And even if there’s ecstasy in forgetting them, in distraction, the quiet off-beats of life are too frequent to let me for long.

To be told my looks matter—in ways both subtle and explicit—and then to be robbed of the data is frustrating. We’re a generation obsessed with capturing our own image, but photos, videos and glances in the mirror produce maddeningly inconsistent results, don’t they? I find myself adorable or grotesque depending on the second hand of a rotary clock. Every selfie I take or granule of feedback I receive is another notch on the ledger of a debate I have yet to settle. I don’t even care where I net out at this point—I swear I can handle the answer—I just want it over with so I can reallocate my curiosities elsewhere, anywhere.

But I’m beginning to realize it’s a fruitless pursuit. Just as I don’t reduce anyone else’s face to a single expression at a certain angle in one particular light, I shouldn’t attempt to do so to myself. And just as I appreciate other people’s faces for the quirks and nuances that pull around their expressions, the emotional whole greater than its million parts, I should probably grant myself the same expansiveness. Maybe there is no definitive answer as to whether I’m pretty, adorable or grotesque. Maybe I’m all of those things and more. What if I accepted my own vast unknowability, and found the ecstasy in that, instead?

Photo provided by Haley Nahman. 

The post After 28 Years, I Still Don’t Know What I Look Like appeared first on Man Repeller.

Low Stakes Hot Take: Corny Vacation Content Is Underrated

Thirst Trap \ˈthərst træp\ n.: A social media post intended to elicit sexual attention, appreciation of one’s attractiveness, or other positive feedback.

My earliest attempt at a “thirst trap” (my “first trap,” if you will) took place in Iceland’s Blue Lagoon in 2014. I did not know it was called a thirst trap at the time, as the term had not yet entered my lexicon—though apparently it was first defined by Urban Dictionary in 2011. (Whoever was using it in 2011, show yourself.) What I did know, however, was that I had just paid 11,990 króna to sit in hot water and risk dropping my phone into the geothermal pool for that hallowed pic.

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Heard Bey and Jay were in the area so we decided to crash. No sightings yet, but the geothermal springs here are excellent.

A post shared by Chantal Strasburger (@chantagold) on Dec 28, 2014 at 7:54am PST

On paper, I had the thirst trap formula down pat: bathing suit + dramatic steam + wet hair. But in reality, it was a terribly unflattering one piece I had rented from the locker room and I look kind of damp and cold (I was). And so predictably, when I posted the photo, there was not a single drooling face emoji in the comments. To be fair, that emoji wouldn’t be designed for another two years, but still. The signature deluge of heart-eyes, flames, and declarations of lust never came. Furthermore, the first comment was from my boss at the time saying, “Your hair is going to smell like eggs for weeks now.” (You were not wrong, Andrew.)

But! It did receive a record amount of likes, a primary objective of the thirst trap, which got me thinking. In the world of social media validation, I may never be a bikini-clad trapper (shoutout to my grandparents for following me on Instagram), but the overheated pond revealed another form of entrapment that is more my style: The tourist trap.

Tourist Trap \ˈtʊə.rɪst træp\ n.: A place that attracts and exploits tourists.

We all know the first rule of being a savvy traveller is knowing when and where to spend your money. Drink where the locals drink, avoid people in the streets holding laminated menus, and never, ever buy your souvenirs at the first stall. But what if tourist traps could actually be used for good? Producing photographs so shamelessly posed and painfully cliché that they transcend tourist trap and become the next evolution of the thirst trap? After all, as millenials, we’re supposed to value experiences above all else.

Tourist Thirst Trap \ˈtʊə.rɪst ˈthərst træp\ n.: A social media post intended to elicit appreciation and positive feedback taken at a place that attracts and exploits tourists.

Last summer I went to Cappadocia, a region in Turkey famed for its stunning landscapes and hot air balloon tourism. Influencers and Turkish brides alike flock to this destination for photoshoots backed by a sky of glowing balloons. The hotel we stayed at was particularly popular on Instagram due to some marketing genius’s idea of charging guests a cool 180 lira for 20 minutes with a picturesque breakfast platter and a view of the balloons taking off at dawn.

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Similar to St. Louis’s Balloon Glow but also very much not

A post shared by Chantal Strasburger (@chantagold) on Jul 19, 2018 at 7:24pm PDT

My mother found out about this shakedown while checking in and booked me the next morning’s 5:15 a.m. slot. I refused to partake in such a humiliatingly inane act until my sister agreed to do it, then I begrudgingly set my alarm, not wanting to miss out. We got up before sunrise, stumbled onto the terrace along with dozens of other bleary-eyed, overdressed suckers waiting their turn, and posed with a tray of food—all of which quickly became too cold to eat. But that was never really the point.

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This post is dedicated to my dear friend @tkentor, who recently muted me.

A post shared by Chantal Strasburger (@chantagold) on Jul 20, 2018 at 2:58pm PDT

Despite all my complaining, I accepted the tourist trap for what it was and turned the experience into another attention-seeking, ego-boosting Instagram post—and it worked! I got a damn good photo that hit the thirst trap markers of hundreds of likes and “You are a vision

I Tried the Morning Routines of 5 Successful People

Nobody wants to do better more than Amelia Diamond. Despite being a naturally talented, delightful, and productive person, her canon at Man Repeller is weighted heavily towards endeavors of self-improvement. Especially those concerning her nemesis: mornings. Below, originally published in August 2017, Amelia tries out the morning routines of five “successful” people in an attempt to be successful herself. We’re republishing it today in case you’re hungry for a laugh or an idea, no matter how absurd. 

Every single Successful Person in the history of the world woke/wakes up early. Winston Churchill and Linda Evangelista are the only exceptions: The former politician didn’t get up until 11, but at least he was up and doing work from bed starting at 8. Linda Evangelista famously refused to awake for less than $10,000 a day, but that right there is a business strategy of the savvy if I’ve ever seen one. Lean into that satin pillow, Linda.

I am not a Successful Person—not yet, not in the proper sense, with a capital S and P and a TED Talk or a billboard—but I’d like to be. A few years ago I taught myself to wake up earlier in the hopes of getting more of my life together. In retrospect, it worked: I recently got a promotion. But what if jumping out of bed isn’t enough for my more dramatic long-term goals? What if there are other key components that lead to true outlier-level career triumphs, and I am missing them? Nothing a little research and replication can’t eke out. I tried five morning routines of five successful people… mostly because someone has to feed this hungry internet beast. (To its credit, the internet is 24/7 and money never sleeps.)

1. Jennifer Aniston

Jennifer Aniston’s net worth is reportedly $150 million, not to be tacky. You would think this number would encourage me to at least try to set my alarm for her standard 4:30 a.m. wake up time, but it did not. 4:30 a.m. is not early, it is the middle of the night, which seems counter-intuitive.

1. She wakes up at 8 a.m. on non-work days, however. So fine, on a Saturday morning, I did this.

2. Next on the agenda, the old “drink hot water with lemon” propaganda rhetoric that I conceded to only because of $150 million, and also because my mom keeps saying it’s good for digestion.

3. I washed my face with soap and water then spent the whole day panicking about whether or not this would cause acne.

4. Said worries interrupted my required 20 minutes of meditation.

5. Sometimes Jennifer Anniston eats fresh eggs from the butts of chickens that hang out in her own backyard. I don’t have a backyard so I had to settle for her second go-to: a protein shake. Well and Good has the full scoop on her preferred recipe; I went to Juice Generation. I always eat after workouts but wondered if eating before could be the missing link.

6. It was not the missing link and in fact, it nearly made me sick. Jennifer Anniston spins for 30 minutes, then does yoga for 40. I don’t have a spin bike in my mansion so I signed up for SoulCycle instead (45 minutes), which is a terrible after a protein shake. Following this I did some half-assed yoga on a mat in my apartment, and then, to feel extra Jen, I drank a SmartWater. SmartWater is just regular water with very smart marketing, but in this exercise, you can’t argue with success.

Did I feel successful after this morning, which ended around 11? Not any more than usual, to be honest. I think the call time has to be less insane than Jen’s 4:30 weekdays, but more extreme than 8 a.m. weekends.

