Leandra Medine's Blog, page 32

Glenn Close Gets Emo on Instagram, Causing Me to Get Emo on Man Repeller

This morning, I woke up to a Slack notification from Amalie with a link to an Instagram video of Glenn Close talking into, but not really looking at her iPhone camera. She was expressing great upset to be away from the supportive ground that enabled her becoming Glenn Close—New York. Watching and listening to her intimate account of longing, it was hard not to feel the goosebumps ride up my spine and arms in tandem, meet at my neck and then continue up for a release from the ducts of my eyes. I don’t think I cried because I love New York too, although I do, believe me. But through the legendary performance inherent to her flavor of expression, it occurred to me that so many of us—maybe, in fact, every last one of us—feels far from some part of their hearts right now. There is a comfort in knowing we’re connected by that.

I think I’m getting too earnest in quarantine, but anyway, the 5-minute monologue is transcribed below. Enjoy it at your leisure if you need a good cry, or even if you don’t. Then call someone, anyone. Just to say hi.

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A post shared by The Real Glenn Close (@glennclose) on Apr 8, 2020 at 10:49pm PDT

I’m thinking about New York tonight. Really, really missing it. I wish I were there, going through all this in the city that nurtured me, from the very beginning of my career, which has always brought me huge comfort, comfort in the crowds in the subway, comfort walking along the streets, comfort in my neighborhood.

People just let you be who you are.

All the dogs. I miss Grounded—a great little coffee shop around the corner.

I remember I auditioned once. It was for Rex, it was for the next-to-last Richard Rogers musical and it was probably ill-conceived because it was about Henry VIII and his wives, not all of them but some of them. Maybe not the best subject for a musical but it was Richard Rogers and I was so lucky to be part of something like that in the early part of my career.

Anyway, I went in and I read and sang, I always got so nervous at singing rehearsals, oof, I mean singing auditions. I remember leaving the theater and thinking Oh boy, I did not do well, I did not do my best, they did not see me at my best and there is nothing worse than that. It’s like going through an exam and coming out knowing that you didn’t do well and you feel terrible because you know you’re capable of doing better.

So, I wrote them a letter and I said, please give me a second chance, I don’t feel that I gave you my best. And I had originally read for the part of Ann Boleyn, but I went back and read again and got the part of Mary Tudor who was basically Bloody Mary. I remember going out of the theater and literally it was like the streets were paved with gold. I felt I wasn’t even touching the sidewalk because I had a chance.

I had a chance, I had a job, I’d be measuring myself against other actors and learning, and observing, but I remember the feeling of walking down the sidewalk in the theater district. The world was my oyster. And I wonder why they say “It’s as if the streets were paved with gold” because I think for us [New Yorkers] it’s not about gold, it’s about the absolute thrill—the joy of being able to do what you want most in the world to do and what you feel is why you’re here.

To have that chance.

That’s New York for me. The city of endless adventure, endless possibility.

Feature photos via Glenn Close.

The post Glenn Close Gets Emo on Instagram, Causing Me to Get Emo on Man Repeller appeared first on Man Repeller.

The Trials and Tribulations of Learning a New Hobby in Quarantine

There’s something about being cooped up inside for multiple solitary evenings that makes an enterprising millennial think to herself, You know what? I should really pick up a new hobby. Such is the fate that befell me in the early days of quarantine, and since everything is copy I thought it would be fun to pitch a story about it. As you’ll discover if you read the below account of my endeavor, the thought process of learning a hobby is oftentimes a lesson unto itself.*

*Sorry, ever since I started knitting a hat (sorry again, spoiler alert) my keyboard only speaks in “19th-century governess.”

Day 0

What. The hellacious hippo. Was I thinking? When I pitched a story about trying to learn a new hobby during quarantine, did it not occur to my little lima-bean brain that this would involve actually learning one?? I must have been high on Austin’s leftover birthday cake, which I’ve been consuming at regular intervals over the past few days. The fact that I’m writing about cake right now instead of writing about my hypothetical cool new hobby is pretty much all you need to know about my progress on that front. The more I consider it, the more terrible the words “new” and “hobby” sound next to each other. Now is not the time for crafting. Now is the time for letting my anxiety about coronavirus and face-mask shortages and the economy and my relationship and the future and how many hours of sleep I got last night (four) consume me in one giant slurp, like a milkshake through a straw.

Day 1

I decide my “new” “hobby” will be knitting. Which is kind of cheating, in the sense that it’s not a brand new hobby, but I never specified that to begin with! What’s so unethical about a gently used hobby anyways? Truth be told, I learned how to knit when I was in seventh grade, thanks to a math teacher named Mrs. McGatt who hosted a weekly knitting club (the first thing I made was a turquoise teddy bear with button eyes). In my defense, however, I haven’t knitted anything in over a decade and a half, and I legitimately forget everything I once knew about it. It feels like a nice compromise, to indulge in a new(ish) hobby that is simultaneously a vehicle for nostalgia, if I do say so myself. It also doesn’t hurt that I find some yarn in the perfect shade of #stickofbutter yellow. I ordered two balls of it plus some round knitting needles because making a hat seems like an easy place to start.

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Days 2-5

A haunting period in which I wait for the knitting stuff to arrive while simultaneously questioning whether my new hobby should have involved moving literally any other body part besides my hands.

Day 6

I put my recently acquired materials on the kitchen table next to me while I check off other work-related tasks. I tell myself I’m going to start knitting during my lunch break, but instead I just make eye contact with the yarn between bites of salad. Ultimately this feels like an important first step in the hobby-learning process. Eventually I muster the courage to Google “how to cast on,” which is knitting speak for “how to put the first row of stitches onto a needle.” I pull up a YouTube video and I’m about to press play, yarn and needle in hand, when my fingers start to move intuitively, looping the yarn around and around until a neat row of stitches form. Muscle memory, I guess? I think about how muscles are kind of like books filled with stories, and I wonder how far back I’ll have to turn the pages after quarantine is over in order to remember habits that were once second-nature: hugging my friends. Shaking the hand of a stranger. Sitting on park benches. Grabbing subway poles. Stealing food off a dinner companion’s plate.

Day 7

I thought I was making an adult-sized hat for Austin and me to share while we take long, brisk, daily strolls to get our blood pumping before hunkering down for work every day, but it turns out I didn’t cast on enough yarn so the hat is fully toddler-sized, and Austin and I have settled into the unbreakable routine of sleeping until the very last possible second every morning. Best laid plans of mice and quarantined men, etcetera. Knitting in general is coming along pretty smoothly, though I make a few mistakes here and there when I’m not paying attention. I accidentally purl a whole row of stitches instead of knitting them, so I pull all the fresh loops off the needle and undo them one by one. I repeat the same ritual when I absentmindedly knit the plastic loop of my round hat needles into the hat, which tangles everything up. I forgot how satisfying it is to be able to identify a problem and fix it immediately.

Day 8

I feel like my toddler hat should basically be done by now, but I’ve only knit approximately two inches. I try to industriously plow through a few more rows while I heat up dinner in the oven. Knitting while simultaneously cooking dinner? I know. I am literally Betty Draper right now. I’m not sure whether to be amused or alarmed by this revelation. It’s possible both are the correct response. I should probably go ahead and have a few kids while I’m at it, just to complete the picture of stereotypical 1950s-era domestic bliss. Maybe one of them could wear the tiny hat.

