Leandra Medine's Blog, page 89
August 29, 2019
Ask MR: Was My Breakup a Mistake?
I wrote the below advice column in September of 2017, and am re-sharing it today in honor of Mistakes Month. I still get questions all the time about staying in or leaving relationships that feel just left of “right”—and while I more so believe in a shifting set of pros and cons than a divine path forward—I do think most people have a deeper truth hidden somewhere in their guts, layered under a lot of secondary emotions like fear and guilt. It’s just about finding it. Below, two of us go searching.
Hi MR,
I recently broke up with my girlfriend of four years, and almost everything you described in this story about leaving a happy relationship, I felt, too. I guess I’m wondering…how do I know if I made the right decision in leaving? Did you regret it? Why did you leave? Was it a chemistry issue? A lack of compatibility? I’m in the midst of intense guilty sadness and am questioning whether I made the right call. My mind says I did…that if we got back together, I would just continue the cycle of going through the motions and being half-bored all the time. But on the other hand, my ex-girlfriend wants nothing more than for this to work and I’m afraid I’m making a huge mistake. Am I a monster for leaving someone who loves me unconditionally?
Thanks.
I’m so sorry to hear you’re heartbroken. I know that dark place really well and (platitude incoming) the only thing that helped was time. Or rather, the inevitable healing that will happen within that time. I know that advice isn’t overly helpful, though. I know the thought of getting over your grief sounds just as upsetting as being in it. I’ve felt that.
Since I wrote about ending my longest relationship, a lot of people have asked me similar questions: Did I end up regretting it? Would they regret their breakups, too? My answer is almost always the same: no and probably not. Maybe it’s patronizing to say so, but I believe that a lot of people could be in more compatible relationships than the ones they’re in—especially if they spend a lot of time fretting over who they’re with. I also believe that deep regret and the intense desire to get back together after a breakup is part of the process, rather than proof of a mistake. And if I could bold and underline one bit of advice I’ve received, tested, failed at, succeeded at, then passed on myself, it’d be that talking to your ex post-breakup always makes things harder, even if it seems like it might do the opposite.
Time and space serve an important function. When a relationship reaches a breaking point, that means something. Whether the reasons are ironclad or evergreen, I think they need to be observed from an emotional distance to be fully understood. And that can’t happen if you’re still talking to one another. Believe me, I’ve tried to “heal together” or “stay in touch,” and I’ve hurt more than I needed to and reversed breakups that shouldn’t have been reversed. It all felt very reasonable and level-headed in the moment (We’re adults! We still care about each other! We can handle this!), but it was self-sabotage, every time without a doubt. Even if the decision to break up seems ludicrous in the height of grief, I don’t think two people can healthily help each other nor come back together under those circumstances. The allure of pain relief is too great; no one’s thinking straight.
There were certain things I felt were missing from the beginning—things I couldn’t stop myself from wanting no matter how hard I tried.
Of course, this has just been my experience (in both practice and observation), and all rules have exceptions, but not talking and taking time to heal are clichés for a reason. They just feel more complicated than you expect them to.
To answer your question, I ended that relationship due to a lack of compatibility. We were wonderful in a lot of ways, and could have continued on the way we were, but there were certain things I felt were missing from the beginning—things I couldn’t stop myself from wanting no matter how hard I tried. (A maddening truth I dodged for years.) Ultimately, my desire to find those things overcame my desire to stay with him. I fought with myself a lot about that, but can now say with my head held high that it was not an unreasonable desire. I was not just bored, nor was I “looking for Prince Charming.” I was just looking for something different.
I can’t stress this enough: It’s okay to want something different! This is your life!
After we broke up, I was devastated. For weeks, I told myself we would get back together, but I didn’t do anything. Two months later, I convinced myself I was ready to talk to him again, but I didn’t say anything. Ultimately I stuck it out and, sure enough, that all proved to be my grief talking. A year and a half later, I’m very much at peace with my decision and have been for a while.
My parents (who have a great marriage, but are very different from each other) have always said a lasting relationship is built on kindness, not a perfect match. It’s something I’ve always held close, and my respect for them and their marriage made my decision to leave a “kind” relationship in search of a “better match” much harder. But while I still hope to engender their approach one day, I’ve also come to appreciate they’re from a different time. They didn’t toil over their decision to commit, and they could never wrap their heads around how much I did.
You are not a monster for wanting something else.
I think a lot of us are at odds with their generation in this way. As much as they may shake their heads at our obsession with choice, having more options isn’t inherently bad. It just comes with its own challenges—ones I’m okay with taking on in exchange for the freedom to steer my own ship, to not drift along the current of “should.” Searching for a perfect match may be futile, but some people are more compatible than others. That spectrum exists and is not a binary—I’ve experienced its magic firsthand. And if long-term monogamy is what you want, I think it’s okay to put more stake in who you choose from the get-go, even if kindness could get you far without it.
Most of us need to adjust our expectations for all kinds of things, that’s true. That may be the enduring challenge of life itself! But for every hopeless romantic who needs to hear that love isn’t a fairytale, I’d argue there’s a logical worrier who needs to be reminded that relationships aren’t supposed to be traps, that a “good-enough marriage” as the ultimate landing place is its own kind of fairytale. Which do you think you are? I may be projecting, but something tells me you’re the latter.
You are not a monster for wanting something else. What you did was save yourself from a relationship you knew you would continue to find unfulfilling. You answered your gut, in spite of your fear, and if you reread your question, you said as much yourself. You also saved someone you deeply care about from investing in a relationship in which her partner wasn’t all in. I think your decision was ultimately a kindness to her, too.
Photo by Flashpop/Smashed egg timer via Getty Images.
Ask MR Identity by Madeline Montoya.
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August 28, 2019
I Asked Instagram Commenters to Dress Me for a Week and of Course It Got Weird
Last fall, Man Repeller alumna, Amelia Christina Gets Drunk at The Cheesecake Factory Diamond allowed her colleagues to dress her for a week. As it went, each morning one of us would send a text message with a prompt. Then she would hold the mandatory suggestion against the tasks of her calendar and style accordingly. What resulted, in my view, was her simultaneous dexterity as a stylist and a portrait of her genuine commitment, whether unwitting or deliberate, to looking like herself, no matter the circumstance (see: Legend of Zelda picks up her dry cleaning). As a sort of spin-off, last week I tasked myself with the work of asking my Instagram following to dress me for a week.