2.Oprah Winfrey

Now this is more like it: Oprah wakes up at 6:02 a.m., but she has never set an alarm. “I don’t believe in them,” she told The Hollywood Reporter. “They are … alarming!”

1. I set an alarm because my internal clock doesn’t kick in until 45 minutes later on a great day. I was tired but like, the whole world wakes up at 6:02 a.m..

2. Oprah says her first thought when she wakes up is, “Oh, I’m alive. Thank you!” So I did this. It made for a nice morning mindset. What follows, for her, are a series of downward dogs with actual dogs. I had to do mine alone.

3. Oprah makes herself a chai tea or skim cappuccino at 6:45 a.m. but I can’t cook. Instead, I put my sneakers on 15 minutes before she says she does and left the house with enough time to stop at a coffee shop by my apartment. (I never leave my apartment early enough to do ANYTHING, so this felt amazing.)

4. By 7:05 a.m., Oprah is in her home gym so that she can have the TV on and tuned to CBS’s “Eye Opener” to see what her BFF Gayle is wearing. I don’t have any friends on TV but Leandra was in Italy while I did this, so the time difference meant I got to watch her stories like a little morning program on my way to the gym. Ah, nice caftan.

5. Oprah does 20 minutes on the elliptical and 30 minutes walking on the treadmill. She starts out at the Level 3 incline setting and then every minute adds to the incline until she gets to 12 or 15, then she does sit-ups. I did Barry’s Bootcamp, which is like an…extreme version of this? Then I tried not to throw up. Might have been the cappuccino, though.

6. At 8 a.m., Oprah does a sitting meditation, so at 9 a.m., I did one too. (I had to shower after Barry’s and also, let’s not forget, I have an office to be inside of that isn’t a palindrome of my own name.) She said that if she’s in a rush she’ll only meditate for 10-12 minutes, which was comforting. I always think of meditation as THE FULL MONTY or nothing at all. Not very zen, I know. Anyway, I liked Oprah’s realistic  approach and actually, it allowed me to relax a bit.

7. At 8:30 a.m. Oprah eats medium-boiled eggs and a piece of multigrain toast for breakfast. “I have actually noticed that lately I have been eating breakfast at 8:38,” she told Well and Good. Wild woman. It was 10 a.m. by the time I ate my Oprah meal, but it was better than a Kind bar and certainly filled me up for longer.

8. An hour behind Oprah’s schedule and feeling guilty about it, I went through my schedule while eating, as she does, knocked out a few phone calls and had zero bank wires. But wait a minute! “[B]usiness transactions and financial stuff…I try to get all of that done by noon or 12:30 when I am home, since that’s 3 p.m. in New York and the banks close soon after that.” Oprah is on California time. Do you realize what this means? Even on a one hour delay, I was two hours ahead of Oprah.

So long as she doesn’t smite me down for saying that, I’d consider this a major success.

3. Barack Obama

Barack Obama starts his days two hours before his first event. I like the idea of working backwards from your first important thing — it seems less monotonous and less militant than a daily call time (although I get that the irregularity could undermine your internal clock, Oprah).

1. My first “event” was at 9 a.m., but in order to make a 7 a.m. workout class, I had to set my alarm for 6:20…so turns out this didn’t make much of a difference. But! I liked the mindset.

2. Obama and I both work out in the mornings, but I get the sense that he never skips. So, on Obama day, neither did I. Something I try to remind myself on mornings where I am tempted to hit snooze is that I never feel better for sleeping in 20 minutes extra, and I always feel better after working out, so…GET THE FUCK UP.

3. Barack Obama reportedly ate a breakfast of eggs, wheat toast and (until his doctor gave him a cholesterol warning) bacon every day — but no coffee. I could get down with the food portion of this party but no coffee is rough for me. Well-knowing that green tea doesn’t do shit as a caffeine supplement, I tried it and broke down by 10 a.m. for an iced coffee. In the words of Miranda Hobbes about her trash magazines, “It’s my thing, let me have it.”

4. The fourth and final agenda in Barack Obama’s documented morning routine includes reading the paper — the actual paper, not a digital copy. I bought a paper after my workout and read for 15 minutes on a bench before going up to my apartment. It was nice to delay looking at my phone for a while longer while still feeling productive.

Although this was a watered-down-for-the-press’s version of the busiest man in America’s routine, there’s something really civilized about reading the actual paper, and eating an actual breakfast. Kind of makes you feel ridiculous when you’re not the president and you’re like, “I’m too busy to X.” Completing all of this set me up for a go-get-em-tiger mental space for the rest of the day.

4. Gwyneth Paltrow

If there ever was a morning bird in this whole entire world, it has to be Gwyneth Paltrow. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, so…

1. Sigh. So did I. I set my alarm for 5 a.m., woke up, laughed, went back to bed.

2. But not for long! Because I don’t have an Apple and a Moses to rouse, feed and get ready for school (after dribbling spoonfuls of lemon-flavored flax oil into their baby mouths), I really had no excuse but to get the hell up and get my day started. I used this weird window of time between being…up (barely) and heading toward Hubert Street for my GP-evangelized workout class to brush my teeth and get some work done. It was slow and steady; I wasn’t powering through my to-do list, but it was productive, not to mention gloriously quiet.

3. Until it wasn’t. I arrived at Tracy Anderson in Tribeca, the eponymous studios of Gwyneth’s favorite trainer. “I am a very longtime Tracy Anderson fanatic,” she told Byrdie.com. “I practice her method religiously. I do it five days a week.” Okay. Now, I work out, but not like this. The first half of the class was a true dance party to a top tier playlist. If the instructor, Lana, could deejay my every morning, that would be great. The second half was a combination between torture or Broadway on steroids set to hip hop music with leg weights (which I am aware probably is a nightmare for some people)? For me, it was one of those satisfying burns where you want to pass out in the moment but then need everyone to know you attended a Tracy Anderson class after. It took sheer will and determination to stay alive but I swear to god, I think I grew an ab in the process. I understand the fanfare and I, too, would like to one day to be a Tracy Anderson fanatic.

But on this day, I settled with bragging rights, plus I was 45 minutes early to a freakishly healthy breakfast thanks to my tight edit of a morning. I used this time to start writing a story. Success.

5. Anna Wintour

The fifth and final routine I tried is none other than that of Vogue’s Editor-in-Chief, Anna Wintour. Woudn’t it be weird if you didn’t know what name would follow that comma? Yeah. It would be. Now that’s TED Talk/billboard successful.

1. Anna begins the day at 5:45 a.m. with a tennis lesson, so I began my day at 5:45, then took a tennis lesson at 7. (I didn’t want to subject anyone else to such a call time in the name of guinea pig journalism. Just me being thoughtful.)

First of all, if you’re looking for a tennis coach, no matter your level, I highly suggest using PlayYourCourt. You answer a few fast questions about where you live, what you’re looking for and they assign you with a coach who matches the criteria almost instantly. It was very 21st century, very efficient. They matched me with an instructor named Nataliya who is patient, probably going to win the U.S. Open someday and lovely.

I arrived early, 6:30 a.m., to reserve a court spot. At 7 a.m. sharp, we began. At 8:30 a.m., as I walked home to change for work, I thought to myself, “Holy shit. I just played a game of tennis and, if I wanted to, could have an entire hour and a half to do nothing before my first meeting.”

2. Instead, I grabbed a coffee from Starbucks and got a blowout, just like Anna, then did emails from my phone under the dryer. I wasn’t mad.

I was the most successful on this day in terms of productivity and creativity, which I credit to the effect of a one-on-one lesson with a professional instructor (rather than a solo run at this same time, or a workout class) had on my brain. My mind felt tuned-up in a way it hasn’t in forever. I was awake and buzzing and full of energy. It was truly kind of remarkable. I think this is how you’re supposed to feel after meditation? I wonder if the effect would be the same if I started my day off with a crossword puzzle or some other non-work-related stimulation. Another experiment for another day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go immediately to bed.

6 PHOTOS
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Illustrations by @CrayolaMode. 

The post I Tried the Morning Routines of 5 Successful People appeared first on Man Repeller.

