Leandra Medine's Blog, page 712

Describe Yourself in 20 Seconds

You can do so many things in twenty seconds. You can tie both of your shoe laces, you can cut open an avocado, you can sprinkle cilantro on said avocado — you can chop the cilantro so that when you’re ready to sprinkle, you can do it in 20 seconds. You can buy a pair of sunglasses in the middle of a Wifi-optimized desert provided the eyewear merchant uses Square. You can renounce your relationship with your mother — I don’t want you to do that but I’m just saying that you can — and in a particularly good exercise to get to know new people in a social setting, you can request that all the bodies among you describe themselves in 20 seconds.

Of course, you must lead by example and first describe yourself.

So, suppose you know nothing about me, right? This site doesn’t exist, you haven’t yet learned about my propensity for using the word propensity or the contents of my snack drawer. I don’t have a name, or siblings, a job, or interests that you are privy to. I’m just standing in front of you, likely wearing ripped high rise jeans and something white and cotton. There are probably bracelets on my wrist and depending on the time of day, while you won’t find makeup above nose level, you might find red lipstick permeating my smile. And here’s what I’m going to tell you: I’m 25 years old, I’ve been married for two years and I still sleep with the blanket (blankey) that I was wrapped in when I left the hospital as an infant.

I actually timed how long it took me to say that — 6 seconds. That means I have 12 to spare but I don’t care to use those seconds because I said everything that I believe you need to know to be reeled into my paltry inner-circle. And here’s the thing: while you’ll be able to draw a silhouette of who you think I am given the fact that now you know I am married, I am in my twenties and I love my blankey, more important than what I actually said is why I said it and perhaps too what I didn’t say.

So figure this.

I’m from New York, I really like clothes and good books but I didn’t tell you those things. They don’t seem integral to who I am — just what I’ve become.

What you do know is that I got married when I was 23. This should mean that I am either devastatingly stupid or spectacularly self-assured. I’m now 25 and still married and depending on whether you detected the notes of enthusiasm in my voice, you know that I am happy to be married. So let’s assume I’m at least somewhat self-assured — aware of who I am. Now, of all the things I could say, I wanted to tell you that I still sleep with a blankey. Is this because I want you to know that I have hugely problematic attachment issues? Because I want you to think I had a delightful childhood and as a result refuse to let go of a talisman that represents it? Is it a nod to my inner-juvenility or exactly the opposite: a resolution that one day I will be a mother who can wrap her child in this blanket?

Well, that settles it. Now you know everything about me. Return the favor, mark your stop watch and answer me this: who are you (in 20 seconds or less)?

Original Image shot by Jonas Bresnan for L’Officiel Netherlands

The Rules to Life

If life came equipped with a giant textbook — one covered in rich fabric and gold lettering with a thick spine that stood out so prominently on your shelf you could locate it backwards while addressing any problem that stood before you (“Ah, awkward encounter with an ex? Yes, yes, let me see. Chapter 5, I have the solution right here!”) then things would be a lot easier. We’d probably learn less, but still. Easier.

Unfortunately, no such book exists. Apparently printing is really expensive these days and no one’s done a fabric cover since Belle made them go mainstream during her melodic soliloquy about libraries and literature. But there does exist a list of 10 rules to life; rules that don’t necessarily solve problems but offer preemptive strikes against 21st century headaches:

Rule #1: Never comment on a Facebook picture.

No matter how dumb your friend looks, how beautiful the sunset is or how cute So-and-so’s baby is, commenting on a Facebook photo is a trap. Until that pic stops proliferating, you, my friend, will be stuck in a cycle of notifications more impossible to exit than a group chat or Chandler Bing’s gym. Save the comments for Instagram and keep Facebook a safe haven of quiet stalking.

Rule #2: Smashing your keyboard or slamming your phone into a wall will not fix the technological problem you’re experiencing.

It seems counterintuitive, but trust me.

Rule #3: Don’t forget that no one can see you typing in an e-mail; take your time.

We’ve become so accustomed to the pressure of a text recipient watching our thoughts formulate via that evil, ticking time bomb of an ellipsis that we’ve forgetten no other forms of communication (save for in-person, perhaps) require such immediate wit. Take your time with an email. Let it marinate. Let the punchline come organically. If it doesn’t, you’ve got one free pass to cry 21st-century “wolf”: “It got lost in my Spam Folder!”

