Leandra Medine's Blog, page 31

Inside Story: What It’s Like to Be a Breaking News Reporter Right Now

As the coronavirus has developed over the course of the past months, weeks, and days, our plans have changed and so have our lives. And it appears this will be the norm for a while. In this series (duration: a few weeks to… not sure?), we’ll share the stories of people who have confronted the unexpected in interesting ways. Today, we have NY1 breaking news reporter Lindsay Tuchman.

I joined NY1 in January 2017, after working as an anchor and reporter in Salisbury, Maryland. I was born in New York, so I always knew I wanted to come back here. I happened to be in town one weekend, and I thought, “Let’s see if I can get an interview.” I reached out and got an interview that day. I think they happened to be looking for someone, so I got hired [quickly]. I started as a Staten Island reporter, then, eventually, that morphed into a general assignment reporter position, and I also anchored the borough segments. Now, I’m the morning show’s breaking news reporter.

The biggest difference about reporting in New York City is the volume of news, especially compared to a small market where we were digging for stories every day. In New York, every day there’s something different. You meet a lot of people, and being at the forefront of some of the biggest stories in the world is pretty crazy. NY1 is an essential part of a lot of people’s lives in New York. We’re expected to deliver very local news and get all the information our viewers need.

 

 

As a breaking news reporter, I typically wake up at 3:30 in the morning. I get ready a little bit at home, Uber into the station, then I do my makeup at work, get some coffee. I’ll read all the emails from the night before and see what’s going on. Sometimes you can kind of guess what the story is, but that’s not every day.

I meet with the producer at 4:30 a.m., and they tell me my story. If it’s something like a fire in the Bronx, I’d head up there to check it out and talk to people on the scene. If there’s a change in the subways—the L train for instance—I’d head to Bedford Avenue and talk to commuters about how they feel. Digesting information really quickly has become a new skill of mine. There’s a lot of adrenaline involved, but it also feels very purposeful.

Typically, if we were reporting something like the story in the Bronx, we’d all meet up at the station, and I would drive with the crew in the live truck and a photographer would follow in their own car. We’d all leave the station at around like 5 a.m., and we’d be on by 6 a.m. We work very closely together the whole time. I normally spend the whole day in the live truck, gathering content and stuff like that.

It was in the very early stages, so some were taking it extremely seriously and some weren’t.

Since the coronavirus crisis began, we’ve been reporting on that almost exclusively, and everyone has had to figure out how to deliver the same news safely from the field. Luckily, I was able to bring a car from work home, so now, instead of going to the station in the morning, I wake up, get ready at home, then call the producer, who’s also at home, and get my assignment. Then I drive to the location by myself. When I meet up with the crew, we don’t really interact or talk beforehand. The shooter will set up their camera, I’ll work in the car, and then we stand six feet apart to film the live shot.

The first coronavirus story I reported was about the subways. I interviewed people at Columbus Circle about whether they’d changed the way they ride the subway. I think this was on the day that the city recommended that people try to maintain a six-foot distance from each other. Some people were like, “I’m wearing gloves, washing my hands,” and some were like, “I don’t really care.” It was in the very early stages, so some were taking it extremely seriously and some weren’t, but it was still very crowded.

About two weeks ago, we covered the MTA again when service was slashed by 25% because they didn’t have the manpower to run it. We went to Union Square that day to see how it was impacting people. Most of the people who we talked to were essential workers. Since then, we’ve learned that subways are getting a little overcrowded because there’s less service, so we’re definitely following that.

Before this, in the morning, it just felt like I was preparing for a day of work—not that I don’t feel connected to the stories, but sometimes they don’t directly impact me. Now when I read the news in bed in the morning, I’ll think two things: (1) This is probably my story for today and (2) How does this impact me and my family? I have an awareness of how to approach the news as a storyteller and reporter, and I’m also applying it to my own life.

Reporting on Covid-19 has certainly made me aware of how much our lives depend on each other.

This is definitely the biggest story I’ve ever covered. I’ve been doing this for almost seven years, which is not an enormous amount of time, but my dad has been a journalist for 30 years, and this is one of the biggest stories he’s ever covered, too. It feels really important. We’re here to sort fact from fiction. There’s a lot of pressure coming from various political agendas, but at the end of the day, people watch NY1 to get every bit of information that will help them. That’s why I wanted to do this job growing up.

Reporting on Covid-19 has certainly made me aware of how much our lives depend on each other. I’ve also been surprised by how every day, a new decision is being made. I feel like we weren’t necessarily prepared for this kind of emergency, but at the same time, I think people are listening. We learned from 9/11 and Hurricane Sandy that New Yorkers come together.

I was just talking to someone yesterday about what it will be like to be back at work. I think people will be excited to see each other again, but while lots of other people will go back to their jobs as normal, I have a feeling our jobs will revolve around the aftermath of the coronavirus a lot. I was too young to be working during September 11, but I have heard from my coworkers that it was similar in the sense that even after it was cleaned up, even after [so many years], they’re still covering stories about September 11. But I think it’ll be nice to kind of go back to the office. It’s hard working remotely like this when you’re so used to being together and talking face to face.

