Leandra Medine's Blog, page 717

Let’s Talk About Tavi Today

Tavi Gevinson’s career is perhaps the online, real-time equivalent of Boyhood: we’ve all spent the past seven years watching her conquer girlhood, the Internet, print and beyond to become the successful 18-year-old that she is today. Now, in addition to a budding acting career, she’s landed the cover of New York magazine’s Fall Fashion issue.

Fashion Director Amy Larocca profiles the soon-to-be-Broadway actress, giving readers a glimpse of Gevinson’s next chapter, or her “meta-adolescence,” as Larocca aptly describes it. Here are five cool things we learned:

1. Stevie Nicks Gave Tavi a Cashmere Hug

Even though she’s moved out of her childhood home, Tavi brought her Stevie Nicks poster with her  and has it tacked above her new desk. Her fangirl dreams came true when she met Nicks once after mentioning the singer in her now-viral TED talk. Apparently, Nicks gave Tavi a “cashmere blanket to wrap herself in whenever she felt like she needed a hug.”

2. Taylor Swift Coached Tavi Through Her Breakup…

The only thing better than a cashmere hug from a rock legend is a real-life hug from Taylor Swift. After breaking up with her high school sweetheart, Tavi consulted the self-proclaimed breakup expert. “I hate being heartbroken,” she tells NYMag, “but who better to discuss it with than Taylor Swift?”

Now that Swift is involved, Tavi’s ex might want to lay low for a while.

3. …And Tavi’s Breakup Rekindled Her Love For Fashion

“Actually, coming out of the breakup has kind of reignited my love for fashion, because it’s a way of asserting a new identity and becoming a new person and giving yourself space.” 

4. Tavi’s Afraid New York Will Make Her a Horrible Person

Tavi asks the question every New Yorker actively ignores: What if I go to New York and I get caught up and I become a horrible person? She’s managed to stay grounded for this long though, which is an epic achievement considering the fate of most child stars.

5. Tavi is NOT the Center of the Universe

And she brings Larocca to the Adler Planetarium in Chicago to prove that very metaphor. She tells NYMag: “Sometimes, when you’re doing a magazine interview, it’s good to remember that you are not, actually, the center of the universe. Like, at all.”

Wise beyond her years, yet still grounded enough to appreciate a well-executed field trip. No wonder this girl’s got the Fall Fashion cover.

To read the rest of the interview and see accompanying photos, head over to The Cut! Then obviously come back and tell us what you think.

[All photos via NYMag.com]

10 Things That Work Better Than Friends with Benefits

In a perfect world, “friends with benefits” could totally work. But if you’re a human with a functioning cardiovascular system, you know it’s a type of relationship that’s easier said than done. It’s like licking your own elbow: everyone’s got to try it, but few ever succeed. (And afterwords you feel like a doofus for even thinking it could work.) Here are 10 things that work better than friends with benefits:

1. Mating with nuns

2. Vacationing with babies

3. Playing with fire

4. Rhyming with orange

5. Painting with cement

6. Fighting with Ghandi

7. Living with wolves

8. Running with scissors

9. Golfing with chopsticks

10. Writing with sarcasm

Commiserate with me and add some of your own below! (And be honest: how many of you just tried to lick your own elbow before starting this list?)

Image via Elle Ukraine, shot by Nikolay Biryukov

Office Apropos, Summer 2014

Day 1

Leandra: Monday could have been significantly worse had I not superseded my plebeian bra for a bikini top. This is something I have recently started doing to soften the blow that is Dooms Day otherwise known as a summer start to the week. It makes me feel tropical and like I am a boat that vaguely resembles an office space and when it is worn under overalls, I like to pun and say that I feel “tropicool.” Cut to credits.

Stella McCartney overalls (similar here) pumps, Kiini bikini top and Illesteva sunglasses.

Amelia: Remember when I said I had a Kidchella-themed birthday party and to never tempt me with a peasant blouse and a good time? Exactly. See exhibit Monday in my high-waisted jorts by AYR and a floofy “boho” top that is not very “me” but when I saw it, I said “yes.” Actually I saw it Instagram and copied my friend wearing it, if you need to know my life.

Shoes slipping off my feet are from ASOS.