Rule #4: Stop analyzing Instagram “likes” from someone you IRL-like.

Nine times out of ten it doesn’t mean anything.

Rule #5: If you have a lighter, a Band-Aid, a safety pin and a piece of gum, you will always be able to make a friend.

 

Consider the amount of times someone has asked you for one of the above, then think about all of the times you said no. Missed opportunities. The Boy Scouts knew what was up when they said, “Always be prepared.”

Rule #6: If you want the booth seat, ask for the booth seat.

That moment before all parties are seated is an awkward game of being unnecessarily polite. Everyone wants the booth. …Everyone except someone with a serious bladder problem, and even then they want the booth if there’s a somewhat simple exit strategy. Moral: if you want it, just call it. The booth is like yelling “shotgun” — the slow bird gets the hard chair.

Rule #7: If you forget an umbrella, it will rain. If you bring an umbrella, it will not.

If you bring an umbrella and it rains, the umbrella will break.  Don’t argue with science and learn when to admit defeat.

Rule #8: A rule of thumb when drunk: you’ll never regret the text you didn’t send.

A fact of life: you will probably send it anyway. Blame your friend, then delete any evidence on your phone. If you can’t view it, it didn’t happen. Bonus points for deleting only selected parts of the conversation to make yourself appear like the one who truly has his or her shit together. Pray the drunk-text recipient doesn’t screen shot.

Rule #9: A cheap razor is never worth it.

Shortcuts are always met with actual cuts. Whether you forgot your razor while on vacation or you’re at the office wearing natural wool stockings that need to be stripped before a meeting, invest in an emergency razor that actually works to avoid bleeding, irritation, and coworkers pointing out that you missed a spot.

Rule #10: Don’t fall asleep in cabs.

Cabs are deceitfully familiar. They cradle you in comfort after long nights or red eye flights despite the fact that they often smell like soup, and with the window cracked and the soft television glow of Sandy Kenyon on mute, it’s easy to feel as though you’re cozy in bed with the tube left on. But you must stay awake. If not for safety reasons — a friend of mine once woke up to a drug deal between her driver and a stranger about 200 blocks north of home — then because no one in this economy has enough cash or credit to cover the cost of anything over a $30 nap.

Use these rules to guide you through the weekend, or throw them out the window with your 9-5 bra. Either way, add your own, have a wonderful Labor Day and we will see you Tuesday for the kickstart of a week/month dedicated to your favorite topic and mine: burritos. I mean bagels. I mean coffee. JK…FASHION.

What’s Your Weird Thing?

My mom loves the smell of gasoline. A lot of people do actually, but when I’m around it, I gag and hold my breath and sound like Chuckie from Rugrats while I whine until we escape the vapors that are terrorizing my nose.

Maybe the nose’s relationship with the smell of gasoline is similar to the tongue’s relationship with cilantro in that it’s a gene and you either have it or you don’t.

Though I can’t help myself from shouting “EW GROSS YOU LIKE GAS?” at the nasal marvel, I’ve realized that every one of us has a “weird thing” — sort of like Miranda Hobbes with her trashy magazines per Leandra’s call out earlier this week. Regarding my mom, that smell, and Miranda’s retort to whoever makes fun of her for said thing, I guess I should learn to let it go.

It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t seeing as I have weird things too. I crack my knuckles and neck repeatedly causing those around me to cringe, and I pop my thumbs out of their sockets when I’m bored. I chew and twirl my hair like someone sitting outside of the principle’s office awaiting doom and I squish the tip of my nose into the bridge of my nose with two fingers when I’m thinking or not thinking because sometimes you gotta do you.

A friend of mine — and I do mean a friend, not a friend-that-is-actually-me — enjoys that disgusting tangy taste of deodorant.

Some people really like to stick their french fries in milkshakes. Leandra pulls her eyebrows out of her forehead. One of my best friends rubs a safety blanket on her cheek until she falls asleep. There are certain horses who enjoy chewing wood despite the fact that it’s very bad for them. Dogs eat grass until they puke. Mary Katherine Gallagher, bless her heart, used to do this:

But you know what’s coming next right? A call to action on the Cogitation Station, because I really need to know what your weird thing is…

And if you tell me, I Scout’s-Honor-Promise (in the voice of either one Miranda Hobbes or that girl from Frozen) that I’ll let it go.

