Leandra Medine's Blog, page 30

Dispatch #006: The First Big Quarantine Fight and a Face Dive on Howard Street

I took my kids for a walk on Sunday morning after Abie and I had our First Big Quarantine Fight. I’d started to pick him apart in my head 48 hours earlier: I was annoyed that he didn’t seem to care to meet me at the shuttered bar where I was getting wasted with panic and desperation as the three of us cogitated about the potentially long-term catastrophic impact these stay-at-home orders and the consequent business not-just slowdown but straight up shutdown could have. What I didn’t see then, obviously, is that my desire—to begin installing solutions beyond the ones we’d already built in—ran counter to what I was actually doing which was, effectively, spiraling. And look, I’m not trying to judge my spirals. I read Brene Brown, I know all about shame, and the silver lining of their presence is that often after they’ve subsided and I can see more clearly, I make good change. The trouble is that when they’re not managed correctly, they take everyone down with them. And that hangover is a bitch.

Anyway, I should have expected he might bang his hands down on the kitchen counter and yell, “Enough!” at some innocuous moment but somehow the prospect escaped me until around 8:30 a.m. last Sunday morning when he was pouring ingredients into his smoothie and I asked, “Do you really have to use all those hemp seeds?”

At that point, he lost it.

I mean, he didn’t lose it—Abie is very even. It’s rare to see him act out of character, but when he does, it reminds me that his layers are there and that comforts me—I’m not sure why. Maybe because it makes me feel less crazy. Or because it reminds me that he is just as crazy. Either way, we become one-in-the-same for a brief moment. My problems are no bigger than his, his no smaller than mine because ultimately, they’re the same. Even if they’re not.

I’m glad it happened—he screamed about using whatever “fucking ingredients” he wants however he wants to use them. Then it seemed like he was going to throw a handful of the seeds on the floor, but he took a deep breath and suggested I go out for a walk. I was too pissed off to agree with anything he would say so I said, “No, you go.” And he did. The subtext I have not mentioned is that I was also getting frustrated that as bad-cop mom I had been cooking and cleaning my fucking fingertips off, disproving of Madelaur’s requesting cake for breakfast, while he seemingly floated like a fairy among them—FaceTiming all the grandparents and watching movies and singing songs and sharing his paleo-ass cookies, doing all kinds of stuff that might make you want to say, “No mommy. Only daddy.”

Of course, this is all in my head. It’s not actually like this. But you know who is never at the bar getting wasted with me, panic, and desperation? Objectivism. Logic. Reality. So maybe if he went off on a walk and I could be alone with our kids, free to parent and play my way, the role would reverse. No daddy! Only mommy! Bliss.

So he left. And me and the girls were off to a hell of a start: we finished our breakfast, we cleaned our faces, we had a dance party, and then we changed. We changed to go for a short walk because the weather was glorious and they could use some fresh air and frankly, so could I. We put on our gloves and our masks and went downstairs to an empty lot on the corner of Howard Street and as we were playing, “Don’t touch anything but run as fast as you can!,” Madeline face planted into the cement sidewalk.

I didn’t see it, even though I’m pretty sure I was looking at her, but I heard it and I swear to you, every time my mind quiets down just a little bit, I can hear it happening again.

The next thing I remember was grabbing her off the ground, plopping her into my lap as she cried and watching as her forehead bruise became a bubble became a golfball. Through my head crisscrossed the wildest fears I know I have: Did I just willingly put my child in harm’s way? I am a terrible mother. And then the one I didn’t know I have: Is this the nail in the coffin that finally makes Abie quit?

I don’t know what I was more terrified to do: discover that she’d incurred a concussion (she didn’t, thank God) or tell Abie what had happened. When we got home, I called the doctor, but hung up before anyone could answer and called Abie. I told him she’d fallen, that we were home, that I was icing the bruise and that she seemed okay. He asked if he should come home, I said I thought that was a good idea. Then I called the doctor back. She told me to test her vision through a series of gesticulated exams. I’d wash her face, use all the healing ointments I have, and monitor her behavior for the rest of the day.

When Abie got home, I expected that he would say, “I never should have left,” which I would take to mean, “I never should have trusted you with our kids.” Instead, he gave me a hug. He gave me a fucking hug and kissed my forehead and said, “I know how terrifying that must have been.”

And in that moment, I swear to you I became even more earnest than I have been the past five weeks. I wept in his arms for, like, 20 minutes and neither of us said anything because neither of us had to and a couple of hours later, when I was lying in bed, I had this thought that maybe Madeline’s classic case of Falling Toddler was a wakeup call. Another plea to slow down, chill the fuck out, go easier on myself or something.

I wrote that down and then read it back.

Go easier on myself?

Yeah. By doing that, I could go easier on everyone else.

Here I’ve been on this hamster wheel for, like, ten years, but especially the last five weeks, and in quarantine, it seems like I have been saying the same thing over and over again: it’s time! to clean out! the cracks! and corners! I! have been! avoiding! But now I’m thinking that maybe confessing this has actually been my way of not doing it. I’m not really sure — and from the vantage point of today (it’s Thursday, April 7346871th), I kind of want to roll my eyes so far back while reading the below, something I wrote last Sunday, but here it is:

You can’t give people the shit you think they need, no matter how badly you want to if you don’t know how to give—and receive!—it yourself. I’m learning this—I’ve been learning it—but sometimes I forget. I don’t know how or why it happened that at some point really early on when I was learning what “love” is, I got this idea that it’s finite. Sacrificial. That it’s a fixed mass to which you can add, I guess, but mostly from which stuff is subtracted. The bravest among us seem to know that actually, it’s an infinite well. I think this is the knowledge that lets you hug your partner when they fuck up instead of judging them. It lets you hug yourself when you fuck up instead of judging.

I think.

Abie and I never closed the loop on those hemp seeds, and ultimately, Madeline was fine. Her appetite never waned, she didn’t get dizzy, and within an hour, the bruise went down. It’s me who stayed a little fucked up, but you know what I’m thinking now? That I’m fine, too. That I’ve probably become even chummier than usual and am judging the hell out of it but need to, yeah, go easier on myself. Which I think is as easy as just like, doing it. No need to overthink or analyze and intellectualize any part of it. Just let go, you know? Butt cheeks unclenched.

What’s going on with you?

Feature photo: Leandra and Laura wearing Cloud Nine pajamas.

The post Dispatch #006: The First Big Quarantine Fight and a Face Dive on Howard Street appeared first on Man Repeller.

You Look Moist: How a New York City Restaurateur Keeps Her Eczema in Check

Welcome to You Look Moist, a column in which Man Repeller asks cool people with glowing visages how they achieved their supreme hydration (amongst other things). Today’s installment features Jennifer Saesue, co-owner of New York-based Thai restaurants Chicks Isan and Fish Cheeks. 

How would you describe your skin?

