Leandra Medine's Blog, page 29

My Brain Has Been Eating the Same Thoughts for Weeks

Planning my meals has become a unique kind of pleasure during quarantine. I have gradually allowed my cravings to take precedence over obstacles that once felt oppressive–time, custom, efficiency, “healthiness.” My former meal schedule has been replaced with grazing. I’ll eat milk and cereal for dinner if I have the urge, and sometimes, popcorn for breakfast. I’ll spend half an hour painstakingly crafting the perfect sandwich for lunch, layering turkey and cheddar cheese and avocado and pesto on two slices of sourdough bread and frying it in a pan with a pat of butter until the whole thing is melted and golden. The hallmark of my consumption habits has been variety. My brain, however, has been eating the same handful of thoughts for weeks.

The pandemic is global in more aspects than simply its geographic reach.

I never realized how much I took for granted the assumption that new things would always happen to me. That even while going about my normal routine, I would still see or hear or feel or smell something novel purely because I was out in the world, and each day would take shape a little bit differently as a result. That when someone asked me, “What’s up?” I would have an answer worthy of uttering. It’s strange for this expectation to suddenly seem like a distant privilege, and stranger still that its precise opposite–staying inside indefinitely–has become one as well.

Coronavirus has claimed the most space of anything inside my head–unavoidable, to some extent, since it has also marked off territory in every conversation, every email exchange, every non-outfit outfit I put on, every news headline, every scroll through Twitter, and every story I pitch. The pandemic is global in more aspects than simply its geographic reach; it has infected the cultural mind-scape on every level. Just as I wonder how long it will be before reaching out to shake a hand becomes second nature again, I also wonder how permanently the indentation of this experience will remain pressed, like a thumbprint, on our psyches. It has commandeered our thoughts in billions of disparate ways, but each of them ladders up to a singular, crushing sameness.

The satisfaction of professional fulfillment is tripped by the stumbling block of a nonexistent personal life.

Then there is work, an area of my life I have never been more grateful for and challenged by in such equal, concentrated doses. I’ve always felt fortunate to love my job, and in this period of grave economic uncertainty, I also feel fortunate simply to have my job. However, at the same time, I’ve found that it’s easier than ever for “work” to become precariously synonymous with “me.” The satisfaction of professional fulfillment is tripped by the stumbling block of a nonexistent personal life. I’ve never needed a sense of separation more, but I’ve never fought for one less. Work is the only thing I can rely on experiencing daily right now, and therefore the only thing I can rely on to keep my brain from withering on the vine, so I open my laptop and let the blue light bequeath its photosynthesis.

Then there is a vacuum, left behind by the wedding that used to occupy it. After more than a month of hand-wringing, it became clear we would have to postpone the long-anticipated celebration to next summer. Once the email notifying our guests was sent, all the accompanying uncertainty and urgency seemed to evaporate with a whoosh, like pressurized air escaping from a wounded plane. I don’t have to think about getting married anymore–not until months and months from now, at least–but my mind circles around it out of habit. I’ve grown accustomed to talking about it every day, debating the pros and cons of trying to make it happen this year, mourning the fact that doing so would mean certain people we loved wouldn’t be able to attend, herding vendors like cats, recapping progress and setbacks. I had resented how large it started to loom, and how uselessly repetitive the conversations started to feel, but now that it’s finally gone, volleyed like a tennis ball into a future we can’t yet see, I don’t have any thoughts big or novel enough to replace it. Recognizing that is a different kind of bleakness.

I’ve tried resisting the urge to introduce my same rotation of exhausted topics when I talk to my friends–but their heaviness continues to outweigh everything else.

I’ve tried inventing fresh mental fodder out of thin air, imaginary things to look forward to, turning to Austin as we’re falling asleep and asking if we can get engaged again this August just for fun, or if he’ll let me cut his hair sometime this week (I’ll be content with either one of these hypothetical thrills). I’ve tried rewatching Game of Thrones from the very beginning, and learning how to make broccoli taste good, and knitting, and writing the first chapters of a potential book. I’ve set up weekly donations to some of the causes I care about right now to try refocusing my mental loop on the effort of making a tiny difference. I’ve tried resisting the urge to introduce my same rotation of exhausted topics when I talk to my friends–but their heaviness continues to outweigh everything else. I think this will be the case as long as quarantine persists. And maybe all I can do is surrender to it–to the interior suggestion to sit with this paltry handful of thoughts, monotonous though they might feel, with the hope that by doing so, some sort of growth will follow.

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

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Are You Still Wearing Makeup? How’s Your Hair? And More Quarantine Beauty *Questions*

Up until about seven weeks ago, my beauty routine had remained unchanged for years. Every morning, I applied my skincare products, followed by CC cream, two eyebrow products, eyeliner, mascara, and—finally—a touch of blush, like a robot undergoing its daily reboot. Every two days, I washed and blow-dried my hair. But now, if you asked me to share my beauty routine—which is exactly what I’m requesting of you today—my answer would be quite a bit shorter.

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Last week, I asked MR’s Thoughtline: How’s your hair? The responses ranged from “never looked better” to “currently cosplaying as a mushroom” to “I’m trying my best to make my hairdresser proud but I don’t think it’s working.” I asked because I’ve been thinking about my own hair a lot. Unlike friends with cuts that require maintenance, my basic-as-a-two-ingredient-recipe long bob and I have been doing surprisingly well together in quarantine. In fact, if my hair were sentient—enough to have thoughts but not enough to be drowning in deep-seated dread—I’m positive it would be thrilled by my new beauty routine: being washed every four(ish) days, and never, under any circumstance, any kind of heat styling. This is the break it’s been waiting for—a clear day after a decade of destructively bad weather.

On the other hand, my new makeup and skincare routine is much more haphazard. For the first four weeks of quarantine I wore no makeup and limited my skincare to a single almost-empty moisturizer. I’d somehow run out of everything I normally use at the exact same time and placing any online orders felt like an action that could only be completed by someone who was at least two levels ahead of me in whatever alternate-reality video game I felt like I’d fallen into. I’d even stopped wearing SPF on my essential trips outside, which is something I already can’t believe really happened? (I’m an SPF50 every day, even in winter, even inside, kinda girl.)

I’ve slowly started wearing makeup again. But not every day, and not to the extent that I used to. I’m currently using Glossier’s mascara, which is decidedly more chill than the extremely dramatic Nars Climax mascara I normally wear, and my skin is almost always bare. I can’t imagine getting back to a full face any time soon (if ever?) but have loved noticing friends, and strangers on Instagram, go in the completely opposite direction, trying contouring for the first time or following intricate YouTube tutorials for eye makeup they’d never normally wear. I’ve seen smokey eye makeup tutorials over Instagram Stories, DIY manicures, and at-home facials that reminded me that my friends’ talents are endless. Noticing how other people’s beauty routines are shaping us is slowly becoming one of my favorite past-times, which I happily indulge between playing Animal Crossing (hmu if you have bananas) and refreshing the NYT Cooking app.