Charlotte: My hands are firmly planted in my pockets to keep me from face-planting into the street. Not only is it Monday, but also I’m fresh off a red eye and deliriously got dressed in an airplane bathroom. That vintage FFA jacket, which I have more or less permanently stolen from my roommate, is fun because it seems to attract all sorts of strangers who want to engage in conversation surrounding sustainable farming.

Theory shirt, Zara boots.

Day 2

Leandra: Sometimes when I wake up in the morning I ask myself how I can look like the most dramatic version of your run-of-the-mill soccer mom and without fail, every single time, these Steven Alan green shorts are the glue that tether me to the minivan. Today, I overcompensated using a white Jenni Kayne blouse that exposes my nipples with even just the slightest arm jerk and a pair of Valentino mid-heels that force the remark: if these don’t remind you of dancing with the stars, I give up. Oh! Also! This first half of the week was wrist-scarf themed.

Amelia: Almost went with the fauxga pants and sports bra (sans gym) situation this AM, but then the Shower Song came on and I was inspired to get dressed like a real human. The sarong I’m wearing was an impulse buy from Club Monaco — sort of the sartorial equivalent of buying everyone at the bar a round of shots — and the Vince tank under it is long enough to eliminate the whole I-can-see-your-butt thing. Oh my shoes? These are just my H&M mandals that I haven’t taken off once this summer. Not even to sleep.

Charlotte: No Pants Tuesday! Kidding, I am wearing some denim cutoff underwear and showing off my California tan. This whole getup is vintage save for the Kork-Ease shoes and Vint & York spectacles. Later this look took a 180 when I got nearly drowned in a 2-minute torrential downpour. Strangers on the train parted ways for me as I wrung out my shirt/dress leaving massive pools of water, and one dude even exclaimed, “What on earth happened to you?” Outfit success!

Day 3

Leandra: To shave my legs or to wear pants? To shave my legs or to wear pants? I have an idea! Don’t put a razor to the legs, do wear pants, and then continue to abstain from shaving until the hair is long enough to make a statement through non-pants! Wednesdays are so cool.

Suno blouse, Isabel Marant jeans, Proenza Schouler shoes and clutch.

Amelia: Wednesday is uniform day — I typically wear some version of this. It is also a day whereupon I asked everyone in the office if I looked like I was in a preppy version of the cult from The Leftovers. No one watches that show except for my roommate and so no one said yes…but they didn’t say no either.

Everlane shirt , AYR jeans, Vince sweater, CoRNETTI sandals

Charlotte: Thumbs up for hump day! I’ve concluded that my top half wants to attend a doll tea party and my bottom half wants to be shredding on my skateboard I still don’t know how to ride. Oh the duality!

Reformation dress, Ralph Lauren shirt, vintage sneakers.

Day 4

Leandra: If I’m being really honest with myself and a tenet I put forward at the beginning of the summer, it’s not technically a week until I’ve worn at least one pair of culottes. Where Rosie’s green ones fail me (as in, tango with a dry cleaner named Putnam), Tome’s pink taffeta do this cool thing to my legs that make me look like I am a. floating, b. really short, c. about to open a car of whoop-ass on your kitten’s litter box. Also, this is the tank top dreams are made of. Trust.

T by Alexander Wang tank, Tome culottes, Alexander Wang wedges

Amelia: I bought this stupid Zara skirt at the start of summer when I was drunk or in a day coma I guess, because I never wear skirts like this. I have worn it once. So, today I felt determined to finally make it worth the 30 hard earned bucks and take it from day 2 nite. This was obviously the day portion of the event; I went with my trusty Saint James top that might as well be my 5th appendage, ASOS flat-footers and green reflective sunglasses by Vint & York to make the skirt a little less girly. (If you need to know, I had a Tibi top underneath and switched into heels for a little summer shindig later on in the evening.)

Charlotte: It appears I woke up with an acute case of decade confusion. Once I slipped on those bell bottoms it only felt right to add that breezy off-the-shoulder peasant top and belt, both of which belonged to my mom in the 70s. Then came the platforms and the wacky glasses and before I knew it I was debatably wearing a costume.

