Leandra Medine's Blog, page 617

The Rules of Style by Winona Ryder

Very important news: Yesterday, Winona Ryder confirmed a memo posted to the rumor bulletin that suggested a Beetlejuice sequel was in motion. And you know what that means, right? Lydia is baaaaaaack. So bring on the dancing-while-levitating! Do it with short bangs clipped into your forehead! Add some hair gel so you can make said bangs look like pointy scallops! Bask in the glory of chokers! Plaid tea-length skirts! Black capes! The notion of a red wedding gown. Ask not what you can do for your under eye bags, but rather what they can do for you.

Given the seminal roles Ryder has played, we got to thinking about the otherwise multifarious style rules she’s laid down on us through her characters in two other movies — Heathers and Edward Scissorhands. So if you’re thinking about Netflix but standing right in front of your closet, do consider the below.

More Rules of Style, right this way

1) Black wide-brimmed hats and chokers may seem very Hedi Slimane for Saint Laurent, but let us not forget that Lydia Deetz practically trademarked the look in 1988.

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2) Speaking of hats, see what you can do about finding a bonnet, a straw bowler or a black boater cap. Modern iterations welcome but not required.

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3) Brown textured fabrics may initially call to mind the groovy 1970s, but note that the mid-19th-century women did it first.

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4) Popularity isn’t everything, but shrunken round glasses might be. (A monocle definitely is.)

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5) When considering sweaters, vests, sweater vests and shirts, remember that menswear proper trumps menswear-inspired.

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6) Your skirt could probably use a pair of ankle socks.

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7) Wear a dirndl top, and if you can, make it blue.

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8) The power of a kimino should never be underestimated.

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9) Button down, button down, button down. (But button it up.)

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10) And when in doubt, dust that shirt off your shoulder. It’s what Winona would want.

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And finally, FOR THE LOVE OF BEETLEMAIN (portmanteau alert — that’s Beetlejuice x Balmain), BUY A STRIPED SUIT.

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‘Paper Towns’ is a PG-13 ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’

Amelia Diamond, our blind movie reviewer, has assumed the plight of reviewing Fifty Shades of Grey, capitalizing on its idiosyncrasies to substantiate her argument that it is weird. She has also written an irreverent tribute to The Notebook. Today, she tackles Cara Delevingne’s cinematic debut in Paper Towns.

John Green has fooled me at least a few times in this life.

Because I summer under rocks, I was late to learn about The Fault in Our Stars and the author’s monopoly on the Young Adult literary genre. When I did come across Green’s description of falling in love: “like falling asleep: slowly, and then all at once,” I promptly worked it into my comedy routine. Twice. What a fool I was, round 1.

Months later, a friend cajoled me into watching the movie adaption of his book. After much resistance I found myself choking on said quote and then proceeded to sob past the closing credits. Twice fooled, zero shame.

Then I signed myself up to watch the newest movie inspired by a book of his: Paper Towns. I thought it would be bad and make for a funny story, but if you’re good at identifying patterns then you already know the punchline: I loved it. Three times fooled and here I am.

It is, in a single sentence review, a 1980s John Hughes movie for the Instagram generation.

However! That does not mean it wasn’t completely insane. (16 Candles is a weird movie too.)

Let’s review.

1. The main character Margo (Cara Delevingne) hates entering through front doors. She’s a window climber, similar to Clarissa Explains It All’s Sam Anders (to whom she also bears a striking resemblance).

2. When she is not scaling roofs, she is breaking into homes. It’s just her little thing! Let her have it!

3. I forgot to mention that she is a full serial killer. If 1 and 2 didn’t clarify that for you, perhaps the fact that she actively writes in ransom-note font (she believes the rules of traditional capitalization to be “unfair to the letters in the middle”) will convince you.

4. No? You still think that’s just the handwriting of someone BrOuGht Up On tHe InTerNet? Consider this: with zero context or explanation, she brings our protagonist, Quentin “Q” Jacobsen, to the boardroom of known killer Christian Grey.

