Leandra Medine's Blog, page 588

MR Writers Club Prompt: The Greatest Love Story Never Told

Not to be dramatic, but on the day we met, I practically died. You could say he saved my life. You could also argue that he was just being a good driver in the absence of my being a good pedestrian — he hit the breaks when I ran across the street which meant that I simultaneously lived and fell in love.

Our eyes locked as people began to lean on their horns. We were holding up traffic (so us), so he signaled to me that he’d meet me around the corner then yelled out the window, “Get there safely!” He’s such a joker.

There, on the corner of West 10th and Hudson, I shook hands with the ~*man of my dreams.*~

Then we laughed about how weird it was to be shaking hands.

“What is this, a business deal?” He asked.

“I know, right,” I said so casually that I almost fell asleep.

“It’s so weird,” (this is him talking again), “In addition to wanting to give you the world, a sail boat, my Seamless account password and set up some system so that you never again have to find that tiny little Apple TV remote that always gets lost in your couch, I have all of these horses that I don’t know what to do with.”

“Horses!” I shouted.

“Yes,” he spoke again. “Too many of them. The problem is that they are stabled in this horse mansion that is annoyingly attached to this other mansion meant for humans that is strangely convenient to your office even though it’s located in an unspecific region.”

“But what will you do???” (That’s me with all the question marks. I am very concerned about him!)

“I was thinking I’d give all that to you. It won’t solve the remote problem, but it’s just a little gesture to show that in addition to respecting you, I trust you.”

And then, just as he was getting ready to ask me about my favorite author and tell me about his favorite childhood memory, a car horn honked one more time.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE ROAD.”

I was still standing in the middle of the street. Whoops. I jumped to the sidewalk while my now-ex-lover drove away, polluting my lungs with the smog of his car and my broken day dream. No horses. No magic remote finder. Just the greatest love story that never was.

…Now tell me yours. That one you crafted you in your head during class in a moment of boredom about that person who possibly winked at you despite the fact that he or she very well may have been sneezing — but it struck your heart so hard you practically died.

Good thing you’re alive!

Because it means you can spare less than 500 words to write your story and send it to write@manrepeller.com by Thursday, November 19 at noon EST. Cool great can’t wait.

Photographed by Annie Leibovitz for Disney via Doctor Disney.

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6 WTFs From Missy Elliott’s New Single, “WTF”

You cannot call it a comeback. Geniuses take leaves of absence, sabbaticals, extended naps, but they’re never gone. They’re never over. No one doubted this about Missy Elliott for a second. She’s been around, of course: (Jack Ü’s “Take Ü There,” Janet Jackson’s “BURNITUP!,” a surprise Super Bowl appearance) but patient fans couldn’t help but wonder when her next solo drop would be.

And then,

BOOM.

Missy Misdemeanor Elliott released her first single in 3 three years (featuring happy-ass Pharrell Williams yea yea whatever this is about HER not him) and the world went wild. It’s so good.

The music video is too. Though the song title’s WTF is an acronym for “Where They From,” it wouldn’t feel like a Missy production without an ample dose of what-the-fuck weird. To celebrate, her video’s top 6 WTF moments:

1. Missy Elliott plays the role she was born to as Human Disco Ball, effectively beating out every sequined look in Dior’s Pre-Fall collection and glitterized show-goers during the Fall 15 season in Paris.

2. These jeans at 1:15. First person to find them for me gets a high five.

3. At 1:19, she is the pop-art-world’s answer to Professor Quirrell’s Voldemort-Head-Takeover in Harry Potter.

4. You may be stoked on Missy’s new release but the puppets are super, super bored. (Except for Pharrell who’s smirking. Probably because he’s happy, if you hadn’t heard.)

5. Missy just confirmed it: Hoverboards, aka Swagways, are having the best year ever.

She also just blew Aladdin and these mobile Justin Biebers out of the water.

6. She’s wearing sunglasses that confirm the 2000s are back, similar to a pair of Pradas Leandra Gchatted me about and asked, “Remember when sunglasses looked like this?”

There’s 100% no shot that Missy Misdemeanor Elliott did not borrow them from this llama who stupidly didn’t want them.

Your loss, dude. I think the trend has officially been set.

