Leandra Medine's Blog, page 692

Horoscopes and ‘Staches

Isn’t today great? The sun is shining, Mercury’s back from Club Retro, the stars are doing something positive even though we can’t see them because it’s currently daylight, and Leandra helped you pick out your outfits for the week. It’s also November 3rd, which means that your Horoscopes are — for the first time in a long time — right on schedule. And in honor of Movember, they’ve grown mustaches, too.

Scorpio ‘Stache: Matthew McConaughey’s lip-creeper from Dazed & Confused

Guess what, you baby-tee wearing super senior (HBD btw!!!!!), you’ve got Neptune all up in your sign this month acting like a fairy god mother per the one and only Susan Miller. If you’ve been single and about that mingle, you’ll finally start to have better luck. If you’re currently with someone but it’s been feeling off or stale, you’ll finally find a solution — whether that be pumpkin spicing it up in the bedroom or putting the relationship to bed. You’ve also got Venus on your side which means you’re more charming than usual, and around the 22nd — cash flow baby. Ask for a raise but avoid the L-I-V-I-N speech and thank your lucky stars that even though you technically keep getting older, you somehow stay the same age.

Sagittarius ‘Stache: Ben Stiller’s horseshoe from Dodgeball

You’re going to be spending a lot of money this month, probably because of all the protein powder you’ll need to consume in order to win the next round of corporate mega-gym’s high stakes intramural dodgeball tournament. It could also have something to do with the holidays. Just keep in mind that credit cards act like your friends but they can throw a fast ball at your face with zero remorse, so maybe hide yours around Nov 12th, which is when Mars and the Planet that Sounds like Butts will be on opposing teams. Good news from the Suz, though! “Venus will allow you to twirl your new romantic interests around your little finger if you want – your sense of humor is so enticing, you won’t have to try too hard to get admirers to follow you wherever you go.”

Capricorn ‘Stache: Jared Leto’s as famous 1970s runner Steve Prefontiane

I have never seen this movie so I can’t make a single reference about it even though the above two have been completely arbitrary, but I can tell you that I’m about to start a petition for Jared Leto to reconsider the blonde hair and accompanying mustache. It’s his most underrated look. Like Mr. Leto circa this movie, you are in what Suz calls “a golden phase,” this month, “and with Pluto in Capricorn too, you will be a force to be reckoned.” (Except on November 12, a bad day for everyone when it comes to signing or dealing with property-related documents.) You’ll be so popular this November that the end of it will offer a welcome break from all of the hyper socializing, but take advantage of these next few weeks, and from the 6th-9th keep your eyes open for love. Maybe he will look like Steve Prefontaine.

Aquarius ‘Stache: Tom Selleck’s beautiful nose beard

Yours is a ‘stach like no other, frequently accompanied with a Hawaiin shirt and piles of fainting, swooning mothers in its bristly wake. You currently have Magnum PI Mars in the private sector of your chart, which means this month is a good time to focus on me, meaning you, and think about your plan for the New Year. Unclear as to whether or not Susan means like, your life plan for the new year, or your social plan for actual New Year’s Eve, because there are those people who start buying their tickets now and then stress everyone else out because they don’t have NYE plans yet. You’ve got a full moon on November 6th, which will be great if you’re focusing on home improvement — the activity, not the television show — and career will be flourishing as well.

Pisces ‘Stache: Groucho Marx’s Snickers-bar-sized block of upper-lip hair

Groucho Marx was a Virgo, not a Pisces, but I assigned Friedrich Nietzsche to Libra and just felt that Groucho needed an equally loving home. Susan Miller thinks you should be open to making new friends this month, anyway. There’s a new moon on November 22, which will light your tenth house of honors, awards, and fame on fire (the good kind of fire). You’ll feel the pressure that comes with more responsibility but you can handle it because, girl, your ‘stache game is strong. Something important to note: make sure to really communicate at work this month so that you don’t find yourself backtracking. With Neptune angling the moon the way it is, there’s more likelihood than usual for annoying errors (that could have been avoided) so just overstate your point and keep repeating “November 22″ to yourself while envisioning your December crown.

Aries ‘Stache: John Oates’ man eater 

You’re going to be making your own dreams come true this month, you sassy-stached Aries. You’ve got Mars hanging out with Pluto this month (the Hall to its Oates, essentially), but instead of collaborating on catchy songs of the late ’70s, these two will be helping your career in a major way. A new job or promotion could mean you’re (about to be) a rich girl, putting an end to your money woes that have gone too far (similar to this theme and the direction in which I have taken it). You just gotta wait it out until until December, Susan Miller Swear. It appears as though you’ll be traveling around Thanksgiving but you might be worried about something back home, so make sure you’re not, as Hall & Oates sang, out of touch.