So, in the name of curiosity: How has your beauty routine changed in the last two months? And how do you feel about those changes?

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Spreads and Dips are the Unsung Hero of Quarantine Eating (Plus 3 Recipes)

I totally fucked up a half-made-up eggplant stick recipe last night, so I’m not not feeling somewhat defeated by the kitchen for showing me what’s what after I got on my Contessa high horse and tried to replace parmesan cheese with nutritional yeast, resulting in a sheet pan full of eggplant slices dusted in almond flour and yeast, but you live and you learn, I guess.

Whoa, what a sentence. Thanks for sticking through it.

The eggplant sticks were supposed to trick us into thinking he/I/we were eating mozzarella sticks even though they were just decorative lampshade veggies (yes, I know they’re actually called nightshade vegetables; WHAT IS YOUR POINT?) but in the end—jokes on me!—they were just… roasted eggplant slices dusted in almond flour and yeast.

The kitchen can be so confronting, you know? The difference between a good and bad day. What’s up and what’s down. What’s cooking and… spoiling. But on the bright side (what is this quarantine if not an opportunity to pursue the silver lining?), I did have a serving of yummy and delicious lentil dip to dunk (and effectively erase) my eggplant into—a recent fridge mainstay (the dip, I mean) that I did not expect would become the greatest of my comestible life upgrades but now very strongly recommend that you prioritize making. I will explain the logic in further detail after the recipe, which I’m pretty sure I’ve run through before, but once more, for posterity, here it is:

Sauté one small white onion and 3 gloves of garlic until they’re so soft you can mistake them for your sense of motivation, melting as the days, and nothing else, progress

Toast a cup of walnuts on a sheet pan (12 minutes in the oven at 350)

Drain a can of lentils, then pour them into a blender with the sautéed onion, garlic, and nuts

Add a tablespoon of white miso if you have it (but tbh, you don’t need to). I add two tablespoons because I love miso-much.

Drizzle about 1/3 a cup’s worth of olive oil 

Plus! Shit loads of salt and pepper shaker shakes.

And now? You blend. You make a bad joke if you cohabitate with a no-joy-dieter and tell them their blended nuts are coming right up and watch as your irritability and anxiety and the heart palpitations mix together, then hope what comes out will make those feelings disappear, or at the very least, become edible. Once you’re done, you pour that shit into a bowl and you tell me: how does it taste? 

Good? Last week I made babaganoush and am still plowing through the last licks. The week before it was a basil hummus. Next week I think I’ll try this vegan spinach artichoke dip but in the meantime, let me explain why keeping dip in your fridge is like the nourishment equivalent of calling a tulle top a wardrobe essential.

As long as you have the vehicles—crackers or carrot sticks or bread or defeated eggplant—there is always something available to enliven them. And if you are strategic about the dip you make—using nutrient-dense ingredients like chickpeas or lentils, you also ingest the added benefit of not torturing your digestive system or abandoning the guardrails of what is considered healthy eating.

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Aside from that, I don’t know how routinely you are taking yourself to the fridge these days, but going there—I mean Going There—has become the Grande Sortie of my day. I get dressed up (put on pants), I roll up my sleeves, I walk to the fridge and am like, “Greetings, door bin. What have you for me today?”

When that option is a dip I can put in a bowl next to, I don’t know, some olives, a plate of crackers, or cut-up vegetables, I feel extravagant and carefree, like I’m having mezze in Greece, wind blowing through my caftan even though I’m in leggings I haven’t changed out of in days and underwear in even longer. Then! When all is said and done, I’m full. Not full like holy-shit-I-think-I’m-gonna-die-that-was-too-much-sugar-but-I-couldn’t-stop-in-fact-I’ll-probably-do-it-again-maybe-in-20-minutes-maybe-tomorrow more just like, responsibly satisfied.

Yes! Responsibly. Satisfied.

And, particularly in the case of hummus, that shit is easy to make. You basically need a blender and a pantry and you’re set. My hummus recipe includes:

Once all of these ingredients are in the blender, you press “on,” sing to it—”Blender, blender, you’re so tender,” eyyyyyy vwala: put it on toast, drop a radish in, give it a dash of paprika or simply marvel in how a form of nourishment that once seemed as frivolous as a tulle top can become essential.

As for the eggplant dip:

Roast the fuck out of two eggplants by putting it in your oven on broil for 20 minutes, with some fork marks in it so it can ~breathe~ in the heat

Pull it out and wait for it to cool off. Maybe give yourself a chance to cool off too, idk!

Cut it open down the middle (once you’re both calm), then spoon all the flesh out. Sorry I’m calling it flesh, it grosses me out when other people do this but now that I am here, in a position to do it myself, I can’t actually think of a better way to describe the sensation of excavating the insides of my favorite lampshades

Put the flesh in a blender with the juice of half a lemon, a good amount of smoked Spanish paprika, half a tablespoon of tahini, and another punch of salt. Really give yourself a shiner, eyyyyyyyyyyy vwala: you are now officially the recipient of three recipes you have absolutely no reason to trust but a concept that I can promise might make these shapeless-ass days a little spicier.

Oh! Chili flakes. Add chili flakes too. And that’s all I’ve got for you. Until then, yours truly,

Kitchen

Yes, kitchen.

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I Reviewed the Work of the Artist Formerly Known as Governor Cuomo

Many blue-chip artists work with text on canvas: On Kawara, Mel Bochner, Deborah Kass, Glenn Ligon, Christopher Wool, Ed Ruscha, Robert Indiana, John Baldessari—the list goes on. A new artist recently joined these ranks, and his name is Governor Andrew Cuomo. Like any blue-chip artist, the governor is flanked by his equivalent of studio assistants: his comms team, referred to below heretofore as the artist collective. Cuomo’s career-defining medium is the slideshow. Like any potent work of art, the Cuomo slideshow evokes a reaction from the viewer on multiple levels: the intellectual, the emotional, the visceral.

In artist Ben Shahn’s seminal book, The Shape of Content, Shahn states, “Form is not just the intention of content. It is the embodiment of content…. Form is thus a discipline, an ordering, according to the needs of content.” In their work, Cuomo and the Cuomo artist collective clear a hurdle that stymies most artists for years: their form fits the content.

By superimposing firm, unflinching language over an image, Cuomo and the artist collective’s work follows an aesthetic formula that is sure to produce visual catnip. Cuomo and the artist collective’s process is iterative and the slideshows, released at each press conference, are serial in nature—editioned works if you will. His sentences and statements per slide are so pithy, they make 280 character tweets look like War and Peace. (Cuomo does compensate for this with discursive oral anecdotes.) The work teases, dances around, and transcends the very notion of contradiction. It is both easily meme-able (appealing to those who flock to aesthetic irony), while messaging the most heartfelt sincerity and assuaging our mostly deeply entrenched fears.