The Tinder Bio of Every Myers-Briggs Type

Is the Myers-Briggs personality test to be trusted? I can’t say. Licensed psychologists no longer use it, but the internet sure does. And that’s because it’s FUN, and weirdly enlightening, if only because it’s one more way to consider who you are—or who you want to be with. Since it’s officially summer and uncuffing season is behind us, we’re resharing this story, originally published this time last year, in case you’re keen to swipe with a more discerning eye.

T

here’s a new trend on dating apps like Tinder and Bumble: People have started listing their Myers-Briggs types on their profiles, so prospective dates can get a tiny glimpse into a match’s personality before setting up an IRL meetup. As an MBTI nerd and a generally analytical person with an affinity for a couple types in particular (ENTPs are my weakness), I looooooove that this is happening.

While I would not recommend making dating decisions exclusively based on someone’s Myers-Briggs type, it’s definitely fun to get an early impression of the type of person who might show up for drinks. How we might vibe. What their interests could be. How we’ll banter. Sigh. Imagination: Carry me away. Genuinely.

With that in mind, I started thinking about what each personality type might write in their Tinder profile, should they choose to be totally upfront and unfiltered about themselves. Here are my interpretations. Would you swipe right?

Sarcastic. Imaginative. Calculated. Basically cotton candy locked inside a steel cage. I’ve got one flawless vision of the future with a carefully-plotted plan to get there and my perpetually neutral, borderline-chilly facial expression is entirely unintentional. Looking for an intellectually stimulating partner-in-crime. Don’t waste my time and I won’t waste yours.

Introverted extrovert and true enigma. Will likely eviscerate your best arguments, thrill you with banter and charm you to death. I have a billion ideas for date nights and business ventures. (I’ll brainstorm if you choose?) Never boring but always bored. Tell me when to show up and I’m there. Sapiosexual.

If you can pull me away from my philosophy books and scientific theories, I’m a pretty low-key date. I know exactly what I’m looking for; love isn’t that hard to figure out. It’s just a chemical reaction, commitment to grow the relationship, and desire to keep showing up for your partner.

Bossy, intense, electric. I don’t have an “off” switch. I’ll take charge of a situation without thinking twice, and I know how to put in the exact amount of work for desired results. I have minimal free time but I make the absolute most of it. I know what I want when I see it. Confidence is sexy, right?

Perfectionistic, quirky, and everybody’s friend. Extroverted introvert with a diverse range of interests. My book shelves are full of novels by women, history texts, science texts, and science fiction. I love analyzing the problems of others but I’m still trying to understand myself. I’m always attracted to the rebel but I’ll only commit to someone who “gets” me. Open to all applicants.

Let’s get a drink. Or go for a hike. Or go skydiving. Or all three?! I see possibilities everywhere, and will chase every last one of them. Easy-going on the surface with a deep, intense core of hidden emotions. Super-extroverted and super-sensitive. Be my biggest cheerleader and I’ll be yours. Challenge me and I’ll challenge you. Note: Cannot go out in my neighborhood if you want alone time.

Cuddly like a teddy bear. Warm like a ray of sunshine. Inspiring AF. Crazy confident and intense. I never think twice about looking uncool. If I’m not into you, I’ll be upfront and won’t waste your time but if I am into you, get ready: I’ll want to hang out 24/7, have picnic lunches, go to the Farmer’s market, and plan a million fun dates. Probably a touch of an overthinker so don’t leave me alone to wonder about your level of interest.

Appearance: Chillest person in the room who just loves to have a good time. Reality: Probably the most sensitive romantic you’ll ever meet. I’ll definitely take rejection personally. I have tons of interests; travel, poetry readings, indie bands you’ve never heard of, quaint dive bars in new cities, and meeting people with quirky humor and style. Dating is like an extreme sport for my emotions and I ultimately can’t wait to find The One (aka another weirdo who just gets me).

Responsible, stable, looking for a partner-in-crime. Home owner. Will show up exactly on time, all the time. Will plan an awesome, thoughtful date. Can’t be bothered to go out on a string of casual dates so will probably give up on the apps eventually. But I’m totally invested in relationships with substance and potential if you’re into that sort of thing.

The best mistake of your life or the best thing to ever happen to you?

It’s Time to Talk About Vanity

Hi! Welcome to July on Man Repeller. Our editorial theme this month will be Vanity. A relevant topic for those of us prone to self- documentation and reflection, and one we’re prepared to explore with a fine-tooth tortoiseshell comb. Technically speaking, vanity refers to excessive self-admiration, but today it feels more like a lens through which to see the world. A manner of being, perceiving, and processing. One that’s permeated our culture like jasmine in a Hilton lobby or the saccharine aroma specific to porta potties.

But is it right to assign vanity a moral value?

There is seemingly no end to the harmful ways it can manifest (sometimes this feels like the bedrock of Western civilization), but it’s also true that the proliferation of the first clear glass mirrors coincided with the rise of individualism and the age of enlightenment. To gaze at oneself can be one way to recognize the worth of the self, and the worth of individuals everywhere. It’s from this ethos that self-admiration can blossom into something resembling freedom.

So no, it doesn’t feel quite right to dismiss vanity as narcissistic or selfish, despite it occasionally leading to those qualities. It feels more accurate to think of it as a formidable social phenomenon to approach critically and carefully, but never cynically. Because sometimes, it can lead to interesting places….

A few weeks ago, I attended a dinner where a woman with high cheekbones and a blond pixie cut told everyone who they were based on their birthdays. I did not expect to learn much—I’m best described as aggressively secular—but I attended out of morbid curiosity. I wanted to see how earnestly people believed these things; whether the mystical movement I’ve observed online is dead serious or only kind of. Also, there would be hummus.

It probably won’t surprise you to learn that no one was kidding around. At least not visibly. The faces around the farmhouse table appeared rapt, sometimes solemn, other times laughing incredulously at being read so accurately. “I bet you’re the kind of person who is very sensitive to your physical surroundings,” the woman said to a young woman in her Drew Barrymore-like lilt. “Do you ever sit down at a restaurant and have the feeling that you want to move to a different seat?” The person scoffed genially and nodded, eyes aglow. I feel that way too, I thought. But my chart said otherwise.

At one point, our leader asked us to pause and consider where in our lives we were experiencing friction, and whether it might be the result of us trying to be someone we’re not. Although I didn’t believe she knew who I was, I liked the prompt; it struck me as useful regardless of where I was born (San Jose) or when (2:15 p.m.). But strangely, when I paused to consider it, nothing immediately surfaced, prompting an absurd surge of hubris to move through me. Maybe I’m no longer broken! I thought. Did this mean I’d be getting an A?

I left the party feeling smug, and the next week, the friction appeared in droves. A necessary humbling. And to my surprise, I couldn’t get the mystic’s question out of my head. Where was I experiencing pushback in my life, and might it be a signal that I was approaching the conundrum dishonestly? The more I turned this idea over, the sooner it occured to me that I was no different than the attendees at the dinner—curious if not desperate for answers as to who I am and how to meaningfully center myself in all things that happen to me. Same endgame, different tactics, nothing, necessarily, to feel special about.

It would be fair to chalk such explorations up to vain, self-important endeavors, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t also useful to look obsessively inward from time to time, even straight into your navel, to better understand the vessel in which you’re experiencing the world. Maybe then you can grow to accept it, love it, and express it outward. Is that not also a form of self-admiration?

Ironically, my relationship with vanity is one of my prime sources of friction. It’s a cause I feel both committed to and repulsed by, and this incongruence haunts me. But my desire to ceaselessly unpack it is a symptom of self-obsession too, so my attempts to separate these parts of myself are probably futile. This is why the topic of vanity is so endlessly interesting. We’re as bound and attracted to it as we are critical of it.

As for what you’ll see on Man Repeller this month, look out for musings on private vanities and real vanities, stories about Botox, True Mirrors, and Blanche Devereaux, and the most delightfully vain advice column you’ve ever laid eyes on. If there’s something you’re hoping to see covered, drop it in the comments below. And if you’ve ever sat down at a restaurant and wanted to change seats, say ‘Aye.’

Feature photo provided by Haley Nahman. 

The post It’s Time to Talk About Vanity appeared first on Man Repeller.