That was my last H&O reference ever again, I half-swear.

Taurus ‘Stache: Salvador Dali’s lip antennae 

“You are closer to happiness than ever before,” writes Susan, “so listen to your instinct, and have faith you know what is best.” We’ve got the full moon in Taurus on November 6th — the only one of the year — so we better melt like a surrealist clock and make the most of it. Susan wants us to travel near “breathtaking mountains” with a romantic partner to help “weave a tapestry of love.” Should I organize a group trip for us or what? She also suggested we take some classes, possibly work toward another degree. If I’ve said it before I’ve said it a million times: Susan Miller may very well be my grandmother. Finally, Susan said our home and family will be the luckiest and happiest areas of our lives right now, which is a good thing because Thanksgiving is coming up — and mama’s hungry.

Gemini ‘Stache: Lionel Richie’s reverse-V glory

Hello, is it me you’re looking for? Or did you want your horoscope? You may not want it when I tell you that Susan is encouraging you to give up a bad habit come November 6th, but she’s probably right. Watch your money this month and focus on your health. Both are going to feel strained, but come December everything will get a bit easier. As for the love lyfe, you could very well get engaged around November 22. I suppose you could also suddenly get married too — the stars are whacky beasts and Susan’s recaps were short so I’m going off the grid– which means steer clear of Vegas just in case, or at least make wise decisions.

Cancer ‘Stache: Kip from Napoleon Dynamite 

The actor who plays Kip is technically one day out of Cancer and into being a Leo, but close enough, because as you begin this month it’s all about love and Lafawnduh. Writes Suz: “you will be looking forward to a social event that will have all the romantic elements you love – superb food, soft lighting, music, fragrant flowers, and a reason to wear your favorite outfit.” Is she speaking your online language or what? However, things get a little sour like llama milk around November 17th. The sun and Saturn are gonna get into it on the 18th, causing you to feel down on yourself and hyper-sensitive to criticism. Susan says just be confident and that this crap feeling will pass, but emo lyrics masked as pop songs may help you get through it too, because when have they ever not?

Leo ‘Stache: Hulk Hogan

Guess what you neon wrestler / favorite halloween costume among dads, Susan writes that this month, your career is on Hot Cheetos fire: “You’ll see this for yourself at the grand full moon, November 6, due to light your tenth house of honors, awards, and achievement. This will be the only full moon in your career house of 2014, and it is likely to bring spectacular news.” You’re gaining the attention of the head honchos and maybe some nachos. Sounds like a promotion to me. Apparently you’re having a terrific day right now (if you’re reading November 3rd), but come November 22nd you’re really going to turn it out with your big hair, lion lair. Suz suggests getting a new outfit, hitting the town and taking advantage of Jupiter being all up in your sign, because now’s your best chance to have the meet-cute of your life.

Libra ‘Stache: Friedrich Nietzsche’s Philosophical Explosion

Sounds like things are a little underwhelming right now despite your fantastic bushy ‘stache, but keep things in perspective because you’ll get through this. You always do. Or at least you’ll find an interesting way to look at it, right Friedrich? Home-related headaches might bum you out (a leak, for example, always with the damn leaks), so Susan suggests taking little weekend vacations. Clear your head. Shout “RICOLA” into that long tube-y thing. Use these getaways as opportunities to do holiday shopping. Buy sweaters from the gift shop, wacky hats from the airport. Be the fun aunt!

Virgo ‘Stache: Zero from the Grand Budapest Hotel

Just like your mustache’s eager-to-please bellboy concocted by the imagination of one Kanye Wes Anderson, you’ll be great at making your guests feel at home this month. Writes Susan: “Virgo knows how to set a stunning table, so become inspired by looking at magazine spreads and browsing shops. Look at recipes too – friends and family know your menu depends on fresh foods that are light and nutritious, the hallmark of Virgo’s culinary style.” IDK, she reads a lot of Martha Stewart I think and probably wants you to get in on the cornucopia action for the season. Just please invite me, because I’m scared my aunt is making that gluten free stuffing again. Don’t mix love and money on November 12, but if you need a spontaneous getaway — maybe you stole a really important piece of art or something — the day to do it is November 26.