My skin is pretty moist and dewy from all the products I layer on my face every day. Without them, my skin is very dry and sensitive. I’ve suffered from eczema for my entire life and can sense a flare up from a mile away. If I’m exposed to extreme temperature changes or humidity, or if I eat too much of certain things (mainly dairy and sugar), I know a flare-up will occur somewhere on my body. For example, when I travel from New York to Bangkok (where my family is from) and undergo an extreme temperatures change, I have to stay extra hydrated, calm, and cool–or else my neck, the crook of my arm, and the cupid’s bow area on my face will get extremely itchy. Also if I drink more than two alcoholic beverages, the eczema on my hands will flare up right away.

How would you describe your skincare approach in general?

Now that I’m in my 30s, my skincare approach is guided by the advice of my esthetician. I have been seeing Vicki from Vicki Morav Spa for awhile now, and she has changed my whole perspective. I used to think more is better when it comes to products, but she helped me see otherwise. She also taught me that what I eat really affects how my skin looks. A couple times a year (usually during transitional weather) I experience eczema flare-ups all over my body including my face, so during these seasonal changes I’ll reduce my intake of sugar, dairy, alcohol, and spicy foods to stop or at least slow down the inflammation. This practice is extremely hard for me, since I own Thai restaurants and I’m constantly surrounded by my favorite foods with bold flavors such as spice, acidity, and salt. But it makes a big difference.

 

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A post shared by Amy Larson (@overseasoned_amy) on Feb 12, 2020 at 6:06pm PST

Which skincare products are integral to your routine for achieving your ideal, glowing, well-moisturized complexion, and how/when do you use each of them?

I’m pretty regimented when it comes to my skincare steps. Though I have simplified my skincare routine a bit during quarantine since I’m not exposed to pollution, I’m typically a two-step cleanse kind of girl. I’ll start off with Emma Hardie Amazing Face Moringa Cleansing Balm, then I follow that with Forlle’d Hyalogy Creamy Wash. It deeply cleanses but does not strip the barrier of my skin. I also like Laneige Moisturizing Cream Cleanser because it doesn’t break the bank. It gives me a deep, foamy cleanse that moisturizes and leaves my skin hydrated. When I feel like my skin is dull, I use MBR Enzyme Cleansing Booster. It’s a fruit enzyme powder and exfoliant that dissolves impurities, removing dead skin cells and excess sebum. I think it helps my skin look suppler and smoother.

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My second step is toner. I’m a Biologique Recherche junkie, and I’m very religious with my Lotion P50. It’s an AMAZING product that contains all the necessary AHA and BHA exfoliants, so it tones, balances the skin’s pH, and exfoliates away dead skin cells and impurities. It turns my face bright red for a couple minutes whenever I eat meat or drink alcohol the day before applying it–because my skin is acidic and not well-balanced. It’s a great litmus test in that way. If you are a first-timer, I recommend only using it a couple of times a week to start (don’t let the redness scare you!).

I usually follow P50 with SKII Facial Treatment Essence, which helps any serum I put on subsequently to absorb and work at its full potential. There are so many different types of serum that I love, and Skinceuticals C E Ferulic is one of my go-tos. It provides advanced environmental protection from skin-damaging free radicals caused by sun and pollution and helps brighten skin tone. Another serum I need to mention is Biologique Recherche Sérum Placenta. Although this product smells terrible, it gets rid of all my acne-scarring and dark spots. But my most favorite serums—not to mention the most effective for me at the moment—is Sunday Riley Luna Sleeping Night Oil combined with Sunday Riley Good Genes Lactic Acid Serum. I wake up with hydrated and plump skin every time I use them. Once I apply serum, I usually use a jade roller to push in the product and encourage lymphatic drainage.

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Then I apply moisturizer. I love Laneige Water Bank Moisture Cream because it’s very rich but also lightweight and not sticky. Valmont Hydra 3 Regenetic Cream is what I use if I want to splurge and feel luxurious. It has a high concentration of hyaluronic acid that keeps my face moist for a long time. After moisturizer comes SPF–a step ingrained in me by my mother since I was a child. I’m not really loyal to any specific SPF brands, but I like Supergoop Everyday Lotion SPF 50.

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Since I’ve been at home for the last month, I’ve had a lot more time to do face masks. I buy them from The Face Shop, which is an affordable Korean skincare brand with tons of sheet masks to choose from.

 

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A post shared by Jenn Saesue (@jennsaesue) on Apr 7, 2020 at 4:26pm PDT

What about makeup products?

My makeup routine is very minimal. In general, I only wear mascara and lip balm on a daily basis (though I haven’t worn any makeup during quarantine). I’m obsessed with Dior Iconic Overcurl Mascara and Laneige Lip Glowy Balm. My eyebrows are microbladed–best decision of my life! Occasionally, if I’m putting on a full face of makeup, I prefer Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturizer, Bobbi Brown Bronzer, Tom Ford Eye Defining Pen, Charlotte Tilbury Lipstick in Pillow Talk, or Nars Powermatte Lip Pigment in Don’t Stop, and Chanel Baume Essential Highlight for maximum glow!

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What is the cheapest product you use regularly and love?

My Laneige Water Bank Moisturizer Cream. Even if I’m feeling incredibly lazy, I would still wash my face and slap on this cream at the very least.

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Is there anything you try to avoid, skincare- or makeup-wise?

In my early 20s, I was obsessed with sunbathing. Now that the fear of melasma and wrinkles has really set in, I try to avoid being in direct sunlight. I also avoid rubbing and touching my face as much as possible. Oh, also, makeup wipes are not my friend!

Any next-level tips, tricks, or services that you swear by to help you look “lit from within”?

For me, diet is a really big part of staying “lit from within.” You are what you eat is real, so I try to pay attention to what my skin needs. Beyond simply staying hydrated, I’m a proponent of finding a good esthetician and incorporating a facial into your routine once a month or every two months. I’ve also seen great results with treatments like microdermabrasion and microneedling.

 

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Are You Still Listening to Podcasts? Which Ones?

Every Sunday, a podcast saves my little life—at least for the past two Sundays it has. The pod in question is “Sugar Calling” and it is a follow-up, or rather an evolution of, the “Dear Sugars” podcast (and former column), transposed so that the one-time advice-giver (author Cheryl Strayed) has now become the advice-seeker. The format is simple: Every week, Strayed calls a literary elder and asks them how to think and feel and cope right now. The episodes are released each Wednesday, but I wait till Sunday to listen when I have more mental space.

On week one, she called George Saunders, and during their conversation, he read part of an email he’d sent to his students about the Covid-19 crisis (which was also published by The New Yorker). Here’s a part I really liked:

Are you keeping records of the e-mails and texts you’re getting, the thoughts you’re having, the way your hearts and minds are reacting to this strange new way of living? It’s all important. Fifty years from now, people the age you are now won’t believe this ever happened (or will do the sort of eye roll we all do when someone tells us something about some crazy thing that happened in 1970). What will convince that future kid is what you are able to write about this, and what you’re able to write about it will depend on how much sharp attention you are paying now, and what records you keep.