Like all artists, Cuomo and the artist collective have their high-visibility successes and their sleeper hits. In their brief career as artists on a national stage, they’ve created three iconic works that stand apart from the rest:

1. “I am going there today”

2. “? Reopening ?”

3. “Today is Saturday.”

When Cuomo’s works are published midday, they instantly crystallize as historical and cultural artifacts of a certain time, graphically capturing the zeitgeist with such precision—whether in its recognition of the universal experience of weekdays losing all shape, or the question marks that flutter around our heads, like a cartoon character seeing stars, when we consider the idea of reopening.

In the spirit of the art-school critique, a tradition all emerging artists ought to experience, I asked some designers what they thought of Cuomo and his artist collectives’ slides.

Carly Ayres, whose hectic resume can tell you she works at Google Design, responded to my request for comment. Ayres applauded the underlying, orderly slide template the Cuomo artist collective uses: “Here, we see a design system attempting to do what it does best: bring order to chaos.”

She finds the design, or lack thereof, appropriate and comforting in this context. “Laboriously designed graphics are for subway ads and projects where time and money are in copious supply. The government is in supply of neither. A presentation that communicated otherwise would be disconcerting. We’d ask: “Why is his team spending so much time on slide decks? Don’t they have more important things to do?” This has just enough design to feel considered, without putting too much energy into the details. It works.”

Designer Noemie Le Coz agreed, drawing connections between the “almost undesigned” nature of the slideshow to the way he presents himself and leads: “That’s his style—dry, to the point, and with some levity.”

Ayres reaffirms the idea that Cuomo’s work passes the final test, that the form fits the content: “Could [the slideshow decks] be improved? Sure. But, at the end of the day, they get the job done—which is what we all hope for Cuomo to do, too.”

All jokes aside, Cuomo’s work is ultimately in conversation with a subject that few artists’ oeuvres converse with: immense gratitude.

Slides via NBC News.

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Notice Anything New About Your Cohabitator(s) Lately?

My first roommate in New York, delivered to me via Craigslist 15 years ago, ended up becoming my best friend. This is a miracle, defying myriad ways New York and “meeting random people on the Internet” often conspire to wreak havoc on our lives. When we first met, I was just grateful that he listened to the same music I did, but our friendship deepened as time went on (college graduation, job changes, other weird early-twenties experiences, you know the drill).

We lived together for about four years before moving into separate apartments and since then, we’ve remained close, cohabitating briefly while staying in places like surf houses in Nicaragua, tiny Tokyo hotel rooms, and even a disgraced politician’s house in the Brazilian countryside (a story for another day…). This is all to say: I’ve spent a lot of time with this person and I know him very well, to a sentence-finishing, so-many-inside-jokes-it-borders-on-its-own-language degree. And yet! This month, I have discovered that there are still things about him that are surprising to me. And that’s because, due to the Coronavirus, we are roommates again.

The most amusing thing I’ve discovered was during week three, when he put his bicycle on a stand that turns it into a stationary bike so he can exercise indoors. During the middle of the day, he queued up a virtual spin class in the next room, put in headphones, and then, in the most endearing possible way, began loudly singing the lyrics to whatever song he was listening to, but only every fourth or fifth lyric, which gave his performance the effect of something like scatting, but somehow even more random-sounding. It was, in a word, absurd. I loved it. And it left me no choice but to sneak around the corner and covertly record a video to send to our group chat. When I showed him the clip after he finished riding, we laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes. Not only did I not know this was something he did, he didn’t seem to know it was something he did either. Made it even better.

These moments started to be documented on Twitter pretty much as soon as self-isolation started—and since then, it feels like everybody has been noticing things about their cohabitators, en masse. Some people have had petty complaints, others have had neutral observations, and some (sadly fewer, let’s change that?) even have praise.

So now I want to know: If you are currently quarantined with other people, whether that be a romantic partner, friends, family, etc.—what have you noticed about them that you may never have, had we continued going about our merry lives? (And if you’re quarantined alone: what strange things have you noticed about yourself?)

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

 

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What Are You *Really* Wearing to Stay Home? We’ll Go First…

I’m glad Instagram exists, and that selfies have become an incredibly commonplace form of expression because I am fairly certain that without the two, I’d have no real impetus to get dressed and might fall into a sort of depression induced by my languishing behind the bars of a self-expression prison.

It’s not that I don’t put on clothes fairly regularly—I stand by the hashtag that inaugurated quarantine for the members of this team, but I will say that I don’t stay in them. The clothes, I mean. I didn’t even realize this until some point last week, when I wasn’t intentionally evaluating the thrill of getting dressed (which does persist–a good thing!), but definitely noticed that the desire to remain dressed is waning at a very rapid pace. I presume this is because…where the fuck am I going? Although one good thing I have started to do is keep sartorial secrets in Zoom meetings. Example: Today I’m wearing a gray crew neck sweater with a yellow silk neck scarf so purportedly, I look over-clothed, but actually, I’m not wearing any pants. Not even shorts. Just big-ass white cotton underwear that I slept in last night. But I digress. Don’t I always! Yesterday, when I looked down from the shaggy bench that bookends my bed and noticed I was still in rooster-print pajama pants at 11:45 a.m., I wondered if surprise-attack asking anyone else on the team what they were wearing in the present moment would yield the kind of life-affirming visuals that ensure we’re in it together. What I got back–from about half the team–was a panoply of still-damn-good outfits, but in the interest of presenting what it seems we *really* wear to work from home, I give you the below, starting with my alter-ego, who spells her name with an accented E:

Léandra

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? Well, Leandra, seeing as I am you, I’m not exactly sure how to answer this question without asking you one in response: Don’t you fucking know what I was doing? I’d been on my computer, finishing the copy for a story, and was about an hour away from doing a Zoom pilates class with two of my friends.

Oh, that’s fancy. Pilates in the middle of the day? Who the hell do you think you are, and when is the last time you changed? Look, we are all just trying to figure out how to make the days go by in somewhat pleasant spirits. Can you stop judging me and my pursuit of a smile? What benefit does doing it even bring you? I don’t know when I last changed. Actually I do, it was right after I woke up—I’d slept in a tank top but swapped it for the t-shirt, then went out to get my kin and make breakfast, but didn’t change after that.

Lol, is leaving your room now code for “going out”? What were you thinking when you put it on? Ha. Yes. It is. Ma grande sortie! I wasn’t thinking much. Why are you always trying to intellectualize everything? I just wondered if the t-shirt smelled–confirmed that it did after I put it on, but didn’t change because… I just didn’t.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: I defer to this story to answer this question at greater length, but the short of it is: I thought so, then realized no, then put on jeans and felt like I had somewhere to be which was momentarily thrilling, but took them off because I had nowhere to be, then resolved that maybe I should spend like an hour a day dressed up just for the thrill of it. If it wears off, I’ll figure something else out.