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6 Contemporary Female Sculptors to Know (Plus Pieces You Can Afford)

You may remember Kate from the time she guided us to starting our art collections.  She’s back, with more.  

A new wave of contemporary female sculptors are using their hands to break the male-dominated mold: Dwyer Kilcollin, Andrea Mcginty, Hannah Levy, Lauren Seiden, Jessi Reaves and Leah Dixon are making names for themselves while pushing art into the third dimension. Their creations are physical manifestations of creativity, strength and wit that demand equal floor space.

However…if your home is not a museum and your biggest financial donor is your boss (the second biggest: your mom on your birthday), there’s no reason you can’t get started on your own sculpture collection.

So, below, the 6 women in the industry you should know, plus the more affordable “If You Like X, Then Try Y” items to buy.

Andrea McGinty

Andrea Mcginty, I Feel Very Vulnerable Right Now, I Texted Him First, 2015

With a killer sense of humor and a refreshing eye on meme culture, McGinty confronts erotica, technology and the Internet by bringing inanimate objects to life. Whether it’s through humidifiers dressed in inspirational novelty tees or a series of shattered iPhones displaying her dark sex secrets, McGinty provokes the need to reveal ourselves.

If you like McGinty’s wit, try this piece by Brittany Mojo ($300) or this “Pool Toy” by Misaki Kawai ($350).

Dwyer Kilcollin

Dwyer Kilcollin, Banquet Conference, 2015

A stone mason for the digital age, this LA-based artist uses a mixture of organic matter and pigments to handcraft recognizable and abstract objects. Take the chairs and vases resembling formations you might find deep in a cave, or her landscape images that reach out from the stone canvases; Kilcollin’s works are at once prehistoric and futuristic.

If you like this table, try this one by Ramon Hulspas ($1,300).

Hannah Levy

Hannah Levy, Untitled, 2014

Using a pairing of organic and metallic substances, Levy makes tactile sculptures that juxtapose the hard and soft textures between body and material. Yes, those fleshy asparagus protruding from the wall might seem risqué and the cutting board with tiny pink nipples a bit off-putting, but by re-crafting everyday objects in materials that resemble skin and bones, humanity is instated where it’s least expected.

If you’re into the idea of be-nipped household items, try: Universal Isaac pottery ($65 each)

Lauren Seiden

Lauren Seiden, Wrap, 2015

Just because Seiden uses paper and string to craft her large scale sculptures doesn’t mean her process is lightweight. Using layers of graphite to create a hardened, almost metallic structure and sheen, these pieces take on the gestures of the artist as she manipulates them while introducing a magnetic movement.

If you like her aesthetic, try Jenny E Balisle for a similar vibe. (Starting around $750.)

Jessi Reaves

Jessi Reaves, Idol of the Hares, 2014

Who said your furniture can’t double as an art piece, and that your art-meets-furniture can’t be weird? Reaves turns furniture design inside out (sometimes literally) using expected materials in unexpected places, like foam to make a lounger or polar fleece on an office chair. If Pee Wee Herman had an evil lair, his decorator would be Jessi Reaves.

If you like to get weird, try these pieces by Sabina Ott ($250) or Margo Weber ($390)

Leah Dixon

Leah Dixon, Stealth Bomber, installation view from the UNTITLED Art Fair in Miami Beach, 2013

As a performer and an artist, Dixon’s work is as much in the process as it is the product. Making objects like a hand-cut yoga mat with images of war or a structure resembling a Stealth Bomber for lounging in Miami beach, Dixon confronts political correctness in physical labor and live creation, describing herself as a “one-woman making machine.”

If you like the geometric nature of her work, try this glass and oxidized sculpture by Linda Ross ($600). If you’re looking for a more quiet piece that still takes up space, try Karolina Maszkiewicz. (Starting at $350)

Follow Kate on Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr (for a really, really good time).  

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How to Wear a Sweater as a Scarf

I’ve recently grown a violent aversion toward scarves. I do not use the word violent lightly. As a matter of fact, just last week Amelia tumbled into the office wearing the kind of scarf that temporarily paralyzes neck movement and in that moment, a pit inside my belly started to fire up and suddenly, I knew I had a moral obligation to make the paralysis more permanent. So I killed her and now she’s dead.

The end!