Day 9

The hat remains a zygote, but that’s okay, because the end goal for the purposes of my story pitch is knitting with no strings attached, including the string of completing whatever it is I’m knitting by the time I file copy. Knitting is soothing but a little boring. I only fully enjoy myself if I’m doing something else at the same time like, say, watching Tiger King, or talking to my mom on the phone. I realize this probably means I’m a “lost cause” when it comes to the art of slowing down, being present, all that jazz. I won’t be penning an essay on how Rediscovering the Joys of Knitting Made Me Finally Relax anytime soon, but I will definitely be spending the next ten minutes trying to figure out how to make the hat slope in at the top. I vaguely remember that I have to start knitting multiple stitches at once, or something like that (pros may cringe accordingly here).

Day 10

Making an entire tiny hat sounds extra daunting today, but perhaps that’s because I haven’t had any time to knit in the last 24 hours. Nonetheless I am considering alternative options: a blanket for my computer mouse, a halo for Austin and me to trade off wearing every time one of us takes out the trash, or a garter for my left thigh. Please cast your vote in the comment section. If the consensus is “hat,” I’ll do my best to press onward.

The post The Trials and Tribulations of Learning a New Hobby in Quarantine appeared first on Man Repeller.

5 FIT Students on Their Style and This Strange Semester

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 five FIT students sharing how their lives have changed since the below photographs were taken.

In early March, Beth Sacca, FIT student and Man Repeller photo intern, decided to take portraits of her classmates. What she didn’t know then was that she was actually saying goodbye to her friends for the last time before their graduation: She’d intended to use her photos in a street-style story, highlighting her classmates’ unique approach to fashion. But as in-person classes were canceled and dorms hastily vacated, students headed back to their apartments or hometowns. Beth’s photos started to take on a different meaning–and to explore that meaning, we called each person featured, to hear about how their lives (and education and approach to style) have changed since they were photographed. Here’s how they’re processing lives now, in their own words.

5 PHOTOS
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On the Challenge of Learning Long-Distance

“There are conflicts with a lot of classes—I think they’re just taking it week by week to figure out how we’ll be able to do things. Our studio classes especially can’t be the same online. I can’t imagine how I’m going to be able to finish my handbag class. Right now, we’re literally just cutting out paper to show how we’d make the pattern.I don’t know how I’m going to be able to sew leather without an industrial sewing machine.

“So much of my style is my emotions—I can’t help but show what I’m feeling when I physically/visually express myself. This day was calm, sparkly storm cloud.” —Brianna Clarfield, 21 (Major: Photography. Job: Intern at APM Models, freelance Creative/Photographer) to Beth, in March.Revenge bedazzled sweatshirt, thrifted Old Navy mens pants, Demonia boots, hand-made pants chain -- another here, leather choker -- another here

I’m currently in the city, in my apartment uptown, using what I have here. I was working the last few days as it was getting worse and school was closing, so I wasn’t really able to grab everything I needed. I still went to my internship, and my roommate and I would meet and walk home together so that we didn’t have to take the subway, which is an almost-two-hour walk. When they told us we could come back to the school to pick up supplies, I didn’t even want to take the risk of taking stuff on the subway. I felt like that was too much of a risk at that point.

They just emailed us that one of our professors passed away from Covid-19, and there’s a bunch of students who have it.

I changed my thesis to something else that I’m able to do in my house. Originally I was making these 3D-looking prints—you know those plastic prints from the 2000s that change when you move them from side-to-side? I was making an installation with those that was like ‘2000 punk princess,’—but now it can’t be viewed or interacted with. I ended up changing my project to a process where I’m using photos that I’ve taken and turning them into collages. I’m actually really excited about it. It’s a really therapeutic thing to work on right now.” —Brianna Clarfield

On Study-From-Home Style and Shopping Online

“The photo Beth took of me is so sad because that was the last time I got an outfit off in public [laughs]—her timing was really good on that. I’ve been wearing a lot of pajamas at home. On the days when I have online school, I’ll actually get up and put an outfit on so I feel like I’m doing something and I’m not just, like, sitting around in sweats. Right now I’m wearing a hoodie with some runner pants and Yeezy slides. This is pretty much what I would wear on a regular day, but I have been thinking about certain things I don’t need to be wearing in the house. I’m not going to be wearing, like, leather loafers and a trench coat at home, you know? I’m definitely taking it down a couple notches, but still trying to wear clothes that make me feel good.

“I’m always on the go, so I like to stick to what I know looks good on me. Usually I wear the same things. I like to be comfortable, stylish, and almost always wear something with a logo.” —Stephen Velastegui, 22 (Major: Photography. Job: Freelance Photographer) to Beth, in March.Palace T-shirt, Martine Rose shoes, leather jacket via Orchard St. vendor -- similar here

I’ve bookmarked so many things that I want to buy when we can go back out. I’ve also been able to look in my closet and streamline my style even more. Shipping is at the top of my line of questioning when I think about buying stuff right now. The other day I was closing and opening tabs, and I was like, “Should I even have stuff shipped to my house?” From a really realistic standpoint—we don’t know. But I want to support the brands I love right now because everybody is hurting. I think this is going to impact everyone in really hard ways. A couple of my friends work at a bar downtown called Beverly’s, and they have a lot of efforts to keep money coming in, like gift cards and merch. I feel so bad—not only do I get to work there sometimes, but I also go there a lot. We all have to be conscious of what money is going out and what’s coming in. It’s a weird time for everyone.” —Stephen Velastegui

On Masks as Design Objects

“I study photography at FIT, and I also work at school in the historical fashion archives. There’s definitely a lot of history in face-mask design, and we’ve been sharing a lot of it on social media. I think it’s cool that so many independent designers are making them right now, both for surgical use and for the community. People are making them in cool, inventive ways—I’ve seen so many different styles. I think the things that are being made now will be a part of the history of face masks in some way.

“Since moving to New York, I’ve felt like I’m allowed to become the art I always wanted to make. I love colors, and haven’t worn black in four years. My fashion style is colorful, loud, all over the place, and so am I. Styling my looks and decorating my hair and face has been the most important coping mechanisms for me since high school.” —Danielle Paterson, 22 (Major: Photography. Job: Fashion Archivist at Special Collections at F.I.T), to Beth, in March. Jean-Paul Gaultier pants -- similar here, Chanel shoes and bag, vintage T-shirt and trench -- similar here

I’m making a mask for class myself, but I left my first prototype at school, which really sucks, because that had a lot of the basic construction. I wouldn’t have been able to finish it anyway, because [that version] had metal that requires tools to weld. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Spy Kids, but there are these over-the-top, creepy sunglasses that go over your head instead of around. I’m making similar alien goggles with custom lenses that I literally made in the oven. I weave a lot, and my whole thesis is called ‘Coping Mechanisms.’ It’s about my mental health journey through art and fashion as therapy, so I’m doing a lot of weaving, crochet, knitting, and embroidery for it—I do it all. That’s basically what I’ve been working on for the past week, every single day.” —Danielle Paterson

On Staying Inspired

“Being home, I can take the time to think out projects more. We’re so accustomed to our daily routine, and this is a great time to think about other projects you want to do, or if you’re on a path that you don’t want to be on, to think about how you can get on another path instead. So far, I’ve been staying up late sketching a lot. I’m interning at Sergio Tacchini, so I’ve just been designing and drawing a lot, and they’re happy with what’s coming out. I’m really proud of that.