Is there anything in particular I should know about any of the specific garments you’re wearing? 50% of proceeds from this t-shirt go directly to the NHS.

Jasmin

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? Responding to a Slack comment from Mallory about the podcast I’m currently listening to.

When is the last time you changed? About two hours ago, when I was in my PJs.

What were you thinking when you put it on? Bodysuits and sweatpants are my go-to at the moment. Bodysuits because they make me feel somewhat buttoned-up (is that a thing?) during the day, and sweatpants for ultimate comfort.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: Only on certain occasions. Day-to-day for work, it’s variations of the above, but if I’m having a Friday night drinks on Houseparty or a black-tie birthday dinner on Zoom with my family, I will seize the moment to actually dress up, put on some make-up, and make a proper drink. It feels fun to break up the new norm, even if you’re technically sitting in the same place.

Is there anything in particular I should know about any of the specific garments you’re wearing? I’m really enjoying these blue-light glasses I bought this week. I’ve recently become more aware of my intense screen-time, and I already have terrible eyesight as is (-6.5!!) I’m not sure if they’re working, but one can hope.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: WHAT IS THE PODCAST, JASMIN?

Tiffany

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? Catching up on emails from the night before and laughing out loud at the first edit of a video of you cooking with Madelaur—coming to the MR Instagram soon.

When is the last time you changed? Right before I took this photo—if taking off a robe and putting on clothes counts?

What were you thinking when you put it on? I started subconsciously with the stretchy base layer of heat tech and biker shorts. Then I remembered the Thoughtline WFH Challenge that came through the night before and realized I was already halfway there, so I added the cardigan.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: I’ve been getting dressed-lowercase-d, meaning taking a shower in the morning and putting on real clothes that *could* go outside. This has been t0 maintain sense of normalcy and self-esteem vs. thinking too much about what I look like. But I have been capitalizing on the ability to prioritize comfort in a way that I wouldn’t have before. Tight pants and rigid jeans have been banished—so have shoes and socks for the most part. Even my jewelry got stripped back. I stopped wearing rings because of all the hand-washing and have worn the same little hoop earrings that are comfortable enough to sleep in for weeks.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: Have you ever considered hosting a cardigan partigan? Where are your little hoops from? I’m wearing three in one ear right now also. They’re Mejuri.

Mikaela

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? I was staring blankly at my computer, willing the intro to an article I am working on to appear on the screen. To clarify, the page isn’t blank—but the tangle of words currently present could hardly be considered sentences.

When is the last time you changed? Top-half, this morning! Bottom-half, on a need-to-know basis.

What were you thinking when you put it on? “Dad’s going to ask me if I need to buy more clothes.” (He did.)

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: I would say I’m getting ~D~ressed. I’m not approaching the styling with my usual aplomb, but I am changing my clothes each day and wearing jeans when the mood strikes. When I’m home in Missouri for an extended period of time I revert to the plain, midwestern stock that raised me: Functionality of the most importance, coordination of the least. Short term, I like it.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: When will we know more about this article you are working on, Mikaela? And further,  how did you answer your dad’s inquiry?

Harling

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? I was going through all my unanswered emails while drinking an oat milk matcha latte.

When is the last time you changed? First thing this morning when I got out of bed, so a few hours ago.

What were you thinking when you put it on? Literally nothing. This was the “getting dressed” equivalent of drinking when I’m thirsty or falling asleep when I’m tired. Completely devoid of deliberation.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: Absolutely not! I’ve been wearing various iterations of this outfit (so basically sweats or glorified pajamas) every single day. It makes me feel like a stranger living in my own skeleton—however, as much as I’m frustrated by the lack of opportunity to express myself through clothes, I’m still not inspired to put together real outfits every day. It feels pointless without the accompanying purpose of going out into the world and interacting with people, at least for me, but who knows? That could change.

Is there anything in particular I should know about any of the specific garments you’re wearing? The flannel pants I’m wearing are Austin’s younger brother’s, which is why they say “Belmont Hill” on the leg (it’s an all-boys school in Massachusetts), and the sweatshirt used to be white but I tie-dyed it myself to resemble something akin to cotton candy.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: Is the ultimate power move changing into pajamas after getting out of bed?

Marisa

What were you doing, or about to do, when you sent me this photo? I was prepping a slice of tahini toast while multitasking with emails.

When is the last time you changed? This morning around 9 a.m.. I retired my men’s sweatpants to free my legs in the spirit of the day’s WFH outfit challenge (which was to wear a turtleneck and cardigan with boxer shorts and shin-length socks).

What were you thinking when you put it on? Comfort is my only priority at the moment, while aiming for a quasi-styled top half for any meeting call-ins. This has become my uniform while WFH, conceived from a self-imposed rule prescribing at least one bright color.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: Getting Dressed has fallen by the wayside for me, although I theorize it would be a major mood-lifter. I feel like I’ve put my fashion sense on pause during quarantine, which feels disingenuous to my character but authentic to my current state of mind.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: How the hell do you prepare your tahini toast, Marisa? And please, if you are willing to, tell us more about your current state of mind. Also, where is that striped blanket on your bed from? Cheers, Leandra (no accent).

Amalie

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? I was in the midst of planning the Instagram calendar and had just ~lit~ a candle on the kitchen table for me and my roommate.

When is the last time you changed? Um…I took a shower after a run last night at 7:30, so that was definitely the last time.

What were you thinking when you put it on? I wanted my adorably fuzzy legs to breathe unabashedly so I put on little shorts. I wanted to not wear a bra so I put on a tank that looks chic when the girls are out. Then I put on a big sweater with wool in it because it gets nippy in my apartment’s living room sometimes, though my room is consistently a boiling inferno.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: I have not. Pretty much not at all. I think I’ve gotten Dressed maybe twice since quarantine started and for what it’s worth, both of those times have felt really special! But ultimately, it’s not worth the effort of continuing if I am not going to see and be seen. That’s a really complicated statement, and I’m aware of it.

Is there anything in particular I should know about any of the specific garments you’re wearing? I’ve worn this sweater to death. I think I bought these pajama shorts in high school from Nordstrom Rack. I used the Paris IG filter on this pic because I didn’t want to scare the kids with my leg hair.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: What candle? Do the girls have designated names? And on the topic of see and be seen, shall we expect a personal essay?

Elizabeth

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? I was about to do my outfit recipe on Man Repeller’s Instagram. To be honest, I wore this the day before and fell asleep in it (but yes, I brushed my teeth.)

When is the last time you changed? Yesterday at 5 p.m. after a shower and video call.

What were you thinking when you put it on? “I don’t want to wear pants.” The polo is long and you don’t really need anything underneath it. It’s very hot in my apartment (I face south and have the sun shining directly inside if it’s a sunny day) so less clothing is better.