At 1:21, observe.

5. To keep the movie PG-13, the infamous S&M contract agreement must have been edited out. Hollywood-magic loophole: her shopping list is proof.

At :022, behold.

7. However, the Nair was not used for sexual purposes. Instead, it was used to take the eyebrow off of a sleeping person in a violent act of revenge. “What are you going to regret more,” asks Margo. “Removing Chuck’s eyebrow, or not removing Chuck’s eyebrow?”

Probably the former, Margo. Also note that the irony here is not lost on me: queen of the brows removing someone else’s brow. Possibly to make a voodoo hair doll? Now I am not so sure.

8. No one does homework.

9. No one brushes their teeth, either. (Just like in 50 Shades!) Prior to the boardroom scene, Quentin is awoken by Margo, hangs out with her all night and then is confused as to why she discreetly avoids his face during their slow dance. Later, the kid from Silicon Valley who messed up Pied Piper’s coding pukes at a party then goes a full 48 hours without so much as a Trident Layer.

10. The film’s unofficial heroes are the parents of Q’s sidekick, Radar. Of note: this diagnosis is in no way connected to their word-record-breaking aspirations to own the largest collection of black Santas but rather, for naming their child Radar. The language of dolphins.

Despite all of this, I can pinpoint the exact moment the movie had me hooked: Margo referred to her ex-boyfriend’s wiener as “the Rhode Island of penises” because, “It may have an illustrious history, but it sure isn’t big.”

Turns out I fell in love with John Green just like he said I would. You know…slowly, and then all at once.

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Follow This Instagram!

Are you feeling uninspired by your Instagram feed? Is it lacking nutrition both figuratively (you know, brain nourishment) and literally (because you unfollowed everyone who posts açai bowls, carrot sticks and avocado toast)? If you answered yes or no or anything in between, put on your jersey and join the team: San Francisco-based fashion illustrator Gretchen Röehrs is about to do a fruit-layup.

Her account has nothing to do with basketball, by the way.

But it has everything to do with food and fashion. Röehrs marries the runway to the edible with her mixed-media drawings. She’s officiated the ceremonies of Sonia Rykiel to lemons, Rei Kawakubo to oyster shells, Jason Wu to peaches and once made a gown out of swiss chard. Her use of farmers market finds is so original and playful that I, for one, am tempted to chuck my smoked salmon across the room just to see where it lands and hope it turns into a really artful picture I can upload.

So what are you waiting for? Put on your shishito pepper harem pants and follow that illustrator! Unless, you know, you have better suggestions — we are always looking to learn.

Follow Gretchen on Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest. You can also visit her site here.

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Calling All Women! Share Your Period Piece

Here’s what’s happening on the Internet right now:

Last Thursday during the GOP debate, Fox news anchor Megyn Kelly addressed several statements Donald Trump has said that have been identified as hugely misogynistic and questioned his motives.

The following day, Donald Trump lashed out and retorted with something to the effect of, “she has blood coming out of her.”

Subsequently, the Internet went up in arms, berating Trump for adding a new bullet point to the list of Things Men Should Not Say To or About Women.

Of recent and important note have been the following viral stories:

A) Various women live-tweeting their periods at Donald Trump

B) Kiran Gandhi, who added one more definition to the term “free balling.” (For the uninitiated, the Harvard Business School grad and professional drummer got her period, did not wear a tampon and ran the London marathon, wearing her menstrual puddle proud over her leggings through the duration of the 27 miles.

Now, as someone who has taken Provera twice in the past two years due to an unexpected sabbatical on the part of my ovaries, let me just say it is a fucking treat to bleed when you’re no longer doing it. I miss it all: the cramps, the period brain, the chocolate chip cookie dough. There is this strange tension that arises at the crux of a woman’s relationship with her near-alien ability (Earth 2.0., here we come!) to bleed consistently for several consecutive days without dying, but I digress. The purpose of the following call to action is neither to latch on to the nipple of the recent media’s frenzy nor is it to reprimand any obnoxious opinion about the state of a woman’s cycle.