“My style reflects my personality in that I am very meticulous.” —Naseem Muhammad, 21 (Major: Menswear Design. Job: Tailor at Levi’s and design intern at Sergio Tacchini), to Beth, in March.Vintage cardigan -- similar here, Uniqlo T-shirt, A.I.E. pants, Public School shoes

I’ve also been doing a lot of research. I’m looking at archival works like old Helmut Lang, Comme des Garcons. I’m the type of person who doesn’t get inspired by garments, but by colors and the movement of shapes, so I’m also looking at random art pieces and watching films. If I do go outside, it’s for groceries or something, and I did see an interesting outfit that a girl had on yesterday: She was wearing this nice wool trench coat that was dark gray, and a graphite sweatshirt, so it was like shades of gray, down to some faded navy blue sweats. I even like the face masks—I think they’re a fashion statement.” —Naseem Muhammad

On Making a Yearbook In Lieu of Graduation
“I still don’t know how to categorize my style, and sometimes it changes. I try to be as comfortable as possible, as I like to do a lot of random things throughout the day. So you’ll usually catch me in some sweatpants or jeans, always in sneakers just in case my desire to explore takes me on an adventure. I always like to be prepared.” —Nia Spencer, 21 (Major: Photography. Job: Photographer and sales associate at Off-White), to Beth, in March.Brandy Melville vintage T-shirt, Off-White sweats, Nike Air Force 1s

“School getting canceled made the whole situation very real for me. I’m graduating this semester and they just sent us an email yesterday telling us that our commencement is cancelled. One person said we’ll have a graduation in August, another email said it will be in December. I’m currently in California with my family, but I do have to go back to New York to work on my senior thesis. I can’t do it from here because I’m making a magazine and all my stuff is in my room in New York. I’m taking pictures of my best friends and putting them in ads, doing features on my best friends. It’s kind of like an ode to my senior year and my school life. I have a feature called ‘Class of Chaos.’ It gives all of my friends superlatives. I’m figuring it out still, since I don’t have as much time to shoot. Today I’m going around to all my California friends, and I’m going to take a photo of each of them and do a story on this whole situation.” —Nia Spencer

Photos by Beth Sacca.

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The Last 5 Photos In My Camera Roll, Annotated in Exquisite Detail

I washed my face this morning, which seems worth mentioning because I think it’s only the second time I have done this since quarantine started. Either there is less of a reason to wash my face or I am in the process of giving up. But what does giving up even mean? What am I giving up? Self-maintenance? Who is self-maintenance for if not, uh, the self—me? I don’t feel like I’m giving up. I’m actually taking pretty good care of myself—better care than I did when I was spending closer to ~3 waking hours at home each day as opposed to the recent 16. I’m eating pretty healthy food (for the most part) that I’m making for myself, I’m taking in less alcohol than I have in years. I’m washing my hands voraciously and really getting to know my kids. As a still-healthy person, what other choice do I have as I try to stay out of the way?

I listened to a podcast this weekend that rocked me to my core—it was a conversation between Brene Brown and Glennon Doyle, the author of Untamed, which is the name of a book that has caused me to question whether the real power of a woman is to live recklessly, if actually the most audacious desires among us are not reckless at all. While I listened to it, I was outstretched on the carpet in my living room, staring up at the elephant wall across the entrance to my apartment, admiring the daffodils and tulips and hyacinths in three disparate vases on the dining room table that we almost sold last month. My attention faded in and out—I wondered where we’d be eating had someone bought the table. Around the coffee table on the floor? At the bench by the windows facing Centre Street? Then I zeroed back into the podcast at the call of such lines as, “Maybe imagination is where we go not to escape reality but to discover it.” You should listen to it—I’m not doing their conversation the spiritual justice it deserves.

I think I’ll make a gigantic salad for lunch with tricolored greens, chickpeas, celery, avocado, pumpkin seeds—anything I can find that will accommodate the size of this bowl. We’ll probably eat it for dinner too. Should I grill some Meyer lemon and put it on top? Never mind. I’m going to eat it raw.

Are you enjoying any elements of the quarantine? I’m afraid to ask this. And you might actually never see it because there’s a good chance I will delete it. It’s a dangerous question because I’m not really asking if you like quarantine, I’m asking if you have discovered anything transformative — the kind of something you may never have seen, and won’t want to forget. I think I’m settled into an adjusted state of reality and am pretty impressed by the natural, human inclination to find patterns, attach meaning to them, and create new routines. My weekdays are falling into this new kind of rhythm. My weekends, too. Yesterday I had a thought that I might even like it more than the rhythms of routines past, then I realized that actually, I’m just wearing blinders to get to the end of every day in spirits pleasant enough to sit down and write something like this. I haven’t forgotten the superior rhythms of the past and I can imagine the rhythms of the future. Is this what being present is like?

But away I go: I can’t wait for the kids to go to bed so Abie and I can have an aperitivo hour. This is another new rhythm I’ve come to look forward to—Saturday night in with Abie. It’s not so different from the routine we had pre-Quarantine only “in” was “out,” but overall, I think I look forward to getting lost in conversation without the interruption of a weeknight obligation.

I haven’t had a drink in a pretty long time and there’s a bottle of champagne on my kitchen counter. It’s not kosher for Passover so I’ll have to dispose of it if it’s not consumed before the holiday starts on Wednesday. Not getting lost on me is the irony of observing a holiday that commemorates liberation. The champagne has been there since Christmas. I should have a glass. I think I’ll do that.

I’ll have it with the olives and crackers and chips and raw chopped veggies around avocado dip I’ve prepared for us. Chopping up vegetables is as soothing as they say it is. So is washing dishes. I totally get it—there is something so reliable about knowing exactly what you are setting out to do and then through the function of your own effort, doing it. It’s so simple. I think that makes it satisfying too.

Should I bother to get dressed? The next photo in my camera roll is this one, of an outfit that was put on and expeditiously taken off, now that I think about it, from the hopeful underbelly of my waning fervor to get dressed. Cotton shorts are so much better—easier—and they feel right. I keep them in a drawer chest next to my underwear and gym clothes. If I didn’t want to, I could probably forgo opening my closet doors entirely, but every time I visit my closet, I recall all the places I have had to go before, and they suggest I’ll go somewhere again. I’ll think about what to wear and it will be the most taxing choice I’ll have to make that day. I’ll luxuriate in the triviality.

I think it’s okay to neglect getting dressed right now. The command to do so is not for everyone but if you care about clothes, I still urge you to visit your closet once in a while, just to say hello. It’s a sharp reminder of life before and a storehouse of anticipation for life after.