Illustration by Cynthia Merhej 

Is It True that Dry Shampoo Makes Your Hair Fall Out?

Because when I was in Australia, a trusted enough source insinuated that this was the case. If it is true, I am in for a punfully rude awakening that will literally pull the hair off my head. Why? Because I have stopped washing my hair with water as a result of dry shampoo’s expert ability to perform the trick hygiene surface skimmers like myself pursue regularly. I am so convicted in my affection for the wonder-product that I even delivered a PSA on it a few months ago. But now this? Is it true? Do you know?

Image via Self Service Magazine and Shot by Jamie Nelson

Listen Up: Jake Isaac

Who: Jake Isaac, a south London musician with a guitar and a voice like your favorite Sunday sweater

What: If you like the folky, clap-happy soulful sound of Mumford & Sons but hate admitting you like them because A) everyone else does, and B) they kind of ruined stringed, overhead lights for you. (Almost.)

Why: Because good music is good for you.

Listen:

And for a solid remix of his song “Waiting Here”:

He currently has 3 EPs on iTunes and he’s still fairly low profile but that’s due to change because the dude can sing. Fall in love now before everyone else copies you, and if you need to fan girl ASAP check out all things Jake Isaac here.

Image via MartinSmith.tv

New York Closets: Claire Distenfeld

Welcome to New York Closets, a new Man Repeller series brought to you by really cool New Yorkers with style and smart phones to shoot it. In this series, the New Yorkers in question will capture their outfits by the workweek photographed the millennial way: via selfie. We’re launching with Claire Distenfeld, the owner of uptown concept boutique FiveStory, who has proven to me, on at least four occasions, that no matter how well I think I can put myself together, she puts me together better. Observe as she debunks everything you think you have heretofore known about getting dressed.

Day 1: I put my thang down flip it and reverse it is my real style mantra. I usually take something classic and timeless and just tweak, pinch and tuck it until its wrinkle free and brand spanking new. Here I took the classic Scottish quilt, its hunter green navy blue color scheme and its masculine (insert sarcasm) fanning pleat. But as you can see when deconstructed it takes on a life of its own.

Cashmere turtleneck by TSE Cashmere, pleated skirt by Mary Katrantzou* and sneakers by Eytys*.

Day 2: I flew to the South of France and all I got were these stinking selfies. For me, when doing evening wear I like that, how do you say, boom boom pow affect. And to get that, all roads lead to RED, enter the Valentino gown.

Single pearl earring by Asherali Knopffer*, ring by Lyn Bann, gown by Valentino, red lipstick by Sisley

Day 2a: I’m wearing a Christian Dior jumpsuit and white sneakers by Eytys. You’ll understand why when I explain my second mantra tomorrow.

Day 3: Simplicity done well is a lot harder to pull off than an over the top multi-faceted ensemble. So I’m still in South of france. When resort-wearing I like to bring lots of flow-y mid-calf skirts and pair them with bandeaus and head or neck scarfs.

Scarf by Andrab Indian Made scarves X Fivestory*, bikini top by Marysia Swim*, skirt by Carven*, flatforms from Zara

Day 3a: Here is mantra numero dos: Balance. Anytime I put myself together I try to find that perfect balance between two opposites. Masculine and feminine; elegant and edgy — you catch my drift. Here I took this lingerie-esque beaded slip dress and found that zen moment with a classic Grace Jones-style black satin blazer with crazy square shoulder pads.  On my feet are my adopted children: my favorite plexiglas pumps, which I think I wear 5-6 times a week.

Beaded satin dress by Jason Wu*, blazer by Maison Martin Margiela, clutch by Berltui, pumps by Gianvito Rossi

Day 4: I’m back in America! After 4 days of heels and rose, lipstick and gowns I wanted to get into the coziest muppet-like outfit I could find. I’m going to be real with you right now: I’m not a casual person. I want to be, but when push comes to shove, I understand that it’s not going to happen. But I do have casual pieces — enter these fuzzy bear-looking wide leg pants that are like a mix of “Fergie and Jesus” (Will Farrell, Step Brothers). I ran out of my favorite Sunspel t-shirts so I went for a cropped tank top and then the ultimate in comfort — the shearling motorcycle jacket that reminds me of the puppy I never had. (My pumps go back to that balance mumbo jumbo I was talking about on day 3.)

Jacket and pants by Acne*, crop top tank by Reformation, army green pumps by Gianvito Rossi*

Day 5: I was lazy so I put on the same outfit but with a va va voom effect care of this a balloon top. These tops are just the bees knees, cats pajamas, you name the nonsensical one-liner and that is that. Day, night, beach, club, this top is a situational whore in that everyone gets, needs, wants, deserves a ride.