Image shot by Louise Parker for the Cut.

The Fat Jewish Gets Pretty

In yesterday’s panoply of videos to watch to help make Wednesday go by a little bit quicker and potentially smoother, Emilia seemed to leave off a promotional short that Beautified — a beauty bookings app founded by Hannah Bronfman, DJ and nail art extraordinary — put up loosely in tandem with the app’s launch.

It stars The Fat Jewish running around town booking services like a bee books honey (I’m sorry, what?) and features cameos by emerging New York furniture (human edition) such as Theophilus London and Dree Hemingway. It also includes around 4 seconds of me, not fortuitously in the setting of a waxing salon’s waiting room, where I spend more time than any self-respecting woman should. Also where I think my most morbid thoughts.

That is neither her nor there, but if you want to talk about it, I’m around. On another track, I suggest that you watch the video, let us know what you think and raise your glass full of pretzel bread if you laughed. (If you didn’t, crack open that bottle of 3 o’clock snack wine, take a swig, then watch again).

Feature image via the New York Post

These Bags are Clutch

If you’re looking for a clutch that the entire universe hasn’t already exploited – one that’s bizarre, clashes in the best way to un-fuss your outfits, is eye catching, conversation starting and won’t require that you to save up lunch money for two months, I think you should meet Poppy Lissiman. She’s 26, “made in Japan, born in Australia,” has a trippy Instagram and currently resides in Perth.

When did you start the line?

I started my own label in 2008 but I started doing exclusively accessories (in particular, clutches) at the beginning of 2014

Why clutches? 

I have always been obsessed with handbags. Almost any paycheck I’d get would go towards (usually designer) handbags. I never really dreamed of designing my own bags until I started to realize that not everyone was obsessed with luxury bags, and that maybe lesser known, quirky designs could work.

The clutches were kind of a whim to sell as an item in my old shop for under $100, and have since taken off. I think there is a bit of a gap in the market for quirky designer pieces under $100. I’m working on some over the shoulder bags at the moment, which should be done in time for Christmas.

Where do you get all of your ideas — the eyes, the “pizza illuminati,” etc — from?

I’m really drawn to iconography, like sacred hearts and worshipping hands and the Greek evil eye. (I have a sacred heart/evil eye tattoo I got on my arm in Koh Samui about 6 years ago). I’m not religious, but I’ve always been drawn to those recognizable motifs; I guess I just like the way they look cut out in glitter material and stitched onto a clutch.

A lot of people on Instagram accuse me of being illuminati because of the eye motif. I’m obviously not but I think it’s kind of funny to roll with that, especially with the pizza illuminati bag. All I really know about the illuminati is that they were all about empowering women and against the control of organized religion, which I think isn’t such a bad thing… and pizza is pretty awesome too.

And the glitter?

I’m a bit of a Bowerbird for shiny and glittery things. When I first saw this glitter material I was wary it would tarnish easily, so we experimented with it a bit and it’s actually incredibly durable. It doesn’t loose its glitter so I’ve continued to use it – it just looks so beautiful, especially mixed with the high shine metallic material we also use. All my clutches are made using vegan (or faux leather if we’re talking like it’s 2011). They’re also cruelty free, so no animal bits or slave labor.

How would you describe your own style, and who are some of your style inspirations?

My style definitely revolves around color and comfort. I hate really restrictive or uncomfortable pieces, I rarely wear high heels. I don’t look to anyone in particular for inspiration, but I travel to Asia a lot and I would say the fashion there has really influenced my style.

Does living in Australia affect your aesthetic?

Yes, definitely. In Perth the fashion is pretty casual, not bad or anything though — a lot of people here have really great style but getting very dressed up is something of a rarity. On weekends most people get around in jeans and t-shirts, and in summer it’s all about cute little dresses and thongs (I think you guys call them flip flops?). The heat plays a huge part in getting dressed in the morning. Although I probably adhere to that casual approach, I tend to gravitate towards really bright/clashing stuff or slightly different silhouettes, and I hate thongs (flip flops) so I will probably wear neon Reef sandals with socks this year…

What else are you influenced by, design-wise?