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: Well, I try to… sort of. I usually have a necklace or two on and am thoughtful about my top-half. I’m actually trying to wear tops that have historically been under-loved. On my bottom half, though, I’m usually in pajama shorts or bike shorts and socks. I keep stretch pants at an arm’s length to take my dog for a walk, which is why bike shorts are great—pants slip on so easily over them. But every time I get Dressed, I wind up taking some of it off because I realize I’m not going anywhere. Sometimes I get Dressed and then take it off and get back in my “getting ready for bed” outfit, which is the most logical state of dress 24/7.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: Did you put this back on after the outfit recipe, or? Does that necklace fare well in water?

Mallory

What were you doing, or about to do when you sent me this photo? I decided to go for a run this morning to expel some anxiety, which is a rare thing for me (the running), and after I finished that, I went straight to ‘computer time.’

When is the last time you changed? When I got home from the run, I took off a couple of top layers and switched from leggings to these shorts. The hat stayed on so I did not have to think about my hair. Showering happened… later in the day.

What were you thinking when you put it on? “Need to do emails/Slacks/etc. Wore this exact outfit yesterday without incident, seems fine to do it again.”

Have you been getting Dressed (capital D) in quarantine? If yes, how does it make you ~feel~? If not, same q: I wish I could be more aspirational but I have not. I’m staying with a friend and I packed a verrrry tight capsule of options, which has been totally fine for me. I have been fantasizing about getting capital-D-dressed again, though. The spring palette calls to me daily.

Is there anything else I should know about any of the specific garments you’re wearing? This Mood NYC hat is from some independent designers who I love. It has been put through a lot and it’s still basically perfect. I have only worn these Nike tennis shorts to play tennis three times because I bought them right before all of this, but I’ve gotten LOTS of use for indoor purposes. And this Lou & Grey top has off-duty ballet dancer energy that I really appreciate.

Follow up question, which I promise to deliver you—the people of Man Repeller—answers to: How’d the run make you feel? Should I try it? And for the love of maximalism, what’s in the capsule!

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The post What Are You *Really* Wearing to Stay Home? We’ll Go First… appeared first on Man Repeller.

Welcome to the Instagram Restaurant, Where I Bookmark Meals Cooked by Random People

In pre-quarantine times, I was addicted to looking at restaurants on Instagram. I would scroll through their accounts, salivating over gooey slices of lasagna, crisp little gem lettuces sprinkled with toasted hazelnuts, bread baskets brimming with golden brown crusts, uni perched on tiny mounds of rice, perfectly roasted Brussels sprouts, and chicken thighs so tender they fell off the bone. I would do my due diligence–reading comments, swiping through carousels, searching the restaurant’s “location” for additional content–all in pursuit of determining where I would like to eat my next meal.

Though my former gastronomic haunts are heartbreakingly closed at the moment, I haven’t stopped evaluating future meal opportunities on Instagram, but the restaurants I fantasize about visiting look a little different now: fewer chairs, humbler dinnerware, with a much bigger emphasis on “family style.” Okay, fine, they aren’t actually restaurants. They’re people’s kitchens and couches and dining room tables, the places where home-cooked meals are made and consumed. Pete Wells won’t be stopping by any of them for an impromptu review anytime soon, though maybe he should–I’m not sure if quarantine has brought out the chef in everyone I follow on Instagram, or if I simply wasn’t paying close enough attention before, but damn! I’m impressed. And hungry.

Join me below in a stroll through some of my favorite humans to follow for meal inspiration from regular people whose edible creations seem consistently attainable for me to recreate.

 

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A post shared by Diana Tsui (@chupsterette) on Mar 16, 2020 at 5:51pm PDT

The deep yellow yolks of the hard-boiled egg that sits atop this Burmese noodle salad have been burned in the part of my brain that registers cravings, like the bright blotches that appear behind your eyelids when you’ve stared at the sun for a second too long. And don’t even get me started on those crispy slices of garlic!!!! Since I can’t visit the proverbial restaurant that is Diana Tsui’s marbled countertop, however, I’ll just have to attempt a version myself with the recipe she kindly shared in her highlights, adapted from the one her mom would always make when she was growing up. It requires a lot of ingredients, but I’ve got a lot of time!

 

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A post shared by jeannette ogden (@shutthekaleup) on Apr 9, 2020 at 9:39am PDT

As Edith has duly documented, pancakes are the only celebrity worth following on social media these days. I was particularly eager to bookmark these posted by Jeanette Ogden, not only because I don’t need to be convinced beyond the words “butter + salt” but also because the ingredients delineated in her caption were all ones I happen to have on hand (well, except cashew milk, but I have a hunch oat will do). Click into the post if you want to see the full recipe!

 

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A post shared by RUBY REDSTONE (@rubyredstone) on Apr 13, 2020 at 7:44am PDT

Ruby Redstone, whose name you undoubtedly recognize from her bylines on Man Repeller, happens to be an incredible cook in addition to being an incredible writer and styler of runway approximations. While I’ve admired many of her edible creations before, this springtime pavlova struck a particular chord, perhaps because I have a soft spot for Easter Peeps. I think I saw her mention that the recipe is adapted from this one on NYT Cooking.

 

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A post shared by Barrett Prendergast (@barrettprendergast) on Apr 10, 2020 at 6:33pm PDT

Barrett is one of my favorite follows on Instagram in general these days, not only for her mouthwatering meal content but also for her charming videos of life at home with two young children during quarantine (who routinely request piggyback rides while she is attempting to work out). From one-bowl banana bread to garlic broth, her Instagram highlights are a treasure trove for home-cooked comfort food ideas. Though I’ve enjoyed many bowls of cacio e pepe at restaurants before, I’ve never attempted it myself, but this tangibly cheesy post makes me want to try (full recipe is toward the end of this highlight).

 

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A post shared by Heidi – Apples Under My Bed (@heidiapples) on Apr 6, 2020 at 7:54pm PDT

I’ve also followed Heidi for a while, and I find her social media presence immensely soothing–there’s something about the way she writes captions that feels like the equivalent of someone rubbing your back. This is particularly true of her food posts, which focus on meals that are both nourishing and delicious. Her lunch concoction reminded me that I’ve been meaning to try making Minimalist Baker’s gingery lemon tahini sauce, and that I should pick up a jar of sauerkraut next time I shop for food (click into the post for a list of the other ingredients Heidi used here).

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ricotta and tomato

No Beauty Supply & No Salon: 4 Black Women on Haircare in Quarantine

I’ve changed my hair every week since quarantine began. I tried mini twists, a blow-out, long marley twists, short marley twists. I haven’t been this cavalier with my hair since 2010, when I dyed it purple and cut diagonal “side bangs” on the same day. Granted, I was listening to a lot of teenaged Demi Lovato that year—but now, one month into quarantine and hopscotching between hair styles, I feel a real kinship to my 15-year-old self.