Why? Because we can yell all we want. Maybe instead we should educate. Or rather, remind. Because it’s like my friend Arielle once said to me while I was kneeled over and feeling like a pair of vibrating chainsaws were murdering me from the inside out: you’re doing it for posterity. It’s as simple as that.

And it’s true, you see! Uneducated or forgetful men of the world, without the blood, your seamen is futile. There are no babies. No future generations of toupees, or presidencies, or genitals that both do and don’t spit blood.

So women: here’s the call to action, okay? Share your most elaborate period piece. The one you can’t wait to tell your kid about. Upload a photo if you’d like. Spare not a single detail.

And then! If you’re all amped up and shit, reread The Period Panties, a chapter in my book about when I got my period and bled through a Juicy Couture corduroy jacket and knapsack. Yes, knapsack.

I’ll get the ball rolling. Meet me in the comments.

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Rash Talk With Cara Delevingne’s Skin Savior

In May, Cara Delevingne’s esthetician helped us get our skin together. This month, she fixes our rashes.

Rashes are like your childhood neighbor if yours, like mine, was not the dreamy boy/girl next door but rather, a weird kid who showed up out of nowhere at the worst times and then ruined something like a date or your summer.

If you’re nodding while simultaneously scratching at that strange red patch on your elbow, a cure may be here: Dayle Breault, the esthetician known for healing both Cara Delevingne and Zoë Kravitz’s skin, plays the role of mom who finally tells that weirdo neighbor — AKA your rash — to scram.

Rash talk: eczema, psoriasis and other mysterious red, itchy, where-did-these-come-from-bumps (especially around the nose and mouth) — what causes them?

After 28 years of working with skin and successfully treating patients who’ve previously sought medical attention for their symptoms, I’ve found that the cause is more internal than external: what we consume can literally make (cause) or break (stop) our rashes.

I thought this was up for debate.

It is! The idea that we really are what we eat is a gray area in the medical world. However, I have seen first-hand, over and over again, that with a clean diet, lots of fruits and vegetables, keeping your stress levels low and avoiding sugar, wine and spicy foods will support the intestine, thus clearing symptoms and keeping new flare-ups at bay.

Chronic health problems are so often due to lifestyle — we don’t have pills for those. If you know your body and keep a diary of what you eat, when you eat it and how your body is working at the time of flare-ups, you’ll begin to see patterns and identify triggers. This is the same advice I give all my clients.

Ok. Got my diet on lock. But what do I do when I get a rash?

Take Benadryl or an over the counter antihistamine for immediate relief. Applying a 10% Hydrocortisone cream will help alleviate itching as well.

Stop everything that you are currently using on your skin, especially if the rash is on your face.

No exercise; nothing that would heat the body — no saunas, steam rooms, massages; nothing stimulating.

Eat foods that combat inflammation: turmeric, fresh juices, whole grains, dark, leafy greens.

Use gentle, milk-based cleansers and lotion (Aveeno is great) with antioxidants and anti-inflammatory ingredients such as Niacinamide, licorice root, aloe vera, chamomile and turmeric. My Heartfelt Emulsion Day and Truthful Serum are also fantastic, the latter of which will also help heal any post-rash scarring.

For body rashes, take colloidal oatmeal baths — they do wonders.

See a doctor if: the rash is spreading, causing uncontrollable itching or begins bleeding.

What about that weird bumpy rash around the nose/mouth?

If you’re seeing an irritation around the corners of your nose and or mouth (it can bubble up and actually really hurt) — it’s called Perioral dermatitis. Balancing your diet per the above will do wonders, but I have a secret mask that helps:

Combine 2-3 tbsps of raw, organic yogurt, 3-4 capsule of probiotic powder and a dropper of silver colloidal and black cumin oil. You can also use grapefruit seed extract, which is said to possess antibacterial, antiviral and anti-fungal properties. Leave on for 30 minutes minimum or a full night’s sleep maximum. It will continue to combat the bacteria growing that creates the rash, so you can’t really leave it on for “too long.”