Also, I think, with how open you can keep your heart. I’m trying to practice feeling something like, “Ah, so this is happening now,” or “Hmm, so this, too, is part of life on Earth. Did not know that, universe. Thanks so much, stinker.”

And then I real quick try to pretend that I didn’t just call the universe a “stinker.”

While listening to the episode, I felt the same sensation I feel every time I hear, watch, or read something I desperately need: Thank god—a silky wave of gratitude. After I listened once, I put on my nearly-retired ‘outside clothes’ and took a walk to listen again. Same feeling: Thank god. As I headed back home, I viewed my surroundings differently, thanks to George and Cheryl. First I passed a red barn so rickety you can see flashes of the sky through its wooden slats. I’d noticed this feature a few times already this week, but only then did I catch the metaphor–there’s some kind of life on the other side of this, even if I can’t see it clearly yet. I let the wave wash me all the way back to my front door.

The following Sunday’s guest on Sugar Calling was a little less tender: Margaret Atwood, with a stern directive: “Roll up your sleeves, girls.” Atwood recounted for Strayed how she was spending her time in self-isolation with the unflappable resolve one might expect from the woman who wrote The Handmaid’s Tale. Where Saunders’s episode left me feeling like a softer version of myself, Atwood’s encouraged me to toughen up and restabilize, even as the 80-year-old author made me smile while recounting her exploits scurrying around on the roof of her house because of a “squirrel problem.” (Strayed cautioned against this quarantine activity.) Pico Iyer is featured on this week’s episode and I am rubbing my Airpods together in anticipation.

When self-isolation began, I thought it would be good news for podcasts, but it seems it’s actually been the opposite in large part, with many people’s commuting and exercise routines now disrupted. I’ve personally always listened in the morning as I get ready for work or during other routines that busy my hands, like cooking or folding laundry. Still, I’ve been listening less often.

So, I want to know: What podcasts are you still listening to? Are there any new ones that have broken through? Are you using them as a news source or as an escape? What feels really worth it right now? In addition to Sugar Calling, I’ve continued listening to The Daily, have enjoyed Leandra’s micro-Monocycles, and have also loved comedian Megan Stalter’s new show “Confronting Demons” when I’m feeling a little more unhinged-in-a-good-way. I’m also looking forward to Karley Sciortino’s new podcast, about love in quarantine, which is coming out next week.

Okay, all ears for yours!

Feature photo by Alistar Matthews. Prop Styling by Sara Schipani.

The post Are You Still Listening to Podcasts? Which Ones? appeared first on Man Repeller.

Trust Me, Try It: This $20 Cork Yoga Block Is the Best Rectangle I’ve Ever Bought

I was first introduced to the concept of a yoga block when I attended my premiere Sky Ting yoga class, summer 2016. The early Outdoor Voices team, of which I was a new member, had a weekly class at Sky Ting’s original Chinatown location on Tuesday afternoons, mid-workday.

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Your Quarantine Personality, According to Your Sign

As someone who is officially not Dr. Anthony Fauci, or your mother, or a Virgo, I can not rightfully tell you what you should be doing these days, beyond washing your hands and playing my new favorite game “Everything Outside the Apartment Is Hot Lava.”

To bake banana bread or to document one’s stress dreams on a burner Twitter account? To do a spin class without a stationary bike, just straddling a stool and peddling madly? To decide now is the time for a new eyebrow shape? These are hard decisions. Unfortunately, astrology and I can offer you nothing but a gentle golf clap of permission and support for whatever you decide.

While attempting to get this article cooking, I was hit with a multi-day bout of does anything even matter anymore blues. In that state, I listened to the podcast Staying In With Emily and Kumail, which, if you haven’t heard it, is an absolute joy. The couple that co-created The Big Sick and other stuff (such as Kumail Nanjiani’s abs) chat in a weird and warm way about life in the great indoors and donate all the proceeds to charity. On the pod, they posed the question: Who do you want to be during The Weirds (a.k.a. right now)? And the possible answers were divided into three zones: the Fear Zone, the Learning Zone, and the Growth Zone. My big takeaway was that whichever zone we’re in right now is totally okay, but it is also important to ask ourselves not just who we are right now but also who we want to be amidst the chaos. I find it inspiring to think about how I might learn and grow right now, no matter which zone I’m currently in.

This pleasant taxonomical system for self awareness got me thinking about who I am and what matters to me and of course all of you, and then it hit me like a bolt of cartoon lightning—this system is perfect for astrology because every zodiac sign has Fear, Learning, and Growth expressions! The astrological archetypes are not static: They transform in their expressions as we move through times of comfort and abundance to times of stress and anxiety!

So without further ado, welcome to your horoscope’s special Quarantine Edition, featuring this cute new system for insight and self-acceptance. We (you and I) will be talking about proclivities and possibilities, rather than predictions and dictums. We (astrology and I) are not in the business of telling you what to do or making value judgments during times of widespread planetary chaos, but we can offer you one hell of a behavioral buffet to choose from, according to your sign.

Aries

As I’ve said in prior horoscopes, I like to think of Aries as tiny baby Joan of Arcs, galloping into battle with a proportionate baby sword, ablaze with conviction and the confidence of a being who has not yet been battered by the slings and arrows of fate. The first sign in the zodiac, and also the most audacious, Aries are fundamentally individualists (like babies). Life according to these fire rams is generally an “every ram for itself” situation, although they also have the capacity to be excellent advocates, channelling their natural proclivity for taking no shit and leading the pack into the greater good. When Aries is deep in their fear, they are likely to claw their way to the top in the sharpest stilettos they own, eyes alight with the ecstasy of being the ultimate alpha. But when Aries is moving from a place of abundance and gratitude, they are benevolent leaders.

Fear Zone Aries: Hoarder extraordinaire. Aries was the first one at the zodiac’s neighborhood Super Target, toilet paper and Lysol piled into their carts.

Learning Zone Aries: Works on gratitude journaling to cultivate feelings of abundance and ward off feelings of scarcity.

Growth Stage Aries: Gives away an item (or five) to someone (who a fear-zone Aries might have considered a sucker, with just two weeks’ worth of dry goods). Uses their fiery, direct nature to advocate on behalf of a more timid friend.

Capricorn

Capricorn, the sea goat, a mythological overachiever who was not content to dominate the terrestrial realm but needed to sprout a fish tail so as to propel its weird body through the aqueous realm. If you encountered a Capricorn in the grips of existential terror and asked them like, Hey Cap, you’re feeling a lot of scary things right now, huh?

Capricorn would be all like, hahahahaha what are you talking about!! Emotions are a waste of my time and also nothing is even wrong everything’s fine excuse me I have to get back to this workflow infographic I’m designing for my team members who didn’t ask for it!!

In a quest for ruthless optimization, Caps can block out the world and white-knuckle it. But, if someone grabs them by the shoulders and is like HEY. STOP IT. you are a human who requires extracurricular pleasure and meaning, then you might just find yourself with a wave of Capricorns excelling at jigsaw puzzles, capoeira, and competitive cup-stacking.