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What resulted was upwards of 1,500 suggestions, deposited by direct message and public comment (with no shortage of genuinely kooky rendering requests), of which I am positive Man Repeller will be able to make use for at least the next, let’s say, year. But I could only pick 5, so I pooled the most common themes–nonsensical marriages of odd couples from opposite ends of a spectrum (see: a quinceañera and Thanksgiving in the South) or the combination of office-attire and effectively anything else–and made up a work week’s worth of outfits to fit the prompts without sacrificing my own style for both your viewing pleasure and my closet’s amusement.
As the great Kevin Costner once said, “If you build it, they will come,” so, prompters, here’s hoping you’re here.
Prompt: “Lingerie but make it business”
The logic: The previous sentence from the prompt read, “You’re a very important businesswoman who slept in late at her partner’s apartment and now has to rush to work.” I assumed it was a Thursday night because it was in my interest to make such an assumption and took creative license/further assumed there is a casual Friday policy at the office, but even if there is not, given that you are an important businesswoman, surely your higher up has to be out of his (probably his) mind to expel you on the account of your machine-friendly, casual poplin. You’re important, after all.
Anyway, for your date, you put on your lightweight wool checkered finest. They hug your butt exactly the way you hope all office garb will. With it, you paired a negligee, essentially. A negligee that would effortlessly collaborate with said machine-friendly poplin. You’ve got files in your bag, and loafers on your feet. In an alternative reality, you wear this to work, shirt tucked in and buttoned up, then let down your hair so to speak, before you’re about to meet someone with whom you hope you’ll have sex. Of all the outfits I assembled, this one feels the most me. Feel free to unpack that.
Prompt: “Britney goes to Walmart”
The logic: The prompter specified the spelling–and she was called Britney. Not Brittany. Brittany may have worn something profoundly different. But Britney, carrier of multiple decades’ worth of public growth and therefore also the plausible recipient of manifold projected personas, is, paradoxically, specific. I chose to marry “the hit-me-baby, but also I can wear a snake, NBD,” Britney to a classic Walmart shopping scenario. The particular Walmart scenario I envisioned featured a busy parent trying to get their kid all the things he or she needs for school before school starts. Cue (I mean kah-yoooooooo) the tote. The latter is reflected in the shorts and the style of shoes. The former, in the rhinestone bralette and souped-up shoe buckles. I hate myself for not getting body rhinestone stickers.
Prompt: “Women’s U.S. soccer team meets Cruel Intentions“
The logic: Fo the rare bird who has not seen Cruel Intentions, I invite you to review this Wikipedia rendering of the character I’m emulating from the movie (the original!). The TL;DR is that she ruins people’s lives for fun and more often than not uses sacricities such as sex and religion to do it. Not to beat you over the head with the obvious but that’s why I’m wearing an at-first-glance modest dress that actually exposes all my shit. Meanwhile, soccer players love high socks—high socks and shoes that make running super fast and kicking balls easier. Whoa, it just occurred to me that a female soccer player is a special kind of hero. She literally kicks balls that she doesn’t want in her court, out of her court for a living, but I digress. I’m wearing high socks and sneakers to commemorate Her. Could I be a Danish influencer? Yeah. Am I frustrated about it? Not in the least.
Prompt: “Recently divorced bee-keeper going to her friend’s gallery opening”
The logic: Here’s this recently divorced woman, vulnerable as fuck (so much so that she has *removed* the net from her hat), trying to find herself again and using social opportunities, like a close friend’s gallery opening, to do it. She walks into her closet and asks herself: when’s the last time I felt like an anchored me? She gravitates toward the panoply of prints that have been relegated to a “maybe I’ll wear this again later” section in her closet. Then, she asks, what would I wear to an art party? Renderings of stiff poplin blouses and wide leg, airy pants come up. She recalls a pair of printed pants. Silk, to be sure! And pairs them with what feels like the most adult-but-still-her blouse she’s got. Ready for a night on the town–a new life on it, in fact. Let’s tango!
And for my final trick?
Prompt: “Mr. Big x Aidan”
The logic: It ain’t a Man Repeller story if Sex and the City doesn’t weave itself in somehow. Amalie (our social media editor and resident poet) recently told me that she watched the whole series after accepting our job offer. The whole series! What would Aidan look like if he was also Big? What would Big look like if he was also Aidan? As I reflect on the answer to this question, it seems I probably should have just tried to recreate an iconic look of Carrie’s. Isn’t she, after all, the amalgam of them both? But that’s not where I went. Instead, I heard Samantha’s voice talking about turquoise rings (and landed upon silver; Aidan would never wear gold, lest it matched some tobacco suede he was wearing), and remembered that there was an encounter in Morocco (see: the caftan). Then I assigned mad stereotypes to the air of the BIZNESS MAN in the S-class Benz-big. Shiny black loafers. Pressed trousers. And, if he was a woman, 10/10 would wear red lipstick. No?
Allow me to answer with: abso-fucking-lutely.
Photos by Sabrina Santiago.
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There’s Exactly One Movie That Will Make You Want to Buy a Fishing Vest This September
September kicks off my favorite time of year for moviegoing—and that’s not because fall is when all the prestige Oscar bait films come out (yaaaawn). It’s because I can start wearing coats that are not too bulky to rest on my lap, but with big enough pockets for snuck-in movie snacks (usually Raisinets purchased at the Rite Aid across the street for a quarter of the concession stand price or a box of Pocky from the Japanese deli). I’m already giddy thinking about all the light peacoats and oversized denim jackets in which I will conceal said snacks, leaving room in my inconveniently tiny purses.
Snack storage was heavily on my mind when I went to see Richard Linklater’s latest, Where’d You Go, Bernadette?, last week and while it is a bland movie that’s probably more thrilling in audiobook form, I was sartorially inspired by a fishing vest Cate Blanchett’s Bernadette orders on Amazon during one of her manic episodes and wears while running errands that do not at all involving fishing.
Where’d you go, Bernadette? But more importantly: Where did you get that vest, girl?At some point, I stopped caring about the way-too-easily answered titular question (sorry, I didn’t read the book, I was expecting something more along the lines of Gone Girl), and instead became fixated on how chic the vest looked, thrown over a navy blue turtleneck and peeking out from underneath a trench coat, its roomy pockets both utilitarian and aggressively statement-making. If I had one of these vests, I could shove all my belongings in the compartments (I think I counted eight of them on Blanchett’s), thus justifying a petite Jacquemus purse. The fishing vest reminds me of these Prada boots, which I can’t see myself wearing, but do cause me to fantasize about what I’d store in them: business cards, cough drops, bobby pins, chapstick….