Topshop jeans, Kork-Ease sandals, Karen Walker sunglasses

Day 5

Leandra: Turnt up for Friday! Here’s an ankle length black dress that does such a cool thing at the top where it reverses its indigenous silk to shine and shimmer like hair in a Garnier commercial in –  drum roll please — midnight blue. I’m wearing it with white sneakers because I am normcore and think the look perfectly encapsulates the day, which is trying to say: fuq da Hamptons (jk! Love you! See you at sundown!).

Club Monaco dress, Golden Goose sneakers.

Amelia: Your guess is as good as mine as to why I thought today was the day for a heel. Technically speaking my thinking was: ok, I’m going away this weekend and leaving right after work, and heels make my bag heavy, so if I wear the heels and pack the flops I’ll be able to run faster to the train since I’m always making it by the skin of my Chicklets. Which doesn’t make sense because running in heels isn’t my idea of a party, but know what is? These shorts from AYR (can you tell I’m into this brand?) with a Zara top that does this fun thing where the buttons unbutton and I flash everyone all day long. This (old) H&M clutch covered in jungle print that also makes for an excellent neck pillow on the train I am about to miss. Bye!

Charlotte: Nothing says “I’m ready for the weekend” quite like a halter festooned with flaming cacti. It may appear to be a dress but then a breeze whips by and poof! Magic shorts with hidden pockets! I love this freaky romper, but the impatient folks in the bathroom line behind me sure don’t. While undressing completely to pee is a bitch, it’s a small price to pay for all the people who are like,”WOAH! Cactus rocketships?!!”

Jeremy Scott romper, Céline sandals, Ray-Ban sunglasses

Hey Stranger, Thanks for Taking That Pic of Me and My Friends

I’d like to give a shout-out to the stranger who took my picture.

The one who was in the middle of his evening run when his 5k dreams were momentarily paused by two girls who desperately needed their friendship, the sunset, and the sailboat to their left on the Hudson River captured.

The one who was just trying to buy groceries and get home but agreed to photograph me by the bananas. “It’s an inside joke,” I explained.

The one who was on her phone, and the call looked kind of serious, but not serious enough that I felt uncomfortable waving in her face then whispering, “Hey, so sorry, do you mind taking our picture?”

Thanks to the one who kindly suggested I fix my hair.

A huge “thank you” is in order for the stranger who waited patiently while all 10 of us aligned ourselves – tallest in the back, me and Emily doing the camp-counselor-squat in the front; Sara on the right because of her hair-part, Jess on the left with a nice side-turn skinny arm. You took it both vertically and horizontally, and asked if we wanted a flash. We didn’t, and the flash went off anyway, so you took it again. That one came out great. I’ll probably get it framed.

Thank you for resisting the temptation to take a picture of yourself. I know how alluring that is; the little flip button makes it way too easy. And I wouldn’t have minded if you did that…it just would have been a little weird. You are a stranger, after all.

Speaking of which, thanks so much for not stealing my phone.

And thank you for not dropping it, either.

Thank you for nodding when I asked if you “got the whole outfit,” and thanks for not being a dick when I was like, “Actually, could you do it again?

Thank you to the old man who’d perhaps never seen an iPhone before, who thought he was doing a good deed by taking a chance on some sweet girls when instead he was barraged with an impromptu tutorial on how to take a photo with a device that to him might as well have been a rocket ship.

Another thanks to his grandkid who showed up five seconds later. That version was better, mostly because Monica had her eyes open.

I’ve said before that a stranger is a purse you haven’t met yet (“can you hold my keys for a moment while I search for my wallet?”), but you were so much more than that: paparazzi. Friend.

Maybe one day we can be in a picture together. Maybe I’ll post it to my Instagram, and you’ll post it to yours. I’ll make the caption something creative like, “Lol, so random.” You’ll use a nice filter — we could both use a tan.

And then I’ll ask you what your handle is, and I’ll “at” you, and you’ll “at” me. We’ll go our separate ways, then both obsessively check for “likes.”

Someone will inevitably comment “who the eff is that Amelia?”

And I’ll write back: “A friend.”

“Who took it?”

“Some stranger.”