Just last week, we did a story about FEMA sending in ambulances and paramedics and EMTs to help with 911 calls because they’ve just been overrun. All of these ambulances were pulling out, and I was standing there with some other journalists, EMTs, FDNY, and the Mayor. Everyone was waving to the ambulances as they left, and I asked the mayor, “How did you feel seeing all those ambulances heading out to go save lives?” And he was like, “It was really touching. It almost made me cry.” And I said, “Gosh, it almost made me cry, too.” And he said, “But it gives me hope that there are so many people coming out to help.”

Photos provided by Lindsay Tuchman.

The post Inside Story: What It’s Like to Be a Breaking News Reporter Right Now appeared first on Man Repeller.

Nightgowns: The 2-in-1 Hot Ticket Item for the Year April 2020

If there’s one item that has, against all odds, remained in good favor over the course of my years at Man Repeller, it’s the humble nightgown. While it may seem like the nightgown is valued for its frilliness and meringue-lightness, the nightgown’s most important characteristic is really its night-to-day and winter-to-summer versatility. The nightgown makes transitional dressing feel smooth, the sartorial equivalent of a quick cut made in Final Cut Pro. My esteemed colleagues have styled a dozen of them for the daytime (in June 2016, August 2017, and April 2018), and Amelia even deigned to wear a few at night.

Remember this?On Harling: Sleeper dress, Le Specs sunglasses, Celine boots; on Haley: Sleeper dress, Marni pants, Adidas sneakers

Over the last few weeks, a vintage nightgown that my grandmother gave me has become the cream of the crop that is my quarantine wardrobe, because it offers a way for me to take advantage of the upsides of being confined at home while still feeling kind of fancy. Another selling point: on Zoom calls, my nightgown—with its shoulder smocking and voluminous sleeves—just looks like an extravagant blouse. [Ed note: Edith, we def knew you were wearing a nightgown.]

Nightgowns are the good kind of double-edged-sword: you can wear them now during quarantine, and repurpose them as beach dresses and coverups down the road. (One of the best shower thoughts ever spun into a question on this website was: “Is a nightgown just a white caftan?”) In homage to the ultimate 2-in-1, genre-defying garment, Eliz C. Tamkin rounded up the best negligees on the internet. Read her recommendations below!

Sleeveless Dresses That You Can Also Sleep In

Another great nightgown throwback ft. one Leandra M. CohenEileen West dress, Chanel boots, Roger Vivier clutch

Maybe these are actual nightgowns. Maybe they’re dresses without sleeves? Either way, they’ll go wherever you want them to go, whether that’s no farther than the mailbox (throw on a nice pair of shoes, possibly) or for a longer stroll, with a couple of strands of beads and some lace-up sandals. Just think: this lace-trimmed vintage ’80s nightgown with these wrap sandals (50% off) and long beads double-wrapped around your neck!

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Day Dresses for Napping Now and Partying Later



When I think of a fun day dress that can do anything, I think of Edith’s infamous Horror Vacui dress. Lounge in it now; get all dressed up in it when we’re able to hang with friends again alongside iced beverages and zested desserts. The more pattern (or color), the better—but embroidered white does the trick, too.

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Tunic on the Top, Flowy on the Bottom

These are the best dresses to wear to Zoom meetings, because they look the most like put-together blouses on top. You can wear the short versions unbuttoned over a swimsuit poolside in the warm months, which is a nice bonus to daydream about.

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Speaking of summer cover-ups: The best cover-up in my book is a cotton wrap dress. Like a sarong, it’s easy to throw over a wet suit—and the cotton means it should air-dry with ease.

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Feature Photo: Elizabeth is wearing M.92 dress, Nicole Saldana shoes, Cotton Citizen socks and Brinker & Eliza necklace.

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Chain Emails Are Officially Back, So Let’s Start One Right Here

Last week, I received what can only be described as a chain email. I was—to describe my reaction in a single word—elated. Unlike the chain emails of the early-aughts that threatened murder and promised (in various shades of neon Comic Sans text) that Bloody Mary would crawl out of the nearest mirror if you didn’t forward them to 25 people by 11:11 p.m., this email was a polite invitation to share your favorite poem. It was ghost-free and, to a sad sappy sucker like myself, completely delightful.

I’m not the only person who’s been on the receiving end of a chain email in the year 2020. When I mentioned this phenomenon in a meeting last week, Leandra said she’d received no fewer than three chain emails that previous weekend. I know they’re not for everyone. But they are for me: a tiny reminder of how much we all truly value human connection.

After the poetry exchange, in which I shared a poem that was left in the comment section of this story, I was invited to a recipe swap. This morning, I forwarded my favorite chickpea pasta recipe to somebody I don’t know, then forwarded the email on to friends who I know would be excited to do it too. The whole process takes all of five minutes and in the days that follow, you get to see your inbox fill up with emails that have nothing to do with coronavirus, shipping delays, or like, a flight refund status.