I know I’m lucky. My mother taught my sisters and me the holy trinity of black hair styling: flat twisting, cornrowing, and adding hair. I know, though, that black women who don’t do their own hair now may find themselves under unique strain. Salons are closed, as are most beauty supply stores, so we’re relegated to searching the “ethnic hair” section of the grocery store for products we know they won’t have. Depending on where you were with your hair journey when the outside world shut down, this quarantine may find you feeling a little unsure. I know I feel that way, even with everything I’ve learned and a doomsday-level product inventory in my house. And even though I have the skills and the products, I’ve found that self-isolating has me questioning aspects of my haircare I’ve never stopped to scrutinize: Just because I can put my hair in marley twists for the 4th time, does that mean I should?

The braid train. From left to right: Me (Mikaela); my oldest sister, Riana; sister, Olivia; and my mom, Marla.

With nowhere to go and less exposure to cold, rain, and humidity, I can’t exactly call this weekly shapeshift “necessary.” And I can’t tell if it’s about finding self-expression in isolation—or if the remnant of my adolescent self, tucked deep down, still isn’t entirely comfortable with presenting herself with hair exactly the way it grows from her head.

I sat down with my two sisters, Riana and Olivia, and my cousin Ellicia (Leshe for short) to talk through how the quarantine has affected our thoughts about our hair—including how much we miss the beauty supply, our top YouTube recs, and some advice for any of our colleagues tempted to compliment our “haircuts.” What follows below are our unique experiences—and as we know, we black women are not monolithic—so please share your thoughts in the comments.

Mikaela: So: Quarantine happened—and everything black women needed shut down.

Ellicia: [Laughs]

Mikaela: So the question is: How are we handling our hair in quarantine?

Riana: I FaceTime you every day, and your hair is different every day. And yesterday you made me think that I should take my twists down maybe and wash my hair.

Mikaela: I guess that’s a reflection of how my quarantine is going. I’ve been changing my hair every single week—if not every few days.

Riana: That’s a lot of work.

Olivia: Almost everybody I’ve talked to either has mini twists, Senegalese twists, straight back braids or—just like Leshe—has on a bonnet. As soon as I knew that we weren’t going anywhere, I put braids in my hair so I don’t have to do anything with it. And that’s only because I had [hair] in my bathroom. A lot of people don’t keep hair in their bathroom.

Riana: Which is a travesty.

Mikaela: I have seen so many mini twists, including on myself. I feel like one Instagram hair video must have gone viral, because–boom!–every black woman has mini twists now.

My cousin, Ellicia.

Leshe: That’s what I’ve been doing, just twisting my hair. I’m the opposite of what Liv said, because I’m in the house and not going anywhere, so I’m not about to put a whole lot of effort into my hair. Usually I would have a protective style like box braids or a sew-in, faux locs, but—

Olivia: But you usually go to the salon for that, right?

Leshe: Yeah. So now, at home, I’ve already spent $50 on hair products so I can wash it and try to do something with it. Washing my hair, since it’s so thick, takes, literally, all day. I’m physically sore. My shoulders and arms hurt when I get done washing, deep conditioning, and styling. It’s a lot of work.

Mikaela: Dang, Leshe, come on now—you gotta build up them muscles! But that actually makes sense: “If you’re not going anywhere why put in the effort?” I just feel like some of these corporate-America colleagues be turning on their cameras for meetings and then you feel pressure to turn yours on too–Liv, why are you making that face?

Olivia: Because I don’t turn nothing on for nobody, okay? And I look fine, but if I don’t have my eyebrows on, you can’t see me. I’m sorry.

Mikaela: I’m curious, Leshe—would you ever try to do your own hair?

Leshe: On wash days, I’ll do mini twists or whatever. That’s the most I’m going to do, though, because I can’t cornrow, I can’t do flat twists, I can’t do any of that stuff. All the stuff you all can do, I can’t, so….

Olivia: And even if you could do it, the beauty supply stores are closed. You can’t get hair.

Riana: I don’t think I’ve been in a beauty supply store since February.

Mikaela: It’s sad.

Riana: I know. The last time I was in there, I didn’t know what I wanted, so I called Olivia, because at that point I had already been in there for 30 minutes. I was like, “Do I want to braid my hair?” No, because that would take too long. “Do I want a wig?” No, I’ve been doing a lot of outside field work for my job which means plants, and bugs, and animals, and I don’t want a wig on when I’m out collecting brambles. [Mikaela note: Riana is a Lab Specialist at the Charlotte Discovery Center.]

Mikaela: I’m always scared that a spider’s going to lay eggs under my wig. [Hello, Mikaela note again: This fear has no merit. I had a bad dream once….]

Everyone: …

Leshe: I blame my not being able to do hair on growing up with boys. I have a sister, but we’re 14 and a half years apart. I didn’t have a sister to play dolls with or to practice doing hair with.

Mikaela: I didn’t think about that. I bet the salon was a special thing you got to do because it was like, “Okay, Leshe, you’re the only girl!”

Leshe: Right.

Mikaela: You got to go to the salon so much! I was jealous—your hair was always laid.

My middle sister, Olivia.

Olivia: And ours was looking…raggedy.

Mikaela: Leshe, have you always had the same hairdresser?

Leshe: Yeah. When I had a relaxer, I pretty much went to her from like middle school up until I went to college. With the braids and stuff, I have a friend—she’s a licensed cosmetologist. She’ll do my sew-ins. Sometimes I might go to her to just do mini-twists on my hair because I never get mine neat enough. She’ll flat iron my hair and clip my ends. So I go to her for a lot. Then there’s another girl I go to for, like, crochet styles.

Mikaela: You do have those people who have just been doing it for you for so long. It’s weird. It really feels like this institution of black culture—the hair salon—is just kind of…not happening.

Riana: I just miss the camaraderie of the beauty supply. The last time I was there, there was another lady there who was going to give her daughter Lemonade braids [à la Beyoncé]. It was just nice to chat. When you go into the beauty supply, you don’t have to have it all together.

Riana: Everyone is understanding that you’re there either because you need to get your hair done, or you ran out of hair, like, midway through. There’s no judgement. I really miss that.

Olivia: Also it’s important to know the distinction between a “beauty supply” and, like, Sally’s. Sally’s are those other places where you get, like, Nexus. The beauty supply is for black women pretty much only. It’s like a depot of everything—the little gold trinkets you see in our hair, the beads, the different types of braids that we wear, the colors of braids. I just gave Mikaela some oils. Like African root or something like that.

Mikaela: And she was like, “This is really hard to get, too, so appreciate it because they just don’t sell it everywhere.”