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

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7 WFH Dressing Ideas—All Collar, No Pants

Imagine a snake eating its lunch: You know how you can sort of see the shape of its food in its snake-y midsection? That’s me. I may not be downing small mammals, but I’ve been fighting with my pants after workday lunches as long as I’ve been working. This is just one of the reasons I moved immediately to sweatpants now that working means working from home. This whole chest-up-Zoom-call thing isn’t the worst thing in the world in terms of my personal presentation.

My coworkers have no idea — at least, they didn’t before this piece — that I’m wearing sweatpants on the bottom half, with a blouse, headband, and lip stain on top. No clue that maybe, just maybe, I’m only wearing underwear, layered sweaters, and a strand of beads around my neck. This is a weird time, and the above confession doesn’t make it any less weird, but I’ve gotten quite good at dressing from the waist up for my multiple daily video calls.

Without changing my bottoms (or lack thereof), I’m now able to change my “entire outfit” (read: the part that is visible to my colleagues) several times a day. The sun gets hot in my new office (read: studio apartment) around 3, so that’s when I swap my sweaters for a lace cami and light jacket or blazer, with a thick headband and fun earrings. Sometimes, for my larger meetings, I even throw on a red lip. And headscarves? Now, they’re both fetching and convenient: no wind to blow that baby off. No sharp clips needed to keep it in place. And the detachable collar trend? It is quite perfect right now. Pair it with a cardigan! It won’t flap up as you’re running around the city between appointments, blinding you in its oversized, upturned glory.

These are my seven favorite waist-up concoctions. No pants necessary—and quite frankly, I suggest you don’t wear any.

1. Big Collar + Sweater + Hair Clips



I’ve had this detachable collar for years but never wear it because it moves around when I walk if there’s even the tiniest bit of wind. Now’s the time to pull it out, pair it with a sweater à la Harling’s story, and add a hair adornment or two.

2. Thematic Print (bandana) + Necklaces



Per Man Repeller’s Hotline, it’s fun to start with a prompt when getting dressed. Here I went thematic, with a vintage bandana sweater, bandana head scarf, and some lip-stain. My underwear is also a bandana-print, trust me.

3. Nightgown + Necklaces + Lipstick + Braid



Who says you can’t wear your sleepwear to the office/the couch? I’m in the nightgown I wore to bed, all jazzed up with some of my favorite necklaces, plus lipstick. Wearing lipstick at home is actually far easier than wearing it at work because re-application doesn’t need to be done at your desk using Photobooth!

4. Oversized Shirt + Glasses



I don’t suggest you ruin your sunglasses by popping out the lenses, but wearing frames on a video call hides the bags under your eyes and your lack of makeup. If you want to invest, blue light lenses really save your eyes after long days on the computer. The shirt? Wore it to bed, too.

5. Cami + Jacket + Neck Scarf + Eyeshadow

As I mentioned, my apartment heats up like a greenhouse at 3 p.m., so when my afternoon video calls commence, I throw my “professional” jacket over the temperature-appropriate cami, with a fun shade of lilac on my lids. A little bit of pizazz for our virtual Man Repeller team happy hour.

6. Vest + Pearls + Bandana



Because of the steamy apartment, sleeveless pieces have been essential. I like a vest–it’s a little dressier than a plain old tank. I added lady pearls and a bandana to cover up the bedhead that I assure you is tucked underneath.

7. Headband + Earrings + Turtleneck + Sweater



A thick headband with earrings is very Brigitte Bardot. With a little hair tease, a thick headband, big earrings, and layers, I’m buttoned up and professional, minus the wrong-day-of-the-week underwear I’m wearing. Who even knows what day it is, anyway.

The post 7 WFH Dressing Ideas—All Collar, No Pants appeared first on Man Repeller.

I Made, I Ate, I Reviewed: Idiot-Proof Chili and Chicken from NYT & Cookies Pulled Out of My Ass

Before quarantine started, I would regularly write weekend to-do lists that in retrospect seem to have encapsulated the most ambitious pursuits of the person I wanted (or thought I wanted) to be. Among the usual asterisks to populate the to-do list were art projects using natural ingredients like coconut flour to make Play-Doh and turmeric to dye it (it turns out from the dikes of quarantine that I have no interest in becoming this mother), the lofty desire to read at least 10 of the stories I had Pocketed the week prior (I’d probably still do this if I weren’t spending more time on my computer, with even more time to actually read at will), some version of a tidying exercise be it for bookshelves, my closet, a pantry, and there was always–always–a plea to cook something.

Whenever I’d set out to cook, though, a deluge of excuses would interrupt the effort: We’re going for dinner. Don’t waste the chicken. You just had lunch. Can you even make pasta? You hate instructions. You want to bake? Don’t buy the ingredients. And on. What I am realizing now is that cooking is not so different from fashion in that anyone can do it. From the outside, it seems so damn intimidating, like it’s impossible to break in, but eventually, you realize the only barrier to entry is yourself. To be into fashion, you just have to be proud that you like to wear clothes, then wear them. To get good at cooking, you just have to try. Then you keep trying and definitely fuck up, over and over, until you learn the language and boom: a new skill is born.

I’m still in the “over and over” phase of learning to cook, but let me just tell you, it is way less soul-crushing than I thought it would be. All I’m really doing is chopping shit up, then assembling it and turning on fire. Really, that’s it. To be clear, I am also exclusively making only very easy recipes, the most noteworthy of which I am sharing below–two from the New York Times and one I pulled from my ass. Not literally, which feels important to acknowledge in the context of consumable goods. I will apologize in advance for the shitty photos. One of the ways I know I’m not ready to be a food blogger is because I keep forgetting to make fancy plate-scapes before actually eating the thing. The only one I have, in fact, is the feature image of this story–a visual non sequitur given that none of the recipes below call for charred broccoli, steamed spinach, or a Meyer lemon and tarragon-seasoned turkey breast. I can tell you more in the comments if you want, but in the meantime, y’all ready 4 this:

The dish: 30-Minute vegetarian skillet chili

The recipe: Put oil in a skillet (I used a frying pan), heat at medium-high, sauté onion for 5-7 minutes then add garlic, chili powder, and oregano (I didn’t do this last one; replaced with smoked Spanish paprika instead) for 1-2 minutes longer. Add beans, tomatoes, and some salt, and let it all simmer for 20 minutes.

The thing I fucked up: There was a call to pickle onions, which I did not do. I also didn’t have diced tomatoes, so instead I used tomato sauce, which didn’t make a significant difference, but it would have been nice to taste those chunks, less favored and probably waterier (the sauce was kind of creamy). Also, I went ham on smoked Spanish paprika, which I added as a deviation from the recipe, and I would recommend such hamming to anyone else.

But overall: It was stickier in consistency and appearance than I hoped it would be, but we finished 6 servings among 3 people (counting Madelaur as 1) in the span of a meal. So either they were hungry, or it was good; I choose to believe the latter.

The dish: 30-Minute easy chicken curry

The recipe: Put *neutral* oil in a skillet (again, I used a pan) and turn heat to medium-high. Add onions a minute later (peeled! And! Sliced! But I think I wish I had diced them), with salt and pepper. Cook for 15 minutes, then add two teaspoons of curry powder until one minute later when you throw in a can of coconut milk (do not include the meat that coagulates at the top of the can!). Stir for 2 minutes, then add the chicken (I diced it), and stir it for 3 to 6 minutes. Finally, you’re supposed to add tomatoes and cook for another minute, but I didn’t have any tomatoes so I added arugula instead.