Instead of starting a new email chain from scratch (there are so many already out there and tbh, the whole put one person’s name in this slot, and another in this one, then cc person #1, but bcc person #2 can get confusing), I say we start our own in the comments section. Rather than limit ourselves to one thing—like a poem or recipe—I’m requesting we all share the one surprising thing that brought us joy — made us feel good — this month. It could be a song, an Instagram account, a habit, a snack—anything! Leave your One Good Thing below (with links, when possible), ask your friends do the same, and we’ll meet you down below. Here, here to things-that-are-life-affirming!

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

The post Chain Emails Are Officially Back, So Let’s Start One Right Here appeared first on Man Repeller.

Dispatch #005: I Know How You Are, But How Are You?

How important is fashion right now? I asked this question to Google yesterday and in response, it spat back a Quora reply telling me to dress for the job I want, not the one I have. It wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but let me backpedal for some context: I woke up around 6:22am this morning, which is typical of a weekday morning. Various thoughts of inadequacy trailed through my head in silhouette, causing me to acknowledge how flimsy and overexposed and trivial I have been feeling. After completing a week in review that collected the contents of all the food I’d made for my family in the week prior, all the clothes I’d worn, the clothes my kids had worn, and all the times we’d run from one end of the apartment to the other, I felt, I don’t know, disassociated from the present state of: hunger, deprivation, loss, catastrophe and, in some ways, myself.

I feel a little bit like a sociopath from the dikes of quarantine. It’s the mood fluctuations, I think. At times, I find myself incredibly appreciative of, even savoring, this intimate time of joint-solitude with Abie and my kids. I’m learning how to cook and disproving doubts I’ve had about my domestic durability—one such silhouette of inadequacy that has trailed me with its shadow for as long as I’ve known time. Yes, sure, I can be responsible for myself, but it’s so rewarding to find that I can, and further want to be, responsible for my people, too.

But then, you know, at other times, I am like: Enough with this. When will it be over? If I hear Madeline’s screech, experience Laura’s refusal to pound another roll of Playdough, or build another magnet castle, I am going to knock myself unconscious just to escape the byroad after byroad that it seems I am trying to converge.

And then, I’m also like: I want to get dressed, I need to get dressed, I’m going to get dressed. I want to feel normal, clothes make me feel normal. Ah, now I feel good, I want to share good, I need to share good, let me share good, ah, the photo has been taken. And from within the valley of puffy velvet sleeves and a pair of silk shorts, I surmise that the photo will be published.

And then after it’s published, sometimes I’m fine. But other times, I’m just like, Who the hell do you think you are? And then I stop myself and ask who is asking the question and who the “you” to which I refer is? And that really confuses me, so I revert back to the question and try to understand why I’m having this unsettling reaction to an effort that seemed good and honest and pure just moments earlier. The same thing happens with all the cooking photos. I’m so satisfied every time I make something and it’s edible, and that satisfaction gives me great pleasure, then that pleasure instigates the churning of an internal wheel—the one that hums: Share this! Share this! And I know it comes from a good place—that the wheel is asking me to spread a pleasant feeling, so often I do. I rarely regret it when I don’t share, but sometimes I regret when I do.

I’m trying to figure out why. The best I’ve come up with is the broad spectrum of feelings that punctuate time always, but especially in quarantine. The immediacy of the disparity of the moods that occur in rapid succession, seemingly for no palpable reason beyond the physical motionlessness of our days. Mostly, I cling to hope because I can’t see how indulging the inflammatory anger, irritating frustration, depressive discouragement, desperate sadness, and worry can be channeled toward anything productive without it.

Productivity can mean a lot of things. For the purpose of this dispatch, I guess I’m talking about what you need to do to pass the days without feeling like you’re floating in space, or getting sucked into a vortex of insignificance.

And that which comprises “what you need to do,” by the way, is going to vary a shit ton person to person and you may not always have the same answer—on one day you might need to make, pack, and send masks, on another you might need to cook, but this is all in order to do the same thing: prove your worthiness. The best you can do, I think, is ask yourself, without any fear of judgment because this is a conversation to be had within the intimate quarters of your mind: What can I do to make me feel constructively good right now?

There seem to be two schools of thought on how to pass this quarantine. As one goes, you can either make the most of it. The other states: Go easy on yourself. But I say those thoughts aren’t binary, you don’t have to pick one. In fact, you can’t pick one. I think we all have to do both to a degree. But before we can, we must first define what “making the most of it” really means. And we can only do this practically if we go easy on ourselves about it.

I think.

Do I sound preachy?

Originally, when I came here it was to tell you that I want to get dressed again. Scrolling down a product page on a shopping website reminded me of how badly. Not literally, right now (I’m not trying to put on jeans) but I think what I mean is that I want to have to get dressed again. That’s why when this started, I asked how important fashion is right now. But who’s to say that any answer is right? My clothes bring me comfort. But that might just be me. They’re like photos in a camera roll. They remind me of the places I’ve been and the things I’ve felt.