Top by Rosie Assoulin X Fivestory*

Wild card: Once again, I’m going to be completely transparent with you: I have before worn these jeans and this blazer for at least 4 days straight; Interchanging the white top underneath, and in all honesty I may never stop wearing them. Let’s kill that dead horse and bring back the balance aspect. Black jeans and blzaers are sharp but not feminine — the top is flirty but not masculine and the shoes — the shoes, pretty as a ballerina are new children of mine. They come from the school of, yes, balance.

Blazer by Prada, top by Jason Wu*, jeans by 3×1*, boots by Nicholas Kirkwood

*Asterisk indicates availability at Fivestory.

Do You Wear a Fashion Ass Hat?

I wore a Fashion Ass Hat the other day.

Walking my dog, Doug— actually, let me stop you here: I wasn’t running my dog around the block in yesterday’s Cheeto dust covered sweatpants (my usual ensemble), I was strolling with my dog while wearing Bordeaux lipstick. A casual jaunt this was not. The walk was for me. I brought him along to complete the outfit. Doug is Chi-Weenie (chihuahua/ dachshund) so he is the color of the perfect camel coat, with a hotdog body and the ears of a bat or frightened deer.

Doug suddenly stopped walking to shit in the middle of the sidewalk, as these things are wont to do. I bent down to scoop it up, but because I wasn’t so much wearing my coat as I was balancing it precariously on my shoulders, bending was complicated. I tried to grab the poop with one plastic-bag covered hand while holding onto the leash and my purse with the other, all while not letting the coat slip off of my shoulders and touch the decidedly unbecoming sidewalk. I couldn’t really commit to the bend, the kind of deep-knee, ass-to-ground squat that you must practice to get dog shit off of a sidewalk, so I nearly teetered over, letting go of the leash in the process.

Free at last, Doug took off. He sprinted down the sidewalk, presumably feeling the breeze in his hair, the leash trailing pathetically behind him. He could have been hit by a car or worse: stolen by some other girl whose outfit needed a pick-me-up, all because I was too fashionable to put my arms through sleeves. I caped it up (trademark pending) and like a Fashion Ass Hat, lost my most affectionate accessory. Luckily, after about a block, someone noticed a dog being frantically chased by a girl who could really use a coat (I’d lost it when I started to chase him) and blocked his path. The coat was still laying on the sidewalk when Doug and I, reunited, walked back home. I collected it from the ground, along with my dignity and wished it had been the ass hat that fell off.

As they say, though, they walk among us so please do share yours.

Girl via V Magazine May 2011, Hat by Maison Michel

Office Apropos Fall 2014

Day 1

Leandra: Does my reciting the following verse to you mean anything: we love our bread, we love our butter (butt-ta), but most of all, we love each other. If the answer is yes, my Monday outfit should come as no surprise that does not indicate direct affection for Madeline. Sure, she wore a yellow hat but you know what they say about adapting style, right? You have to do what feels good for you. Enter the A.P.C. striped t-shirt, which comes from the men’s department, and a sea foam green leather Chloé skirt from last fall. The boots are Eugenia Kim and I am a human dance floor.

Amelia: Looking outside tells you nothing about the weather save for the fact that wet stuff is either falling from the sky, or it isn’t. I’ve been having a lot of trouble with this lately because I refuse to find alternate methods. “Hey Amelia, it’s called a weather app.” Well sorry my 26-year-old brain is still unable to catalogue varying degrees of how cold the air is based on some arbitrary number with a tiny circle on its right shoulder. This was my problem all week, as the extremely unhelpful sky did nothing to aid the process that was me-getting-dressed. This day I was a little bit hot but you win some, you lose some, you wear deodorant. I’m wearing an Equipment blouse as a wrap (instead of buttoned) with BDG jeans and a pair of Oscar de la Renta flats that I returned 3 times and they are still too small.

Charlotte: That shit-eating grin on my face is me saying, “Getting dressed this morning took no thought because my fall uniform has not changed in the past two years.” With the first chill in the air I thought “Ah, layers!” and threw on my old reliable plaid pants, a starchy collared button up (actually a school uniform shirt made for “husky” elementary school boys), a black sweatshirt and topped it off with a motorcycle jacket and Ray Ban sunglasses in attempt to be badass.