I’m just kidding, she is still very much alive and in fact seated to my left and picking at gray hairs at the crown of her head while attempting contact with Marie Kondo (What? We want to meet her) and my aversion really isn’t that violent but I will tell you that I just don’t like scarves anymore. They’re bulky and distract coats and look weird with cropped leather jackets which seems to be the most popular way to wear them in November and even though they’re not unnecessary, they can be avoided thanks to turtlenecks and turtleneck-laces and high collars and sweaters, so I’m avoiding them.

And when I say sweaters, by the way, what I mean is not those that you wear over your person — I mean those that you creatively repurpose as scarves. This is an idea that I stole from

a) Lucy Chadwick

b) Rosetta Getty’s Fall 2015 look book

c) Ham sandwich

Turning old sweaters into scarves is a pretty good way to recycle them without feeling like you’re forcing yourself to wear stuff you don’t want to be wearing, and using new sweaters to compliment other sweaters is a good way to express a sense of personal style that challenges the traditional ways we’re taught to keep warm, which makes the practice a metaphor for living a fulfilling life, rejecting compliance and questioning the system in pursuit of divine truth.

I’m kidding. It just looks cool. Try it. Here’s a how-to GIF.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

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What Your Ex Says About You

For more of the stuff that says stuff about you…clicky, clicky.

The best thing about ex boyfriends is where they live: the past. This means that technically, your ghosts say a great deal about who you were, but not much about who you are now. (You’re you!) Instead, think of your exes like fun dinosaur bones. And interpret that sentence however you’d like. They are pieces that make up a larger picture — a picture that you may choose to crop the shit out of once things are finally, officially, over.

You caught him at the pinnacle of his 6th-grade-success. Same grade as you. He was the class dodgeball star, least likely to get bloody noses and voted “most dreamy” among those peers who hung posters of teen-zine-mandated heartthrobs on their walls. He asked you out over AIM and from there, romance. What it said about you: you were a sucker for Disney Channel swag, peanut butter breath and the sound of a digital open door.

Even now — years later — as you back-stalk the Facebook photos of this love-turned stranger, you ask yourself, “What happened?” You’re not referring to how it ended, of course (that was because of distance: the walk from his locker to yours proved terrifying). Instead, you’re secretly questioning if you, too, peaked.

 

Everyone warned you against him. You warned you against him. He likely even warned you against him. But you didn’t listen.

What it says about you: you thought you could perform miracles after growing up on a diet of bad-boy-reformed influences (Ten Things I Hate About You, Grease, Judd Nelson). Turns out you could not. You got your heart broken and can now smell a red flag a smile away. (T or F, though: you still have a soft spot for guys just like this one.)

This wasn’t too long ago, was it? He was sweet and likely had great hair. You cannot be blamed for enjoying the attention of someone who thinks you’re awesome and has yet to grow jaded by “the scene.” At the time, this relationship said you were just looking for fun. It also may have been the very thing that prompted you into searching for the polar opposite…

 He tends to follow the younger guy. You were “done with the bullshit” and ready to date someone “mature.” His educational profile may have ranged from the raunchy to the Freudian-paternal, but once it ended, you realized you weren’t as prepared to grow up as you thought you were.

You either met him online or were set up through a friend. He sounded perfect. He looked perfect, too. Then you met in person and something didn’t click. You probably blamed yourself for not liking this person because, hello, he was perfect. What’s wrong with you? All it really said about you is that this wasn’t your match, but at the time, it whispered a false destiny into your ear: future cat lady.

The one until he wasn’t — is there any greater heartbreak? If you’re still calling him “The One,” you’re not over it. Ask Isaac about that. Or date your three best friends. 3 > 1.

This is the hardest kind of ex to have because it’s the hardest kind to talk about: if you weren’t ever technically together, then how can you technically be over and apart? Calling someone your ex when you never DTR’d can be more awkward than calling them your boyfriend or girlfriend — what if they find out? …What if they never actually ended things and you just missed a text? An Instagram like? WHY IS HE STILL OPENING YOUR SNAPCHATS?

What this says about you: you need a drink, a date and a tech-detox.

This person swooped you off your feet during three months of studying abroad. You came back a changed woman who will forever reference “that one time in Belgium” with a dreamy look on your face. Your friends will roll their eyes and remind you that this makes you no more international than an IHOP. You will remind them that you’re now technically considered bilingual.