Fear Zone Capricorn: Work from home just means they don’t have to interrupt their day with silly human rituals like lunch and rest. Also just realized they can send emails while they deep condition, if they put their phone in a plastic bag and bring it into the shower.

Learning Zone Capricorn: Wonders if those “30 days to the best ass of your life” challenges actually work. Schedules time to put the claims to the test.

Growth Zone Capricorn: Chanels their drive for success into a passion that no one wants to see on a CV or in a bikini; it simply gives their life joy and purpose.

Aquarius

Aquari have a heart full of benevolence for humankind, and in times of duress, they tend to worry about the world’s suffering until they collapse in on themselves like a dying star. This is totally understandable and also fundamentally unsustainable—like, do you know what happens when stars die?! (Turns out, the answer is lots of stuff that doesn’t work with this metaphor but does make for a super fun read if you’re into stoking intergalactic mortality dread). Anyway, Aquari can also work to separate the world’s pain from the fear and distress that it triggers in them personally, and then processing that more human-sized sadness.

Fear Zone Aquarius: Deep dives into conspiracy theories and/or spends all day reading the news while biting their nails.

Learning Zone Aquarius: Sets timers for how long they will read the news, journals about how the news makes them feel, and considers what those feelings require—maybe just a glass of water and to rub their own belly while whispering you’re doing so good lil angel.

Growth Zone Aquarius: Picks one way to use their skills or resources to alleviate someone’s burden: knows how to build a website, hits up a local business that has a trash website, and gets it cleaned up a bit and more prepared for online orders.

Libra

Libra, the sign most likely to be featured in a highly rated episode of Cribs because of their stunning shoe closet, the sign most likely to guess which perfume you’re wearing from the scent alone, the sign most likely to actually have a fainting couch and actually use said fainting couch to faint upon when receiving startling news. Libras are intellectual aesthetes given to decadence. They love a good stress nap, or a joy nap, or a post-nap nap. These tendencies toward beauty and indulgence makes them excellent cuddlers, superb charcuterie curators, fantastic interior designers, and probably great kissers, but they’re also prone to dealing with unwanted emotions by avoiding them altogether (by way of delights such as milkshakes, makeup tutorials, and weed).

Fear Zone Libra: Paralyzed by inertia. Sighs around the house like the heroine of a lesbian Victorian romance who is forlorn about her doomed romance. Spends government stimulus check on dank indica and a vibrator that doubles as a statement ring.

Learning Zone Libra: Tries their hand at watercolor-painting a self portrait that expresses their emotional sense of self while in a semi-reclined position, à la Frida Khalo.

Growth Zone Libra: Picks a bouquet of flowers that they find on public bushes in front of businesses on their daily walks. Starts birdwatching. Sends artfully curated gift baskets to their loved ones.

Pisces

Pisces is probably really going through it right now. I haven’t seen The Shape of Water, but I feel like I get it from seeing the trailer, and I feel like Pisces is like that fish dude who appears (from the trailer) to really need a hug. As the most empathic and intuitive sign, Pisces can tend to become overwhelmed with emotionally trying situations. They also often struggle with boundaries, specifically in making the differentiation between their own feelings and needs and the feelings and needs of others; this can spiral into a cycle of anxious, preoccupied clinging, followed by avoidant, withdrawn self-isolation. Me and astrology are here to say: It’s okay, lil fish, the universe doesn’t care if you’re good or bad or needy or hermetic. You’re just doing your best out here, and we all need each other now more than ever.

Fear Zone Pisces: Is inappropriately intimate and excessive in the office group text. Obsessively thinks about their crush and lets their crush know about these thoughts. When said crush responds with “oh that’s sweet of you!” instead of an equivalent outpouring, Pisces feels humiliated and rejected, deletes crush’s contact info, and re-activates Tinder.

Learning Zone Pisces: Notices when they are in a thought spiral, makes a conscious decision to process feelings in their journal before texting anyone about it. Decides they want to Facetime their best friend for lunch.

Growth Zone Pisces: Is out here offering a virtual shoulder to cry on to friends and acquaintances. Is the best listener anyone could hope for and offers a compassionate ear to those who really need someone to talk to (just like a certain fish guy and cleaning person apparently do for each other in that movie I haven’t seen).

Virgo

(Content warning: This astrological profile is actually just Harry Potter Fan Fiction featuring actual Harry Potter Virgos. Please read in a posh British accent.)

Virgo at their best is Hermione Granger: dedicated, clever, helpful, and annoying in an admirable way. Virgos at the top of their game are the glue that holds together an improbable mission to stop the Dark Lord. They might use their smarts and their eye for details others would miss to propel a ragtag bunch of Hogwarts troublemakers to the save the wizarding world. However, a Virgo living into their stress-personality shadow-self is Dolores Umbridge, a control freak to the point of villainy and sadism in a neatly pressed polyester skirt-suit. Don’t give in to the temptations of ultimate power and unlimited access to kitten-themed decor! Be the Granger you wish to see in the world.

Fear Zone Virgo: The nit-pickingest nit-picker that ever slid into your DMs to police your punctuation on a heartfelt Instagram caption, in which you incorrectly used a semi-colon.

Learning Zone Virgo: Instead of berating others for their inferior command of being a human, learning Virgos take their thirst for order and apply it to organizing their own lives and downloading a host of health-tracking apps. Also probably trains their cat to use the toilet like the internet says is possible apparently.

Growth Zone Virgo: Is the unofficial organizational mastermind for the apartment building. Slips surveys into everyone’s mailbox with check boxes for things they need. Organizes a beautiful, minimalist website where people can volunteer to help each other out. Is well-loved.

Scorpio

Scorpio is a water sign with all the benthic chaos of those deep sea creatures that come in shapes hitherto unthinkable in the terrestrial world. A Scorpio at their most stressed out and paranoid is like an anglerfish. Hear me out: Just like a Scorpio who uses their well-documented sex appeal and passionate appetites to make weird and sneaky choices, these lil monsters are named for the fleshy, bioluminescent growth protruding from their heads like a floating lantern, which they use to lure prey into the horrorshow of their gaping mouths. Scorpios in their secure, balanced state, are like perfect angel dumbo octopuses, who look like they belong in Totoro and are just deeply feeling, mysterious miracles, hanging out at the bottom of the ocean. Dwelling in the depths, but remaining transcendent squish-babies that anyone would love to engage in a trusting, long-term relationship.

Fear Zone Scorpio: Divides their time monitoring the many internet fights they are waging in myriad comments sections and texting their ex erotic videos of themselves peeling and eating clementines.

Learning Zone Scorpio: Creeps on all their enemies from burner accounts but does not actively engage in malicious or petty schemes.

Growth Zone Scorpio: Makes it their mission to go through all their friends’ social media accounts and leave elaborate affirmations and encouraging comments on shit they posted two years ago. Eats clementines privately, for their own pleasure.