Art. Without sounding too vague, haha… I really like digital art and taught myself how to use Photoshop about 2 years ago.

Who’s the girl/guy your design for?

Someone who likes color, who appreciates things which are a little bit left of center and has a sense of humor.

What’s next?

I have been working on a sunglasses collection for the last 9 months (wow, just realized thats the same amount of time as a baby!) and will be launching the range next month which I am just so pumped about.

What’s the strangest thing you’d put inside a clutch?

I do collect bones and skulls.. not that long ago I found a Quokka (google them, they’re adorable) jaw bone and popped that in my bag. It was in perfect condition and I wore it round my neck for a while!

Last but not least, what’s a weird fact about you?

I have a knack for remembering totally useless but interesting facts; for example, did you know that in the nursery rhyme “Humpty Dumpty” it’s never actually mentioned that he was an egg?

Clutches available at PoppyLissiman.com

The New Vogue

The Internet woke up to a new Vogue.com this morning, and we can all exhale now. The fashion bible looks just as good on the World Wide Web as it does in print. Long live, Anna! Yay, binders full of supermodels!

At first glance, the made-over site radiates the same sophistication and monochrome polish that I have associated with Vogue since I was a little girl. Like the publication that inspired it, the revamped site makes me ache a little. I want it all.

Photographs are tightly shot. Gigi Hadid shimmers. Video footage is witty and thoughtful and intimate: Daniel Radcliffe is intelligent and human. Blake Lively is telegenic sunshine. Even the bylines charm me: Sophie Schulte-Hillen, Abby Aguirre, Wendell Winton. Alliteration — it’s in for fall.

It’s no surprise that Wintour and her warriors have insisted on this glossy finish for the site. Vogue is aspirational and Vogue.com should be, too.

On these pages, seven-figure handbags do not have to justify themselves. The inimitable TNT need not apologize for her Bavarian expeditions. The omnipresent touch of luxury is a relief, in a way. On Vogue.com, reality is relative. Here, not even Schiaparelli pink registers shock.

But while its architects pledged that the platform would mimic and extend and amplify the tone of the magazine, I think they had a savvier goal in mind. Like the more symmetrical cousin of someone you once knew or the French au pair who minded your friends down the street, the site seems known and impossibly exotic at once.

The new Vogue.com is not the magazine. It’s a blog.

It scrolls like a blog and navigates like a blog and sounds like a blog. Filtered photos of contributors flank slideshows and listicles; numbered posts range from “10 Beauty Products Every Model Has in Her Cabinet” to “28 Afropunk Hair Portraits by Artist Awol Erizku.” The site is inviting and friendly. It is a hybrid of Who What Wear and Vanity Fair and it works. It even partners like a blog. “For the Relaunch of Vogue.com, Dustin Yellin Reimagines Our Logo,” reads a prominent headline. Part one of one in collaboration with art.

To me, it feels genuine and immediate — adjectives that translate into clicks and shares and tweets on the web. And thank goodness. The only thing Vogue cannot afford is to act as if it is above online traffic.

Earlier this week, Anna Wintour vowed that the site would articulate “the authority and the vision of the print magazine.” Sally Singer promised “a new Vogue under the auspices of Vogue.” I think at least one of them has delivered. It is a New Vogue. The print version will continue its iconic heritage, and as for the change-to-blog — it’s about time.

(Now what do you think?)

5 Videos to Watch Today

Because it’s Wednesday and reading is hard, let’s keep this short and sweet.

1. Trailer For “Advanced Style” Movie Released

In this case, the camera sheds ten years.

2. Donatella Versace Does Ice Bucket Challenge

…with the help of shirtless male models. Of course, Ms. Versace doesn’t own these things we average people call “buckets,” so she uses gold-leafed urns instead. She nominates Pedro Almodóvar, Prince and Pharrell, which is perfect because someone NEEDS to fill Pharrell’s huge hat with ice water.

3. This is What You Look Like When You Take Selfies

Consider this a PSA.

3. Drake and Nicki Minaj Buy Snacks Together

For their three o’clock munchies, Nicki likes Cheez-Its and Drake likes Cheetos, making this the most artificially cheesy video ever.