Photoshop wizardry by Krista Lewis, Original images via Glamour UK, Elle Russia, Orla Kiely Spring 2014 & i-D Magazine 

 

Horoscopes > Telescopes

Ok you sunnyside up eggs, we went 6 whole days into August sans ‘scopes (which means you’ve likely been paralyzed by fear of the unknown for an entire week), but rest easy now because Susan Thriller is back doing exactly what she does best: MOONWALKING.

*

Happy birthday to you, Leo-nardo da Vincis of the sky. If you’re reading this on August 7th, then guess who you share a womb-exit day with? Carl Switzer. Who’s that? Alfalfa. Which is fitting because he, like your sign and its lion-y mane, was known for his hair. Cool! Suzanne the Lion Tamer wrote that “a darling Leo friend” of hers asked, “Do I turn into a pumpkin on August 11, 2015 next year when Jupiter exits Leo?”

“No, no, that will not happen,” she replied. Just in case you have Apocolocynposis.

Download the Kim Kardashian app on August 10th because that’s apparently a great time for you to collaborate with stylists, agents, publicists etc. On August 25th, “Venus in Leo receives a brilliant vibration from Uranus in Aries from your ninth house of long distance travel,” so don’t ignore that tingling sensation in your butt or call your doctor because if it — it’s just nature’s way of telling you to take a vacation! And if you’re Snookin’ for love, the 16th is your day. PS, if your cake is Funfetti, save me a slice. 

*

You Virgo, Glen Coco. This month is about getting rid of your bad habits. Like hoarding, for one. And clipping your toe nails in public, for another. Clean your closets, sell your brother, and do an emotional juice cleanse but feel free to keep eating pie. In moderation. August 10th may bring news about health, but August 10th is also a Sunday so maybe you’re just going to be hungover. ON MONEY! Because this month it is going to rain sunshine and cash on your a$$.

*

Nothing’s better than getting home and taking your Li-bra off, am I right? But you really should feel free to kick back and relax in your full commando glory, because your sign is hanging out with Jupiter this month. Suz says, “Jupiter truly is that fairy-tale house where you can see one wish come through to you in the coming year. Jupiter is the planet of happiness, expansion, goodness, and even miracles, so you have every reason to feel you do have reason for hope.” Maybe put the bra back on for tomorrow, though, because the 8th is hook up city / lover lane central. It’s a romantic day, but aren’t summer Fridays always romantic? A week later (Aug 16-18) Jupiter’s gonna text Venus and be like, “Hey girl, know we haven’t talked in a year, but I was thinking, wanna reconnect and give Libra a shit ton of luck?” Venus may wait an hour to write back to seem cool, but you know she’s gonna write back: “Yes.”

*

Scorpi-heyyyy-ooo,  heyyyy-ooo. Did you just feel like you were waving your arms in the ayer like you just don’t cayer for a moment right then? Great. So there’s a Strong new moon in Leo which means great things because it is “the new best, most glittering new moon of the year,” you happy little pinching and sand demons. If you’re thinking about switching jobs — maybe you don’t want to pinch/sting and potentially kill people walking in exotic deserts while barefooted even though it’s technically their fault for not taking the careful precautions! — start planting the seed now. August 18 will be a big ol day for you in this regard especially, because “a middleman, such as a job broker or headhunter,” might be at your service. Make an effort to be social at the end of August, but like, consider that you may have to take a pee test for this new job on your horizon. No judgements JUST SAYING!!!

*

Sagit-Darius Rucker and your remake of “Wagon Wheel,” get on your own bandwagon and travel this month! Go wherever your cute little heart desires right after you make sense of that strange, strange sentence I just wrote. If you’re getting ready to go back to college, as Professor Suz just pointed out, just know that you’ll really kill it when presenting any dioramas or paper mache volcanoes. She mentioned defending your thesis, technically, but who does that at the start of a semester? An eager beaver, that’s who. Not you. Whatever! This month is about taking opportunities for you. And tomorrow, Friday the 8th, Uranus is gonna all up in your house of true love. (That’s what she said! But actually, because Susan Miller said it).