Leshe: Right. That’s the frustrating thing. When I bought some hair products a week or so ago, I had to get stuff I’d never tried, and it’s always hit or miss. It’s like, dang, you’re spending $15-$16 on a bottle of something that might not work for your hair. But you can’t go to the beauty supply and get what you normally get. It’s been a struggle.

Mikaela: That’s what’s tough. You can go to the drugstore—that’s where everybody else is still finding what they need. I mean, I guess we can order online. It’s just weird when you’ve never had to.

Olivia: A lot of the nonessential items that you’re ordering online are being deprioritized to ship out toilet paper and stuff like that.

My oldest sister, Riana.

Riana: First off, I know that what I consider essential and what someone else considers essential are going to be very different—but there’s a disparity on where we can access our product. Someone else can get their beauty stuff from a Walmart or Target, but the Beauty World here in Charlotte, North Carolina—that’s not going to be considered essential, even if that’s the only place where I can get my shampoo.

Mikaela: Is that a point of frustration for y’all?

Olivia: That’s why I put my hair in twists, because I didn’t want to have to worry about it. And that’s why it’s important to know how to do simple, basic protective styles with your hair. It’s a good time to be able to learn what your hair likes and doesn’t like.

Leshe: Right. And that’s how I’ve looked at it too. Even with having to buy a different product than what I normally would buy. I’m like, well, maybe my hair will like this and this can be something else I can use.

Riana: And it’s a good time to practice those skills, like flat twisting or whatever.

Olivia: When we get out of quarantine, what I want everyone reading this to know–everyone who’s not black–is that when we inevitably do change our hairstyles because we are so excited about the beauty supply opening back up, you do not have to comment on them every time they change. Some of the comments that we have heard are: “Sassy!”

Mikaela: [Laughs] That’s at your job. [Mikaela note: picture an old school, big, homogenous workplace.]

Olivia: “You changed your hair, did it grow?” “Wow, that wasn’t like that last week was it?” “Did you get a haircut?” Yes, I did. The answer is always “yes” from now on. Whatever you think I did, that’s what happened.

Mikaela: Right. That’s good.

Riana: I’m really missing my curls, and the fact that your hair is out, Kaela, makes me kind of want to take mine down.

Mikaela: Are you jelly? [Laughs] She’s jellllyyyy.

Riana: You know how when you take your hair down and then you stick your head under the faucet when you’re taking a shower—obviously you shouldn’t do that all of the time. But being able to do that and feeling the water on your head—and feeling your curls all bounce up—is nice.

Leshe: It is nice.

Mikaela: I love when you first put the conditioner in, and it gets all springy. It’s just very tactile and calming.

Riana: I’m telling you right now, if I take these [marley twists] down, I will not have the strength to make myself put them all back in.

Mikaela: I almost wish I didn’t take mine down, because I’m like, there’s no way I’m going to just sit and part my hair by myself. If any of you were here, you could help me part my hair.

Riana: Ask dad.

Mikaela: He’d be like, “You want me to do what?”

Olivia: [Impersonating a deep male voice] “No, no, no, no, I’m not doing that.”

Leshe: [Laughs] Don’t do Uncle Mark like that.

Riana: He really likes our hair, so he might actually do it.

Mikaela: He’d be mad that I was changing it. He says I look like Angela Davis when my hair is normal. The second I change it, he goes, “Was something wrong with your hair?”

Riana: Anytime our dad compliments our hair, it’s, like, that’s how it has to stay forever.

Mikaela: He gets mad we change it.

Leshe: Really?

Olivia: It’s not that kind of mad. He just jokes. He’s like, “Why are you changing your hair so much?”

Mikaela: Do you guys feel like all these restrictions—not being able to go to the salon or the beauty supply—will end up making us feel less like ourselves? I know there are girls out there who get a sense of confidence, a sense of themselves, from being able to change their hair frequently. Or do you feel like it’s going to be a healthy thing for us? I don’t know if that question makes sense because I don’t know that it’s unhealthy that black women change their hair a lot.

Leshe: I feel like it’s a little bit of both. I think it will be healthy to have to do your hair because you’re going to have to really learn it and know it and nurture it. But at the same time, it’s kind of burdensome. It’s time consuming. And I’m not just at home not doing anything—since [law school] classes are online now, we are five times busier.

Mikaela: Maybe it will be good for us. We are just going to be seeing ourselves—how we came out the womb.

Riana: I think we will see people get more creative. Trying new styles that maybe you liked on someone else that you didn’t think would work in your professional environment.

Mikaela: I like that, Ri.

The last time my hair saw a salon, after five years of going without a visit. Riana sits in the background.

Riana: If you wanted to have your whole head in Bantu knots, you can try that in the comfort of your own home. And you don’t have to turn that Zoom camera on if you don’t want to!

Mikaela: I agree. I never would’ve worn mini twists before quarantine, because, listen, I have my father’s head. It’s big. Every time I say that, people are like “No, no, no!” I’m just speaking facts. Britney Spears has a big head too, it’s fine. But I didn’t have the confidence to try them until quarantine, and when I did it, I felt like Lauryn Hill. I found a new aspect of myself, which was comfortable being more directly opposite to European standards of beauty—not needing to be even slightly adjacent to it. It’s the first time I’ve experienced that. I hope that for us black ladies, what you said, Ri, a lot of creativity.

Olivia: Yeah. This is a good time for YouTubers to…

Mikaela: Hop on it!

Olivia: Capitalize.

Mikaela: Yeah. Okay, I have a silly question. What do you think is the black woman equivalent of cutting bangs while in quarantine? You know, like—

Olivia: The big chop!

Mikaela: You know what made me think of it? Because as I have been sitting here at home, I’ve been, like, “Should I cut my hair off”?

Riana: Really? As someone who has done that twice, don’t ask my opinion because it’s always “Hair grows back.”

Leshe: I’ve big-chopped. It definitely grows back.

Mikaela: Anything else? Are there any YouTubers that you guys watch like?

Olivia: Don’t touch my hair!

Mikaela: Is that what the Youtube is called?

Olivia: No—you said, “Anything else?” Just don’t touch my hair. Social distance from my hair.

Mikaela: Yeah. Don’t touch people’s hair. It’s just not necessary [laughs]. Do you guys have any quarantine hair-care tips for girls who have never really spent a lot of time in their own hair?

Riana: I would say to give your hair grace and freedom to kind of do what it’s going to do.

Leshe: And learn to love your hair. I know so many black women who either keep braids or sew-ins or whatever because they don’t like their natural hair. Saying, “Well, it just won’t grow.” Right now is the perfect time to actually learn to love it.

Left to right: Riana; me; my mom, Marla; and Olivia.

Mikaela: Also, you need as many visuals as you can get [to see] that your hair is beautiful—your hair, the way it grew out of you the day you were born. If you’re not getting that, change the way your feed looks. I didn’t really appreciate my 4C hair until I started following beauty gurus with the same hair type. They inspired me.