Anyway, I love appropriating outdoor gear for idle activities, such as, yes, movie-watching, and plan on adding one of these to my wardrobe. Unfortunately, a quick online search brings up nothing nearly as cute as Bernadette’s, so please… if anyone knows where one can get a stylish-without-trying-to-be fishing vest, drop some suggestions for me below. NYFW ain’t ready.
3 New Netflix Movies Come and 1 Cate Blanchett Movie Goes…
Speaking of Cate Blanchett breaking free from the monotony of domestic life, Carol is set to leave Netflix on the 20th—extremely poor timing before the holiday season, imo. So squeeze in all that Christmastime longing three months early… or befriend someone like me, who bought the movie on Blu-ray in preparation for a day like this.
But, enough mourning those we’ve lost, and on to new gifts for the queue, courtesy of Netflix: On September 1st, American Psycho arrives, and if I were to remake it, everyone would be whipping out business cards from the aforementioned Prada boots. But honestly, Mary Harron’s way-better-than-the-book adaptation does not warrant a remake (despite what Bret “women can’t direct” Easton Ellis may think).
By the way, here’s an important photo of Kirsten Dunst in Dolce & Gabbana, looking like she invented blue at the ‘American Psycho’ premiere in 2000. This photo is available to purchase as wall art at Walmart, for some reason?There are also a couple Netflix originals I’m excited to check out this month, including Between Two Ferns: The Movie, which I think just involves Zach Galifianakis doing the same crazy shit that made the web show famous. It hits Netflix on the 20th. I’m also looking forward to Tall Girl, about an insecure 6’1 teen girl (played by newcomer Ava Michelle) who falls for an even taller Swedish exchange student, and gets caught up in a love triangle. Tall Girl (which arrives on the 13th) comes from first-time feature filmmaker Nzingha Stewart, whose directorial credits include episodes of Scandal and How to Get Away With Murder, and is produced by McG, who directed the flawless 2000 Charlie’s Angels.
It’s been a while since I came of age, but I will always be a sucker for movies about the awkwardest years of one’s life. A new coming-of-age comedy worth watching in theaters now is Blinded by the Light (from the director of Bend It Like Beckham, a classic from my pubescent years), about a Pakistani teen boy growing up in the ’80s who becomes obsessed with Bruce Springsteen. The musical cues are obviously great, and despite all its corniness (ugh, there are lyrics on the screen), it is so very charming.
It’s the Best Time of Year for New York Cinephiles
Another reason September is such a great time for film is that it kicks off the New York Film Festival, which takes place at Lincoln Center from September 27th to October 13th and always renews my sense of cinephilia and makes going to the movies feel more like an event. Last year’s opening night film was The Favourite, but I took fashion cues from Elizabeth Taylor in the 1960 call-girl melodrama, Butterfield 8.
Here is a selfie from the bathroom of Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall, in a Keepsake dress and vintage Socialites shoes, with my grandma’s old purse.
I knew that hairdo would be a hairdon’t on me, so some things are better left unmimicked.There are so many movies I’m dying to see at this year’s NYFF (the new Scorsese, Baumbach, Arnaud Desplechin, Kiyoshi Kurosawa, to name a few), but a lot of last year’s highlights are available to stream now, making for a good catch-up watchlist. The Favourite is now on HBO Go, while the Korean slow-burn thriller Burning (no pun intended) is now on Netflix, so you can fume (seriously… no… pun… intended…) about its lack of an Oscar nom. Two of last year’s bests can also be found on Hulu: the choose-your-own-family tear-jerker Shoplifters from Hirokazu Kore-eda and Olivier Assayas’s publishing world infidelity comedy, Non-Fiction.
Claire Denis’s High Life, about Robert Pattinson raising a baby in space, is available to rent on YouTube, Google, and other places, but Metrograph is bringing it back from August 26th–29th. While all space movies deserve the big screen, there’s something about Denis’s terrifying portrayal of the loss of autonomy (and a spaceship dildo machine) that is rendered even more freaky in the darkness of a movie theater (it’s kind of like watching from inside a blackhole).
A look from a past NYFF press screening: Moschino sweater, Rag & Bone overalls, and Gentle Monster sunglasses. Festival badges are not chic, but what can ya do?Cinema to Chew on Over at Criterion
If you want a father-daughter Claire Denis movie of a totally different flavor (low-key, literally down-to-earth), head over to the Criterion Channel to stream 35 Shots of Rum, about a dad and daughter who live in the Parisian projects, their small worlds intertwining with those of their neighbors (exes and love interests). It involves a lot of humble home-cooking shot intimately in close quarters, and stars Denis regular Alex Descas as well as Mati Diop, who has a movie she directed in this year’s NYFF main slate. 35 Shots of Rum is one of my favorite culinary films, and many others from my recent food on film guide (the ramen western Tampopo, the unlikely love story Ali: Fear Eats the Soul) are also available on Criterion. And for one awkward dinner table conversation about vegetarianism, turn on Éric Rohmer’s The Green Ray, which I recommended last month as the movie version of “Summertime Sadness.” I just rewatched it last week and felt young and sad in a good way for hours afterward. If you’re in New York, though, you absolutely must go see it on 35mm when it opens at Metrograph on August 30. It is a perfect film.
I wore this to a Green Ray roundtable I recently moderated at Metrograph. It admittedly went better than this attempted one-foot selfie. Dress thrifted from Beacon’s Closet and Dior shoes.For More of a Summer Thrill…
If you’re not in the mood for summertime soul-searching, let me just say that I had dumb fun watching that alligator hurricane movie Crawl, and am equally excited to see the shark flick 47 Meters Down: Uncaged. The first 47 Meters Down (which was caged) is also a deliriously riveting time, and can be found on Netflix. Last month, I admitted I had Tarantino FOMO because I’d been out of town for so long and well, I finally watched Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (and enjoyed it moderately). I don’t have much to add that everyone on the Internet hasn’t already but 1) I am starting to get Margot Robbie now and 2) I was pleased as punch to learn it was choreographed by Toni Basil (Yes, “Hey Mickey, you’re so fine” Toni Basil), whom I love dearly and whose one-hit-wonder status I find unjustifiable. Meanwhile, Basic Instinct hits Hulu on September 1st for some naughty fun in a white dress. And speaking of white dresses, there’s nothing I want to watch more than Ready or Not, that new horror movie about a bride who gets hunted down by her in-laws when she marries into a rich family. I’m just waiting for friends to text me back about going to see it… I, for one, am very ready.