***

Do you get rash-y too? Add your own skin-savers below. Have a skin question? Post those below, too.

Illustration by Zoë Flood-Tardino.  Follow Dayle on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. Visit her website Goddess of Skin, too! 

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Make Your Own Dress Using Two Silk Scarves

To be filed under:

a) One of the simplest DIYs of all time, Chow Chow (Martha Stewart’s dog) could have done it

b) Another great use for the dense collection of silk scarves this website has probably bullied your sock drawer into

Is the do-it-yourself mini dress, which requires exactly zero design skills but a mentality that espouses the virtues of working smarter, not harder.

I fell upon the accidental dress last weekend in Long Island when it occurred to me on Saturday that I packed a lot of silk shit to wear around my neck and in my hair but virtually no real clothing to wear on my person. Yes, I thought about the implications of nudity as a style choice that could snowball into a story, no I did not act upon the idea. What I did do, however, is this.

If you’re thinking to yourself, hold the phone what the fuck is that, I ask you to reconsider your gut and its reaction.

Because all you need are:

1. A pair of silk scarves

2. A belt (and if you listened to our make-your-own-rope-belt suggestion, you already have one of these — self-made and all)

3. Hands that are capable of tying knots

4. The ability to stand akimbo and pose for photos while flailing one of your wrists because everyone will be like, “Where’d you get that great dress?” And you’ll have to be like, “I made it, here’s an autograph.”

If you’re curious about the creation phase, I invite you to click through the above slideshow, which illustrates the process of building the dress — and if you’re naked and wondering what to wear while only in the presence of, say, towels or sarongs or scarves, table cloths, enormous napkins and other large squares of fabric, now you know.

Scarves by Hermès; photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

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A List of Annoying Words Cultivated in 2015

At Planet Repeller, we value freedom of speech more than we do spontaneous cupcake deliveries. That freedom is precisely what keeps the wheels of this website in motion. We extol the virtues of shouting shit from mountain tops with giant banners. Say what you will, my friends! It’s your life, your voice, and we’re just here to clap you on.

But — and you know (especially in the era of Kardashian fame) — that there is always a “but,” there are words that we at MR either say too much, can’t stand hearing or can’t stand hearing ourselves say. Some of them are offensive. Some are more innocent than kittens on a fire escape. Some sound more futile and possibly counterproductive than toothpaste made from Laffy Taffy, but what’s important to remember is that what we’ve identified here are the idiosyncrasies that define why they’re also annoying. As such, we’re putting a mandate in place — a diet if you will — that shall cleanse the palette of unnecessary words.

If you don’t want to cut them, you don’t have to, but do feel free to throw coins at our elbows if you hear us say them. Without further ado, we bring you the updated version of the 2014 Words List — the goal being to make communication easier, possibly even more intellectual, and at the very least, a little less cringe-worthy.

Beach Body,  eliminated entirely

Cause of termination: Negative physical connotations aside (too obvious to reiterate), “beach body” also makes no sense. Are you made of sand? Is your hair the ocean? Is there a shovel stuck in your head? Probably, no.

Sorry,  suspended

Cause of suspension: See: Margaret Boykin’s week without it, Amelia’s etiquette lesson as it pertains to spoiler alerts.

Vibes,  suspended

Cause of suspension: Exorbitant overuse on social media thus resulting in social media consumer fatigue. Expect more from your audience and its ability to reason deductively — your knees in front of a pool on a Monday speak for themselves, you know?

The Struggle is Real,  suspended

Cause of suspension: We’ve already voted this saying off the planet and yet, here it is again. “The struggle” is 9 times out of 10 a hangover humblebrag. (“Sunglasses on at brunch because last night was so wild! #thestruggleisreal “) The struggle is fake. You’re fine. Here’s a Gatorade.

Real Woman,  eliminated entirely

Cause of termination: Every woman is a real woman unless she is made of paper or a hologram like Tupac at Coachella that one time.