Example: I looked at this Rachel Comey tulle top this morning and it took me back to February, at a dinner where I sat sandwiched between two strangers and across from one other. I shared a giant bowl of chocolate mousse with these strangers and we exchanged handshakes and ideas. I was completely unaware of how badly I—probably we—would long to do it again just a month later.

I don’t know if it’s absurd that I’m somewhat comforted by the notion that everyone could be connected by the same, singular dilemma at the same, singular time. I guess all of this has been a very, very longwinded way to say, I know how you are, but how are you?

The post Dispatch #005: I Know How You Are, But How Are You? appeared first on Man Repeller.

Cottagecore, Sticks of Butter, Sequins With Athleisure: I Let the MR Thoughtline Dress Me for a Week

You ever heard of MR Thoughtline? It’s our new brainy text service where we send out three messages per weekday: one morning Upshot (three good things that happened in the last 24 hours, penned by yours truly), one ping about who’s answering the SMSes during our OOO hour (I call it “chatting with babes online,” à la Kip from Napoleon Dynamite), and an afternoon WFH Challenge (sometimes an outfit recipe, other times a literal culinary recipe). In honor of this recent Man Repellerian development, I elected to be dressed by Thoughtline for a week.

Getting dressed mid-isolation, each day feels like a dry run. We’ve talked about turning hobbies into hustles, but I think getting dressed for no audience other than yourself is kind of an inversion of that idea—it’s more like turning a hustle into a hobby. Read on for five days worth of letting my coworkers dress me.

Monday: “WFH Outfit Challengeroni: Put on your best #goingnowherebutfuckitimgettingdressed garb and send it straight to @manrepeller on Instagram.”

This outfit told me to tell you that churning butter is the new Tracy Anderson Method.

Okokokok, I know this doesn’t look like I got dressed, but I did. The jury’s still out on whether I can wear this vintage nightgown—a holiday gift from my grandmother—out in the wild (though I’d argue it isn’t a far cry from wearing this outdoors). It feels like a decadent outfit in the scheme of WFH gym shorts and cutoff t-shirts. These sleeves are veritable cream-puffs. I’m even wearing earrings!

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Tuesday: “WFH Outfit Challenge coming right up: Accessorize your favorite pajamas as if you were attending a gala where the dress code was ‘black-tie sleepwear.'”

The smile is genuine; the “fur” is faux. If I had a parent-teacher conference with this outfit’s guardians, I’d tell them that this ensemble is a joy to have in class. The next time I wear it, I’ll be hosting a slumber party where we eat sea-salted radishes off of blond wood platters—as soon as I get the green light. (Should you desire an Edith jacket inspired by Beatrix Potter’s bunnies, it’s on sale.)

Another top contender for the title “favorite pajamas”: A friend recently asked me about lounge-y PJ recommendations, and I virtually spun her around three times, blindfolded, like she was playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, and then nudged her in the direction of this Eberjey set, which I then discovered comes in a smorgasbord of different colors. Look no further if you’re searching for a pair of pajamas with the softness and lightness of a Mallomar.

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Wednesday: “Christen your Tuesday with the following WFH Outfit Challenge: Get dressed like your alter ego. Mine is “international spy who just started making sourdough bread.” She loves dark sunglasses, chunky jewelry, and elasticized waistbands.”

My alter ego is a person who hasn’t watched a single Instagram Story in three months—don’t I look relaxed? Also, a person who wears jeans (and who knows what kind of shoes to wear with jeans). (“EDITH IN JEANS?!??!” is one of my favorite comments ever published on Disqus.) The only other time I’ve worn something that vaguely resembles this outfit was when I stayed at the Standard in West Hollywood alone last summer, if that tells you anything. The indoor sunglasses are inspired and therefore permitted by Tiffany, who materialized in a recent Zoom meeting looking like Bono when her workspace was flooded with light. They are also inspired by the fact that I’m tired of looking at my own face.

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Thursday: “Well hello to you, too!!! WFH Outfit Challenge: Text a friend an elaborate outfit idea and ask for one in return. Put it on, and don’t forget to send them a pic when you’re done.”

Perhaps I misinterpreted “elaborate outfit idea” as just an outfit prompt. So be it. The noble outfit prompt I invented: gussy up a sweatshirt. (“Gussy up”—splendid phrase.) A compliment of the highest order: These Entireworld socks are the ones I most look forward to in the laundry cycle. It’s a privilege and an honor to be a supersaturated #stickofbutter with little blue extremities (the shoes are on sale!).

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Friday: “A Challenge of the WFH Outfit Variety: Wear something sequined with something normally relegated to exercise. Text it to a friend and tell them it’s the new PB&J.”