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10 Lies I’ve Told Myself, in No Particular Order
In all honesty, I’m a terrible liar. And yes, I know that’s something a good liar would say.
Whenever I try to skirt the truth, the corners of my mouth curl and my lips purse as if I’ve silently let out gas and am just waiting for you to smell it. My little sister, on the other hand, has always had an affinity for fibbing—she can run her mouth like a kitchen faucet. My parents were called into school for all sorts of her scandals growing up, from minor mix-ups to ambitious claims that were too audacious to believe. (My personal favorite: Upon watching the Mary-Kate & Ashley classic Our Lips Are Sealed, my five-year-old sister came to class raving about the pet kangaroo her family had adopted and was keeping in their Manhattan apartment.)
But even with all my supposed truth-telling, I’ve also come to accept that there’s a difference between the truth and my truth, which is, in some ways, just another lie. This is why the only person I’ve ever had any luck lying to is me. Sometimes I so badly want to believe my own delusions—especially those that protect my feelings and manage my expectations—that I’ve gone to great lengths to keep my blinders on. In no particular order, here are 10 times I’ve done so to unfortunate results.
1. The Time I Told Myself I Was a Raver
Even though I think most EDM sounds like NYC traffic, I bought a ticket to Electric Zoo music festival anyway. All of my friends were going and I told myself I’d regret it if I didn’t. It’ll be fun, I repeated, as I walked down Madison dressed in American Apparel’s finest and doused in so much glitter I could have passed for an overzealous extra on Euphoria had the show existed. Not two hours later, I ended up anxiously drinking too much before ever making it inside the tents. My mom had to come pick me up.
2. The Time I Talked Myself Into Side-Bangs
I told myself I’d look like Natalie Portman. I looked like I had a toupé. Never again.
3. The Time I Let Down a Waxing Salon
The first time I got my unibrow waxed, my mother called ahead of time to make the appointment. “Is this for Iman, the fashion model?” the salon asked. My mother found this hilarious and replied: “The one and only.” I was furious, but as a young Middle Eastern-American girl who was carrying more hair on her face than exists in a shower drain, I couldn’t afford to miss the golden opportunity. They knew she was kidding, I reassured myself, before being greeted by flower arrangements, mood lighting, and a welcome party when I showed up for my appointment. I don’t know who turned redder: me or the receptionist.
4. The Time I Convinced Myself No One Would Notice My Spray Tan
Everyone had gone away for spring break, while I was stuck celebrating the Persian New Year with my family in New York. I only wanted a healthy glow! But I forgot to factor the base color of my skin tone.
5. Every Time I’ve Ever Told Myself, It’s Just a Job
For me, it’s never just a job.
6. The Time I Convinced Myself I Loved Casual Hookups
My sophomore year of college, a frenemy told me I wasn’t taking full advantage of “hookup culture.” I was at a Halloween party dressed as a bottle of wine (with a cork hat and everything). She’s wrong, I told myself. I’m spontaneous! I love meaningless sex! I asked her to pick someone at random from the crowd. She closed her eyes and spun around. When her finger landed on a stranger, I approached him and attempted to flirt. We ended up very publicly making out all night in the middle of the dance floor, as “Mr. Brightside” blared in the background. I was satisfied with my performance until I showed up to my history dissertation group the next week and realized my hypothetical mystery man was actually my very real TA. I did poorly in that class.
7. The Time I Thought I Had a Hit on My Hands
When I was in middle school, I produced a mixtape on GarageBand using pre-recorded acoustic loops. It was titled Dreams & All Those Things and the cover art was a birds-eye view photo of me lying on my bed, seductively staring into the camera. I remember listening to it on my walkman on my way to school and telling myself it sounded amazing, despite the blatantly mismatched tempos and erratic beats. I promptly burned 50 more CDs and passed them out to my peers. Unfortunately, the reviews were not as stellar as my self-delusion. Three weeks later, I stayed at school until closing and attempted to steal back every copy.
8. The Time I Told Myself I Didn’t Love Him
I did.
9. The Time I Ignored My Gut & My Sweat Glands
I once convinced myself to give a speech at a charity gala while wearing a backless dress and sticky-boobs, fully knowing that I get the sweats when I’m nervous. The adhesive strips slid down my body midway through, and I followed the audience’s eyes as they watched my chest deflate. I ended up catching the chicken cutlets in between my thighs, where they remained for the remainder of my address.
10. Every Single Time I’ve Used Nair
No, self, this time it won’t work.
What’s the last lie you told yourself?
Feature graphic by Dasha Faires.
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The Man Repeller Review of Books: Hello From the Halfway Point of ‘Trick Mirror’
Welcome to the Man Repeller Review of Books, inspired by our wild and well-attended Google spreadsheet, where we burrow into the virtual reading nook of our website and talk books. The format is bound to shapeshift, while the objective remains the same: to broaden the horizons of our reading queues and to consider books we might not have heard of otherwise by sharing both our recommendations and modes of discovery.
I’ll be forthcoming: For someone who espoused a trick for reading more books, I haven’t exactly been realizing my fantasy of plowing through stacks of literature this summer. In the midst of (overdoing it on the) travel, managing the complexities of being freelance for the first time, and catching a vertiginous virus, I’ve underdelivered on my loose goal of two books per month. I feel fine about it. The upshot is that I can endorse everything I have read, which I deem better than the alternative.
First: Gwyneth Paltrow’s Mic Drop
“Fame is such a weird and distorting thing. I’ve thought a lot about it, and my theory is that you kind of stop growing at the age you are when you become famous.” I learned pretty much everything I needed to know about fame and the entertainment industry from this one passage in Gwyneth Paltrow’s contribution to Live from New York: The Complete, Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live as Told By Its Stars, Writers and Guests, a crystallized diagnosis that alone made reading the book worth it, though I’d recommend it in its entirety.
Gwyneth Paltrow in an under-appreciated role as Clementine in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Hard Eight, his 1996 feature directorial debut. Note the teal sequins.She elaborates on her theory of fame: “…what happens is, people start removing all your obstacles, and if you have no obstacles you don’t know who you are. You don’t have real perspective on the problems that face you in life, how to surmount them, and what kind of character you have. When you’re in the public eye, people project things onto you, and if you take them on yourself, they’re very scattering and they can alienate you. Being famous can be very damaging in lots of ways. Saturday Night Live is proof of that.”