Day 2

Leandra: When I got dressed on this #blessed Tuesday morning, I am 99% sure I looked into the full length mirror that covers a door that closes my bedroom and thought to myself: self, this looks great. Stupendous, even. Now fast forward three hours, through at least three tears to the sleeve of my Wes Gordon sweater and that nagging, cling-feeling that pronounces a chest I don’t actually maintain and comes only in the wake of static friction and I am annoyed. Unseasonal, too. But only because it was too hot for a sweater. At least I’m still technically, according to the rules of a sequined (All Saints) mini skirt, a human dance floor, right? The shoes are Balenciaga and white socks are never a bad idea except while you’re losing your virginity.

Amelia: These Urban Renewal Levis were shipped to my dad’s house because my mailbox can barely fit an envelope in it. When they arrived, he texted me a picture of them with the accompanying text, “?!?!?????” I think that’s because they look like flared capri pants made for a scarecrow. I never wrote him back but I did pair said scarecrow pants with a Ralph Lauren hacking jacket, a button down and Bass loafers so that I look like my usual self but far more prepared for a flood. (Noah, I’ve got dibs on the horses. You have to handle the geese and shit.) Why am I making that face? Because I just told you I’m wearing flared capris. I feel like we’re not communicating well.

Charlotte: Here I am, a living personification of Leandra’s “What to Wear This Weekend” post. I woke up with a messy comb over and rolled with it. That little school uniform necktie is a relic of the days when I modeled outfits after Blair Waldorf (my head still has indents from all the headbands that punctured my temples), the military jacket is a Parisian vintage score, the overalls are Madewell, and the top and shoes come from Zara. Oh, and that starfish jutting out of my ear is Pamela Love! Fun fact: I wore that shirt on my first day to intern for Man Repeller.

Day 3

Leandra: It’s a sweater! It’s a scarf! It’s…a knit smock? There is nothing that I won’t try which is precisely where J.W. Anderson’s Pre-Fall knit thing comes in to play a little play. From the front, maybe I look like I’m wearing a dress over pants. That’s fine. From behind, however, full-frontal ASS! Made thrilling by a pair of vintage Levi’s 501s and a white blouse that I believe every woman should own by Tome. The boots are Chanel and it becomes increasingly more obvious with the repetition of that utterance that there is no way around sounding like an asshole when providing outfit credits.

Amelia: Oops wore my short pants again. They really might as well be jorts, or shants. I put on these Ralph Lauren wooden heels so that I wouldn’t be 4’7″ for once and added a denim shirt so that I could be mistaken for either Crosby, Stills or Nash. I am clutching my phone and Poppy Lissiman bag for dear life because someone freaky was doing something terrifying outside of “the shot,” and also because these jeans do something really attractive to my inner thighs.

Charlotte: I’ve come to realize that film directors adopted normcore far before it was mainstream and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say I resemble Steven Spielberg in this getup. I once read a Jezebel article that said we as humans are our ugliest on Wednesday afternoons circa 3pm, and seeing as I got so frustrated with my hair I opted to cut off a few inches when I got home from the office (I am not as talented as Leandra in this department and ultimately had a professional fix it) I don’t think this is untrue.

Baseball hat from a 99 cents store, J.Crew sweatshirt, Zara sweatpants & Vans sneakers.

Day 4

Leandra: This was the day of Alexander Wang’s grand H&M slam. We had happy hour at our office around 6PM with a recruiting company that operates out of the same building and many, many Whole Foods branded wheat thins were consumed. I’m wearing a Stella McCartney skirt, which I bought in London and was subsequently judged for buying at immigration on my way back into the United States, a sweater from Topshop which I almost didn’t buy but am so thrilled I did and the magna carta holy jacket — leather and shoulder padded and vaguely cropped at the sleeve, by Veda. The brogues are Celine. I just put a 20 in the douche bag jar.

Amelia: Looks like we’ve got a badass over here in the green turtleneck. (It’s by Fine Collection.) I put a striped shirt from Zara on underneath because I have this thing about needing cuffs lately, and I’m wearing white jeans (white jeans year round because I’m so punk rock) from McGuire denim and let me tell you: a girl could take a nap in them they’re so soft. My shoes are purple velvet loafers from Ralph Lauren, my sunglasses are the same Céline ones I always wear and my hair is singing the national anthem of PSL season. This outfit’s the general uniform from now until March.