5. Throwback With a Classic Summer Music Video

Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool…

If the Fresh Prince makes you want to get up and dance, please just make sure you don’t impale anyone with your high heels, like this woman…

Feature image shot by Robert Trachtenberg for Tatler

Ask an Actual Millennial

What exactly constitutes a “millennial” is an endless point of discussion in this office. We’re not talking the anthropological definition — that barrel’s been scraped by every culture site in town (millennials like selfies, millennials like lists, yadda yadda). Our conversation is more technical, and technically, we of the Generation Y crew are millennials. However, I like to think of Generation Y as split into two groups: the Facebook Wave, and the Instagram Wave.

According to the very scientific me, the Facebook Wave is anyone who is currently 23 – 35. We actually remember typing in www.THEfacebook.com and are scared of iPhone software updates. The Instagram Wave begins with whoever’s just been given their first smartphone and caps off at age 22 – they’re who I consider “millennials,” which you can feel free to disagree with in the comments because I’m admittedly an old curmudgeon who tries to throw my own friends off my lawn.

I’d even go so far as to predict that within or below that younger group, more and more micro-generations will be created. For all I know there is a sub-genre of kids age 7 and under who are responsible for programming all of the apps I’m no longer cool enough to know about.

Regardless of where the lines are drawn, it’s always worth peeking into the minds of those who are younger — if not because they practically speak a different language, then definitely because they can teach you a new dance move. With that, meet Franny Keller, our intern/back to school specialist.

Name: Franny

Age: 16, entering 11th grade

1) Shopping: do you prefer online or in store?

It’s pretty equal. I do both, but I always have a shopping cart going on online.

2) Is twerking allowed at school dances?

Oh yes. Twerk-offs are a thing.

3) Do people actually twerk?

Very few can but they do NOT hesitate to try.

4) What’s the next dance move we need to know about?

“The Corn Shuck” — it’s a great way to look cool or deter creepy guys at parties!

5) What are the kids listening to?

Sam Smith is incredible. Also, my friends and I love the app Hype Machine; it has really cool songs and remixes.

5a) On a scale from 1-10 how annoying is it when young adults, only ten years your senior, reference your “generation” as “the kids”?

9.3

6) Your turn for payback since I just called you “kid.” What age seems “old” to you?

28

7) Weirdest vocab word you think is trending?

“Sus.” It means shady or suspicious. Can be used to describe a person, place, or party.

8) Social media network of choice?

Probably Instagram or Snapchat. I Snapchat too often…

9) Who’s your icon?

I’ve been watching a lot of Winona Ryder movies lately. She really inspires me as an actress and I think she’s stunning.

10) Do you wear makeup? What kind?

I like to keep it looking natural: I use under eye concealer, mascara, a little bronzer, sometimes some neutral colored eyeshadows and I put my bronzer in my crease to bring it all together. I always have to tame my crazy eyebrows.

11 ) You know how we’re all freaky-nostalgic about the 80s and 90s? What do you think you’ll be nostalgic about?

Probably Lizzie McGuire and Hannah Montana. So early 2000s.

12) Trend you’ve seen everyone your age wearing?

Chokers, all the teens are wearing them.

13) Thoughts on the word “Millennial”?

It’s all about multi-tasking. I Snapchat, do my homework, and and eat my dinner at the same time. That’s millennial for ya.

How to Pack for Labor Day Weekend on Your Person

There are only two variables that contribute to my vehement disdain for long distance traveling. First, I am deeply irrational, hugely narcissistic but desperately empathetic, and as a result of these three character traits I am also paralyzingly afraid of anything going not-as-planned while in transit. Second to this, I hate packing. The thought of a mobile, micro closet sits really poorly with me — chiefly because I don’t have a steamer, and when things get wrinkled they make like Rihanna and go bad forever.

It should then come as no surprise that when the establishment of The Quick Summer Getaway rears its head in May and little travel bags get packed all across the country on a near weekly basis until the 24th hour in August, I recoil. The constant loading and unloading, outfit planning and squandering and further coming to learn that my favorite [insert linen garment here] has been obliterated presents a load of emotional turmoil that only those frivolous enough to use summer as a verb can truly get behind.