Most of my reading energy this summer has gone toward the aforementioned tome on four decades of SNL. (Yes, I am a fan.) The book tells the story of how an irreverent upstart (the first cast, which boasted John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Chevy Chase, and Gilda Radner, was referred to as the “Not Ready for Primetime Players”) turned into an American institution, the most regular, reliable program on network television in the age of streaming and bingeing. Here’s what I love about SNL, and why I read the book on it and then created my own fantasy draft revolving around it (and no, the reason is not Pete Davidson): The show’s format is as conceptual as a John Baldessari painting.
With exacting and self-inflicted constraints and controls (time, content mix of evergreen and reactionary material, one guest host, aims to appeal to a local and national audience, etc.), you get the feeling that the SNL team’s process is akin to repeatedly locking themselves in a vault and then spending the week trying to find a way to get out. Starting on Monday, the writing staff cranks out 40 ideas for sketches, which are later processed at a read-through meeting and edited down to a show’s worth of content, at which point the cast and the various art departments have about three days to prepare for Saturday’s dress rehearsal. After dress, a few sketches are cut for time or quality. And then, as executive producer Lorne Michaels is famous for saying, “We don’t go on because we’re ready. We go on because it’s 11:30 p.m.” The process begins anew the next Monday, as it has for the last 45 years.
Just as SNL is an ensemble show, this is an ensemble book: it stitches together a quilt of voices, with interspersed interview snippets from most of the show’s living participants (writers, music department, NBC executives, guests) offering a panoramic view of the show. It’s a venn diagram of Hollywood, comedy, and music’s recent history, seen through the lens of Saturday Night Live, which is as comprehensive a lens as any. Oddly humorless considering its subject matter, the book is instead rich with irony when read during the Trump administration: There are so many moments when figures like Rudy Giuliani assert that they don’t mind being parodied on the show, unaware of what’s to come.
Then, An Essayist’s Essayist
The water fountain at the New York Public Library, a leonine spigot.Not to be confused with Live from New York, the book Gone to New York by Ian Frazier had long taunted me from my shelf after a friend inscribed it on the occasion of our high school graduation. It’s a collection of Frazier’s essays, some of which originally ran as snappy “Talk of the Town” pieces for his employer The New Yorker. His writing is an exemplar for the traits I most aspire to in nonfiction writing—more often than not, Frazier is batting 400 against solipsism.
For those not sated by this endorsement: Frazier’s stories are sticky, which is to say I still think about certain essays all the time. One places the Holland Tunnel right next to the spot where Hamilton and Burr once dueled. Another traces the precise coordinates of New York’s antipodes across the earth. Three separate tales feature his patented “bag-snaggler”. There’s also the story of a brilliant sketch of a guestbook in a 1993 Brooklyn Museum Impressionism exhibition, which is proof enough that the Internet’s comment sections were doomed from the start. Frazier shifts between the personal and the local with such finesse, and makes me break into peals of laughter in a way that few writers do.
Last, In the Midst of Summer’s Biggest Book
I’m halfway through Trick Mirror, which feels looser than Jia Tolentino’s stories for The New Yorker, maybe because they’re in conversation with her various experiences of self-delusion and therefore more personal than usual, or maybe because the kind of brevity necessary for a weekly publication need not apply here. The first essay, a high-level ethnography of our cyclical and unspoken relationships with our internet identities, is a superb example of what Tolentino is known for: contextualizing and articulating a universal, contemporary, and banal phenomenon. (This is also what I, and many others before me, find appealing about David Foster Wallace.)
These are just my first impressions. I would certainly not want someone who read four of my 10 essays to review my collection, so I’ll report back once I’m done. In the meantime, please refer to Haley’s bibliography of the media blitz surrounding this book—I’m still on the receiving end of push notifications from new Tolentino-centric podcasts, so like this review, the blitz is not over yet.
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Adding to My Queue…
As I wrote before, the source of my motivation to keep my regular reading habits purring is an enticing to-read list. Here are a few books I’ve added to my list—may they rev your reading engine, too:
May We Be Forgiven by A.M. Homes (This was recommended and bestowed by a friend. After, I learned that Homes had staged an opera libretto called “Chunky in Heat,” which only increased my interest.)
Thick by Tressie McMillan Cottom
On a theme: The Castle on Sunset by Shawn Levy and Los Angeles by A.M. Homes
Forty Seven False Starts by Janet Malcolm (I bought via Books are Magic)
Drinking Coffee Elsewhere by Z.Z. Packer
Heat Waves in a Swamp: The Paintings of Charles Burchfield
The Wolves by Sarah DeLappe (a play I missed at Lincoln Center)
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, prior to the movie premiere
Talent by Juliet Lapidos
Grantland’s “Issues” published in collaboration with McSweeney’s
A bunch of rescued Spy Magazines
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (I saw this at a Birch Coffee book swap earlier this summer and knew I should have snapped it up then—it was gone the next day.)
Old in Art School by Nell Irvin Painter
I Like to Watch by Emily Nussbaum (I bought via Green Apple Books in San Francisco)
Fleishman Is in Trouble: A Novel by Taffy Brodesser-Akner (ditto)
Inheritance by Dani Shapiro
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Literary Morsels for the Road:
Our new friend Al generously built and shared a version of our communal reading system on Coda which can handle more volume than our Google spreadsheet. Click here to check it out.
Bask in the braininess of Maggie Nelson on her episode of the Otherppl podcast.
Skylight Books in Los Angeles.
I was early to a meeting this summer and had to stall in a neighborhood I’d never been to before. Presto: a fortuitous foray into Skylight Books in Los Feliz, which refuses to conform to bookstore homogeneity. They had zines I’d never seen before and others by old favorites, the kind of riso-printed fare often reserved for art book fairs. I know it’s LA, but look at this screenwriting section.
A time hop: Last summer, on this date, I was reading John McPhee’s Draft No. 4, compelled to wake up and crack it open before checking my phone—a rare feat for a bound book in this economy, and particularly so for a book on “craft.” Guzzle this one up.
I’m a subscriber of Literary Hub’s Saturday newsletter, a missive of news from the week.
A trifecta of literary Instagrams worth following: @bibliofeed, @book_thing and @secondshelfbooks.
Aligned with the community conversation here, I too am fervent about the local library as a chief access-point to books, which can run up a tab despite good-natured, readerly ambition. I use the Chrome extension tool to ascertain whether books I browse online are available at the library. My NYPL card also grants me access to Libby, a breezy app for reserving both ebooks and audiobooks.
Emma Straub just announced her new book on Instagram.
Have you noticed a sudden influx of this Daunt Books tote bag?