Sagittarius

Captain of every ship, pilot of every maiden voyage, zodiac class president who as a kid went to summer camp every year. A Sagittarius in their happy place is the leader of any given pack, happily ensuring that everyone has a great time. They are effortlessly magnetic and can capture and hold the attention of any room. A Sagittarius who is cooped up for weeks at a time, with no social situations to excel at, however, can become a dictator du jour, dominating the Slack channel, designing overly ambitious, no-screen no-sugar homeschool plans for their children, and generally being a micromanaging tornado of pent-up energy. Basically, the difference between a balanced, grounded Sag and a stressed-out repressed Sag is the difference between a border collie on a sheep farm, joyfully wrangling stinky fluff ball sheep, and a border collie in a 550-square-foot New York apartment with zero sheep.

Fear Zone Sagittarius: Wakes the household up with a bugle, wears a whistle, will use the whistle. Shouts corrections to strangers on the street who are 4.5 feet apart rather than the requisite 6.

Learning Zone Sagittarius: Designs indoor scavenger hunt. Turns all the bananas that were originally meal-prepped for boring oatmeal into extra sweet and fun banana bread.

Growth Zone Sagittarius: On Instagram Live every night telling yarns and leading virtual dance parties.

Taurus

Taurus is deeply in touch with the pleasures of the material world. A Taurus at their best is that friend of yours whose house always smells like incense and/or like someone just got out of an expensive shower. They are the friend who actually knows which wine to pair with the discount wheel of brie and semi-fancy rosemary crackers you brought over. They are the friend who had an abundance of healthy, joyful plants even before Instagram told us that plants are what we all need to silence the metronome inside our heads, counting down the moments of our lives as we realize that no CBD facial treatment can ward off our own imminent mortality. When Taurus isn’t doing great, that house becomes a pleasure sty, decorated by a mountain of takeout containers and littered with overpriced candles they don’t need and can’t afford.

Fear Zone Taurus: Takes five naps a day and instead of cooking any of those dried beans they bought, they’re single-handedly keeping their neighborhood restaurants afloat. The hitachi is worn out and all of Netflix is now considered “recently watched.”

Learning Zone Taurus: No naps during the day. Makes a concerted effort to tire themselves out with Pilates and chores rather than marathon hitachi sessions, in order to go to sleep and wake up at reasonable hours.

Growth Zone Taurus: Applies sensuality and genius for delight into many areas of their life. They cook with new spices, they listen to a live recording of their favorite artist beginning to end, they iron shirts—not because they will wear shirts that require ironing, but because they discover that they love the smell of hot cotton.

Gemini

Geminis like their cups the way they like their dance cards: full. I want to confess to you that I was thinking of a significantly more vulgar simile here, but now that I confessed that, I’m sure you can fill in the blank with your own human-contact-starved sex-monster brains. Anyway! A Gemini at their most self-actualized is flitting from engagement to event to soirée and back again like a beautiful songbird, tittering away and bringing delight to all whom they encounter. A Gemini without focus, who feels insecure and ungrounded, falls into a high-risk category for waking up frantic, starting a bunch of different projects, somehow finishing nothing, and ending the day utterly adrift with a palmful of melatonin, praying for the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Fear Zone Gemini: Wins award for most time glued to their screen in a haze of unfulfilling scrolling and shitposts. Beats out teenagers, TikTok stars, and Donald Trump for said title.

Learning Zone Gemini: Still on their phone a lot, but keeps a little notebook so they can jot down the brilliant ideas that come to them as they scroll.

Growth Zone Gemini: Recognizes this as a moment when inspiration is not only enough, but is a gift. Revels in their capacity for big ideas. Does not punish themselves for failing to follow through. Takes email notifications off their phone.

Leo

Leo, you are the sun, and we are all but heliotropic flowers that turn our blossoms toward your dazzling light. At peak Leo, you can catch these superstars crushing an Alicia Keys classic at karaoke, teaching the whole room how to dougie, and coming home to be a stable, supportive, inspiring partner to their friends and to the people with whom they like to make out (non-exclusive categories) When a Leo feels threatened or ignored, they have the capacity to wreak absolute havoc. All of that vitality and power can easily shift into jealousy, arrogance, and maybe even a touch of megalomania. A chilled-out and secure Leo is the Uber driver who emanates such a positive energy that when they ask you how you’re doing you actually tell them, and when they respond with wisdom, humor, and grace, you feel as if you’ve truly made a human connection and that perhaps there is hope for us all in the smithereens of analog intimacy left over after the atomic blast of late-stage digital capitalism. A Leo gone bad is the solipsistic Uber driver eating a pungent curry and smoking a cigarette while telling you to smile more before launching into a monologue about how white men get a bad rap these days.

Fear Zone Leo: Ignores social distancing guidelines because they feel like it and because no strangers have stopped them on the street to compliment their shoes since February and they WILL NOT BE IGNORED.

Learning Zone Leo: Does their best with social distancing, stages avant-garde tableaux vivants in their window to attract the gaze of passersby. Hopes to be featured in a New Yorker article for their efforts.

Growth Zone Leo: Repeats self-love affirmations throughout the day to develop a more robust capacity for internal validation. Tries their hand at a new type of performance. Launches a stand-up career on Instagram Live.

Cancer

No one who’s ever met a Cancer would be surprised to hear them described as one of the most sensitive varieties of human. The star crab navigates the material and the intuitive world with dexterous aplomb, reading the energy of a room and responding in kind with ease. Due to this sensitivity to their environments, I bet that there are a lot of Cancers out there who have scuttled back to their favorite rocks, contenting themselves with hiding beneath said rock fortress until salvation or the end-days—either way, you won’t be able to get them on the phone for a while. A Cancer who is scared or overwhelmed is likely to withdraw, not just in the social distancing way, but, like, in the way where they pretend they dropped their phone in water and came down with a rare form of blindness that impacts their ability to read emails. However, a self-soothing and balanced Cancer is the role model we need right now. Adept at staying inside and only talking to three people, they could really contribute by hosting Zoom lectures on how to stay your ass at home.

Fear Zone Cancer: No one knows. We haven’t heard from them in weeks. We know they’re doing okay because we’re still logged on to their YouTube account, and they are watching a steady stream of Bon Appétit videos and listening to hours of binaural beats.

Learning Zone Cancer: Will text you back if you’re sad.

Growth Zone Cancer: Leans into their nurturing side and checks in on their loved ones regularly. Listens to music with lyrics sometimes because they are stable enough to transition away from ASMR videos and would like to experience joy again.

Graphic by Lorenza Centi.

The post Your Quarantine Personality, According to Your Sign appeared first on Man Repeller.