You tried because your friends loved him even though you knew it wasn’t gonna last. He was great, and that sucks. But you weren’t ready. Don’t future-trip, either; latent realizations of fictitious love will only trap you in a projection room of some theoretical life you could have had. You know mom’s famous words: if it’s meant to be, it will be. For now, remind your friends that if they love him so much, they can marry him.

What’s that saying again? Everyone’s got one? In the case of your exes, depending on how long you’ve been dating and in what city, you could be a medical anomaly and have at least five. Ask around, though: in the dating world, this is perfectly normal. Nothing to be worried about — so long as none of them flare back up.

***

PS: If you think about it (if you’re stressing about it), the fact that they’re no longer in your life probably says way more about them. Don’t linger a second longer. Bye Philicia.

Illustrations by Alessandra Olanow; go follow her on Instagram!

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How Many Tabs Do You Have Open?

…

….

…..

Sorry! I was counting the number of tabs I had open on my browser, and it took three lines of ellipses to arrive at 24. That’s two dozen — the number of eggs one should consume over the course of a week according to an acupuncturist who told me I should eat two dozen eggs a week (I’m not listening). Also the number of hours in a day, the title of a very popular television show and a multiple of the number 6, which, twice more is also the number of the beast, referring specifically to the book of revelation and less specifically to the book of burn out, technology detoxification and the harsh reality that we are not capable of multitasking. Period. Point blank. We just can’t do it.

We’re now up to 25 open tabs because I had to Google 666 to make sure I was right about the book of revelation. (I was.)

I can expound upon which tabs are open: one for Business of Fashion, two for the New York Times, one for Hairpin, three for e-commerce sites (I should absolutely buy this top, right?), a couple shared Excel documents, my calendar and four — I don’t know why — for various e-mails which I will probably close out, thus forgetting to reply and falling into an abyss of missed connections I will no doubt later regret.*

And see, that’s the thing: I’m conditioning myself to fail. To forget what I’m doing and to think that’s okay. I haven’t spent longer than, like, 3-5 seconds in any of the tabs that are open. I googled “brunch man repeller” earlier this morning because I was looking for old stories we’ve written on the topic and haven’t revisited the tab since. There’s a Seamless tab open because I want to order breakfast. Well, wanted to order breakfast; at the time of this writing, it is 12:27 p.m. And speaking of writing, I can’t even keep this tab open. If I’m being really honest, I feel like the browser has become a metaphor for the brain, and the tabs are the manifold thoughts that come in and go out faster than an opinion can be formulated. So here’s what I’m going to do: commit to no more than five tabs open with the hope of bringing that down slowly but surely to one at a time so that the next time this comes up, there’s more substance, less anxiety at the finish line. Then we can talk about it because that’s what people do when they’re focused.

Before all of that though, state the following:

+How many tabs you have open

+How many tabs you’d like to have open

+What you’re going to do to get there

Bye!

Collage by Krista Anna Lewis

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A Century’s Worth of Boots Under $500

They say a good pair of boots should last you a decade, which means that ten pairs will last you a century thus giving you purpose! A will to live! So that you can call yourself a centenarian with gumption, pride and really good shoes.

Except…no one has ever truly insinuated that a good pair of boots will last you ten years. In a city like New York, in fact, you’re lucky if they last you a full season. But that’s just it: they should definitely last longer than a season. And maybe they don’t because we’re not paying attention to what we buy — putting too much emphasis on the thing and the trend and the pressure point we’re trying to press now instead of the one we’ll want to keep coming back to later. Not that much later — but later. So instead of the plebeian, “Here are 100 boots under $100,” or the fiercely polarizing, “Fifty pairs of boots that cost more than a kidney transplant,” here’s a middle man — a group of ten pairs of boots that we (I?) like (and in some instances own), coming in under $500 dollars but almost always over $100.

Because, young bucks, we’re members of the slow fashion movement, right? So instead of buy-to-chuck, we buy to stash.

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Follow the slideshow above like it is a yellow brick road and then below, in the comfort station that truly is a digital toilet, leave a comment to tell me this: do you find these posts helpful when you shop? Would you like to see more of them? If not, what kind of shopping posts would you like and perhaps most importantly: which boots are you getting?