Auto-Reply: Man Repeller Is OOO This Week!

You know that feeling on January 2nd, when you go back to work or school or resume normal life under the guise of new life gifted to you by the calendrical change from one year to the next and you are pumped? Your sleeves are up, you’re clenching your fists as if they’re a physical reminder of your strength, and you’re walking on the kind of heels that are high enough to activate your confidence, but low enough to walk in like your confidence is activated?

You have a clean slate, it’s sparkling and unassuming, telegraphing neither your innocence nor guilt; good work nor bad. What happens on that slate is up to you—and the thought is firing you up. So you get to your desk or your seat or wherever you have to get to and you start going. You go and you go and you keep on going as your slate fills back up.

And then the year inches forward and eventually towards its end and either you’re exhausted or mostly unfazed by the break ahead. If you’re exhausted, I wonder how that correlates to what you put on your slate. Were you even aware it was anything? Did you kind of just let stuff in? Is it the same stuff you were relieved to wipe off of it the year before? And if you’re unfazed, I hope it’s because you’re motivated. Because you’re conscious of your agency, aware that the new year is a concept, not a magic wand. The correlated day is an arbitrary date that has assumed the story of change. Every day can be New Year’s Day if you’re aware there’s a slate by your side and that, whether or not you’re watching, shit is being piled upon it. You can wipe it off whenever you want. At the end of each day, if you so please. So you don’t need a break—you give it to yourself all the time. If you’re from this camp, you probably already know this.

And if you’re my editor, you’re wondering what the fuck I’m talking about, and why it’s taken me three paragraphs to get to the point. Point being that we’re out of office. We will be all week. We tried it last year, and it worked—so we’re trying again. Consider it a mid-year Christmas break to evaluate our slates. For the duration of the week, you’re invited to visit twice daily: once for a new article, and once for an oldie from the beloved archive of guts we have shared. We’ll resume business as usual next Monday morning with the publication of new stories starting at 7 a.m. EST and on Tuesday, you can participate in the final drop from Repeller’s spring range. Then you’ll have the rest of the summer to look at it all together, like a finished painting, and get whatever you want. Consider the link over that last part an unsolicited recommendation.

For what it’s worth, I don’t need a break; me and my slate, we’re ready to rumble! It’s been a while since I last felt this way, and it feels gooooood. But you know what they say, boats rise at tide together, or whatever that saying is, so here’s hoping you—yes, you! (but also you)—get some time to look to your slate this week. I’ll expect to see you Monday; clenched fists, sensible heels and all.

Feature photo by. 

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From Homelessness to Hollywood: Trans Star Ava Grey on Her Journey

“Let me pick your brain” is a played out expression, but I like it. It’s recognition that questions can be the keys we turn in another’s mind to unlock their precious perspectives. This is how I felt when I spoke with 24-year old actor, model, and activist Ava Grey. As she shared how she broke into the modeling and acting worlds, a journey rife with challenges for a trans woman of color, it felt like briefly getting to see what is behind her mind’s door. As she opened up, I asked what she imagined for herself as a child, what excites her, what makes her the most proud. She didn’t have to dig too hard—her resume is robust.

Ava’s acting credits include the Golden Globe-nominated Pose and the forthcoming film, Run, Sweetheart, Run; she has walked for Nike, Adidas, and Willy Chavarria, shot with Gucci and GQ, been featured in OUT Magazine, Playboy, and Vogue. But Ava’s interests extend beyond her own—she’s committed to improving and celebrating trans visibility. She’ll speak this summer at the Trans Wellness Conference and is in conversation with GLAAD to organize educational workshops in the Bronx and Brooklyn.

Toward the end of our conversation, when I asked Ava when she feels the most powerful, she paused for a good minute, and then said: “I don’t feel weak anymore. I had to truly evaluate my life and my womanhood and own it. After coming to that with confidence, I feel strong now.”

That strength is the spine of her story, a story with legs—she is clearly on her way. To celebrate this pivotal moment, this cusp between dreams and their fulfillment, Man Repeller styled Ava in an array of stop-and-stare shapes and colors, outfits that embody the power of being seen. Below, in addition to the resulting editorial, her as-told-to story.

On Escaping to New York

This was all in my dreams: Being female, being an entertainer, being on a platform where I can communicate and spread the word.

I remember being six years old watching J Lo and Aaliyah, telling my family, “That is going to be me! I’m going to dance like her, move like her, sing like her, look like her.” In my mind that was how I was going to develop. They said, “That’s not what is going to happen.” It was devastating at that point. But it still didn’t change my view of how I was going to grow up.

I moved to New York at 18. I grew up in Alexandria, Virginia and had been living in different households where it was much more about being presentable than being free or honest. If you were weird or different, it didn’t work. To me, New York meant freedom. So when I graduated high school, I got on the Megabus and just left. I didn’t know anyone here, I just knew I had to try to make it work. I got on hormones… and that’s what it was.

Being queer, it can feel like you walk outside of everything, like you are not included in society. When the Pose team contacted me they were saying, this show is going to change that. And they were employing people of trans experience, people who have statistically higher amounts of homelessness.

I was homeless before Pose aired. It was really rough, bathing in random clinics, sleeping in train stations. While I knew I wanted to be an entertainer, I also knew I had to find more realistic jobs to sustain living and eating. I started working at Starbucks. When a photo shoot opportunity came, I gave up the job to pursue that. I eventually became homeless, but I was still trying to find photo gigs during that time. I was so inspired by Dior, 80s and 90s Chanel, Virgil Abloh—the androgyny, that is what I was trying to navigate toward.

On Being Outed

Willy Chavarria gave me my very first runway show during fashion week. He did not know I was trans at first, but when it was brought up, he just embraced me. He made sure I was highlighted, encouraged, and supported. I was not out when I first entered the industry because I was incredibly scared. I was outed by another model. That was really painful, but it actually gave me the strength and courage to reevaluate and ask myself, Why am I scared? Why am I seeing being trans as wrong and trying to hide it? It pushed me to be vocal, not just present, and to actually share my story. But I got a lot of backlash, lost a lot of contacts—other models and photographers.

Before Pose, I was a manager at Chipotle and I was also outed there by my store manager. I thought I was going to be fired or the staff wasn’t going to like me anymore and would taunt me. But it was the opposite. The whole staff came up to me and told me how wrong they felt it was that I was outed, that they fully supported me and my dreams, and wanted me to pursue a life in the entertainment industry.

Everyone at that store came from poverty, from deep in the Bronx and Brooklyn, and they were coming together for me. They were saying, “We know your personality, that is what we love, and we want to stand beside you.” That’s when I came to know that being trans is not a burden.

I have noticed that queer people will hold seminars in queer-safe spaces, which is beautiful for us to gain knowledge inside our own communities. But I see a lack of desire to go out to communities that are under-privileged and have less knowledge about queer people. We need to have seminars in Brownsville, not just Soho. The people who are dying are black queer women. We need to be talking in the communities where these women are dying. We can’t shut other communities out and expect them to just understand. Not everyone wants to answer questions, I understand that. But offer a resource. I am excited when I give a talk because I get to see people’s faces change, how their minds are working.

On Manifesting Progress

Through my production company, La Palindrome, I want to tell the truth. I want to partner with women of color and women of trans experience. A lot of the time our stories get told but then we don’t get any of the benefits. We get opportunities, but our bills still won’t be paid. I want to make sure everyone who has a hand in the project gets paid.

My vision is clear. I want to have a cultural imprint, I want to spread knowledge. I don’t want to just play trans characters. I want to play a pregnant woman, a woman with ovarian cancer. I didn’t study being a trans actress. I am an actress of trans experience. Being trans is not a separate part of the human condition. It is not a fantasy. It is a part of life. I want to get to a place where we understand that in some way we are all struggling, we are all navigating, we are all trying to survive.

I know how to get there—by talking to each other. You might not understand everything about my experience, but what you can relate to is my struggle and my success. That’s what we all know, we all know the process. We are trying to work hard, better ourselves, and provide for our families. That’s what I mean by normalizing people of trans experience. I want to put that at the forefront: We are the same, baby. Let’s stop hurting each other. Let’s understand we are all trying to make it.