And finally, a twofold explanation for why you should get comfortable with the pre-order button:
pre-ordering books is so great because: 1) it helps the authors in EVERY way in that it helps the book hit bestseller lists, helps bookstores know to stock it, builds buzz, etc. and 2) you forget you did it and then get a surprise gift in the mail
— rachel syme (@rachsyme) August 14, 2019
The post The Man Repeller Review of Books: Hello From the Halfway Point of ‘Trick Mirror’ appeared first on Man Repeller.
August 27, 2019
I Dressed Like Billie Eilish and It Wasn’t Me But It *Was* Something
“I wear baggy shit and I wear what I want,” Eilish said in a recent interview with V Magazine. “I don’t say, ‘Oh, I am going to wear baggy clothes because it’s baggy clothes.’ It’s never like that. It’s more, just, I wear what I want to wear…I’m just walking around dressed how I always wanted to.”
Eilish is not alone in pushing the boundaries of what defines “pop style” in 2019, but something about her approach has really stuck to my sticking place. Maybe because her style encapsulates so many things I like—oversized everything, color-blocking, comfort-wear—and takes them to an extreme. When I read this comment she made in Harper’s Bazaar when she was 15 (!!!), my intrigue crystallized: “I want to dress in a way that if I was in a room full of people wearing regular clothes, I would be like, ‘Oh, I bet everyone’s looking at me.’ I want to feel that way. That’s my casual.”
As someone who typically finds their stylistic flair by way of cutesy touches rather than huge statements, I needed to know what it felt like, if only for a day, to stand out in a Billie way. And so I asked the glorious Eliz Tamkin to “Billie” me, the results of which are below.
Billie 1.0
This is an “early days” look. I was on page 21 of Getty Images when I found this army green dress, camo cap, and dirty sneaker combo. The first thing I thought when I looked at her in this shot was that I couldn’t fathom becoming a famous pop star at age 15—the media scrutiny and the intensity of adapting to whims of record labels, all while hardly knowing who you are. Here, Eilish looks like the nascent version of who she is now. Wearing this outfit made me feel 15 again, too, but at age 15 I was probably wearing a second-hand Juicy Couture tracksuit and fake Uggs.
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I’m the “Bad Guy”
In my life, I have never worn head-to-toe yellow. I have never worn a full sweatsuit. I have never worn a belt harness. Now I can happily say I’ve done all three. For the latter component, Eliz’s genius was in hooking two belts together to recreate Eilish’s vest-suspender-harness amalgam. A group of people hooted at us while we were attempting to take this shot, which confirmed that a look like this elicits a reaction, I guess. I felt distinctly “cool” in a way I never have before, despite the beads of sweat trickling down my back.
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Just Hit Up Kith, Need an Iced Coffee
This look was easily my favorite. From the moment I walked outside, I was carrying myself differently. I felt simultaneously so anonymous and so visible, which led to me feeling as though I have never in my life looked as objectively “awesome.” I’m still questioning why that is, though. When I sent these photos to my mother the day after the shoot, she responded with perplexion: “I like the way YOU dress,” she said. Well, I like the way I dress, too. But I also like imagining a world in which I could dress like Billie, mom.
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Eilish’s look is a product of her upbringing, her community, the people she has invested time and energy in researching, uplifting, crediting, and knowing. My style is a product of the same, but the components that make up my whole are so very different from hers, which is why her style is not mine to own—I haven’t done that work and I haven’t lived that life. But it was fun to know what it feels like, even if just for a few hot minutes on the streets of lower Manhattan.
Styled by Elizabeth Tamkin; Photos by Sabrina Santiago.
The post I Dressed Like Billie Eilish and It Wasn’t Me But It *Was* Something appeared first on Man Repeller.
The 5 Most Common Relationship Mistakes, According to a Couples Therapist
Either way, it’s a little ironic; it would seem that love has never been more confounding than it is right now. In the era of app dates, open relationships, and rampant ghosting, “commitment” is a watery concept. And as younger generations continue to rewrite the process of courtship—while older generations grapple with shifting expectations—it seems only natural that we might need a little help navigating our way through it all.
So for those of us who are curious about what goes on in couples therapy, I asked renowned, New York-based couples therapist, Dr. Irina Firstein, about the most common relationship mistakes she confronts in her work with long-term couples—and how we all might do better.
1. Don’t Spare the Niceties
Conventional appeal aside, there are plenty of unsexy elements to cohabitation: shared bathrooms, dirty dishes, the expectation that you actually deposit your dirty socks into a laundry hamper upon removal. Often, you trade in “I’ll pick you up at 8” for “can you pick up milk?” It’s not that the so-called flame can’t, you know, keep burning, even through all the dairy purchases. It’s just that, at some point, the novelty of occupying one another’s space is lost—you begin to coexist in a more prosaic format.
At this stage in a relationship, Dr. Firstein recommends paying attention to the way you acknowledge all the unexceptional daily occurrences with your partner. “It’s very important to mark normal transitions in a day,” she explains. “Waking up, leaving for work, greeting after work, going to sleep: These transitions are events in the course of a day—and they’re important opportunities to connect.” That acknowledgment can manifest in any number of ways: a kiss, an exuberant hello, maybe an endearing, “I know you had a hard day so I brought you that thing you like from the Thai food place.” There’s no formula here—it’s just the effort that’s important.
Among her own patients, Dr. Fierstein finds that the failure to make those tiny acknowledgements leaves couples feeling like their relationships resemble practical partnerships more than they do romantic unions. That surprise takeout order might be a good first step in reversing the damage.
2. Keep Your Partner Close and Your Friends…Also Close
Whenever I encounter a couple jogging together, I find myself deeply nauseated. This has something to do with me and my personal problems, and something to do with the unrelenting togetherness such an activity suggests. I always wonder: Wouldn’t a conversation over lunch be that much more stimulating if you and your partner had both gone on different fitness journeys?
“I often see couples putting too much pressure on one another to be their everything—which is an unfair burden for your partner to carry,” says Dr. Firstein. In her work, she finds that pushing patients to pursue individual interests or friendships can relieve the tension that comes along with relying too heavily on a partner for personal satisfaction or validation. The truth is, nobody is prepared to shoulder the responsibility of being anyone’s everything.
It’s not that jogging with your significant other is a problem, of course, but as is uniquely conveyed by the canonical Paul Rudd/Jason Segel film, I Love You, Man, having your own friends and hobbies separate from your partner bolsters your relationship. These are the things that enrich your lives as individuals so that your life together is one of two whole people.