Charlotte: This look is what I like to call the hipster version of “basic,” as it turns out every L-train-riding girl and her roommate appeared to be wearing some variation of my outfit. Sure, I felt clean and polished, especially compared to yesterday’s look (clean hair helps!), but perhaps those stark white Chucks need a little wear a tear for the outfit to feel more like me.

Karen Walker sunglasses, Zara turtleneck, Topshop coat, Mother leather pants & Converse sneakers.

Day 5

Leandra: Will referencing Rebecca Black when Friday comes around ever get old? I just don’t know. What definitely won’t get old is commemorating the reliable, weekly celebration that is a foray into the weekend with red leather (a skirt from The Reformation)! And eyeball shoes (Charlotte Olympia, of course)! And spray painted backpacks in the direction of paradoxically nouveau luxury! Man, I’m really going to miss you guys. Oh! And in case you’re wondering, the sweater is by Rosie Assoulin.

Amelia: It’s a Friday, and it’s a miracle, because I am not in fitness clothes per my usual end-of-week-attire. I had a work thing on this day where I had to look cool and shit so I was like, let me take a cue from Gloria Steinem. I’m wearing a black Raoul turtleneck and high waisted 7 jeans (although I want flares that are AT MY BELLY BUTTON, still on the mission). The vest thing is also a dress by this New Zealand brand Eugenie and I wore it almost every day this summer without anything underneath. Since it’s fall, however, I’m ripping this vest open like it’s a pair of Adidas snap-pants and I’m about to start a dance battle, which they basically are, and I basically am.

Charlotte: Sometimes I like to wear my emotions strewn across my chest and yippe ki-yay, it’s Friday. That smiley vest was knit with care by my great aunt in 1970, far pre-dating its newfound significance as emoji apparel. It’s layered over an H&M shirt dress, paired with Zara shoes and topped off with a vintage future farmers of America jacket because I’m just a simple cowgirl.

His Clothes, They Got Away

Written by Allana Mayer

I am not fashion-minded, most of the time. There is a subset of humanity that interacts with cloth like artifact, like treasure, like it’s woven out of memories instead of fibre.

For me, there were prized articles in my youth — always thrifted or given by friends. Now, in my adult life, they are stolen. Specifically, stolen from boys. I can list one article from each male in my romantic past: the purple and blue plaid collared shirt I took from a summer fling (it was cozy) and the bright yellow sweater I stole from the boy in San Francisco (who caught me and took it back). I took black shapeless painting jeans from one guy, a frumpy tee from another. Often it was an oversized shirt (a denim button down, a neon-printed hoodie) that I could wear around the house with leggings, comfortable, wrapped in my own sentimentality as much as the worn-in fabric.

But it’s not about remembering times gone by, or being able to immerse myself in some emotional resurrection. I think these clothes are just an extension of regular street envy, of “Damn, that’s a nice _____,” except with the ability to follow through. I might go so far as to say I think I took advantage of the trust and intimacy that comes with a romantic relationship to indulge the normal “Want!” tendency. Few of them realized, while engaging in grabby-hands with me, that I was performing grabby-hands on their closets. Perhaps the clothes were trophies, souvenirs, like Dexter’s box of blood-drops: amassing a set meant I had accomplished something.

Ironically, for precious, stolen items that hardly ever leave the house, I’ve managed to lose the majority of these articles of clothing over time. Ideally I would get to wear the clothes out myself. I’d fray the hems, scuff the knees, crumple the collars. Instead I find myself disoriented, rummaging through the hamper, trying to retrace my steps.

The denim shirt disappeared in a dance club in Havana, and I was melancholy the whole walk home.

You might expect for me to be remorseful about the thefts, but truly, I could care less. These men didn’t care about their clothes, anyways. None of them. But I miss the items I’ve lost; rather than some karmic rebalance, I always feel like it’s victory snatched from my grasp. I have yet to really miss a boy I’ve left behind, but I can still remember each garment I took with me.

Original Image via Club Monaco Fall 2012 look book shot by Venetia Scott

10 Soundtracks for 10 Moods for 5 PM on a Friday

It’s taken me over a year, but I’ve finally gotten used to the ’80s chord-plucking of the Twin Peaks soundtrack. It’s not like I had a choice. Part of living with someone is accepting their strange habits, and due to my husband’s obsessive need to play said score EVERY. SINGLE. MORNING, what once sounded like a calf crying out for his mother at the slaughter house has now become an anticipated part of my morning routine.

The score is muted, a bit whiny and when played on a low volume, nearly inaudible. In other words, it’s perfect for lazy mornings. But who am I to generalize? Maybe you’re the type of person who prefers to wake up to Cher; in that case, lucky you — the Burlesque soundtrack is now on sale at Amazon for $7.00.