This was my favorite prompt because I had just the ticket. I dug this ancient Tory Burch top from the bottom of my bureau (it’s an unparalleled New Year’s Eve top) and added my Outdoor Voices Exercise Dress (it tells me it’s thrilled for its reintroduction in spring). I didn’t want to wear my dirty sneakers inside (they’re from a collaboration by Outdoor Voices x Hoka, though—I’m about to go wear them for a run, and I prefer them above all other running shoes I’ve owned), so I put on these skyscraper loafers by ATP Atelier instead.

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I rewatched Whit Stillman’s Last Days of Disco in the early days of quarantine, and this outfit combines all the best elements of that movie’s costume design: Chloe Sevigny and Kate Beckinsale’s glitzy going-out outfits (a recurring topic of discussion in my Slacks with Harling), their underratedly covetable floral bathrobes worn around their shared railroad apartment, and their minimal, crisp workwear for days spent at their publishing company.

A student of the Thoughtline, I followed the instructions and texted this picture to a friend, notifying her that this combo is the new PB&J:

Now feels like a very logical time to double check that you yourself are signed up for The MR Thoughtline, don’t you agree? If you’re not, you can resolve this issue once and for all via this link riiiiiiiiiight here. 

The post Cottagecore, Sticks of Butter, Sequins With Athleisure: I Let the MR Thoughtline Dress Me for a Week appeared first on Man Repeller.

Trust Me Try It: The Slender Kitchen Gadget That Makes Everything Taste Better

So I don’t know what’s happening at your house, but here, it’s all cooking shows, all the time. Against all odds, I have managed to make new friends during self-isolation and their names are Claire Saffitz and Molly Baz and Brad Leone. They taught me how to make sourdough and I am grateful to them and now my boyfriend and I are the proud parents of an eight-day-old starter named Cristobal.

Because we all aspire to be like our heroes, I consulted this list of necessary pantry essentials during quarantine. On it was lemon zest. I would argue that lemon zest is not a pantry item, but that is a problem for another day. How does one produce the best lemon zest? With a Microplane. Mine, which is perfect, cost $14.

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Entenmann’s pound cake [poorly] dusted with powdered sugar and zested with lemon does not taste like pound cake out of a box.When you own a microplane, everything looks like … something that could be planed, or in this case, zested. With an entire bag of lemons available for experiments in my fruit basket, I got to work. If you, like me, are an impatient chef, the sort who would rather get pre-sliced bread than a loaf, then let me just say: Zesting is for you. Zip-zap-zest, it’s done, and suddenly you have a lovely bit of bright-yellow color in all your dishes (as a visual person, this matters a lot to me) as well as a necessary freshness in otherwise-sorry situations like boring-ass yogurt or eggs that were probably stuck on the pan for 10 seconds too long. Steamed broccoli? Here’s some zest. Baked potato? Why even eat a baked potato without lemon zest? You might think that nothing could improve upon an Entenmann’s pound cake, but that would be only because you haven’t added lemon zest to it.

Best of all, the Microplane isn’t limited to planing the peel off of lemons—it’s also great for ginger, garlic (reframe: it’s life-changing with garlic) and hard cheeses like parmesan. A new world awaits, if you have the courage to try it. 

+Yogurt and yogurt sauce

+Brownie or Entenmann’s pound cake

+Baked Potato (sweet potatoes are great)

+Pasta

+Eggs

+Chicken or fish or any protein of your choice

+Broccoli or roasted kale or any cooked veggies

+Vanilla ice cream

+Seltzer

+Slice of bread with butter (specifically lemon-honey butter or lemon-chive butter)

+Left over matzo balls (happy Passover!)

10 PHOTOS
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Guess What Wasn’t on My List of SNL Season 45 Predictions???

Remember when I published a list of my predictions for this season of Saturday Night Live? Hahahahaha.

Just a few things that I didn’t predict in the list I made last August, as I hotly anticipated the first cold open of the 45th SNL season: Colin Jost’s facial hair on his self-described very-punchable-face, seeing the inside of Pete Davidson’s home via Zoom screenshot, learning a new term called “social distancing” one day in March and then using it upwards of 200 times that week, all of us sheltering-in-place for months.

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Ok we got a show on Saturday time to shave and figure out how a camera works

A post shared by Colin Jost (@colinjost) on Apr 9, 2020 at 4:41pm PDT

The elation I felt when I learned that SNL was going to rise to the challenge and put on a remote sketch show in the middle of a pandemic, after the show’s production had been suspended for weeks, was an unfamiliar sensation. Live table reads have quickly become my favorite medium to emerge out of quarantine, and so scrappy sketch shows produced with two tin cans and a spool of twine seem like the logical next step. I’m available to host, as is pretty much every other non-essential worker on earth. Who do you think took the screenshot here?

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hope you’re doing ok! it’s freaky as hell so try and be nice to yourself. Some things that have been helping me: monochromatic dressing, my dog, the brian lehrer show on wnyc, yoga, my friends and fam on vid chat and donating my ass off. curious what you’re up to?