Individual collages by Elizabeth Tamkin, feature collage by Krista Anna Lewis

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Ask Isaac: The Booty Caller Who Won’t Text Back

Hi there. I relate 100% to how this guy is behaving, so let me explain to you exactly why you have to stop seeing him right now.

I’m a changed man. But in my younger years, I went through a few bouts of low self-esteem where the only way I could get validation was by having a girl (or multiple girls) who liked me “on call.” Whether or not I liked them back was irrelevant. What mattered to me was feeling like there was somebody out there who cared about me, was attracted to me, who would answer the phone and come running at any time of the day or night.

To me, they were like drugs I used to make myself feel better whenever I was feeling shitty. To them, I was like a Tasmanian devil who’d show up every once in a while, shower them with an enormous amount of attention, charm their friends and family then disappear, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake… until the next time I felt like I needed some validation.

I knew what I was doing and I didn’t feel good about it, so I used to try and deter myself by deleting their number, blocking them on my iPhone, un-friending them on Facebook, not responding to text messages, promising myself I would never ever, ever, ever hit them up again. But guess what? LACK OF SELF CONTROL HAPPENED. A week would go by and I’d tell myself that we had a good time, so why not call her up again at midnight on a Tuesday. She wouldn’t come if she didn’t want to, right? RIGHT?

This guy is doing the same thing to you. He’s using you to make himself feel better and you’re allowing it to happen by letting him treat you with disrespect. Stop asking, “How high?” when he says, “Jump.”

He’s shown you who he is and what he wants out of you. He will continue to do this exact same back-and-forth dance with you until it gets old for him or until you delete his number and put down the phone. Booty Callers make collect calls: whoever accepts ends up paying.

Collage by Krista Anna Lewis.  Want more Isaac?  Click here.  Want to see Isaac with makeup on (sort of)?  Click here.

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Oh Boy Podcast Episode 12: Nicolette Mason

Nicolette Mason cringes at the term “Web 2.0,” but anyone listening to the blogger, creative consultant and Marie Claire columnist will likely glaze over that pop word and instead focus on her success. After all, this digital space called the modern Internet offered Mason a platform because she had something real to say.

She’s a queer, plus-sized woman who advocates body positivity and industry diversity. Growing up, she was confident but aware that she didn’t fit the societal norms — especially not the ones in her conservative, traditional community. She had to prove to her parents that she was making the right choices — that following a different path from the one they set, quitting her job and putting herself before an industry notorious for its critical eye wasn’t totally insane. In doing so, she proved to herself and the fashion world that this “blogging thing” is exactly what she was meant to do.

For anyone who’s a little bit unsure about that risky career move, who’s ever felt different, has ever suspected Carrie Bradshaw might be a lier, or if you’re like, “I just came for the free merch,” (Fun fact: Nicolette Mason was in a fake band. They had no music, though they did have tee shirts) this podcast is for you. I’d tell you more but I’m going to instead paraphrase Kanye West and let Nicolette Mason finish.

Follow Nicolette Mason on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. You can also visit her site here.

Follow host Jay Buim on Instagram or visit his website here; l ogo and feature illustration by Kelly  Shami.

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What’s Your Favorite Social Media App?

Social media is like that annoying friend who’s been a part of your group for so long that no one could imagine not including her. No one cares about a party unless she attends. It’s so dumb. Everyone pays attention to her at bars despite the million other people around. Group dinners somehow always become about her. Of course, even though she pisses you off non-stop, is super needy, never shuts up and gets offended easily, you love this friend. You can talk shit about her, but when anyone else does it, you’re like, You hang out with Becky too, dude. Calm down.

That’s how I feel about Instagram. It ruins my life on a day to day basis. I’m less productive, more stalker-y and never satisfied with my lunch because everyone else is eating neatly organized charcuterie. But you know, it also rules. It’s how I keep up with my friends and Oprah and the memes. It defeats boredom while I’m standing somewhere with my eyes open. Often, it’s a source of inspiration.

I like Twitter, too. It’s good for jokes. Facebook’s great for random videos. Tumblr for the GIFS. Snapchat for staying in touch. Venmo (does that count?) to see who’s the funniest among my rent-paying comrades.

But who the hell cares what I’m into? I’m asking YOU: What’s your favorite social media app? Ready, set, socialize!

Illustration by Patrick Keohane of @RSTheory.

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