The best thing about a film soundtrack is its fluidity. Like the well executed movie it gives voice to, the soundtrack slowly climbs a hill, lights a fire under your ass at the top, and rapidly descends before leveling off with grace.

Here are 10 different soundtracks that promise to get you through your every mood. Burlesque didn’t make the cut, but that doesn’t mean it’s not my shower playlist.

When you’re feeling inspired

Beasts of the Southern Wild

When you’re drifting off

The Social Network

When you’re blissfully laying out

Palo Alto

When your sister just stained your favorite shirt

Requiem for a Dream

When you’re drinking with friends

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

When you’re feeling angst-y

Trainspotting

When you’re commuting

Drive

When you’re running that mile

Dazed and Confused

When you’re splattering paint

There Will be Blood

When you have every emotion

Garden State

Now add yours, and happy Friday.

Images via Drive and 10 Men

What Your Gym Clothes Say About You

The NBA Borrower:

When a young woman appears to be swimming in the practice outfit of a 6′ 5″, 250 pound basketball player, she’s probably been in a relationship for over 3 years. She’s like, “I got this.”

However, a common misconception is that she is borrowing all of these items from said partner. Nope. Michaela Jordanda has collected workout gear from every gargantuan male she’s ever come across — maybe a father, or brother, or a kid who fell asleep next to his laundry basket. She’s always a little shady about where she got her jerseys from. She did not go to Cornell and yet her shorts say otherwise. The other thing about her: these garments are worn anytime she’s not (1) at work or (2) at an event informal enough that it didn’t require a Paperless Post RSVP.

The Pinterest Pony:

Her hot pink tank tops say things like, “Keep calm & sweat,” “Run now, wine later,” or, “My other sports bra is La Perla.” She follows fitspo accounts on every social media platform, and if you need to find her, she’ll be walking hills on the elliptical.

The Coordinator:

Her sports bra matches her leggings matches the swoosh on her Nike sneakers…matches her hair tie. Nothing screams “I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who met their boyfriend at the gym” quite like a female wearing an “outfit” on the stationary bike. She hasn’t quite figured out that unless you are partaking in the filming of a fitness video, no one cares about your sweaty color scheme.

Although she works out vigorously, this “exercise barbie” never seems to break a sweat. There is something to be said, however, about the fact that she shows up religiously after work, 5 days a week, and has abs so spliced you could use them as a dish rack. Maybe she’s on to something.

The One Not Over Her Bat Mitzvah:

 

Once in a blue moon, a woman who has still has “Camp BFFs” will recall her bat mitzvah as the best night of her life, and her still-too-large t-shirt lives to tell the tale in yoga. She genuinely may have “danced her pants off,” or “had a ball” that night, as the shirt explicitly states. Still, after age 16, it’s recommended to leave the evidence at home.

The University Gift Shop Superstar:

She either really needs everyone to know she went to Michigan, or, she attended college in such a rural town that the only place she could satiate her shopping addiction was the university gift store, hence the school crests and colors on ev-ry-thing. Either way, you know where her future kids will be going.

The Norm Core Workout-er:

Typically seen in standard black leggings with a full underwear line showing underneath, plus a t-shirt or tank top with holes, she is a working woman, and to her, these are her nothing more than gym clothes. She cares enough about appearance to avoid the aforementioned NBA attire, but she’s too tired and stressed out to put an ensemble together. She can be found texting from the elliptical, leaving yoga 10 minutes early to answer an email, then changing back into work clothes without a shower — though she adds a quick spray of the community deodorant cans found in most gym bathrooms that almost no one else uses.

The $pin Cla$$er:

You know when a really high end, luxury fashion brand does a collaboration with a sportswear company and you’re like, “Who would spend $280 on spandex?” This girl. Her sneakers, sports bras, sweat-wicking thongs and headphones are all limited edition. The treadmill is her catwalk. She’s halted an entire spin class because her 2k diamond earring fell out during a particularly intense ride, but man. Dang. Does this woman look good.

The Flash Dancer:

“She’s a steel worker by day, exotic dancer by night. Her dream is to get into a real dance company, though, and with encouragement from her boss/boyfriend, she may get her chance. The city of Pittsburgh co-stars. What a feeling!”

That’s IMDB’s description of Flash Dance but it was basically what we were going to say anyway. This woman owns zero shirts that aren’t cut with a pair of scissors and she gets mad when you confuse her with Baby from Dirty Dancing.