The thing I fucked up: Originally, I attempted this recipe with coconut oil instead of a “neutral” oil because I didn’t think I had canola or grapeseed oil and fucked up the first batch of onions I chopped. Then as it turned out, I had canola spray, so I used that for round 2 and it worked. The one thing I’ll say is that 15 minutes was too long to cook the onions–I did closer to 10 minutes and think it turned out fine. Also, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to include the coconut meat in the can of milk because I am new to this shit and do not excel in the department of common sense. I decided against it, which I think was right, it seemed like it would chunk shit up in an unhelpful way.

But overall: The arugula was a nice add–in the curry and as a garnish. I topped it with a little more salt when the chicken was done cooking. Overall: this tasted, looked, and went down exactly how I hoped it would.

The dish: 30-Minute very boring cookies

Before I get into it, let me just say: My husband is very high maintenance. Not in a fancy-car, flashy-watch, buy-me-a-yacht kind of way, but when it comes to his health, he will spend just about anything it costs to have a healer or shaman or nutritionist or acupuncturist who has never met him much less proven they know how to evaluate the gallons of bloodwork he has contributed over the years tell him what to eat. Or more aptly: what not to eat. Most recently, the exhaustive list he’s deposited in my lap (in an effort to suspend migraines) includes: grains (all of them–the migraine nograine diet?), sugar, dignity, soy, dairy, tomatoes, joy, cucumbers, eggplant, cashews, happiness. The list goes on.

Last week, I planned to make grain-free, dairy-free, sugar-free banana bread, using a 4-ingredient recipe that I’d seen in an Instagram Story, consisting of banana, maple syrup, eggs, oats, and fine, ingredient #5: baking soda. I replaced the oats with almond flour, added Hu Kitchen cacao chunks and a spoon full of peanut butter and poured the batter in a muffin tin because I don’t have a loaf tin, then put them in the oven for 25 minutes, took them out, and let me tell you, those damn bread muffins were good. And amenable! Or so I thought. When I was asked to recite the ingredients to my nutritional dependent, he all but spit as the word “eggs” burped from my throat. Add them to the insufferable list of things he can’t eat eyyy vwala, here we are. On made-up recipe street with a second, sad attempt at something sweet to ingest, c/o:

The recipe: Two flax eggs (I Googled egg replacement, found a recipe for flax eggs and made them–all it takes is 1 tablespoon of ground flax seeds mixed with 3 tablespoons of water to make one)

Two bananas

½ cup of chia seeds in ½ cup of water (I used boiling water so the seeds would sprout instantaneously)

1½ cups of almond flour

A generous pour of maple syrup over the above ingredients

And then you mix, mix, mix your anger out. Mix, mix, mix your anger out. Mix, mix, mix your anger out, then wiggle and waddle away.

On top of these ingredients, I added a handful of a medley of sunflower and pumpkin seeds and walnuts and chocolate chips.

Instead of baking these in my muffin tins, I plopped them down like cookies on a baking tray, then let them sizzle in my oven at 350 degrees for 29 minutes.

The thing I fucked up: Nothing! The beauty of inventing a recipe is that you can’t fuck up following the instructions because you made them, dammit.

And overall: They are a silver lining of quarantine–second only to one that included repurposing gym shorts as leisure shorts and sock as shoes. And, fine, these–everything but the kitchen sink:

Booooaaawne app-uh-teet!

The post I Made, I Ate, I Reviewed: Idiot-Proof Chili and Chicken from NYT & Cookies Pulled Out of My Ass appeared first on Man Repeller.

The Unspoken Rules of Email in the Time of Quarantine

Today, when I typed the word “hope” into the body of an email, the Gmail “Smart Compose” feature automatically suggested the words “you’re doing okay” to follow it. When I typed the word “stay,” it suggested “safe.” While I still have yet to fully adjust to the surreal experience of carrying on with life and work in the midst of a pandemic, my inbox seems to have adapted in a matter of days, submerging each exchange in a murky stew of verbiage: professionalism intermixed with vulnerability.

With each message I receive–in which sentences like “thinking of you and your family” or “how are you holding up?” replace once-common phrases like “circling back!” or “coverage check-in”–I think about the essay Molly Young wrote for Vulture in February that interrogated why corporations speak the way they do. She lists dozens of examples–“holding pattern,” “touchbase,” “creative sync,” “replatform”–referring to them as garbage language because “garbage is what we produce mindlessly in the course of our days and because it smells horrible and looks ugly and we don’t think about it except when we’re saying that it’s bad.” I think about how much has changed in three weeks, the habituated garbage of our pre-quarantine communication replaced by something else entirely:

Heartfelt sign-offs (“I am writing you as a friend, what is appropriate here? Do you want to be pitched?”) and attempts at levity (I received one email with the subject line “Quarantreat”). Straight-talk (“We don’t want to hide behind our emails and pretend that nothing is happening right now”) and attempts to bridge the void of isolation (“I’m trying to stay positive and am thinking about you and your family”). Unprecedented influxes of virtual kisses (“xx”) and follow-ups so gentle they feel like a shoulder rub (“Just wanted to make sure this didn’t get lost in your inbox during what I’m sure is a difficult time”).

It’s touching and unfamiliar and awkward all at once, like a baby animal figuring out how to walk. And it sounds fumbling because it is. Fumbling for connection. Fumbling for permission to try and move forward with aspects of normalcy–a client looking for press, a freelancer suggesting a pitch–while understanding that normal looks and speaks differently right now. Fumbling for the right way to acknowledge that there is no right way to acknowledge what is happening in hospitals and homeless shelters and whole entire countries around the world. Fumbling to express the appropriate amount of gratitude that we’re still in a position to be emailing (emailing!) at all, particularly about something mundane or work-related.

In the same essay about corporate lingo, Young writes that “our attraction to certain words surely reflects an inner yearning.” This assertion rings true to a heightened extent as we tentatively navigate the language of digital interaction during quarantine. Already, a new lexicon is emerging–one where “hope all is well” is no longer a garbage formality, but rather evidence of a genuine desire to lead with humanity above all else.

Feature image inspired by this from @everyoutfitonsatc.

The post The Unspoken Rules of Email in the Time of Quarantine appeared first on Man Repeller.

5 Therapists on What Counseling Is Like During a Pandemic

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 five therapists who are adjusting to the new circumstances and universally-shared anxieties in their line of work.

The pandemic is remodeling our society like it’s clay spinning on the axis of a pottery wheel. For some, speaking with a therapist is the most familiar method for interpreting our experiences and surroundings, and for internalizing an understanding of our new, malleable world. That’s why the question of what it’s like to be a therapist right now has been boomeranging around my head lately. How does it work, as they manage other people’s feelings on top of their own? Are they more in-demand than usual or less? How have their routines changed—and how has the logistical adjustment to working remote been? As a therapist, do you ever prepare for or fear for this kind of global calamity? Seeking answers, comfort, and different points of view, I asked a few therapists about what work is like during these very singular days.