I Think I Finally Mastered How to DIY a Good Salad at Home

In pre-coronavirus times, I refused to dine at my favorite Indian restaurant, Rahi, unless I was going with a large group, because I knew the experience wouldn’t be as magnificent as it could be if I wasn’t ordering at least three quarters of the menu. Similarly, I never made salads at home because I knew the experience wouldn’t be as magnificent as it could have been if I’d had the full range of dozens of pre-prepared toppings and dressings. Needless to say, a lot has changed in the last month. I would give almost anything to dine at Rahi right now, regardless of party size. I’m also making my own salads at home a few times a week, and much to my surprise, I’ve figured out some easy techniques to make them taste just as delicious as something I might purchase at Sweetgreen. Scroll down for a run-through (and be forewarned these tips are intended for my fellow DIY salad noobs only. They might be fairly obvious to anyone with more experience salad-ing at home, but to me they were revelatory!)

Technique #1: At the beginning of the week, make a quadruple batch of dressing–one that only uses common pantry/fridge staples and can be concocted in a single container.

Whether you’re at home or eating out, or working with lots of toppings or just a few, a good dressing is the key to transforming leaves from something gross into something amazing. I made up a dressing recipe at the beginning of quarantine based on the ingredients I had on-hand and my personal preference for dressing consistency: CREAMY. It’s so good and so easy that I’ve been making a bulk batch of it at the beginning of every week to save me time when I’m putting together lunch every day. Here’s the recipe, which you can tweak based on what you have on hand: mix one container of plain Greek yogurt, half a lemon’s worth of juice, a couple spoonfuls of either parmesan cheese or nutritional yeast, a small spoonful of miso, a heaping spoonful of dijon mustard, a few hefty glugs of olive oil, and some salt and pepper in a Tupperware bowl (ideally one with a lid so you can store the leftovers all week). Stir it all up until it’s nice and creamy, then taste it and add more of any ingredient that suits your fancy. This can also totally be made without the miso as I know that’s not a super common ingredient to have on hand–I just happened to have a big tub of it it.

Technique #2: Include at least two vehicles for crunch, one salty and one sweet.

The difference between some homemade salads and guacamole, in my humble opinion, is crunch. There’s nothing sadder than consuming a mound of soft, wet vegetation without an accompanying element that lets your molars prove their purpose, you know? After some experimentation, I have discovered that my best salad outcomes include two types of crunchy elements–a sweet one (like apple or pear slices, or coconut chips) and a salty one (like nuts or seeds or crumbled tortilla chips). My go-to combo is half a chopped-up apple and a couple spoonfuls of roasted almonds. All I add other than that is some kind of protein–usually tofu that I sear for a few minutes in a pan, or a scoop of chicken salad. You could definitely go ham and add in tons of other stuff (vegetables, cheese, quinoa, etc.) but I’ve found that the two crunchy toppings + one protein combo is enough to make salads feel substantial and tasty without tons of prep or cleanup. I tend to use kale as my base, but use whatever lettuce you prefer or have on hand.

Technique #3: Make your salads in a giant mixing bowl.

A salad that isn’t properly tossed is a salad that isn’t sufficiently tasty. Give yourself room to do the job by preparing your creation in a gigantic bowl so you can really get in there and coat everything nicely (this is especially critical for a thicker dressing like the one I use). I also highly recommend eating your salad straight out of the mixing bowl when you’re done. Not only does it save you from having to wash one more dish, but it’s also just enjoyable to eat out of a cavernous vessel.

What techniques do you rely on to make a DIY salad sparkle? I’m all ears down below.

The post I Think I Finally Mastered How to DIY a Good Salad at Home appeared first on Man Repeller.

5 Lamps, 1 Perfect Shower Curtain, and a Smeg Milk Frother: Might I Suggest Making a Home Decor Registry?

As I’ve watched movies in quarantine, the tracking shots of bedroom set design keep catching my eye: Enid’s teenage, Tavi-Gevinson-esque paradise in Ghost World and a smoky library belonging to a dog named Peabody in Rocky & Bullwinkle, in particular.

I have tentative plans to move house when such a thing is possible, and as someone without much furniture of my own, I’m basically starting from scratch. Which is sort of liberating! And also intimidating! But mostly, right now, it’s entertaining and soothing to window-shop online, and to make a list of things I like, arrange furniture configurations in my head (furniture-moving being less sweaty when you’re just doing it in your mind), and be the architect of a mental compartment where hope for the future can live.

With this on my mind, I decided that making my own occasion-less “registry” for home decor purchases would be a fancy way of reframing this shopping strategy shared by a MR reader:

Usually, I maintain a similar system to Kate’s—I keep a list in my phone of things I’ve wanted to buy and then I let it cool off before I even so much as click “add to cart.” (Right now, this list reads: Dimes’ Emotional Eating cookbook, a Polo Ralph Lauren button-down, a Thousand bike helmet, a mini-trampoline, English Breakfast tea, a refill of hyaluronic acid from The Ordinary.)

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I also have a folder on my desktop called “Things I thought about buying.” Often, dropping a screenshot into that gorge is sufficient satiation. Before granting myself re-entry to the folder, I remind myself of this sobering line from Cynthia Zarin’s book, An Enlarged Heart: “I was in the midst of the years in which I didn’t know that desire is infinitely replaceable.” That usually halves the list, at least.

If you’re in the market for home goods and appliances, consider the personal registry as the next step of this shopping strategy—after an item has been vetted, considered, reconsidered, and it still provokes desire and proves to be necessary, then it can be promoted to The Registry.

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Current scene

A post shared by dusendusen (@dusendusen) on Mar 25, 2020 at 9:33am PDT

I’ve instated a personal registry because, from a pragmatic financial standpoint, I’m not going to be able to buy a bunch of this stuff for a while or all at once. But it’s nice to feel a) like I have a firm shopping list to slowly tick things off of, and b) really certain about which home items warrant the investment. The organization incentivizes me to budget with intention. I like it because it’s an evergreen document with no time peg. Plus, now I’ll have an answer whenever my grandmother asks me what I’d like for my birthday.

Because the registry isn’t a list of immediate action items, a little daydreaming is allowed (because I make the rules). The list can have some moonshot ideas alongside some more reasonable aspirations. My daydreaming takes the form of a modular Pierre Charpin slice sofa, a Katie Stout centaur lamp or the Togo lounge that evokes a docile Shar-Pei. Why not play a little dream house? I can figure out why I like what I like and look for less expensive dupes, rummage around eBay or scout for secondhand pieces. (Easier than it sounds, I think. I turned on a $200 price maximum on The RealReal and found this Kartell shelving…. And I’m pretty sure this is a Mies van der Rohe chair.)

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Harling Ross has, notoriously, always been a year older than I am. This arrangement has serious advantages: I like to do things a year behind Harling in order to glean wisdom from her trials, tribulations, and successes. I recommend finding a friend who is one year older and one year more advanced in your life stage than you are, who can function as a sort of salad strainer of life experiences for you. For example, when Harling’s furniture took months to trickle in, her short-to-medium term solution was to order a few bean bag chairs as interim furniture. Taking a page out of her book, I immediately bookmarked Moonpod for the same purposes (they are offering 50% off for healthcare workers right now, btw). Non-sequitur but imagine getting one of these supersized bunny-shaped lounges for Easter?