Jen Selter:

THIS GIRL. She wears a sports bra and spandex shorts so tight they could choke a noodle. She definitely does not own shirts but she’ll occasionally throw on a hoodie — unzipped, of course, and she takes a lot of selfies. In fact, she probably has an Instagram account dedicated to fitness, and she’s definitely paleo, and never skips #squats. You want to hate her…but you can’t. Her body is a wonderland and you spend the majority of your time wondering just how weird it would be if you politely — politely! — asked her permission to feel her glute.

The Face:

She’s got the bronzer, the blush, the foundation, the primer, eyelid primer, highlighter, eyeshadow and mascara happening. Her hair is done. She looks really pretty and makes you wish you were wearing one of those horse masks that people wear to EDM concerts. If it’s after 5 PM you can cut her and yourself a break because she probably came from work. If it’s before noon on a weekend, however, there’s a certain trainer she’s trying hard to impress. (And by the way, why are you at the gym before noon on a weekend?)

The Confused:

Every once in a while you spot someone attempting to make the rowing machine work while wearing a pair of jeans. It could be one of two things: either this woman forgot her gym clothes yet is so dedicated to her routine that she took a cue from Nike and just did it, but in denim, OR, she’s really, really confused.

The Liar:

She looks like The Coordinator, The $pin Cla$$er or the Pinterest Pony. Actually, besides The Confused, this girl could take on the visual persona of all the above-mentioned types. She’s got her sneakers on, her hair is up, her earbuds are plugged in and she looks ready to run. But she won’t run today. She’ll skip the gym for a doughnut, maybe grab a beer, meet a friend, catch a movie, take a nap. But she’ll say she worked out. She’ll brag about how she stretched afterwards, too. Who cares. You’ve done it too, and your leggings didn’t catch fire.

A Sophie Milrom & Amelia Diamond brain-collaboration with Charlotte Fassler on the illustration kick drum

Halloween Highs and Lows

Heidi Klum holds the Guinness World Record for most consecutive Halloween wins. You are not Heidi Klum, but that’s ok. No one expects you to pull Cher from Clueless (or actual Cher) out of your plastic pumpkin basket each year. Still, our losses bear reviewing because from history, we learn, and our highs deserve celebrating because anything involving fake eyelashes should be applauded.

Such stories should also be shared.

As a sacrifice to the Halloween gods, I’ll go first. Hopefully they will be pleased and grant me not only an awesome costume idea but also, some really solid Instagrams. That’s the whole point, right?

High:

Junior year of college. Halloween night. I had been planning to skip the parties because I was Mature and Above That. I was ready to stay in and read Bukowski poems on a fire escape while holding a cat and smoking. Never mind that I had neither a fire escape nor a cat, and that I do not smoke.

At the last minute I was hit with an extreme case of FOMO so I threw my fake cat off the fire escape and made my way to Ricky’s. The place had been picked clean save for the left wing of a child’s Tinkerbell costume. Then I saw it, shining before my eyes like a light unto the righteous path: a sexy-but-still-classy-because-all-my-sensitive-parts-stayed-covered Marie Antoinette costume.

I added white knee stockings and a big ass wig because if you’re not in it for the hair then what are you in it for? Then I pinned the plastic cameo that came with it to a strand of Marissa Cooper Chanel costume pearls and ran around screaming, “Let them eat cake!” (But I could have said toast). I cackled at my own joke every damn time I said it. I even balanced the wig on my head for the whole (okay, most of) the night.

Low:

There was a tradition at my high school where Seniors would (probably illegally) rent out some kind of loft space and charge everyone else admittance fees. We called this event Halloween Homecoming even though it rarely fell on Halloween or actual homecoming. The goal was to dress as minimally as possible, pre-game (mix vodka with juice and/or Vitamin Water) show up, stumble around in circles and make out with as many people as possible. From freshman year to senior year my costumes got progressively worse, i.e., progressively less. At 15, I was some kind of harlot sailor. By 18, I went as “technically not naked.” I didn’t even wear ears with my lingerie. Just lingerie. I said I “lost” my ears, shame on me.

High or Low, Reader’s Choice!

The “Cabaret Dancer” circa second grade. How my mom found fishnets that small, I have no idea. This marks one of the few years I did not get strep throat a week later.

Sharing is caring! Let’s hear your Halloween highs and lows. I’m still open to suggestions for this year, by the way.

Images via Marie Antoinette and Self Service Magazine