Quarantine: Bad for My Mental Health, Better for My Rosacea

I took a selfie after I cried in the kitchen last week–so embarrassingly loud that Austin heard me from the furthest room on the second floor of my parents’ house in Rhode Island, where we are currently living. He ran downstairs, assuming something catastrophic had occurred–but when he asked me, breathlessly, if I was okay, I covered my face and choked out a sob-adjacent laugh. Am I okay? A perfectly reasonable question. Lately my answer depends on the day, but regardless of whether it’s “yes” or “no,” there is a heaviness to my emotional state that remains persistent, strangely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Familiar because I’ve been depressed before–I know what it’s like, for everything to seem faintly slick with gloom, for a dulled sort of sadness to corrode my sense of time–but unfamiliar because historically it takes me a while to realize that’s happening, whereas right now I’m sharply conscious of the descent.

The urge to cry had been hanging over me for days like a shadow. I saw it coming from a distance, the culmination of absorbing so much crushing news about how the virus is impacting New York every morning and egged on by the looming reality that, yes, I will probably have to postpone my wedding, and it’s proving impossible to find an alternative date in the near future that all our closest friends can attend. I don’t do it very often, even when I’m upset, which I think is why I experience an impulse to chronicle it when it happens. I’ll snap a quick photo of my face, still red-eyed and puffy with tears, and forget about it until the next time I’m randomly scrolling through my camera roll. I’m always grateful when I come across them, because they serve as comparative references: remembering past sadnesses makes current happinesses even more tangible. It’s a reliable gut check for gratitude. This time, though, I studied the crying selfie while it was still fresh. It was probably the first time I’d examined my face up-close in weeks, and it occurred to me that my skin looked… great. Fantastic, even. I felt the urge to laugh again, for the same reason I did when Austin intervened mid-breakdown and asked a simple question that seemed suddenly, absurdly, humorously, agonizingly complex.

Am I okay? On the one hand, I am okay. I’m physically healthy and able to quarantine safely for the indefinite future–things I certainly don’t take for granted right now. On the other hand, my mental health has suffered. Is suffering. My loneliness feels solid enough to taste, metallic like a coin. My moods oscillate wildly.

My skin, however? Consistent? Thriving? Truly, I’ve been monitoring it vigorously over the past week, and I’m deeply confused by its behavior. My rosacea has essentially dissipated. My complexion is even and hydrated. Even my pores look smaller–a possibility I always discounted as mythological.

The irony that my skin looks better than ever when I’m not regularly leaving the house is not lost on me. Neither is the fact that in the midst of feeling pretty emotionally unmoored, the surprise gift of cooperative skin–trivial as it may seem–is a small but meaningful win from my standpoint. This might sound silly, but there’s something comforting about feeling like my cheeks (historically prone to antagonistic redness) are finally on my side for once, especially during a time when my mind feels more vulnerable. Or rather, something comforting about the semblance of an olive branch proffered by my external human form–an infinitesimal moment of harmony at this juncture of heightened discord between ourselves and the world.

That’s enough anthropomorphizing for one essay, though–let’s get down to the brass tacks (as they say in the skincare biz) of why I think my skin has turned a corner. In hindsight, I was using way too many products pre-quarantine. I know this because I simplified from a rotation of about eight to just four in an effort to pack fewer things for my stay in Rhode Island, and my skin is much more content. I’m also using a new prescription cream for rosacea that I think is finally paying off. Here’s my updated routine, for all you cool cats and kittens (sorry I finally watched Tiger King and believe I’m legally allowed to make that joke one time like everyone else on the internet):

Mornings

–CeraVe Moisturizing Cream (that’s it! I don’t even wash my face)

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Evenings

–CeraVe Hydrating Cleanser

–Biologique P50V (this is the version of Biologique P50 designed for sensitive skin, so it’s much less harsh–I use it *every other night* because I’ve found that every night is too much exfoliation for my skin. At certain points, I was using it mornings and evenings daily, which was wayyyyyy too much)

-Ivermectin (This is a prescription cream for rosacea. At first I didn’t think it was doing diddly squat, but I waited a few weeks and then really started to notice a difference)

–CeraVe Moisturizing Cream (only after the Ivermectin sits on my face long enough to fully dry)

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While I’m at it, since I told you what’s been helping my skin, I’ll also tell you what’s been helping my brain:

-Crying (I know I said I rarely cry and in general that’s true, but during quarantine I’ve cried a ton and can highly recommend–did you know it releases endorphins? Yum)

-Cuddling (Sounds cheesy, but for me at least, just being held or hugged for a bit feels really restorative when I’m blue)

-Immersing myself in another world (I’m reading Game of Thrones haha)

-Eating intuitively

-Letting myself wear the same sweatshirt and sweatpants every day without giving myself grief about it

-Writing (hi)

-Long walks

-Donating to causes that are making a difference right now (I just contributed to this fund organized by small business owner Deepti Sharma–who we have featured on Man Repeller before!–that is helping vulnerable individuals in New York *and* restaurant partners at the same time)