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To keep the registry on task, I added all of the elements I think I’ll need, so I can find solutions at my own pace, like so:

If I didn’t do this, you can be sure that I’d just buy 17 Gantri lamps in rapid succession and nothing else. Speaking of which, these are all the lamps that are vying for my attention:

This one that looks like it’s integral to a search party
This extremely adaptable Bollard pendant going for the delightfully low price of $29.99
A lamp that moonlights as a tiny toadstool, to go with my tiny fungal EQ3 lamp
Any of these Noguchi lamps, picked at random while blindfolded is fine
These table lamps by Fatboy that would’ve made Thomas Edison himself squeal, I’ll bet



















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And some other ideas gestating on the list:

Chairs for dining with multiple people solution: Lumber Club Marfa stools, made by a woodworking club of 7-14 year-old girls in West Texas? Or these Philippe Malouin Ace stools that could double as bedside tables?
Nonstick pan: I got the Great Jones Small Fry for my parents and I love it—I just realized they make a Large Fry, too. And I recently heard about the Our Place Always Pan, which looks intriguing.
Full-length mirror: Moonshot, Gustaf Westman’s curvy mirrors. Or a vintage restoration by Glare Goods?
For a desk turned dining table: There is something appealing about the proportions of this outdoor terrazzo table from CB2 (and about the idea of using it inside). And about creating a chaotic tableau by going all in on Crow Canyon Home splatterware.
Shower curtain: I’m trying to take my own advice here. Never thought I’d say these words but these shower curtains are perfect!!!
To be quite clear, the thing I’m most excited about on this list is a Smeg milk frother.
Closely followed by a Smeg toaster.





































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Hashing these ideas out in list form also helps me see how cohesive or incohesive these items would be together. And then there’s the not-so-necessary stuff that I’ve bookmarked, which shrieks “variety is the spice of life!”:

For some reason, I have an emotional attachment to this Normann jug at my grandparents’ house.
A striped Tekla bathrobe.
This bite-size speaker, admittedly for its eye-candy value.
Prints by big name photographers and artists via Pictures for Elmhurst and Dream Sequence, the proceeds of which go toward local New York hospitals and charities for people affected by coronavirus.
There are so many beautiful transparent teapots. This one is typeset in Comic Sans.



















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It’s all a work-in-progress, but it’s the kind of stagnated yet future-forward daydreaming I can enjoy right now—big plans and lofty ideas with the blank canvas of a hypothetical studio apartment as my oyster. If you want to give it a whirl and replicate a full-immersion browsing experience, I recommend playing this song that Haruomi Hosono composed as background music for Muji stores, and which Ezra Koenig eventually sampled for the recent Vampire Weekend album.

Feature photos by Heidi’s Bridge

The post 5 Lamps, 1 Perfect Shower Curtain, and a Smeg Milk Frother: Might I Suggest Making a Home Decor Registry? appeared first on Man Repeller.

An Overwrought Intro and 3 Outfit Ideas for—That’s Right!—Going Nowhere

At some point midway through last week, I started to realize that even though I have been defending the act of getting dressed (we launched a hashtag, have hosted multiple conversations on the topic, and my mirror selfies have not waned) I haven’t actually been doing it myself. I have thought that I am doing it, but really, I’m just slapping on cotton or silk sleep shorts or gym shorts and pairing them with dressier blouses or colorful t-shirts and socks. Is that actually getting dressed? I think my having to ask means that, at least to me, it’s not. Obviously, though, it would be helpful if I could say what getting dressed means. So let me think about it for a second.

Okay, I thought about it and ultimately it entails more than the act of putting on clothes. This seems to be what Harling was getting at when we e-mailed about this topic last week. Getting dressed infers a third-party gaze—the onlooking of a stranger who is conjuring opinions about who I am based purely on what I’m wearing. Redefining yourself by changing your clothes daily is thrilling if you’re the kind of person who likes to spice shit up without actually spicing it up. It’s a way to change without actually changing—to envelope all the parts of yourself in fractured moments that illuminate these fragments separately, no one more important than the other. They’re just different. 

And I definitely haven’t been doing that. Partially because I haven’t felt the need—who would I be illuminating these parts for? The tenants who sublet my body for 9 months from late 2017 to early 2018? They know me inside out! Literally! My partner of 10 years? Him too.

[20 minutes later]: When I first wrote the above before sojourning to the kitchen, I specifically omitted myself from the above group because it seemed redundant but maybe it’s not. Maybe it would be helpful to remind myself—or to ask you to consider reminding yourself—of the different roles we get to play, activated by the different people and situations we encounter in life outside of quarantine. Or maybe this is all dumb as hell and you just want to carry on. I can’t tell if I’m losing it or gaining it but here are three outfit ideas in case you want some inspo, to make fun of me or simply for if you are curious enough to feel the sensation of a zip fly waistline pressing up against your stomach—which leads me to:

Exhibit A, for the minimalist who likes a flare sleeve

I put on jeans last Saturday and kept them on for about two hours because it made me feel like I was coming from somewhere or about to go out. I did not expect they would give me a jolt of life but was pleasantly surprised to find that whereas I’d been quarreling with myself over whether jeans are in fact style nirvana or actually the latest garment to out themselves as oppressive, it seems they might be a combination of both. Anyway, I highly recommend it, if only on the weekend when you’re in pursuit of an excuse to “get ready.”

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Exhibit B, for the maximalist at heart

I wore this to my Passover seder last Wednesday, which was conducted on Zoom with my side of the Medine-Cohen family. Worthy of note is that if Exhibit A illuminates the more streamlined, down-to-business part of me that still deplores an ironed out wrinkle, Exhibit B is more like a return home to the extent that it probably presents pretty chaotic, even though I did put some thought into it. I think it just occurred to me that when I tell people, “Only you could pull that off,” what I mean is, “I don’t exactly get it, but it’s clear that you do.”

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Exhibit C, for dreaming

Consider this one a prompt: What will you wear on the first day post-quarantine? Be as specific as possible—where are you going, who are you meeting, what are you doing, what is the weather and how do you feel? My answer, illustrated in the image above entails a weekday morning. It’s 78 degrees and sunny. I’m going to the Great Lawn in Central Park to sprawl out on the grass, sin mask, and stare up at the blue sky before I meet two friends (pending my actually retaining any!) for a boat ride. I might lick their faces depending on how far we’ve come and will definitely be carrying a bag of food with freshly prepared items by every open restaurant that I pass on my gallop to the park. I intend to stay out until the sun begins to set, at which point I relocate to a sidewalk cafe to order a drink the size of my head. I feel full for the simple reason that by this point, I smell like that perfect, faint mixture of summer body sweat and outside. Do you remember the one? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

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Graphic by Lorenza Centi.

The post An Overwrought Intro and 3 Outfit Ideas for—That’s Right!—Going Nowhere appeared first on Man Repeller.