*

Toot your own Capricorn, because this is gonna be a good month. “So much of the hard work you have done over the past years is about to pay off financially in coming months, especially in August,” writes Suz. You’re going to make money, AND, with the new moon in Leo which is “the sign of royalty” (which, speaking of signs, is yet another sign that Susan favors Leos but WHATEVER), you are going to enjoy the feeling of luxury, baby. Maybe you will be invited to P.Diddy’s white party. Maybe you will be pulled on stage at a Bruno Mars concert. Maybe you will get one of those strange Silicon Valley manservants and he will feed you grapes covered in gold. Maybe. In other Suz, August 15th is going to be a very nice day. And on August 26th — go have a barbecue, you crazy kid. You deserve it. I’ll have a hot dog.

*

Oh you sweet, harmonious Acca-quarius. Whatever you do, do not click here. Or here. Or here. I know you clicked so I hope you’re happy. You should learn to exercise restraint though, if you’re going to make Susan/the planet’s predictions come true. OH NOW you’d like to know? Fine. Well, this month you’re going to be doing the following: “growing your influence and power, perfecting your skills, and finding ways to increase business and your income.” Well don’t you just sound like the modern gardener. No. I have not had a drink yet today. Mars is in your tenth house of fame and honors (no clue) but that sounds like you’re going to win an award to me! Truly interesting to note: I believe you are the only sign Susan Miller does NOT want to travel. (If you do, keep it short.) Maybe she wants to hang out or something. Actually she definitely does, because she not-so-subtly hints: “If a friend wants you to meet someone new, don’t say no!” So Aquarius, meet Susan. Susan, meet Aquarius. Have fun hanging out without me, assholes

*

Damn girl, break me off a Pisces of that. Susan wrote: “Pisces began seeing their finances gyrating starting in December of last year, but in ways you may not have expected.” Well no shit, because if my “finances” were doing the type of dance that I associate with inappropriate dancing and/or the Disco era, I’m not going to say I was concerned but yea, it wouldn’t have been what I “expected.” Her point: more money is going to come in. Now listen. Susan brings up weight loss this month. She does it gently, something along the lines of, “If you want to loose weight this month…” which is fine, health is important, but does she not understand that June and July are about getting in shape for August because you forgot to do it during April and May, and that August is all about YOLOing eating lobster rolls as appetizers before your lunch? She also says she has a “magical feeling” that you’ll be invited to a party on August 23, 24, or 25, which sounds like the one she’s trying to throw at a Gemini’s house when they/me/the rest of us leave town per her urging. It’s really just you and the Aquariuses that she’s inviting so whatever, so long and thanks for all the fish. 

*

Cute underweAries, Jan! If it wasn’t gross to share, I’d ask to borrow them. “Mars will be in exact degree of friendliness to send a shimmering beam to Jupiter in Leo,” nonsensically wrote Susan or perhaps my eyes are just falling out of my brain. “Mars will also be in fine angle to Uranus in Aries. A golden triangle will appear in the heavens, so although news may initially be surprising, you can make things work in your favor.” THINGS. Let’s allow this to be vague because I think I did that thing where I read but didn’t absorb information and don’t feel like going back. Besides, all anyone reads their horoscopes for is to get the dirt on their own love life, right? Well guess what. A new moon lit the fire of passion at the end of July in that kitten sign called Leo, so your house of romance and fun is just one big firework ready to go off before Labor day. Be open to someone who doesn’t necessarily adhere to your typical “type,” however. This is fantastic advise for anyone with a tendency towards sociopaths and cartoon characters!

*

Taurus, no clever name jokes for you guys. Not this month. Not with this brain. “Grab your skateboard, dear Taurus,” said Susan who clearly is confused about our preferred form of both transportation and recreational hobby. “You may have assumed not much happens in August, but if so, think twice! This won’t be a sleepy, lazy little month, but one packed with lots of action. You won’t have a moment to spare!” Guys, we’re gonna be busy. If you’re trying to sell a condo in Boca, you’re in luck. If you’re looking for a deal at Ikea? Also in luck. We’re gonna make that $, possibly become a reality television star, and, if we’re focused, maybe we’ll design an app. August 25th will “spark new love and relationships” so schedule your waxes ahead of time, people. You do not want to be rocking your in-between-phase during the sparkliest day of Augustian romance! I’ll give you my girl’s number if yours is booked.