15 PHOTOS
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Photos: Andy Jackson

Styling: Harling Ross

Art Direction/Production: Emily Zirimis

Market: Elizabeth Tamkin

Model: Ava Grey

Makeup: Kelly Bellevue 

Hair: Sergio Estrada 

The post From Homelessness to Hollywood: Trans Star Ava Grey on Her Journey appeared first on Man Repeller.

5 Extremely Fun Outfits (Just Because)

Have you ever put on an outfit that doesn’t necessarily make sense to anyone but you? That may or may not be appropriate for the occasion at hand but strikes an emotional chord nonetheless? That feels practical only in its superfluousness? If you answered “yes” to any or all of the above, congrats! You, my friend, are versed in the art of “just because” dressing, a mode of outfitting yourself for those times when you just need a bit of sparkle in your life, but you don’t need a reason why. Such is the ethos behind Repeller’s “Just Because” bundle, which includes the Jumbo Repeller Flagpole, the Cocoon Earring, and the White Tiger Earring. An odd trio in theory, but as with any “just because” configuration, that’s ultimately what makes them harmonize.

To further excavate this theory, I asked five masters in the art of “just because” dressing to a) show me an outfit that embodies whatever harmlessly irrational but endearing style means to them and b) tell me about their relationship to this philosophy in general. Scroll down to soak in all their “just because” wisdom, and while you’re at it, join me in a rousing game of Spot-the-Repeller (incidentally a fun excuse to zoom in on people’s hair and ears).

1. Amanda Murray; stylist

What does “just because” dressing mean to you? It means I’m not committing myself or my style to a polarizing subcategory of trends. It feels like letting go in the best way possible, and being nonchalant about everyone else’s opinion but my own. This approach is (in my opinion) the best way to approach your journey not only in style, but in life—allowing yourself to be guided by your internal voice without second-guessing it.

Where do you look for “just because” style inspiration? I wouldn’t say I look for ‘just because” style inspiration, it’s definitely more of a spontaneous feeling for me. I often experience it in the juxtaposition of fashion and places, like wearing a ball gown to work with dirty Converse sneakers on the subway. Today I wore a Rick Owens dress from the runway paired with Manolo Blahnik shoes from his Africa collection to the corner store…just because. I felt at one with myself.

What’s on your “just because” wishlist right now? A Marni sequined bucket hat, Y/Project skirt trousers, Simone Rocha feathered flatforms, a Junya Watanabe denim dress, a Dries Van Noten sequined jumpsuit, and a Sies Marjan purple leather suit. Yes, I’m a constant martyr to excess.

Does skincare and/or makeup play a role in your “just because” aesthetic? Definitely eye makeup. I look to the runway for all of the abstract eye makeup looks: lots of squiggly lines drawn around the eyes, different eye shadows on each eye–these are my cup of tea. My goal is always to look like an extra from a Pat Benatar and Cyndi Lauper music video.

What’s the one thing you routinely do “just because”? I dance in the mirror a lot to 90s R&B, and though I feel very silly while doing so, it makes me laugh at myself which is a nice way to break up the monotony of taking myself so seriously. It’s very Ally McBeal.

2. Micaela Verrelien, stylist and creative director

What does “just because” dressing mean to you? Dressing and wearing an outfit “just because” is my life. Naturally I’m actually very shy, but my style does not necessarily identify with my shyness. Everything I wear is worn just because I feel like it. I never look or seek attention with my outfits, but rather seek to feed my internal emotional being with an outfit that suits my mood in the moment

Where do you look for “just because” style inspiration? I look for style inspiration on platforms that are very free and versatile, like Man Repeller, Tumblr, and Pinterest. And Instagram, of course. Although, if I were to consider a specific time period of inspiration, I would say that I feel like my biggest sources for creative fodder are the 70s and 90s, for sure. I usually look on Pinterest for photos from these decades.

What’s on your “just because” wishlist right now? I’ve been eyeing a lot of barrettes and oversized hats. I intend on traveling a lot this summer; I feel like accessories have the power to transform a simple outfit into an “it” outfit.

Does skincare and/or makeup play a role in your “just because” aesthetic? I definitely think that skincare and makeup play a huge role in my aesthetic. Skincare for me is always a must, with or without makeup, but wearing a super fun makeup look can take my style in an entirely different direction. Fenty Beauty vivid eyeliner in particular is a game-changer.

What’s the one thing you routinely do “just because”? I call my mom, or she calls me. My mom has truly become my best friend. I think that our relationship grew to another level once I graduated university and moved to New York. We definitely have typical mother and daughter conversations, but we also have conversations like two adult women.

3. Lauren Valenti; senior beauty editor, Vogue

What does “just because” dressing mean to you? To me, “just because” dressing is inextricably linked to “just because” revelry. Why wait for an excuse to celebrate life and wear something you love? Buy tickets! Throw a party! Splurge on a glamorous cocktail!

Where do you look for “just because” style inspiration? Most often, I look back in time—namely to to the late 60s, 70s, and 80s—when people spared no detail getting dressed just because! That kind of playful irreverence is harder to find today, especially with the theater of Instagram being such a driving force. (I’m as guilty as the next person!)

What’s on your “just because” wishlist right now? “Just because” pieces are the unapologetic magpies of my wardrobe—typically characterized by vivid colors, sumptuous fabrics (silk! lace! tulle!), exaggerated silhouettes, or conversation-catalyzing details…

+ Christopher Kane Embroidered Tulle-Trimmed Jersey and Mesh Midi Dress

+ Cushnie One-Shoulder Draped Tulle Stretch-Crepe Top

+ Sies Marjan Willa Silk-Cotton Corduroy Crop Trousers

+ Alix Lewis Silk-Charmeuse Maxi Dress

+ Loeffler Randall Flavia Mini Tote Bag

+ Poms Giro Brown Sunglasses

Does skincare and/or makeup play a role in your “just because” aesthetic? I’m partial, of course, but beauty is an essential part of the equation! I’m always so inspired by the directional looks on the runway, so if I have the opportunity to work with a pro through my job, I’ll always ask for a backstage-inspired hair or makeup moment. (I had lots of fun with this year’s Met Gala theme: Notes on Camp!). If I’m on my own and want to amp things up, my big curly mane does a lot of the heavy lifting. Then I might add a glitter smoky eye with Stila’s Glitter and Glow Liquid Eyeshadow, vinyl lip with Giorgio Armani Beauty Ecstasy Lacquer, or drape by eyes and upper cheekbones in Pat McGrath’s Fuchsia Eye Blush. I love the more-is-more looks Sandy Linter and Way Bandy created in the 70s and 80s!

What’s the one thing you routinely do “just because”? Dress up, go to a fancy bar, order dirty martinis, and let time stand still—almost exclusively with my close friend and confidante, Hallie Gould!

4. Leandra Medine, Man Repeller founder (and recently, inventor of ice cream flavors)

What does “just because” dressing mean to you? A good “just because” outfit prompts a spectator’s asking: “Where is she going?” A great one answers: “I have no idea.” This result arises from the ability to put inconvenient clothes together and somehow make them seem obvious, like they were meant to be worn the way you have them in the exact moment you’re seeing them. (Inconvenient can mean anything in the way of inappropriateness given the weather, the dress code, the style of garment, etc. So long as you’re dressed like you could be going absolutely anywhere in what you’re wearing — from the moon to a doctor’s appointment — you’re outfitted “just because.”)

Where do you look for “just because” style inspiration? Not to sound like an over-pompous shithead (I am just a regular pompous shithead), I think the best “just because” style is tumble-dried in the trenches of the wearer’s mind. Sure, all of our style is referential of something (Bunny MacDougal meets ranch in Montana, for example) but it takes an almost second-nature approach to enmeshment (having Bunny go to Montana) that makes for the best “just because”-ing.

What’s on your “just because” wishlist right now? This silk pajama set from Ascenso but only to wear on a warm summer day, to work. It embodies that “just because” life just because I’m selecting it for work. This jacket, too, from The RealReal to wear with these “shorts” on a beach. Neither have any business hanging out over there, which makes it important to do.