But there is a solution! And though I’m discontented that it has taken me until the last days of Weekends-Away-Season to come to this conclusion, I am glad I’ve come to it at all. I call it: how to pack for Labor Day Weekend without using anything but the body your parents gave you on day 1 of your life, amen.

Figure you’re going to, say, Montauk, right? What do you really need? A sarong (item #1) for the beach? Maybe a button up (item #2) that could both serve as formal wear and your alternative beach look? Add a pair of denim cut offs (item #3) so that when night falls, you have them for your shirt. Wear clogs (item #4) — or your favorite summer heels — on your way out. Tie a pair of sneakers (item #5) around your shoulder. You can pack your wallet and phone and keys and a razor and toothbrush (items 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10, should you so please) into the sneakers, which will look great whilst Donald-ducking in a shirt sans shorts when you arrive at Ditch Plains.

Take a headscarf (item #11) for your head, or for your wrist (or ankle, or neck!) and wear a bathing suit (item #12). What’s that, you say? You need underwear? LOL!

Did you even know your body was as resourceful a suitcase as it is? Humans, man.

Hermes headscarf, Lem Lem sarong, Steven Alan shirt, Levi’s shorts, Rochas clogs, Missoni bathing suit Adidas sneakers, Armani sunglasses and for good measure and The Late August Chill, a blazer, by Atea.

 

The Three O’Clock Munchies

At a young age, I learned that a myth I was sure my mother had fabricated to countenance her daily tango with an Entenmann’s blueberry muffin — the 5 o’clock sweet tooth — was no myth at all. By the time I was fourteen, every day, as 4:59PM came and went in the reliable 60 seconds that it does, no matter what I was thinking about, where I was, who I was with and whether or not I’d eaten the recommended caloric intake of that day, I needed a snack. But not just any snack; mental images of cookies and chocolate bars and ice cream and donuts — Krispy Kreme donuts! — would seep into my outer conscience and relentlessly stay there until I appeased these conceptions.

I can distinctly recall the qualm that presented itself when I returned home from school on weekday afternoons. The kitchen counter in my mother’s house displayed with poise several bowls of chopped fruits and vegetables, exhibited in ornamental ceramic bowls to mirror their delicacy. And as much as I wanted to remain on a healthful road paved with carrots (untrue), the Green Giant of yore had nothing on Hershey. As I walked toward that counter, every single day, determined that today will be the day I don’t intercept my own intentions with a pillage toward Candy Cabinet, I never succeeded in demonstrating willpower and day after day, M&M after M&M, I would watch as my ass grew plump and decidedly auspicious.

But when I graduated from the years that encompassed my definitive youth (or in other words, when I moved out of my parents’ apartment and joined the work force), the 5 o’clock sweet tooth become the equally deplorable (if not, fine, hedonistically delectable) three o’clock munchies. And now, four years in, in a similar standard set at my tender age of 14, no matter the circumstances of my day  – what I had for lunch, when I ate it, how I ate it, whether I’m in a meeting or deep in the throes of writing a story (presumably about snacks), the clock strikes three and boom – I need a pistachio.

Which is nice, I guess, because it’s not a donut. Has my palette evolved or is it simply…cooler to indulge in healthier snacks in 2014?

Here is a panoply of the items I keep inside my desk.

1. Mixed Nuts: Often raw almonds, sometimes walnuts and always cashews, which I finish faster than a snack eats a mouse.

2. Matt’s Munchies: Sheets of pressed dried fruit (tangy apricot is a particular favorite, with island mango coming in close second) that satiate a sweet tooth but don’t carry the implications of emotional baggage and distress that a chocolate bar does.

3. Shot Caller and Word chocolate bars: For when my emotional baggage and distress needs to be appeased but can be done so organically. (If you look over at the ingredients, you’ll notice they’re all marked “organic” which helps me sleep easier at night but presents the question of what “organic soy lecithin” truly is.)

4. SeaSnax: More sheets, this time of dehydrated seaweed dressed in a variety of sushi-centric seasonings such as wasabi and teriyaki. High in sodium and self esteem!

5. Wine: Almost always white and I know how this sounds but remember what Miranda Hobbes told Steve when he condemned her unhealthy propensity to indulge in trash tabloid magazines? “I love it, it’s my thing, let it go.”

Photos by Charlotte Fassler, shot on W Magazine, September 2014 issue