-Calling my mom (she’s currently quarantining in Florida)

-Texting a friend

-Taking a bath

-Making gratitude lists (again, cheesy, I know, but they work)

-Intentionally focusing on what I’m doing right this second—i.e., in the present, instead of dwelling in the past or the future

Right this second, I’m sitting at a table in my parents’ house, typing on a wireless keyboard while I stare at Austin’s laptop, which months ago he told me I could “use whenever” (and which I took to mean “co-opt as your personal computer for eternity”). It’s propped up on books to make it eye-level for ergonomic reasons, but it’s a little bit too far away, and I can feel myself squinting. I’m wearing a gray sweatsuit, and my hair is clasped behind my ears in a messy half-ponytail. I’m grateful for how soft the sweatsuit is. I’m grateful my skin is having a great time in quarantine, and I’m grateful that even though my mind is not, I’m keenly aware of it and can take the necessary steps to care for myself accordingly. The comment section on Man Repeller has also maintained a consistent spot on my gratitude lists over the past month, so if you have any thoughts, whether about rosacea or emotional well-being, I’d love to discuss further. Or even if you just want to say hello and tell me what you’re doing right this second, that would be nice, too.

The post Quarantine: Bad for My Mental Health, Better for My Rosacea appeared first on Man Repeller.

6! Hot! Tips! to Spice Up Your Relationship (With Your Roommate)

We, as humans, were never intended to be in confined spaces with each other round the clock. It’s TOUGH. Complicated. Even if you love that person! But ~especially~ if you don’t.

So, if you’re one roommate’s-six-day-old-crusty-rice-pan away from developing an implacable eye twitch–or you’re still catching dirty looks for the faint, untraceable smell of cat urine in your living room (tried to clean it, couldn’t find it)–allow me to suggest six quick tips ‘n’ tricks to bring that fire–that SPICE–back into your relationship. Because lord knows we need it!

*cackles, sips Campari spritz*

1. Try New Positions

Time to switch it up!!! Have you been spending too much time sitting at the kitchen table? Has your roommate laid claim to the far corner of the couch, the one that catches perfect afternoon sunlight? Maybe ask them to sit in the reclining chair, for once, Jan, so you can occupy that sun-drenched corner for a day. The novelty of your locations will inspire all kinds of new sensations. Hot hot hot!

2. Take an Ice Cube and…

Add it to their favorite cocktail (alc or non-alc, babe)! If you don’t know what their favorite cocktail is because you have not, before this moment, taken the time to get to know anything about them at all, just make an educated guess and fix up a quick Appletini and deliver it to their door at 5 p.m. on a Thursday. In the words of Taylor Swift…Sparks [will] Fly.

3. Get Into Role Play!

So weird that the greasy pan your roommate used to fry an egg four days ago is still sitting on the stovetop! How about some steamy roleplay? Offer to switch roles one night and launch into a passive-aggressive tirade, but for yourself! “I can’t believe I’ve left this dirty pan here for several days even though my roommate has needed it! Wow, the disrespect. I should really clean this and apologize to them!”

4. Watch Something Steamy Together

Haven’t shared your TV in a while? Why not suggest watching a *hot* cohabitation classic like The Odd Couple or Phantom Thread or Misery together? Hunker down on the couch and feel the tension get so thick you could hobble it with a sledgehammer!

5. Light a Candle…

After you, y’know, occupy the bathroom. Since you now have the requisite post-coffee BM slotted in the calendar for ~10 a.m. every day, surprise your roommate for once with a sensual act of kindness: sparing them from your scents.

6. Send a Provocative Text

Go ahead and send it: “When do you think you’re going to…”

…I’ll let you do the rest.

Feature photos by . 

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After All This Bread-Baking Comes the Great Pancake Revival

The other week on MR’s Thoughtline, I suggested that if you’re co-working at home, you might consider rebranding the kitchen as “the corporate cafeteria” during work hours. From the looks of social media, it appears that the kitchen has taken on an entirely different identity instead: namely, the International House of Pancakes.

After the first wave of bread-baking, sourdough-starting, and yeast-hoarding crested, I saw a flapjack-flipping surf rise in its wake. I have a few theories why. In some cases, pancake recipes operate at the nexus of comfort food and health food (the kind that borders on being baby food), requiring only a few ingredients to make something satisfying (a desirable row on the quarantine bingo card). Once you start researching pancake recipes, there’s no pumping the brakes: You may start small with the classic buttermilk mixture, and next thing you know, you’re broadening your horizons and experimenting with:

— this two-ingredient hack (for the uninitiated, you can make a pancake with just a banana and two eggs),

— Happy Menocal’s secret kale-laced recipe that deceives her (adorable) children into eating greens,

— or a savory winter squash variation.