Does skincare and/or makeup play a role in your “just because” aesthetic? Oh man if I was more of a balls-to-the-wall makeup person, I am sure I’d wear yellow eyeshadow just because! But mostly I stick to like 3-5 products and my face never changes, for better and worse!, as such.

What’s the one thing you routinely do “just because”? Try on outfit after outfit while my daughters are napping even though I plan to wear none of them.

5. Gia Seo, fashion and art director

What does “just because” dressing mean to you? It’s a manifestation of small victories–the necklace my mother gave me that I remembered during spring cleaning, a pair of bright pink Monolo heels I got on super sale, confirming a client who gave me a run for my money. All of these little wins allow me to surrender myself to “just because” dressing, because my most joyful outfits are often the result of acknowledging that there is something to celebrate every day.

Where do you look for “just because” style inspiration? The wholesale shops in the Flatiron area.

What’s on your “just because” wishlist right now? Let the breaking of my piggy bank commence (!):

+ Nadine Ghosn Burger ring

+ Annika Inez Wavy Draped Earrings

+ Charlotte Chesnais gold and silver Mirage ear cuff

+ Flag Halyard chair

+ Everything and all Vintage Comme des Garcons

Does skincare and/or makeup play a role in your “just because” aesthetic? When I’m really feeling the “just because” mentality, I will bring out all of my best products that I’ve been holding onto for no good reason! I really give myself a skincare treatment, by starting with a Witch Hazel toner, a clay mask from OLEHENRIKSEN for my nose, and a MALIN+GOETZ detox mask for the rest of my face. I top it off by steaming my face with a little hand-held steamer from Amazon, and then applying Kozha Numbers Vitamin E face serum, then back to MALIN+GOETZ Vitamin E grapefruit face moisturizer. From there, I bring out my Chanel CC Cream, and really treat myself to a fun and colorful eye made possible by Kat Von Dee lipliners and Dior Pump mascara in blue.

What’s the one thing you routinely do “just because”? It doesn’t take much to create my sanctuary, but I usually bake some sort of new pastry, curl up, and turn on my favorite show Monk and veg out. And usually all of that goes hand in hand with grooming my cat Earl. It’s a wonderful life!

The post 5 Extremely Fun Outfits (Just Because) appeared first on Man Repeller.

Stonewall & Beyond: 3 Older LGBTQ+ People on Witnessing Change

When did you know?

Oh, how many times a straight person has lobbed this rudderless question at a queer person, expecting us to hit it home. It’s an existential inquiry any person might find quite difficult to answer. How do any of us come to know who we are? A baby touches its little button nose while its mother presses her own and says nose. The baby absorbs all the faces it sees, all the stories it hears, and gradually inches towards understanding that it has its own nose, it’s own story and soul. We learn who we are through each other.

When I was a child, I didn’t know a single LGBTQ adult that was open and out. I definitely didn’t know any trans people of any age. I had no example, no proof of myself, no context for my existence. As Maya Angelou and many proverbs have put it, “If you don’t know where you’ve come from, you don’t know where you’re going.” When I had the opportunity to sit and talk with three LGBTQ elders, it felt like getting to know both at once.

I sat with Martin in a small garden in front of a church while children screeched and scrambled in the background. I sat with Ellen in her living room while her cat desperately pawed the glass door behind which he’d been banished. Imani stood behind her desk after showing me the portrait of her mother serving as spiritual sentry at the top of the stairs. I wanted a taste of what they see, to hear how the world is different for them now, to know what pride means to those carrying decades packed with memories and movement.

Pride month can feel like an amplification of rich, thin, white gay visibility, representing queer people as only young, sexy party animals. But this erases queer people that are POC, trans, poor, differently abled. As LGBTQ people, we are left without representation for when we are boring, sad, worn out, anxious, normal-ass humans. We are queer and gay and trans when we are all those things, from when we are born and onwards. It felt good to be reminded, through talking with Martin, Ellen, and Imani, that we will be so when we are old as well. These three stories affirm our humanity and our continuity. We have always been here. We will not disappear.

Martin Boyce

Martin, 71, is a private chef living in Manhattan.

I Was Always Gay

We are on the threshold of reclaiming our history. History has a muse. The muses have been very kind to gay people and I think gay people have always responded. So I think they are going to respond to this new history. Not the dry history that kids hate in school. But the real essence of history, which has flesh and blood, and you can feel alive in it again.

I was always gay, but for everyone else’s sake I knew I had to hide it from them. In those days it was a binary world and everyone was trained to be a straight person. You just did not cross the boundary. You didn’t lift your pinky when you drank a cup of tea. And if you were a man, you didn’t really ask for tea.

The fifties was the worst decade of all. No gay person was forgiven. Being gay was not the thing to be. We were associated with vice, crime, decline, femininity—everything despised by the straight white men of that period, because their whole puritanical structure was built on that. They had an unquestioning mindset when something was “bad” or “evil.” You didn’t have to ask why, all you had to know was “Communist,” all you had to know was “fag”.

I Wound Up With This Stonewall Crowd

I was very, very lonely. I used to take the bus up and down Third Avenue just to see people I knew were gay and had friends. It seemed a miracle to me then—I didn’t know how they found each other! Even though I was Manhattan-born and street savvy, that information still eluded me because you needed a person to transmit it. I kept hearing the lore of the Village, so it brought me down there in 1966. I had just turned 18. I wound up with this Stonewall crowd, a group that was a little mad, it was great. They really expressed themselves.

On the night of the riot, I was going to Stonewall. I heard something about a big raid. I passed a paddy wagon and there was a cop pushing this drag queen into it. She turned around and kicked him on the shoulder. He started beating her. You could hear her moans, bones and flesh against metal. The cop turned to us and said, “Alright you faggots, get the fuck out of here, you saw the show.” We started walking towards him. I don’t know what we looked like, but he turned around and just lost it, he was unnerved. At first it was pennies being thrown, then bottles, then we just grabbed anything and throwing it. Madness, but a tremendous freedom in it. We weren’t that type of people. But people are people. The rage was out.

When it was over and dawn was coming, the street was a wreck, like after a hurricane. I thought we are going to have to pay very dearly for this moment. I went home rather depressed. But my father said, “It’s about time you guys did something.” His saying that to me was the first moment I saw a change of mind in straight people. Coming down the street a couple days later, this big sanitation guy noticed me and I said to myself, ‘Oh I should have crossed the street, he is glaring at me.’ But he raised his fist in a salute. After that the whole edifice started to crack. What we displayed at Stonewall was valor, by a group of gays, that was its true significance.

Things are very different now, there is no doubt about it. Me and my husband legally married five years ago. And the old ghosts did rise. I had to take a Valium! I couldn’t believe we were going downtown and we could do this. I was shocked. I could never have imagined this back then.

You Have to Fight for It

In this country, in this culture, no one is going to give you anything. I hate to say it that way, but you have to fight for it. Gay people now have the ability to open these doors with what we do, what we write, what we know about each other. We are a multicultural people. The melding of all this would really make a great society that is inter-connected, not just tolerant. I always longed for that in America. To have a place for everybody. I was so happy to have just that little turf on Christopher street, but now we have the world. And I got to do something for that. Because there is too much of the world colored in by hate.

Loneliness is not going to dissipate because of tolerance or liberty. As a gay person I grasped culture, how these things were formed, and I questioned everything around me. I found real answers—not for my problems, but for how to spend the time within my problems. From problem to problem, you have to live, you have to get through that.

Open the door for what these muses are offering you.

Imani Rashid

Imani, 79, is a community organizer and educator living in Harlem.

The Elders Didn’t Want Us to Express Ourselves

I am mama and papa to these children. I am lesbian, two-spirited, fluid. I am a Yoruba priest. I have Shango energy, always quick to organize, busy talking to everyone.

I was born in 1940 and grew up in Harlem, USA.

I think my family basically always had an idea that I was different. My mother used to say, “It’s Christmas darling, why aren’t you ready for dinner in your red and green dress?” Then one of my cousins would say, “She is dressed Auntie, she has on her Ralph Lauren suit.”