*

Gemin-hiii, what’s up? Suz recommends that you, like everyone else this month, travel. Get the hell out of town. Take a tan. Take a taxi. Honestly, she’s recommended that so many of us travel this month that I, for one, am getting a little concerned that she’s trying to throw a house party. The weekend of August 16-17 sounds like you might have a little summer fling if you know what I mean, and then on a less fun but still important level, any work project you have to do this month is gonna kill it in the positive sense and not the murderous sense. Also, “Jupiter, the great planet of good fortune, is in now circulating in your solar third house of writing, speaking, editing, fact checking.” If you work at New York Magazine, you’re probably like, “Cool!” It’s also a good month to get a pet. Moo.

*

Hold me closer, tiny Cancer. Susan talked way too much about money for you. You’re going to make it! You’re going to be annoyed by it but then find resolutions! Then comes more money! At first I was like, “Great, these Cancers are going to love me because I am going to tell them alll about how they are going to get rich,” but then I was like, “Susan. It is not polite to talk about money at the dinner table and I know it’s early but I’m already getting hungry again and a little bored so this has to, has to end.” It didn’t really end. She did, however, say you may see your sibling this month, so that may be less than thrilling. OR it may be super thrilling! I don’t know, I don’t have a sibling and I don’t know your life. August 15 will be a great day for love and matters involving pregnancy, though, so maybe you’ll give birth to your twin and wind up on TLC. I don’t write the rules you guys, I just summarize them.

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Major shout out to our intern Franny Keller for reading every single Susan Miller horoscope out loud to me  in a mid-Atlantic accent so that I didn’t have to read ALL of your War-And-Peace-length predictions this month! If it weren’t for her, I would have just posted a gif of a slug drinking from a coconut. 

Illustration by Cynthia Merhej 

Growing Up Brooklyn

I would have put substantial money on the fact that after the success of one Mr. Potato Head, the potato, a starchy, tuberous crop could not be reinvented again.

That is, until The New Potato came chopping cucumbers and seasoning flat bread with fashion rhetoric, spreading the gospel of both good cooking and clothes across the Internet using as a primary vessel for success cool people, their style and beverage/meal of choice to underscore the melting pot that is the divine relationship between food and fashion.

But that’s not it. Overachievers that this “New Potato” is, they started rolling out video content, too. You might remember that time Laura Brown of Harper’s Bazaar fame moved uptown and needed a crash course in living in the upper echelons of New York City, yes? With their brand new potato asses, they facilitated that lesson, using such icons as Simon Doonan and dimwits as myself, illustrating the hardships, victories and nuances of a life destined for many nosebleeds with a video they called Laura Brown Finds Her Local.

And then! This morning! They launched another video. It’s called Not Living in Brookyln in 2014 and all I have to say is this: someone get these women a freakin’ TV show.

[Not Living in Brooklyn in 2014 via The New Potato]

Lies I’ve Told Salespeople

After years of aggression and disappointment and too many unflattering jersey dresses, salespeople and I have arrived at a tense understanding to preserve a fragile peace. We lie.

They extoll the “virtues” of white linen. I promise to come back for that “super versatile” sequined gown after my “dentist appointment.”

We smile.

We laugh.

We never see each other again.

***

“You have great legs,” she says, towering over me.

I am 5’2.

“I’m obsessed with Core Fusion,” I toss off enthusiastically.

This is only partially untrue. While I have never once attended the famed workout class, I am a longtime subscriber to its bi-weekly newsletter…which I have reflexively deleted approximately eighteen trillion times. Still, I am reaping benefits left and right. My thumbs have never looked better.

I plan to try it soon. Perhaps this lie — more of a fib, really — is exactly the motivation I need. Everything changes today!

Given the preponderance of wellness-related emails that I receive several dozen times each week, I know that intention matters. Life is a choice. Health is a state of mind. This is going to be great.

“I’m addicted,” I tell her.

***

“This is such a great wallet,” says the redhead behind the sleek white counter of the charcoal bi-fold I have just purchased. “Your boyfriend is going to adore it.”

I smile.

She’s right. It is gorgeous. The leather is soft and sophisticated, and I have spent most of today on the lookout for one exactly like it. Woo-hoo!

It is 100% perfect for my fictional boyfriend. I hope my older brother likes it nearly as much.

“Totally.”

***

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” asks a well-dressed man moments after I enter the boutique that is his part-time fiefdom.