Olivia: There’s somebody I want to shout out. It’s the lady who does Issa Rae‘s hair—Felicia Leatherwood. I feel like she’s the first celebrity we’ve seen always having natural hair styles, and I really appreciate it.

Leshe: One YouTuber is Faye In The City. She’s always making videos reviewing products. Another one is NappyFU TV. She has 4C hair—I watch her stuff a lot because we have the same type of hair.

Mikaela: So—use YouTube to learn your hair. And if you don’t have a lot of hair products at home, what are a few basic drugstore products that will go a long way? I think: a rat tail comb, deep conditioner, a spray bottle—

Olivia: An oil to seal.

Leshe: If you don’t have a satin bonnet, a satin pillowcase. Because cotton dries out your hair.

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Mikaela: Right. And we don’t have our salons and our hairstylists to fix the damage we’re doing on our hair.

Mikaela: Which means you have to take care of it.

Riana: Yep.

Mikaela: This is your time to shine girl, you can do it.

The post No Beauty Supply & No Salon: 4 Black Women on Haircare in Quarantine appeared first on Man Repeller.

You Must Be Wondering How to Wear Sweatpants 5 Days in a Row

Who among us hasn’t worn sweatpants for a five-day streak over the last several weeks? While the Groundhog Day circumstances feel relatively new to us, the practice of repurposing clothing five different ways over the course of five days is familiar territory at MR dot com. Past installments of the beloved Man Repeller franchise “5 Ways, 5 Days,” have seen wardrobe wizards remixing one garment five ways like they are disc jockeys and their outfits are Girl Talk songs: take, for example, Kelli Brown and a pair of gaucho pants, Ansley Morgan and a dress-trench, Natasha Nyanin and a bright yellow blouse, Nasiba Adilova and one tie-dye slip dress, Lindsay Peoples Wagner and a pair of red boots, Lexie Sickles and an oversized blazer, or Wanyi Jiang and a pair of espadrilles.

In homage to this great tradition, I accepted the challenge of styling my favorite Eric Emanuel sweatpants, in five variations on a theme, over the course of a workweek. Working with a quick hit of tie dye as my foundation, I hoped to bring some pizazz to the art of wearing pants with a drawstring. Consider me the world’s only stuntwoman who says, “Do try this at home.”

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The ever-satisfying act of color coordination:

It all started with this. After a week of wearing outfits that lacked all cohesion, I joked that I was going to “get dressed up for dinner” with this color-coordinated T-shirt and pair of sweatpants, made only marginally more formal by forgoing bare feet and wearing smoking slippers instead. The shoes clash a little, sure, but this scratched the itch of getting dressed with intention, an itch that had gone unscratched for a while. The T-shirt is from a limited edition designed by Liana Jegers for GGET LA (which is selling pantry staples right now for those in Los Angeles). Yes, I felt validated when I found out that Andy Samberg has this shirt, too.

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Taking care of business:

During my first OOO hour manning the phones of MR’s Thoughtline, I fielded a question from a pen pal on how to style a blazer with sweatpants. The formula depicted here was my humble suggestion: T-shirt tucked into sweats, blazer over, jaunty neck scarf thrown over shoulder. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure this is the exact outfit Opera Man wears on Weekend Update! Right down to the hair length.

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Emitting that “I got dressed in the dark” glow:

Or, acid green, three ways. Some days, I wake up and I think, “I just want to dress like the opposite of a naturally occurring phenomenon.” That’s what happened here. But I can get away with looking like I got into a stick fight with a geyser of multicolored dyes right now.

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Print-mixing for spring:

Everyone’s always saying, Spring’s here! Print-mixing is the secret to good style in spring! Mix all your florals! Mingle all your prints! I submit this homebound print-mix for your consideration.

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Sweatpants with a bib:

Will I ever wear this combo outdoors? Certainly not. But in the interest of seeing how dressy these sweatpants could skew, I took it for a spin, and it did not disappoint. Paired with the loafer-shaped felt slippers, I felt vaguely Milanese in the best way.

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The post You Must Be Wondering How to Wear Sweatpants 5 Days in a Row appeared first on Man Repeller.

Open Thread: What Are You Spending Money on Right Now?

Before Quarantine Times (BQT), I wouldn’t say that my relationship to money was healthy. Actually, I can say with authority that it wasn’t.

I’ve held jobs that were (at least) fashion-adjacent for about four years now, and that, at times, has sent me into a very specific spiral of purchasing above my means. A pair of Marni sandals are on sale! It’s okay—it’s just one pair of sandals. And won’t they make it look like I have taste to the people I most want to impress? The shoes turned into the leather jacket turned into the pearl earrings turned into the oversized blazer. After a phase of irresponsible spending, a bruised bank account, and some debt, my big epiphany moment came after a particularly irresponsible purchase of a giant faux fur robe-coat I definitely didn’t need. (Oh, but she’s still so PRETTY in my closet.)

Since then? Budgeting has been an act of self-care, as well as an act of will. It’s taken me months to unlearn the impulsive free-fall from “add to cart” to “purchase.” In some cases I have stumbled, yet I’ve learned to flex my willpower like a muscle, propelled by the conversation around sustainability and excess. But, interestingly, it has never felt easier than now.

This is my personal experience, so I’ll make that very clear before I say the following: I have never wanted “stuff” in my life less than I do right now. Well, I guess certain kinds of stuff. Like shoes. And sweaters. And little bags that fit only your AirPods. It could be a product of not having real financial security at the moment. Perhaps it’s because I’m not getting up and getting dressed every day, letting my self-presentation define me. Maybe it’s because a global disaster has made me realize what’s most important to me is not the things in my closet, but the connections I have with the people I love. IDK!!!

Is this feeling going to last? If I’ve learned anything about this time period, it’s that these sentiments are subject to change. In a few weeks, when the temperature climbs and warm breezes fill my apartment, maybe I’ll start having the itch to really buy that sundress missing from my closet, as opposed to thinking, hey, I have something in here that can fit that need.

Since quarantine has started, I’ve bought a puzzle and a bed skirt, and netted out pretty much equally on a dresser swap. The puzzle was a joint decision with me and my roommate and it brought us joy, madness, and everything in between. The bedskirt was because I was sick of looking at all the shit under my bed. And the dresser was because my stupid Danish teak dresser I’ve had for four years was pretty much intended for lingerie only, and WHO HAS THAT MUCH LINGERIE???

It felt strange to be much more excited by these purchases than I might normally be. Which begs the question from me to you: What are you buying right now? What’s your relationship to “stuff” looking like? Why do you think you’re spending the way you are? Just want to make clear: there is no judgment. I laid bare my reality just a few sentences ago, which means I invite you, and those reading your answers, to breathe everything in with compassion and understanding. There’s no right answer!

Animation by Lorenza Centi.

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