My mother was trying to make a lady out of me, so by six I was on my toes in ballet. Ruth Williams was my dance teacher and she had the longest existing business in Harlem. Ruth always had [her partner] Thelma at the desk. They were together and lived together with Ruth’s mother. Thelma’s son, was, as we say today, very fluid. But Thelma didn’t want him to be. A lot of the time, the reason the elders didn’t want us to express ourselves that way was because of fear for us in the streets, that people would attack us. And of course they did, that was real.

I had my first relationship at 19 as a counselor at Lenox Hill neighborhood camp, where I met Beatrice, another counselor. I felt like the world was mine and at the time I didn’t know that it wasn’t. We were so busy working we weren’t really smooching during the day, but we held hands and were open about it. I didn’t know not to be. I’ll never forget the last day of camp when Beatrice said to me, “We have to go back to the real world now and then we can’t do this anymore.” This was my first heartbreak. I was on the bus with the kids and my face in the window crying away. Next thing I knew she was marrying the president of the NAACP. I went to the wedding and at some point she threw her garter right to me, I think on purpose. Then some dude was on the floor putting this garter on my leg. It was a nightmare. I have never been touched by any man.

I Was Not What the Administration Thought I Should Be

Back home where we come from in mother Africa, two-spirited people* had a special place. People came to us as the sages. I didn’t know anything besides teaching. I was the president of the Black Teachers Association and licensed to become a principal. I never, ever put on the dresses and the heels and all that. I never femme’d it up. I was badass. I had a big picture of Angela Davis right outside my door. Because of that they never wanted me in the front office, which was a loss for the children. I was not what the administrators thought I should be. They said I was too “militant.” They knew if I could go up against my family and friends, risk everything to express my sexuality, then they weren’t safe, certainly not when it came to their improprieties. That transparency is a by-product of our lives and what LGBTQ people have to embrace in order to be who we are. It helps us also with a certain clarity. We have an ability to see through people and situations that are being propped up to be something they aren’t. We have a responsibility to shed light on the situation for others.

I founded the LGBT Kwanzaa celebration. Kwanzaa is about giving acknowledgement to our ancestors. We are because they are. For my 79th birthday I said I want to have a party with the babies and the elders over 80. I need to know I have that support. I need to remember being childlike, trusting, joyful, expecting everything. And I need the 80-year-olds to take me by the elbow and help me over the leap into the realm that they are mastering. They didn’t do it by themselves. Don’t let that circle get broken. When I talk with Bklyn Boihood [Ed note: Bklyn Boihood is a community of queer and trans youth of color based in Bed-Stuy], with the young people, I see myself in you. I know some of the pitfalls you are going to encounter. I wish you would call on me more. Let’s do things together, let’s discover together, I want to be in conversation with you.

I Am Going to Get It Right

When I turned 75, four of my younger friends and four of my older friends and I had a procession, a ritual. We walked in together, spoke to one another, we pledged to one another that we would be there for each other. They wore suits for me. We pinned flowers to each other’s lapels. We looked so good!

The longer I am here on the planet the more I understand we are in a spiritual vortex, a circle. You give to me today and I am hopefully giving something to you that you didn’t have. We pass it on. The babies give to me. When I see them laughing, so joyful, with this complete acceptance. It is our job to keep them in that place as long as we can. As the cycle moves they get more and more aware of other stimuli, they change. But we should protect them so that they can keep that joy.

Shango has always been with me. This taught me to believe we have to live life to the fullest. Hopefully in this lifetime, I am going to get it right.

*Ed note: “two-spirited” is a term used by many Indigenous people to describe those who have masculine and feminine energy and/or identify as genderqueer or inhabiting multiple genders.

Ellen Lippmann

Ellen, 68, is a rabbi living in Brooklyn, New York.

I Began Hiding

How do you speak truth when you are stifling a good chunk of your true self?

I came to this late. In some way it all came to fruition when my partner Kathryn and I met, which was 36 years ago. Most of my life in this identity has been in the context of coupledom.

When I decided to go to rabbinical school I knew that having both a non-Jewish spouse and a woman spouse was not okay. So I began hiding. For five years. Some of my classmates knew. Some were also gay. We met in a little group at Hebrew Union College (HUC) called hinnenu, which means “here we are.” All these women had crazy stories of what their fathers did when they came out. One woman’s father went out and started painting the house. My father took to bed, he got sick. It was really something. But I never had total rejection.

When I was at my student pulpit assignment in West Virginia, I was staying with families of the synagogue. Those were the days before email and cell phones, so to call Kathryn I had to drive out to a phone booth on the side of the highway so that no one would hear me. It was nothing physically dangerous, but it was soul crushing. I was in pursuit of a way of work that needs the soul to do that work—I was supposed to bring my full self to prayer, to sermons, to leading the community, but they were saying a crucial part of me couldn’t be there. During my ordination, when I passed Kathryn, I hugged her and said, “We did it!” because I thought up until the last minute they were going to call me out, they weren’t going to let me do this. Those closeted years at HUC were my hardest.

I Will Not Be in the Closet Here

In 1993, a few years after I was ordained, I began working on starting a synagogue in Brooklyn called Kolot Chayeinu, Voices of Our Lives. From the get-go I said, “I will not be in the closet here.” From the first meeting I was completely open about who I was, breathed a sigh of relief, and never looked back. In the early days of being a rabbi, if I took an unpopular or not mainstream approach to anything—about Israel, workers in Brooklyn, housing, whatever—all the hate mail was about me being a lesbian. And it was all pretty nasty.

But I always had a wonderful and loving partner I could come home and talk to. She would help renew in my mind that “We are real. That is not.” That made a huge difference.

Like a lot of gay people of my generation, we got married in stages and in many different ways. In 2011 we got married legally at Borough Hall in Brooklyn. We totally let loose. We sang “Going to the Chapel” and got everyone in the room singing! It was really fun. When we walked out of there holding hands, I certainly felt like we walked taller in the street. I felt something different from this kind of acknowledgement.

Today, things are different. I do think there are numbers of parents that are more aware or helpful, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot of kids growing up in terrible situations—facing punishment, banishment, excoriation, attempts at conversion, all that. And there is still violence.

We Are a Continuum

When the massacre in Orlando happened three years ago, spontaneously everyone in New York went to Stonewall. It was no accident that is where we went. We were going back to that place where people rose up and said, “We are not going to take this anymore. It is not ok. We have enough power with us.” I had the honor of leading a prayer at a gathering of drag queens and trans folks—those are the people in history that really went ahead. I needed to touch some of that strength, to feel the grief there, and remember the possibility of fighting back, coming back, and holding on to what we won.

If you convert to Judaism, you are called a child of Abraham and Sarah. So when I came into my lesbian life, I became the child of whom? The child of Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson. Or whatever mass of nameless drag queens and trans women that led the way. We stand on their shoulders. There is a way, then, that young queer people are my children too. Sometimes for older lesbians and gay men they feel distanced from younger queer folks who they might feel are ignoring their experience. I don’t feel like that. I feel like we are a continuum.

What I wish I could say to those children is: “Look! There are people out here loving you from a distance and hoping that you can gather your inner strength to get through the hard time. Because it’s in there, you have it in you, and you need to hold on to it.”

Pride means looking back and looking forward. I can’t wait to see where the ten-year-olds are headed.

Photos by Ken Castaneda. 

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A Movie Critic’s July Netflix Picks (And *So* Much More)

“What should I watch on Netflix tonight?” It’s a perennial question with answers that change monthly. Thankfully, writer and film critic Kristen Yoonsoo Kim is extremely on top of it. And she’s got lots of other movie-watching suggestions beyond Netflix, too—whether you’d like to check out lesser-known streaming platforms or a really good indie theater with endearingly squeaky seats. I personally text her at least once a week to find out what she’s watching and whether she thinks I should see it too. I find her takes (both hot and cold) indispensable, so I asked her to share them on Man Repeller too. You do not need popcorn to read this dispatch, but it would certainly add to the ambiance!  —Mallory

There are a couple recent tweets from the film critic and programmer Miriam Bale that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. She said, basically, that cinephilia does wonders for women, but often has the opposite effect on men. As of writing this piece, we are 176 days into 2019, and I have so far seen 291 movies. The countless hours I’ve spent in front of the screen have allowed me to study the way women dress, talk, and carry themselves; my cinephilia, I’d like to believe, has made me sharper, wittier, more fashionable. It’s even enabled me to create a desktop folder filled with screenshots of glamorous women turning down desperate men! (It hasn’t been updated in a while, but it remains a whole mood.)