Pancakes fill a void for someone like me, who has been known to lack some… exactitude in the kitchen. The pancake’s most winning quality is that there are no hard and fast rules to batter. Batter ingredients can be modified on a per-pancake scale. Batter can be whatever you want it to be, as long as it maintains the kind of consistency that slides out of a bowl and lands in a pan, coherently shaped. Batter is a state of mind.

Pancake dispatch from my brother, William.

Last weekend, I eased back into the pancake game after a lengthy hiatus with the banana/egg get-pancakes-quick scheme. I modified the batter slightly per person and per disc, adding rolled oats, various spices and even sunflower seed butter to the mixture as I worked my way to the bottom of the bowl. This week, I delved into unfamiliar terrain, modifying Smitten Kitchen’s winter squash pancake recipe for an indulgent, working brunch.

Seeking confirmation for my hunch that pancakes are having a moment, I interviewed a few key sources, including my younger brother. He theorized that “pancakes were always a way to celebrate the weekend, but now you can make them every frickin’ day.” (His pioneering preference for pancake preparation: griddle cake mix from our favorite San Francisco bakery, The Mill, topped with MGT Foods cold brew coffee ice cream, granola, sea salt and a drizzle of olive oil.)

I also touched base with Fanny Singer, author of the newly-released book of recipes with the prescient title Always Home, who often makes her own recipe (“Fanny’s Pancakes”) with her mother, Alice Waters of Chez Panisse. Fanny, an inventive and longtime pancake practitioner, corroborates my theory: “Yes, the pancake is definitely back!”

Fanny prefers making pancakes that have a mix of flours and grains, rather than just white flour. “If I make brown rice for dinner, for instance, I’ll throw leftovers into a pancake mix the next day,” she tells me. “It gives them a wonderful texture that reminds me of the legendary pancakes at the now-closed Axe in Venice, CA.” Fanny and I gravitate toward the pancake process for similar reasons, too: “Pancakes are very forgiving, since the egg does a lot of muscular work in binding the mixture—so even though my tendency to play it fast and loose in the kitchen doesn’t serve me in baking generally, pancakes never seem to suffer from my spirit of improvisation.” She informs me of a cross-over between the bread-baking frenzy and the pancake’s popularity: Along with the uptick of people experimenting with baking their own sourdough bread, she’s also noticed a lot of people using sourdough starter to make pancakes. Music to my ears.

In terms of toppings, Fanny recommends a quick-cooked compote, if you have fresh or frozen raspberries or blueberries, with a bit of honey and water on the stovetop. “Does anything taste (or smell!) better than simmered blueberries? Nothing!”

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There’s no place like home

A post shared by Summer Dawn (@summer.dawn) on Apr 1, 2020 at 4:10pm PDT

For another perspective, I talked to Summer Dawn, who had “never flipped a pancake before in her life,” but whose sumptuous stacks I’d seen on Instagram. Summer reports that she’s made a dozen or more pancakes since being quarantined, though she may stop soon as she’s starting to get pimples from all the sugar. “I never order them at a restaurant either, as I don’t really have a taste for sweets at breakfast,” Summer says. “But currently, I’ll have a pancake for breakfast, after lunch, or as a little snack before bed. No rules. I’ve been using the mix from the restaurant Salt’s Cure in Los Angeles. They’re made from oatmeal, which gives them this incredible texture. Also, they’re slightly salty, which is different.” She attributes her newfound interest in pancakes to nostalgia, recalling memories of her faraway mom making Dutch pancakes—flattish popovers the size of your face—on weekends.

The humble pancake balances a golden ratio of photogenicism to tastiness to relative healthiness (if you opt for one of the unconventional and flourless vegetable- or fruit-forward recipes). If I were their spokesperson, I’d give flapjacks this slogan: “Easy to make, and easy to make look cute.” Pancakes don’t need a publicist, though. Take it from the recipe next up on my griddle’s queue: this fluffy Japanese souffle number.

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Japanese soufflé pancakes Sunday is fun day and today little Sonya and I decided to make Japanese soufflé pancakes. They are simple to make and super tasty. I remember the first time I had them – I was at a cafe in the old Hotel Okura in Tokyo with my dear friend Sonya Park of Arts & Science (whom our Sonya is named after) The pancakes are easy – but need a little focus. Start making the batter by whisking together 2 egg yolks 10 g vegetable oil 20 g oat milk Once fluffy, add 40 g of all-purpose flour – combine into a medium runny batter Mix separately 3 egg whites 1 teaspoon white vinegar When fluffy add 40 g white sugar and keep whisking until they are stiff like making meringues. Fold them into the batter so it becomes light and fluffy Pre-heat a nonstick frying on medium heat (6/10). Grease with some oil and then wipe with a paper towel so there is no extra oil in the pan. Drop two to three spoons of the batter onto the hot pan and fry the pancakes under a lid for 3-5 min – depending on the heat. Flip the pancakes carefully and fry them on the other side for another 3-5 min. Serve straight away with butter and jam.

A post shared by FREDERIK BILLE BRAHE (@frederikbillebrahe) on Apr 5, 2020 at 7:35am PDT

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