To bring back instead:

BBHMM (Bitch Better Have My Money), eliminated entirely

Cause of termination: Because it technically has the b-word in it and we previously put an MR-mandated ban on that. Also because it’s weird that Rihanna doesn’t just send a Venmo request.

THOT (That Hoe Over There), eliminated entirely

Cause of termination: It has the word “hoe” in it and when “hoe” is not chased by a “down” plus a pair of cowboy boots, we feel lactose intolerant only the intolerance has nothing to do with dairy and everything to do with the way in which we are addressed as females. Also, though, it’s annoying when people say, “That THOT,” which is a verbal typo. It translates to, “That that hoe over there.”

Never Not, to be replaced, not necessarily banned

Reason for replacement: Because we’re never not doing it. Going forward we’ll just be direct instead. Maybe. I hope. Or we’ll take a coin to the elbow.

All the Feels, eliminated entirely

Cause of termination: It has become cliché. Be better than the cliché! Try saying, “Not to be dramatic, but I have so many emotions pouring out me right now that I could teach 10 back-to-back Soul Cycle classes in a row and never once fall short of motivating the people to persevere through the fifth round of the arm series using their triceps to open up their hearts.”

Rosé, to be replaced, not necessarily banned

Reason for replacement: Because it will be funny to order “pink wine” instead. (Also, you’re probably not sick of drinking it, but aren’t you sick of saying/hashtagging it?)

Influencer/Tastemaker, indefinite ban

Reason for full life ban: Because both words sound like bad nightclubs and could potentially attract a similarly confounding crowd.

Fleek, o n probation

Reason for probation: Because the sartorial 70s made it back — in fact, it’s been a year and they’re still going (Leandra is wearing a striped lamé tank sweater today for example). And so we wonder where the cultural lingo that comes with the fashion has been? If we’re going to embrace umbrella words — accurate communication be damned! — we should match them to our striped lamé sweaters, shouldn’t we?

Solution: the word “Groovy,” which has heretofore been on amber alert.

Probational loophole for Fleek: if you can rhyme it, then it’s yours to keepk.

Got it? Groovy! Now add your own.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

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Logos Are Back

Alessandro Michele is in at Gucci and bringing that horsebit detail back to life. Nicolas Ghesquière has managed to make discernible L’s and costly V’s feel cool again, and Chanel, for better or for worse, has never really attempted to abandon its interlocking C’s to appease the popular opinion. This opinion, of course, has been following a model that extols inconspicuous luxury.

It celebrates innocuous but extravagantly luxurious leather accessories like those from The Row, applauds the discreetly pointed toe at the front of a Manolo Blahnik heel and has heretofore successfully built the kind of brands that have been able subsist on a vision that pegs you an insider by reason of your knowing a Céline blouse is Céline because of the way it is made, not because it shouts its name at you. This has left room to fine-tune what it means to “fake it ’til you make it.” Without anyone ever really knowing what you’re wearing, you decide not just who, but what you are in the clothes. In 2015, Dior’s dame on a Zara budget is still Dior’s dame; the fast-fashion power house makes sure of it.

But we’re back at an interesting intersection where what we’ve spent the greater half of the 2010’s calling tacky — putting your style where your wallet is — is slowly beginning to feel tasteful again. And if 2013 saw the rise of an era defined by a new form of discernible label — the Nike swoosh, the Adidas triangle, Calvin Klein’s stamped initials on a white underwear band — 2015 is on track to take back ostentatious branding coupled with the expensive labels that command it and exit right next to a pair of Roberto Cavalli sunglasses. Sold out.

It seems kind of problematic, right? Because here we’ve convinced ourselves, through the fell acknowledgement and subsequent wearing of unobtrusive labels, that we’re above articulating our personal style using the contents of our wallets as a metric to define it. But with logos once again pervading our bag(uette)s comes the recognition and with that recognition comes price tags being broadcasted for all. And the thing about wearing that price tag is that while Zara can trick you into thinking you’re wearing x, it will never trick you into spending y.