3. Money Is a Thing. Talk About It.
When you’re involved with another person, you’re going to spend money together: dinners out, nightcaps, trips, groceries, potentially even rent. So if you don’t find channels for monetary communication that feel approachable, those expenses add up to a weird, enormous, dollar-sign-shaped wedge between you. Dr. Fierstein says it’s common to see couples who can’t seem to place why it is that they’re fighting—or why the premises of these fights are so menial. Reliably, the thing that’s left unsaid often has to do with money.
4. Love Languages Are Not a Myth. Acknowledge Them.
When I first learned about love languages, I dismissed them in much the same way I dismiss almost any sentence with “based on your astrological sign.” But as it turns out, love languages do not fall in that species of pseudoscience.
“Love languages are helpful in terms of understanding how your partner loves you,” says Dr. Fierstein, “but also, how they want to be loved.” Among her patients, there’s often a gap here—a sense of miscommunication where two individuals both want to give and receive love, but are attempting to do so through different mediums.
It’s not expected that we’re attracted to people with identical love languages. Part of the give and take of committing yourself to another person is identifying their love language and operating accordingly, even for all the ways it might feel unnatural.
5. And a Wild Card: Stop Being Late.
Here is a thing I do with unfortunate frequency: Send a text that says, “Getting on the train!” while pantsless in my apartment, listening to a podcast about the optics of restaurant music, lazily contemplating what sort of sartorial mood I’m in.
As it turns out, people on the receiving end don’t love this. But for all the ways the habit makes me an asshole, it’s an even more egregious offense in the context of a romantic relationship—purely for quantitative reasons. If you’re the sort of person who generally keeps people waiting, it’s likely that your significant other is doing more than their fair share of waiting (if any share is fair).
“We often take for granted our partner’s time as well as their patience,” says Dr. Firstein. “It’s a sign of respect to be in touch about delays or changes even if they are minor.” She says this is often among the first complaints couples communicate to a therapist. Respect is central to a healthy relationship, and timeliness, however minor it may sound, is a major pillar of that.
Feature graphic by Dasha Faires.
The post The 5 Most Common Relationship Mistakes, According to a Couples Therapist appeared first on Man Repeller.
“I Love Fashion, But I Want It to Be Useful”: Becky Malinsky’s Outfit Anatomy
Welcome to Outfit Anatomy, a series on Man Repeller that aims to break down what we wear by answering questions like: How much did that cost? Where did you find that? Why did you buy it in the first place? Today, Wall Street Journal deputy fashion director, Becky Malinsky breaks down the relatively simple outfit she recently wore to work.
I got this shirtdress from The RealReal on December 23, 2017, which I remember because it followed the December 22 announcement that Phoebe Philo would exit Celine. It’s from the Spring 2017 collection—I was at the show, and while waiting for it to start, Philo came out to greet the American Vogue editors who were sitting directly in front of me. She was in a pair of baggy yellow trousers and a charcoal cashmere three-quarter zip sweater zipped to the neck. She seemed at ease, excited. Her daughter was in the audience. At that moment, I really felt like she was the embodiment of creative, feminine success.
I studied her—the effortless placement of every strand of hair tucked behind her ear—and by the time the models started to come out, I was on such a high. The stream of colors and flowing fabric that followed really did prove to be the basis of one of my favorite collections of her tenure and the overall season. It was such a happy show. And usually, it takes me a while to catch up with her ideas. I have to process them. A lot of people who are interested in fashion are “Celine people” but it’s in pieces. You find what works for you so you’re not just blindly buying or letting the clothes wear you. I saw myself in a lot of that collection, though.
By nature, I’m obsessed with fashion—understanding and buying into the ideology of what makes something expensive. By trade, I am realistic. Working at a newspaper, my daily goal is to make the idea attainable, to explain what shapes to look for when you are on a budget, why stripes endure. My style is an amalgamation of these traits. I love fashion, but I want it to be real, to be useful. This dress is all of that to me. Unassuming, but powerful. Multipurpose. I can wear it to a fashion show and feel great. I can wear it to dinner with my college roommate, who is a third-grade teacher, and feel like the “me” she knows. Technically, I wear it backwards.
I saw it in the store in Paris when it was still full-price. I tried it on, proceeded to sit in the dressing room for 30 minutes and have a please-rationalize-my-purchase-text-chat with a friend/colleague, which is when I decided I could not stomach the price tag.
Later, I watched it closely on The RealReal, until it happened: she was leaving. My last chance at getting a wearable piece of this history was slipping through my fingers! Add to cart. Proceed to purchase. $824.13 including tax and shipping. I think my mother will be horrified when she reads this and finds out how much I paid.
The pendant was a recent purchase from a trip to Sorrento this past July. It’s the goddess Athena, with an owl stamped on the back. I’ve always been drawn to owls, maybe because they’re wise—a reminder to make wise decisions! I’m rational, even when it comes to jewelry. My husband forced me to practice negotiating for it, so I ended up paying 120 euro for what was originally priced at 150. I was proud of myself, though I’m not sure he was as impressed. According to Google’s currency converter, I paid $134.52. I’ve probably worn it about seven times, but I’ve only had it three weeks, so that’s something.
A well-proportioned outfit has multiple complementary statement items or an intentional lack of any statement items.
The bag is from Max Mara Weekend. It was $250. I’m incredibly particular about handbags for someone who doesn’t consider herself a “bag person.” I don’t feel an urge to get one each fall. I don’t fawn over new launches. I’m drawn to bags that aren’t overtly branded. It helps extend their fashion shelf life. I want you to look at my bag and think, maybe that’s a vintage Dior or maybe it was her grandma’s or maybe it’s from some new well-priced Danish brand I should know about.
That usually means my choice in handbag is relatively simple and falls away with an outfit, or is so flamboyant it subversively becomes practical because by not matching anything it can be worn unabashedly with everything. A well-proportioned outfit has multiple complementary statement items or an intentional lack of any statement items (which is what makes minimalism work as a whole). Gucci does the former well, The Row does the latter well. Both brands feel extreme in their cohesiveness, making it hard to wear just one piece. How does this relate to bags? If one item is too much eye-candy, the rest of the outfit falls out of balance. It becomes less about the composition and more about a single item.
I find this lack of balance happens most often with handbags. Someone puts together the total package, and then it’s either topped off or thrown-off. An it-bag usually segments the focus too much, so it throws it off. A plain black can do this too. It’s the handbag standard, so people think it requires less consideration, but to me, it can feel distractingly functional or harsh against a nice mix of colors. Hence this brown, raffia, old-fashioned-frame-clasp clutch. It would be hard to place if you didn’t already know who made it. It won’t feel old next season. It has just the right amount of texture and design-y elements to blend in with the rest of the colors I’m wearing, and shockingly fits two phones, a wallet, keys, chapstick, and a pashmina.