On becoming more resilient

My routine has changed significantly. After being at a hectic group practice in SoHo for years, I just opened my own beautiful, peaceful little office in Chinatown. On March 12. So sad. I had just a handful of sessions there before I had to close up shop and start doing video sessions from home. My people are mostly millennials and have adapted to the logistics and the app I use, Doxy, pretty seamlessly. I’ve actually had a few patients quit because they are in theater and music and hospitality, and they’ve lost their income. Artists have been hit incredibly hard. I’m offering a sliding scale rate for people who really need it.

It’s interesting maintaining relationships that used to be in person via video sessions. There is some information you don’t get this way (“Why is she carrying seven bags?” “How did she walk here in those shoes?” “Was she flirting with that other guy in the waiting room?”), but I think video sessions work because the visual helps with emotional regulation. It’s interesting to see patients in their homes, too. It’s an intimate experience, being more up-close and personal. It’s such a 21st-century, contrived set-up that I think to compensate, I am probably less formal and more warm than I’ve ever been in the room.

One thing that seems to be resonating with people in pandemic life is talking about mindfulness and how we can bring ourselves back to the present moment, when things feel really catastrophic and terrifying. In this moment, you are OK. We also talk about self-care and routine and the things you can do to send your body the signal that it’s safe. I’m a former health coach, so we talk about drugs and food and sleep and exercise as well. I keep people accountable for those things. I believe wholeheartedly in the power of exercise and meditation. They make you more resilient, which is exactly what we need right now. —Ann Farrar

On calming the nervous system

I am comforted by my own belief that things will not always be this way, and that while there will be plenty to grieve, there will also be surprising outcomes that will benefit the lot of us. So I heed my own advice because I deeply believe it, and of course, saying it over and over again to my patients helps to solidify it in my own mind.

Many patients are settling into the routine, and while we’re all experiencing the loss of physically being together, I’ve found my patients to be resilient and resourceful. Some use the phone, and lie on their bed or couch, and that has actually worked to move the sessions forward in much deeper ways. Others prefer video, and will wear headphones so that the therapist is heard in surround-sound, which can feel intrusive to some but calming to others. All of the information that comes out of this new normal is clinically useful in helping me to understand my patient’s inner world.

When children are dysregulated, either through a frightening, fearful, or stressful event, what is most effective in calming them is making them feel their bodies are safe.

For the first few weeks of my sessions, much of my attention was spent supporting my patients in keeping some semblance of a schedule. When our external structures are so abruptly disrupted, our internal psychological organization becomes fragmented as well, and we can feel trapped or helpless. It is precisely the feeling of helplessness that amounts to trauma, so reminding ourselves that we do have some agency around how we organize our day is often the antidote. I have to make a strong case for implementing structure at a time when people are in survival mode: to set your alarm for the same time every day, shower, get dressed, make your bed, meditate, exercise, and eat well. Reminding my patients that our bodies, and specifically our nervous systems, can easily become dysregulated such that we are almost tricked into thinking we are in a default anxious flight-or-flight mode is no easy task, as we all fall victim to that familiar trope of “mind over matter.” But calming one’s nervous system with deep breathing, exercise, and structure will first register in the physical body, paving the way so that our minds can follow suit. Without the calming of the physical, our minds will continue to be trapped in the anxious state.

One of the most resounding and effective arguments I can make for this case is to remind patients that when children are dysregulated, either through a frightening, fearful, or stressful event, what is most effective in calming them is making them feel their bodies are safe. As parents or educators, we will soothe children in this frightened state by hugging or holding them, by speaking to them in soft, calming voices, or by giving that nervous energy a chance to discharge through movement. Only once we calm children down, can we then address their emotional state. It is the same for adults, so attention must be paid to the body first and foremost. —Yuen Chan

On the clarifying feeling of fear

What I do for a living is a privilege and I love working with my clients, so even though I’ve been practicing for about 30 years, listening to what people are going through has never felt even remotely burdensome. But these past few weeks I’ve noticed I’ve needed the weekends to restore my balance. I think it’s because with my entire caseload affected by the same thing, my listening has accumulated layers and layers of similar concerns—and those layers were adding to what my family, friends, and I were all feeling as well. I’ve tried to be more conscientious about making sure I do my best to start each week with as much fresh space for session content as I can.

I feel incredibly lucky that my 24-year-old daughter and her boyfriend are quarantined with me and are able to work remotely. Having an adult child back in the home for an indefinite amount of time? Heaven. We’re cooking together and having leisurely dinners—ohmygod I’m LOVING it.

On one level, there’s the sense we’re all going through this together—we’re human among humans—and are all anxious and frightened by the uncertainty of how the impact of it will reverberate in our lives. On another level, it’s bringing up the private and unique experiences of what each client has experienced in their life to date. It’s triggering and spiking familiar feelings of whatever was already there: loss, depression, anxiety, troubled family dynamics, etc.

›So for example, one person who, in the past, lost a loved one and has already lived with grief might worry about losing someone to the virus. Another who had a period of depression in the past might be unnerved by quarantining because it feels like their depression has come back, since the signifiers are the same—not wanting to leave the house, spending more time in bed, spending more time in pajamas, feeling isolated. The reason for staying home is different now because it’s driven solely by the virus, but emotionally it might evoke a different kind of suffering from the past.

When the virus made its way here, it demanded our attention, and our basic response to it has been fear. But it’s usually when we’re the most afraid that we’re also most aware of what’s important to us. It’s a time we feel with great clarity who we love. Our fear highlights who and what we want to protect, and that is a gift this pandemic is giving us. Tell the people you love that you love them. And, when this pandemic has run its course, remember not to take for granted the things from your “normal” life that you may be missing right now. —Joyce McFadden

On limiting media intake

It’s really interesting dealing with and coping with many of the same things my clients are experiencing. We are all navigating through uncertainty, fear, loss, and in many cases, we are consuming similar media. At times I am right there, in the depths of it all, and I have to rely heavily on my training to show up fully. They need me right now.

I have been telling my clients to drastically reduce news intake and to create hard boundaries around social media as well.

My routine hasn’t changed much. I live upstate on a farm and come into the city a few times a week to see clients. Most of my practice was already teletherapy. My clients are grateful that they were accustomed to video-only sessions. I feel for those who didn’t really have the choice—it’s disconcerting to have that choice taken from them, and it only contributes to the feeling of powerlessness. I hope people see the value of teletherapy and that more people become open to it. Because I have lower overhead, I cut my fee by 40% for video clients. It also allows me to see more people on a sliding scale—that way I’m able to accommodate clients who can’t find in-network therapists.

I have been telling my clients to drastically reduce news intake and to create hard boundaries around social media as well. It’s something almost all of my clients struggle with anyway. Now, more than ever, I am suggesting that folks sign up for specific alerts, delete Twitter, and unfollow/mute anyone that doesn’t bring them joy. —Raven Burgos

On loneliness

My population, predominantly women ages 18-30, are going through the transitions of first and second jobs, relationships, moving and building community that supports adult life outside of college. Their obstacles are important and familiar. I have personal experience facing those challenges, so I can relate and be compassionate. The difference is that they are not my current challenges—current empty nester, downsizing home, aging parents—so I can usually leave my work at the office. Now, though, their worries are getting sick, losing parents or loved ones, and isolation. These are also my biggest stressors.