“Just browsing,” I say cheerfully.

“Okay, my name is Roger. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sounds great!”

This is not great. This is terrible.

I am, in fact, on a desperate hunt for an outfit to wear to a party tonight. The dress of my dreams is so specific — mod-ish, navy, collar detailing — that I fail to understand how I have not yet willed it into being. But despite — or is it because of? — Roger’s eagerness, I know I cannot share these specifications with him.

I shake Roger, collect several versions of the same dress and two pairs of silk pants that I already know I will not buy, and attempt to sneak over to the dressing room.

Roger is hot on my tail.

I’m doomed.

“That looks great on you!” he coos, once necessity forces me to emerge from the cramped fitting room; lacking decency and probably daughters, the capitalists who designed this store have put all the mirrors outside the dressing rooms.

I consider my reflection as Roger smiles widely behind me.

I hate it.

“I love it!” I say. “Can I put it on hold?”

Shot by Mikael Jansson for Interview Magazine

Here Are 5 Things You Still Need This Summer

It occurred to me on Monday morning when I went to take a walk across Houston Street from its eastern most point to the Hudson River that I was experiencing a textbook case of bittersweetness. It was so hot I could feel my fingers ballooning as the humidity expanded their width. The smell of dew emanated from every grassy knoll I have heretofore located in New York City and the sun shined like a freaking kindergartener playing the lead in an elementary school production of, I don’t know, The Sound of Music.

Finally, I thought, summer.

Last week really threw me for a loop when 4 out of 7 days, I was comfortable in a sweatshirt. If I’m being really honest with you, I felt vaguely excited when in May the Farmer’s Almanac predicted one of the muggiest summers of New York history. After the winter we endured, I marveled in the thought of stripping down to the lightest weight linen I have ever known and letting my flapping Annies flap as they do while my thighs finally reacquainted themselves with the spectacular light of day.

Incidentally, though, that would not happen. Not as I planned, at least. I’ve been wearing jeans and long skirts and “lightweight” sweaters that should theoretically serve no purpose across summer months save for those stupid breezy end-of-August evenings. So when the sweat stains finally started manufacturing rings along the borders of my armpits, I was thrilled. Elated, even. But then I remembered that it’s August. Not May, not June, not July, but the month that seals the nail in the coffin that is summer.

August means September. And September means October and, well, you know what October means, right? Close proximity to the Polar Whoretex of December/January/February/March. I can’t even think about it, dangit. I won’t think about it. And in an attempt to keep summer securely at bay, I will do what I am good at and devise a shopping list of things I think I need but definitely don’t need that will scream Summer with a capital S and dance along to the rhythmic beats of Pink Floyd.

Here they are:

1. A hat: I know your inclination is likely not to wear a hat but if you get one and it’s straw and you place it above your head, there is a 100% chance that you will feel more like summer is starting, not ending. Be capricious about it. Yolo.

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2. Sunglasses: You probably have a pair. I have some too. But then again, just because I ate a Snickers bar yesterday does not mean I don’t want another one today. Knaaamean?

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3. A sarong: Because now you know that you can wear them through the depths of city smog!

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4. Suntan lotion: Consider this a PSA. Have fun, but be safe.

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5. A bracelet that you can wear around your arm, your neck, or your ankle, as evidenced by this sliver of a story but also highlighted by the multifarious ways you can play with a leather chord. 

Image Shot by Urivaldo Lopes via Shön! Magazine

Talk to Yourself at Lunch Today

Between the worldwide Ebola scare and bedbugs on the NYC subway, it might be a good idea to cancel your lunch plans today. I think we should all agree to lock our doors and stay inside until September. Don’t worry, we can still talk, but call me/beep me/Skype me to be safe. Or just talk to yourself instead, that’s cool too. Here’s some “me time” material:

1. Imagine if da Vinci Wore Dolce 

Ever wonder what Venus would look like in a Nasty Gal swimsuit? Or which designer bag rested on Jesus’s lap underneath the Last Supper tablecloth? The answers to these pressing questions come in the form of @copylab, an amazing new Instagram account that combines fashion and art history. [Vogue]