Imagine being on the receiving end of Brigitte Bardot’s withering pout.
Here I am at Metrograph’s third anniversary party this past March, employing Leandra’s one-legged selfie (you gotta show off at least one shoe!). This tapestry of a dress is a cherished find from Century Girl Vintage in New Orleans (a must-visit). It’s so heavy, but so cinematic, and the blue velvet drapes perfectly and dramatically.

When I go to the movies, I make a semi-conscious effort to dress in tune with the film I’m seeing—gingham for a Lauren Bacall night, for instance. I’ve also become a habitual theater bathroom selfie-taker (perhaps a full ranking of NYC movie theater restrooms to come?). So in this missive I’ll update you on the movies I’ve been seeing and the clothes I wear while seeing them, the idea being that you’ll be able to take away some outfit inspiration as well as no B.S. movie recommendations (because the demise of MoviePass has made us selective once again).

Let’s begin with Netflix’s golden child Adam Sandler…

The idea for this piece was birthed when Mallory asked me what I thought about the record-breaking Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston vehicle Murder Mystery. (You know, the movie that was reportedly streamed in more than 30 million households within the first three days?) She wanted to know if it was good or bad, and if it was bad, whether I liked it anyway. I liked it! And I have to say, I think it leans more heavily toward “just plain good” than “so-bad-it’s-good.” Of course, it can be fun to shit on wildly popular formula films created to please en masse, but I’m unabashedly a fan of current-era Sandler. I found Murder Mystery so much more likable than any other recent Netflix joint, even movies that theoretically should pander more to me, like Always Be My Maybe, which was so concerned with representation that it became a Vox explainer for Asian-Americans that completely forgot rom-coms should still have stakes for it to be, well, romantic.

The generically-titled Murder Mystery trumps the recent onslaught of Agatha Christie adaptations by throwing in the wild-card addition of Sandler and Aniston, the comedic gags and lower-class nobodies, on a yacht full of rich people with homicidal motives. It’s spoofy without being mean-spirited. Simultaneously, it’s a nice reprieve from Netflix’s addictive gritty crime content, which I’m sure is having some sort of psychological effect on us all as a society.

After you’ve watched Murder Mystery, Netflix’s next major July offering is a Martin Scorsese binge: Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, and Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore will all be added on July 1st. Watch them in whatever order you’d like, but watch them!

Speaking of next-level streaming, some news: most of New York is losing the free, arthouse- and indie-leaning service Kanopy on July 1, as their partnership with the New York Public Library is coming to an end. (Kanopy still works with a lot of universities and libraries, so it’s worth seeing if you can join.) That said, if you’re a New Yorker who needs some recommendations for what to squeeze in during its final week, I’d start with the expansive collection of legendary documentarian Frederick Wiseman. Some of his movies, including the one about the NYPL itself (Ex Libris), cross the three-hour mark, but his always-observant eye transforms even the quietest footage into captivating commentary.

Okay, hear me out: Should we all start carrying around birdcages as accessories?

Kanopy is the only home for Wiseman movies, and I’ve shamefully put off the binge until now. If you’re in the mood for something a bit more thrilling and suspenseful, I’d recommend Claude Chabrol’s Night Cap, starring Isabelle Huppert as a mysterious, possibly murderous, matriarch. For enviable Givenchy-centric wardrobe inspo, turn to Audrey Hepburn in the meta rom-com Paris When It Sizzles. (She consistently wears a specific shade of key-lime green that might even be better than the shade Tippi Hedren wears in The Birds.) And for your Pride Month queer cinema moment, the harrowing but formative Poison from Carol director Todd Haynes is essential. After that, light a candle for New Yorkers who love Kanopy…RIP.

A selfie in the beautiful bathroom at Olympia Film Society, where I programmed and introduced Girlfriends in 2017. I actually found the cardigan (vintage St. John) at a local thrift store called Psychic Sister (which I visited every day of my stay there), and then added a Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains pin from the iconic local record store, Rainy Day Records.

Thankfully, Kanopy’s Criterion films can still be found on the Criterion Channel (it costs money but it’s the best streaming service out there and you can sign up for a 14-day free trial right now). On July 5th, they’re pairing Noah Baumbach’s Frances Ha and Claudia Weill’s Girlfriends as a Friday double feature. The latter, released in 1978, is a seminal entry in New York City films, the female friendship canon, and that increasingly popular genre of movies featuring lovable but less-than-put-together protagonists. Both are great, and lots of people think of Girlfriends as the original Frances Ha, with the endearing Melanie Mayron as its bumbling heroine. As a 20-something New Yorker “in between jobs” and still feeling like a big baby tumbling through the Big Apple, both speak to me a little too much. Be still my anxiously beating millennial heart.

Maybe you’d like to get freaked out?

The movie that everyone will be talking about over the next few weeks is bound to be Midsommar, Ari Aster’s Hereditary follow-up about a terrifying flower crown that becomes sentient after Lana del Rey tosses it in the trash. Just kidding. But it is about a group of young Americans who travel abroad to Sweden and get roped up in macabre rituals during their midsommar. I love the idea of a horror film that takes place mostly in sunlight, but I was often taken out of the moment by shocking imagery that seemed to be overly concerned with keeping me awake. One thing I really appreciated was that Florence Pugh starts off with a tragic wardrobe of stretched-out t-shirts and sweatpants and is eventually shepherded into a Met Gala-worthy, fully bloomed gown. J’adore! I am all for looking good during distressing situations.

It’s like an extra-scary Coachella!

If you’re looking for something a little more mild, Jim Jarmusch’s zombie comedy (zomedy??) The Dead Don’t Die might fill that void. There are some iconic moments with Carol Kane, Selena Gomez, and, most of all, Tilda Swinton. (Tilda plays a sword-wielding Scottish coroner who is consistently unfazed by the undead.) I naturally wanted more for Chloë Sevigny, who plays one of the cops tasked with dealing with this apocalypse, but he’s characterized as a woman who’s too emotional to handle zombies. Blergh. It must be said, however, that even in a drab cop uniform, Chloë manages to inspire—her character’s baby blue nails definitely influenced my next manicure color.

Big-time horror buffs should mark your calendars for a July 3rd screening in New York: Metrograph is doing a week-long engagement of Takashi Miike’s J-horror classic Audition, which turns 20 this year. It’s easily one of the most disturbing movies I’ve ever seen. I once recommended it to a friend as a Valentine’s Day date movie—I don’t think that couple is still together.

If I had to recommend one new movie worth seeing in theaters…
One time, I went to a Q&A with the German director Ulrike Ottinger, and was so inspired by her suit that I wore one myself to the movies next day. It turned out she was literally in one of the stalls behind me as I was taking this selfie. Here I’m wearing a 1980s United Colors of Benetton suit from Thriftwares and a vintage Diane Von Furstenberg blouse from Amarcord.

It would be The Plagiarists, a low-budget indie by a director named Peter Parlow (if that’s even a real person?). It is hilarious in its unnecessary dramatics and has a comically earth-shattering plot twist that’s best left unrevealed. (Hint: it’s great fodder for mocking literary bros.) If you’re in New York, skip the synopsis in favor of skipping on over to Film at Lincoln Center when it opens on June 28. Other gems currently screening include: Halston, the Tavi Gevinson-narrated documentary by Dior and I director Frédéric Tcheng about the Studio 54-era couturier Halston who broke out with a hat designed for Jackie Kennedy.

No one’s captured the sticky New York heat better than Spike Lee.

And most importantly, BAM is showing a brand-new 35mm print of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing to mark its 30th anniversary. Find yourself in a cool theater to watch the sweatiest movie ever made. Not in New York? Do the Right Thing is rentable on many platforms or free with a Starz subscription. Either way, you should absolutely wear boxing shorts like Rosie Perez in the opening credits.

Feature photos by SCOTT YAMANO/NETFLIX.

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