I have learned that in uncertainty, it’s good to maintain as much of your routine as possible. I wake up, drink coffee with my husband, shower, and get dressed for the day. Before work, I watch enough of the news to find out how many more people I need to include in my prayers.

As the primary caretaker for my 88-year-old mother, I head to her apartment on the 15th floor to check on her health and prepare her for the day. I’ve decided to take the stairs to make sure I get some exercise. My mom is recently out of the hospital for blood clots in her lungs, so her wellbeing is critical. Next, I walk five more flights to a friend’s empty apartment, which she has graciously offered to me for my work. I make a pot of tea and begin sessions for the day. My only outings (beyond walks) are weekly trips to the grocery store in a mask and gloves.

It is a lot easier now to talk about loneliness, which is a preexisting and concurring pandemic in our country. Most have difficulty admitting to loneliness—like it’s a personal defect—but it comes out naturally as a component of quarantine. I’m finding it is easier to bring up and talk about loneliness in the context of working from home and transition to how it is a familiar feeling to everyday life, pre-coronavirus.

Always in this work, I encourage my clients to build new practices that support getting out of anxious thoughts by engaging in behaviors that deliver good feelings and perhaps new ways of thinking about themselves and problems. For example, in support of overall well-being and connection, I recommend Kristin Neff self-compassion practices, Yoga with Adriene for strength, journaling ideas or gratitudes for the day, and anything creative, no matter the medium. I am also directing clients to check out Brené Brown’s new podcast Unlocking Us, the first episode of Brené on FFT (F**king First Times).

Sheltering in place offers decreased FOMO, removing the worry that others know more or are better at “doing the pandemic.” We are experiencing this first together yet physically apart. And we can learn through compassion and connection how to cope and build meaning. —Janet Ducharme

Graphics by Lorenza Centi.

The post 5 Therapists on What Counseling Is Like During a Pandemic appeared first on Man Repeller.

Leandra and Harling Debate the Merits of Getting Dressed During Quarantine

Last week, I mentioned in an editorial meeting that I’ve been having hard time trying to fill the purpose-sized hole that has opened up in my quarantined life where “getting dressed with intention” used to be. In other words, I can’t stop won’t stop wearing head-to-toe sweats, and it’s making me reflect on the intersection between what I wear and who I am. Leandra, on the other hand, has maintained her desire to put thought into getting dressed, even generating a literal hashtag (#goingnowherebutfuckitimgettingdressed) to this effect. Curious about why and how these different impulses are manifesting, we delved deeper via email. Below is a transcript of the conversation. Meet us in the comments for further discussion when you’re done reading, won’t you please? —Harling

On Fri, April 3, 1:12 p.m., Harling wrote:

I miss the feeling I got when I dressed up in an outfit I felt was an accurate representation of what I wanted to tell the world about myself on a given day, but at the same time I don’t have the desire to do that during quarantine. Not because I’m lazy (though that’s definitely a contributing factor), but because I’ve tried it a couple times and it just… doesn’t work. Dressing up without the intention of going out in the world and having people see what I’m wearing makes me feel like I’m putting on a costume. Like, hello! I’m dressed as my normal self today even though nothing is normal right now! You know what I mean? I’m curious what your experience has been like, since historically you have also relied on getting dressed as a primary vehicle for expression. Based on your consistent outfit documentation I’m guessing this is still the case, but has it been affected at all by the fact that you’re staying inside 99% of the time?

On Fri, April 3, 1:16 p.m., Leandra wrote:

Well, first off, how exactly are you dressing then? And does it make you feel any way at all?

On Fri, April 3, 1:20 p.m., Harling wrote:

Right now I’m alternating between a gray sweatsuit from Lou & Grey (so soft it feels like the inside of a baby’s elbow) and sweatpants from Entireworld with a tie-dye sweatshirt I made myself. Translation: never not wearing some iteration of sweats. I change only to work out or go to sleep–at which points I’m wearing leggings or a plaid flannel nightgown, respectively. Wearing these things right now makes me feel good, I guess, in the sense that I really am listening to what my heart of hearts otherwise known as my gut is telling me to wear, but not-so-good in the sense that I haven’t really felt like myself, or dare I say… attractive!?… in weeks as a result. What about you?

On Fri, April 3, 1:24 p.m., Leandra wrote:

Mostly wearing the same formula over and over–a sweater, a shirt, shorts, and calf-length socks. It’s funny because it’s not like I’ve been trying to dress as if I’m going out, but I have definitely put some thought, or at least intention, into fulfilling a sort of “brand identity” for getting dressed to stay home. You know what I mean? And I am definitely still using e-comm the way I always have–as a meditative scroll for inspiration. I still check Matches pretty regularly and evaluate my saved RealReal searches. Haven’t purchased anything, but there is something about the ritual (I guess that’s why they call it a ritual, ha) that eases the impact of uncertainty.

On Fri, April 3, 1:29 p.m., Harling wrote:

I haven’t been looking at online retailers as much as I used to, but I’m still interested in fashion to the extent that when I see a good “homebound” ensemble, I screenshot it quickly. A good one Juliana Salazar posted recently (that to my delight I actually experienced an urge to recreate): striped pajamas with gray New Balance sneakers and a felt wool overcoat. Not sure if I actually will recreate it, but the fact that for a moment I really wanted to was meaningful in some way. I’ve also been pretty inspired by your array of gym shorts.

On Fri, April 3, 1:33 p.m., Leandra wrote:

I didn’t even know I had so many gym shorts (three pairs, to be clear). Then again, I think that’s the thing about getting dressed for home that feels right–it’s allowing me to repurpose all these clothes I previously used so one-dimensionally, i.e. to exercise, in more irreverent ways. But regarding your aforementioned frustration, what do you want to tell the world about yourself, if anything?

On Fri, April 3, 1:44 p.m., Harling wrote:

That’s a hard question to answer without sounding corny! (I’ve been typing and deleting for five minutes.) I suppose it varies from day to day, but a common thread that runs through it is a desire to make clear the fact that I’m a delayed-release extrovert (that’s my way of saying I probably come across as an introvert at first, but at heart I’m pretty extroverted, it just takes time to become apparent). Wearing something intentional is my way of hinting at that, I think. And if I had to explain why that’s important to me, I guess I’d tell you it’s because one of my greatest sources of social anxiety is being written off as boring or un-funny just because the better parts of my personality aren’t immediately apparent if I don’t know the royal you very well… so here’s an outfit to get to know me a little faster!

On Fri, April 3, 1:47 p.m., Leandra wrote

Can I offer an alternative suggestion that you can absolutely feel free to debunk: I think recently we have really reconnected with the rawness that once defined and established Man Repeller. And for perhaps the first time in a long time, you are using longer-than-an-Instagram-caption writing to share who you are, which the more “editorial” stuff we have gotten into the habit of making here doesn’t get at.