2. Even Bears are Scared of Justin Bieber

This week, a Russian fisherman named Igor was violently attacked by a bear — but by some bizarre, divine intervention, his Justin Bieber “Baby” ringtone went off and scared it away. I’ll give you a moment to take that all in. This story raises a lot of questions, but I can’t get over the fact that even Russian fishermen are Beliebers. If only Orlando Bloom knew this tactic when he decided to start a fight with Bieber. [Austrian Times]

3. Talk to the Hand, Literally

Speaking of weird ringtones, there’s now a “fashionable” ring that doubles as a miniature smartphone. Because people don’t look weird enough already when they talk to themselves using headphones and/or Bluetooth. [Jezebel]

4. Writer Pens Novel Using Yelp Reviews

There are a lot of people out there who unfortunately treat their Yelp reviews like novels, but there’s only one Yelp book worth reading and it’s by comedian Gregg Gethard, who writes under the name “Karl G.” Grub Street goes as far as saying that this character embodies “a sort of David Foster Wallace–style.” [Grub Street]

5. St. Vincent Makes Vanity Fair International Best Dressed List

The Vanity Fair International Best Dressed list came out Wednesday and it includes the usual cast of characters ranging from Hollywood royalty to actual royalty. On a cooler note, St. Vincent was included this year. If you want to see her badass style for yourself, head over to the Prospect Park Bandshell on Saturday, August 9. [Vanity Fair]

Lastly, if you really MUST leave your house today and brave the horrors of the world, at least have some fun with your route like this one genius Nike+ runner.

Illustration by Charlotte Fassler. Images via @copylab and Renata Raksha. 

What Song Did You Not Understand?

To be fair, I was in fifth grade — 1999 — when “No Scrubs” came out. This means I was 11, and though I grew up the opposite of sheltered as a city kid in San Francisco, I was still just that: a kid.

Which means that contrary to my own beliefs I did not actually know everything, let alone anything, and I especially did not understand my favorite song that year.

“A scrub is a guy who thinks he’s fly

And is also known as a buster

Always talkin’ about what he wants

And just sits on his broke ass

So (no)

I don’t want your number (no)

I don’t want to give you mine and (no)

I don’t want to meet you nowhere (no)

I don’t want none of your time and (no)”

Ok. This part I got. It’s fairly self explanatory, and though I was light years away from dating, I knew that a scrub was a guy you did not want to date. But I didn’t understand why, because to me, he sounded pretty good! Let’s explore:

Always talkin’ about what he wants

He’s motivated!

And just sits on his broke ass

Well if his “butt” is broken he most likely can’t walk so he has to sit, right? Probably on one of those doughnut pillows my dad’s secretary used.

I don’t want no scrub 

A scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me

Hanging out the passenger side /  Of his best friend’s ride / Trying to holler at me

This part really threw me off. Since every boy I knew was also 11, they were lucky to sit in the passenger side of their best friend’s ride aka their mom’s Honda. Most of them had an older sibling who had shotty by nature of seniority, meaning that that majority of 11-year-olds I knew sat in the back. If Matt’s mom drove by with Matt hanging out the window as he shouted “Hi!” to me, I would have been THRILLED.

But a scrub is checkin’ me /  But his game is kinda weak / And I know that he cannot approach me

Again, back to the age thing no boys in 5th grade has game. This may have been why the aforementioned “hi” would have sent my pre-pre-teen self on a puppy love tailspin.

I don’t want your number (no) /  I don’t want to give you mine and (no)

Landlines, man. The ultimate bitch.

If you don’t have a car and you’re walking /  Oh yes son I’m talking to you

Again. None of us had our cars. In fact, growing up in SF meant that 80% of us walked or took public transportation to school, regardless of parental car ownership.

If you live at home wit’ your momma /  Oh yes son I’m talking to you (baby)

We not only ALL lived at home with our mommas but we also slept in sheets with cartoon characters on them. Can’t fault an 11-year-old for that.

Wanna get with me with no money /  Oh no I don’t want no (oh)

No one had money. What 11-year-old has money? Those of us who did, for lunch, lost it before noon. My mom packed my lunch so I never had money. This wasn’t a concern.

And yet, I still sang along.

Your turn. What song did you not understand? Maybe you still don’t understand? Let’s break it down, and then let’s sing.

– Amelia Diamond

Image via Rollingout.com