So what happens? Are we back at a grisly inflection point that honors those who have it and polarizes those who can’t? Or do the recent nods to blatant branding further substantiate a case for slow fashion — quieting down the necessity we’ve cultivated to buy, buy, buy, cheap, cheap, cheap in order think more thoughtfully about what we want to say when we set out to script our sartorial screenplays?

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis; styled by Ella Viscardi

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The Chatroom: Carolina Herrera

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who are from here and those who have been forced to live here. The ones who are from here have largely adopted a throw-until-it-sticks mentality. (Proof of concept? Here.) The ones who have been forced to live here were bred to behave within the constructs of what those who are from here try to dub a bygone era of glamour — real glamour.

The thing of it is, this era isn’t really bygone. We have not just the stories to carry a legacy, but the very people who cultivate this legacy still contributing to the public discourse, reminding those of us who are curious to know what it takes to be a woman (mystery), how you should feel while wearing a dress (effortless) and whether black tie at a barbecue is ever appropriate (why not?) that in order to succeed, we don’t have to — as popular culture suggests — redefine, take back, nor consistently break molds. We just have to be cautious about the molds and role models we elect follow; make sure they’re the well-oiled ones who can possibly cite Diana Vreeland as a mentor.

In today’s episode of The Chatroom, Carolina Herrera lets us in on her secret. Secret being? Never share your…just watch!

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

 

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Teeth Falling Out on The Viking River Cruise

The first thing Ellie did after Stewart died was paint over all the expensive paneling in the living room. She hated that paneling, and she had wanted to paint it for thirty years. Ellie offered the team of hired painters water and iced tea, and she felt a sense of satisfaction in doing something that “compromise” had prevented her from doing for so many years of her marriage.

The next day, she booked a Viking River Cruise. Advertisements for the luxury vacations frequently played before Masterpiece Mystery; they enticed Ellie with offers of elegance and expanded horizons. She had tried to cajole Stewart into going on the vacation more than once, but Stewart had not wanted to leave the dog. After speaking with a cheery Viking River Cruise representative about touring the Elbe, Ellie called the kennel.

That night Ellie dreamed all her teeth fell out. In fact, Ellie dreamed that hundreds of teeth poured out of her mouth. Ellie did not know she even had so many teeth to lose! She woke up feeling disconcerted. As a vain older woman, she feared the dream to be a sign she would need dentures in the near future. After she finished her morning coffee, she called her granddaughter. This particular granddaughter believed in tarot and astrology, and often spoke to Ellie about the power of crystal healing.

Her granddaughter helped her interpret the dream. “It means you feel you’re losing control of your life,” the granddaughter ascertained. “I had dreams my teeth were falling out constantly my sophomore year of college.”

Ellie scoffed. She was not losing control of her life. For sixty years, her life had been dictated and controlled by compromise with Stewart. It felt exhilarating to only have to think of herself, to be selfish.

At the next Bridge Club, she told her friend Dolores about the dream and her granddaughter’s interpretation. Dolores suggested that the sudden freedom was intoxicating, but her subconscious missed the stability Stewart offered. Ellie felt Dolores was right. However, Dolores had just beat Ellie at Bridge, and Ellie was too poor of a sport to acknowledge Dolores might be right.

In bed that night, Ellie reflected on her conversations with the granddaughter and Dolores. She spread her body to encompass the entire bed, limbs positioned at awkward angles, before retreating to a more comfortable position on her side of the bed. That night, she dreamed of Stewart. He frowned at the newly painted paneling, and asked her what was for dinner. She opened the fridge and hundreds of casseroles began pouring out. Stewart looked at her confused. “Expressions of condolences,” Ellie offered as a means of explanation.

When Ellie woke up, she did not call her granddaughter. Ellie knew what her dream meant, even if she did not have a working knowledge of the occult. Instead Ellie called Dolores, and asked her if she would like to go on a Viking River Cruise.

Photograph by Ben Hassett

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