On Fri, April 3, 1:55 p.m., Harling wrote

So interesting that you bring that up in connection to getting dressed, because as hard as it’s been for me to motivate to put on a pair of pants that don’t have an elasticized waist, it’s been easier than ever for me to WRITE STUFF. To that point, one of the many ways quarantine has thrown me for a loop is that it’s really messed with my sense of purpose. The necessity of getting dressed every day used to be such a significant source of it for me, but with that taken off the table, I’ve sort of been like… okay, now what!? How do I fill the hole? Writing has been one way, for sure. I also think cooking is becoming another, much to my astonishment. It hasn’t been a seamless swap, though. I feel like I’m reentering the quarter-life crisis that defined my mid-twenties (which I only RECENTLY climbed out of) and therefore being forced to recalibrate who I am. Again. And that’s always an uncomfortable process.

On Fri, April 3, 2:07 p.m., Leandra wrote

So uncomfortable. But if you can think of it like the feeling of being in minute two of a plank when everything is shaking and an SLT instructor is yelling into your ear in her chipper-ass voice, “That’s the feeling of change!” and forget for a second that you hate her and exercise and this plank so much to acknowledge that it’s true, but also that when applied to your life, that discomfort is the feeling of growth–that makes it a little less unsettling. Or it has for me! The thing I’ll say about getting dressed is that it sounds like you’re giving it a lot more credit than you’re giving to yourself–the getting dressed is really just a vehicle for you to be who you are and serve your purpose, it’s not the actual purpose. I think deep down you know that.

Which I can only say, by the way, from the vantage point of having been in a similar place. Of course I have thought that I am the sum of what I wear–I built my adult likeness on categorizing the way I dress as “Man Repeller.” Sometimes I’ve wondered if the relationships and worthiness and respect that I’ve created in my adult life would unravel if Man Repeller went away, and at times it has paralyzed me–but over the last, let’s say, 3-6 months (and I think this is partially what settling into your 30s gives you), I’ve realized that all of it–the dressing, the categorizing of the dressing, the business and onwards–is actually just a vehicle that lets me act out my purpose. Does that make sense? And maybe this is also why my desire to get dressed hasn’t tempered in quarantine. Or you know what? Maybe it has tempered–it’s not like I’ve been putting on jeans and blazers and shit–and I haven’t even realized that until just now because, I guess, I’m still acting out my purpose? I don’t know why I have such a hard time owning this sentiment — see: the question mark, the sheepishness around the prospect. I have to figure that out — but to your point: Cooking has been an unlikely but welcome release of expression.

On Fri, April 3, 2:14 p.m., Harling wrote

Oof. Yes. Thinking about it in those terms is both relieving and terrifying at once. Relieving because, you know, wherever I go, there I am–in other words, the summation of who I am remains intact, regardless of where I am or how I’m feeling or what I’m doing or what I’m wearing. It’s inescapable. But terrifying because sometimes escape is such a delight, and right now it is unavailable in multiple respects. I’m spending so much more time inside my own head without the distraction of having to get up and get dressed and go out into the world and socialize and absorb. Because of that I’m scratching off the barnacles of some aspects of my identity that I think I was avoiding before. So maybe my angst about not putting together a legitimate outfit every morning isn’t stemming from a lack of purpose, but rather a lack of the aesthetically pleasing packaging I used to wrap my self up in every day. And what I’m left with is something that feels a lot more vulnerable.

On Fri, April 3, 2:16 p.m., Leandra wrote

That’s the thing about this quarantine. It’s forcing those of us who frankly have the privilege of self-reflection and examination during this time to spill into the cracks of who we are and clean out the residual gook we’ve been trying to avoid.

On Fri, April 3, 2:17 p.m., Harling wrote

I’m glad you brought up privilege because it’s what my mind circles back to every time I think (or type) something remotely navel-gaze-y. This experience is hard for everyone but a lot harder for some people, and that doesn’t get lost on me, and our collective purpose is to try to help each other in the best ways we can.

On Fri, April 3, 2:23 p.m., Leandra wrote

I do the same thing. And I don’t know if it’s like this for you, but recalling how much worse it is for so many people makes me try to push my feelings down every time they come up, passing them off as not worth feeling because there are actual problems right in front of our noses. Sometimes I literally roll my eyes at myself as I’m writing stuff down because I can’t even believe I’m indulging myself when we are growing used to reading about an escalating death toll because of this virus that accelerates by the day. It is catastrophic and I don’t use that term lightly.

But then I think about Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, which initially seemed like a disproportionate reference (he’s a Holocaust survivor who wrote about the psychotherapeutic method of finding a purpose that makes you feel good and to imagining yourself living it). But ultimately I realized that we’re always trying to survive–that is the rat race of life. But perhaps now more than ever before in our respective lifetimes, we’re all doing it for the same reason, at the same time. At varying degrees of magnitude, I really don’t mean to diminish the graver experience of another. But isn’t that something? If you can figure out a way to find meaning from the sidelines and survive–by reading a tabloid magazine, pairing a Fair Isle cardigan with cashmere shorts, cooking an elaborate recipe that calls for a handful of baby spinach, writing your guts out, then good. on. you. Don’t let anyone, least not yourself!, crush that enterprise.

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Open Thread: What Do You Cook When You’re Homesick?

Every summer during high school, I’d spend two weeks of my six-week summer vacation camping with my best friend’s family. The campground we frequented—one of my favorite places in the world—is nestled inside a national park on Australia’s Central Coast, right by the beach. We filled our days swimming and reading and almost every night, we’d slap on head lamps and climb to a lookout to watch the sun set. At the end of the trip, I’d always be sad to leave, but ready to go home. Back then, two weeks felt like a lifetime—I’d spend the whole car trip back counting down the kilometers on road signs.

Every time I got home, my mum cooked a thick, goopy beef stew with big chunks of beef and potatoes, carrots, and onions, and bay leaves that I swear only ever make it into my bowl, served on two slices of white buttery toast. To this day, whenever my mum asks what I’d like my first meal at home to be, after a long time away, I always say stew on toast.

I’m supposed to be in Australia right now for a friend’s wedding. But, like a lot of expats and immigrants, I’m far from home with no easy way to get back there—even if I desperately wanted to—with almost all flights between my two homes, Sydney and the US, grounded until further notice. I’m happy to be in New York with my partner, safe in my apartment with a job I can do remotely, but at random times each day, I’ll feel a sudden onset of that same heavy feeling I would have on the last day camping, I just want to be at home.

Last week, as the last regular flight from New York to Sydney was leaving, the thought came to me: I should make stew. I searched my email inbox for the recipe I could have sworn my mum sent me years ago when I first moved away from home, but found nothing. So, I searched the NYT Cooking app and found a recipe for an Old-Fashioned Beef Stew that looked just like my mum’s. For an hour and a half the stew simmered on my stove, the smell of red wine and tender beef filling up my apartment. That night, with two slices of stew-covered toast in front of me, I felt at home. I took a photo and sent it to Mum, unsure if she’d even recognize the significance of my cooking a meal I wouldn’t normally attempt. Her reply, “Looks wonderful,” didn’t seem to convey that she caught onto the significance, but I was happy to be sharing—in some capacity—a meal we have in common.

Right now, I’m thinking a lot about the recipes that can momentarily transport me to the long wooden kitchen table where I grew up eating dinner. So I’m curious: What’s a recipe or meal that makes you feel less alone you when you’re homesick?

Animation by Lorenza Centi.

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