Self-Isolation Has Turned Me Into My Best *And* Worst Self

If someone were to do “34 Days of Quarantine by the Numbers” featuring only one subject–and for the sake of science let’s say that subject were me–it would be as follows: 3 books, 38 episodes of The O.C., 1 bad banana bread, 18 jogs, 45 pictures of magnolia and callery pear trees, 24 eggs boiled, fried, and scrambled, 19 rounds of Quiplash, 2 pastel still lives, 42 cups of coffee, 9 HIIT interval circuits, 1 homemade chicken stock, 3 preserved lemons, 2 Zoom birthdays, 32 pre 7:00am wake-ups.

These are the good numbers. The bad ones I haven’t calculated, and I don’t have any desire to. I’m well aware it’s not a productive line of thinking. But for every escape to 2006 Newport Beach through a computer screen there has been an equal and opposite crush of anxiety on my couch, a panic attack for every book I’ve finished, enough tears to have salted all my fried eggs, and recurring thoughts of disordered eating that IV drip into my stream of thought. Quarantine has, undeniably, turned me into my best and my worst self.

Before this pandemic, the future had a somewhat defined shape for me. Now everything feels nebulous. I’m no longer certain where I go from here, where this country and this economy goes from here, where humanity goes. I don’t think what I valued before (spontaneity, thrill, “stuff”) will be what I value after (security, patience, consistency, pragmatism, compassion). I already have indications that those values have changed.

So, when I ask myself why I’m suddenly waking up at 6:30 every day and doing yoga and unearthing my love of cooking and singing and dancing and caring for my body with vitamins, water, and moisturizer–*gasps for air*–it doesn’t feel like it’s just the extra time I have on my hands. Frankly, with work, cooking, etc., I don’t think I do have more time. It feels like my coping mechanism–my desire to have a semblance of control in a world where I feel paralyzed by powerlessness over others’ grief, and over my own.

I’m eating three square meals every day, but I’m also crying about my inability to feel control over my food and exercise regimen. Thoughts of food restriction and self-hate creep into my consciousness. These are ugly, unhappy tears and they always feel selfish.

I’m taking photos of magnolias whose petals are now just beginning to brown at the edges, while feeling grief settle temporarily in my shoulders, the way grief does, from my inability to be outside without a face mask.

I’m dancing and singing and creating, but in moments by myself I am so lonely and so sad about the state of the world that it feels like a knife twisting in my viscera. I miss strangers, I miss bodies, I miss the golden moment of getting a seat on the subway, I miss someone holding my face in their hands.

Two days ago I went for a run outside with a mask on. At the top of Lookout Hill in Prospect Park, there is a congregation of magnolias and cherry blossoms that are always dropping their petals in a celebratory-looking way. I stopped here to look out on Long Meadow cast in shadow at sundown, strewn with people in masks with their dogs and their frisbees. Maybe because I had just powered up a giant hill, but also maybe not, I doubled over and I sobbed from the collective grief hanging in the air. For the thousands of lives we’ve already lost, for my friends and strangers whose job security has been taken away or compromised, for the people witnessing death and loss every day and have to come home and move forward with their lives, for the people who are compromising their health to keep the essential pieces of our world moving.

And so: I have never been worse, and I have never been a better version of myself. It seems like a condition of the world we’re forced to live in now, and it may last for longer than I’m prepared to handle. But, maybe if you hear from me that even at “my best” I am also at my worst, then you can give yourself the space to let your multitudes exist and offer them compassion: the good, the bad, and the turbulence in between.

The post Self-Isolation Has Turned Me Into My Best *And* Worst Self appeared first on Man Repeller.

“Taylor Swift Wearing a Toupée” and 11 Other Quarantine Dreams

It’s universally understood that talking about your own dreams is entertaining, and listening attentively to someone else talk about their dream for more than 25 seconds is next to impossible. Having said that, quarantine dreams seem to hold our interest a beat longer than dreams would in average circumstances. They seem to be brimming with extra weirdness and symbolism lately, and somehow the bonafide Hieronymus Bosch garden inside our heads has become slightly more relevant to all parties.

My dreams haven’t veered too far from the norm—high school reunions, a return to the third-grade classroom, a ludicrous but urgent challenge to navigate some kind of labyrinthine house with people I haven’t seen in years, my recurring stress dream of packing my suitcase for a trip while the plane is already taxiing on the tarmac—but what intrigues and allures me most about my dreams is that right now they’re the only place where I can gather with other people, crowds of them, from outside my immediate household.

All the friends and family members I’ve talked to (at least those who’ve been able to summarize their dream in one exhale, before I tune out completely) seem to be dreaming in elaborate, pandemic-adjacent metaphors. Throughout these conversations, I’ve discovered that the trick to getting anyone to pay attention to your dreams is to summarize it in one absurd sentence.

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Totally still listening (via @thenewsclan @zak.kezo)

A post shared by Mindy Kaling (@mindykaling) on Feb 20, 2020 at 5:51pm PST

Unlock the power of brevity. Take it from these MR readers, who deposited their coronavirus-era dreams into our virtual dream catcher:

• “Last night I dreamt I gave birth to a cat in a public restroom at the movie theater.”

• “My roommate brought a bunch of people who hadn’t showered recently into our very tiny spotless apartment and said they were here to stay. I almost jumped off the fire escape.”

• “Taylor Swift and I were acquaintances and she told me she wears a toupée.”

• “My grandmother and I did an elaborately choreographed routine to ‘Lucky’ by Britney Spears. I was a step behind the whole time but my effort was earnest and enthusiastic.”

• “I went to Disney World with Rihanna. Everybody was going on this ride that would catapult you into a river. I didn’t want to do it but I didn’t want to let Rihanna down.”

• “One night I dreamt that I found hand sanitizer at Trader Joes and was elated.”

• “I had a sick dog that I had to take to the vet. The vet turned out to be Chris Harrison, but from twenty years ago, before he hosted all of the Bachelor Shows. It was a strange combination of time travel, feeling like it was my audition for the bachelorette, and wondering when I got a dog.”

• “I went to the supermarket, but once I got in after queuing I forgot what I needed to buy. (I haven’t left my house in 16 days….)”

• “Chris Morocco from the Bon Appetit test kitchen FaceTimed me to help me clean my room. He was extremely helpful.”

• “I was at a rooftop bar with my sister. Because of the need for alcohol to make hand sanitizers, all the drinks were super expensive and being sold on weight. I remember placing an order for 4 vodka-sodas and the bartender told me that it would be $250. As I woke up, I was trying to do the math on the price difference for shots.”

• “I was part of the royal family but had to carry a huge carafe of gravy to the dinner table. Had to walk down many steps with it while members of the royal family watched me. Then I spilt the gravy all over me and Queen Elizabeth.”

• “I was hooking up with Timothée Chalamet, but he would ignore me when we were in public together and I was very upset with him.”

Have your dreams been different from subconscious-as-usual in quarantine? How so?

What? That’s crazy…

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

The post “Taylor Swift Wearing a Toupée” and 11 Other Quarantine Dreams appeared first on Man Repeller.