When I was in high school in the late 90s, my aunt came back from a trip to Italy with a Prada bag. A Prada bag! In the flesh! In the late 90s, this was a big deal. Miuccia was untouchable. (Still is if you ask me.) It was a cherry red leather doctor bag in my aunt’s signature color. She claims red is the only true neutral. It goes with everything. And I have to say, I have yet to find a situation in which she hasn’t been right. I take her logic to heart through my shoes often. This pair is from K. Jacques and I bought them two summers ago during a dark time in my personal footwear history. I had an ankle injury, was wearing New Balances exclusively, and on a flimsy-sandal buying spree as therapy to deal. I can’t remember what I paid, but a similar pair is listed online for $240. I feel about red shoes the way I feel about non-black-non-it-bag bags. The bright color weirdly allows blending and balancing, to not make one piece of your outfit look more weighted in thought than the others.
Lately, finding my perfect outfit balance has been more challenging. I’m five months pregnant and my waistline has expanded out of the majority of my closet. Getting dressed is something I love to do, love to think about. And it’s an unsettling new feeling to not wake up as eager as I usually am. I’m so thankful and superstitious and nervous and excited and humbled by my pregnancy that I don’t want to complain. But I do want to process these new thoughts.
Is it harder to get dressed because so much of my personal and professional identity has been built on what I wear? As I realize my identity is tied up in my wardrobe, I wonder if I’m okay with that fact.
Meanwhile, I’ve always loved the idea of a uniform—like, I campaigned for them in seventh grade. But now I’m finding myself frustrated by my lack of choice. Wearing a black dress from, say, The Row every day has always been #goals in theory, but now that it’s more of a mandate than a choice (conceptually, at least), I don’t want to wear it!
But back to the look at hand. I’ve always worn my clothes a little removed from my body. To me, roominess signifies ease, and I always aspire to look and feel unfussy. On my office birthday card last year, where my colleagues each penned a sweet little note, my editor a.k.a the high priest of succinct-yet-witty wordsmithing, told me to buy myself something “loose but chic” knowing my tendency towards the silhouette.
I like to think of that phrase—”loose but chic”—as my pregnancy style mantra. I hate that non-stretch denim is totally out of the equation for now but the corner of my closet filled with oversize dresses and men’s shirting is still up for the taking. And honestly, this outfit did fill me up with the familiar excitement of getting dressed.
As a rule, I’m trying to not buy too much (or purge my closet, which has been SO tempting) because who knows what my style is going to look like post-baby? Today I’m envisioning pleat-front white chinos, a Laura Ashley blouse and brown leather Belgian loafers. But tomorrow that could all change. As told to Leandra Medine
Feature graphic by Dasha Faires.
The post “I Love Fashion, But I Want It to Be Useful”: Becky Malinsky’s Outfit Anatomy appeared first on Man Repeller.
A Handful of Strong Opinions Care of Joan Hornsby, 91
In the spirit of “mistakes” month, we’ve scheduled this particular call so that I can ask about her opinions on the mistakes she’s made in her life—and, in particular, which ones felt like they were worth it. Despite being 91, she has more spirit than anyone I’ve ever met, so, we wound up talking about some other things too. Below, a handful of her musings.
On Speaking Her Mind
I’m very outspoken. I should think more before I open my mouth and speak. Sometimes as I’m already lunging into something I’m thinking to myself, Ooooooh. You should not have said that. You know? I can be too straight at times and I need to watch what I’m saying. My husband used to always say my biggest fault was not knowing when to keep my mouth shut. I’m too outspoken. But it’s a bit late learning that now, isn’t it? I should have been living by that a long time ago…. But I don’t care what other people think of me. I mean, if somebody likes you they like you and if they don’t there’s not a thing you can do about it. There’s always people that we like and dislike. Some more than others.
On Trifles, Chicken Wings, & Pizza Hut
I’m quite stubborn in the food that I like. I have a sweet tooth. I like white chocolate and caramels. I don’t like Turkish delight—that’s something I care nothing for at all. Marks & Spencer do a lovely mandarin trifle. It’s beautiful. Morrison’s also do trifles and I get them on Tuesdays. It’s three for one pound. Very good.
I also love chicken wings. I tried them once when you were very young and you loved them too! People say there’s nothing on them, but it’s enough for me. I bring them home and I have them with bread and butter. It’s thoroughly enjoyable. Pizza Hut give me a big discount on my chicken wings every Saturday. The manager said I was a good customer, but I only go in once a week!
On Nude Modeling
I became an artist model when I was younger. A nude model. I did it at Newcastle University and in a lot of people’s eyes it was deemed inappropriate. But it wasn’t! The students were just there to draw and you sat there, motionless. I did it so I could go on holiday with my friends, because we were so poor and hard up, and we had already worked all the overtime we could get. My mother knew, but my father didn’t. All those years ago when you think about it, it wasn’t the sort of thing to do. But all the people in the class were very nice.
On Smoking
Of course it would be better if I didn’t smoke, but I don’t drink, Jodie! I do like my cigarettes, as you know. I know I shouldn’t be smoking, it’s definitely not good for me. I usually smoke Mayfair or Benson & Hedges. Australia only lets you take 50 cigarettes in. Fifty! That’s not much good when you’re going out for a month’s holiday. But you can bring 200 home when you’re coming back.
On Bargain Hunting
I love a bargain. I love thrift shops. I don’t know why. This is the honest truth. Mary, my best friend of 60 years who died, hated them. Mary used to say, “Ew Joan! You’re wearing things from other people.” Her and I disagreed on that. My son also said I had no need to go in them. Well no, I haven’t, but I like them! Some of them are getting quite expensive now. If I was to win the lottery, I would still not pay what they ask for [for new] clothes. I don’t know if you know this, but the profits on clothes are enormous. Sometimes I go in and gasp at the prices of clothes in stores. And the staff agrees with me! And when I see what some of them are charging, oh my god, thousands of pounds, and I think, Who in their right mind pays all that money?
On Asking Prince Charles the Hard Questions
Prince Charles came to an opening here at the bungalows when some of the houses were being officially opened. He went around all the tables and talked to everybody. He was very good and he asked me, “Do you shop at Fenwicks?” And I said, “Oh, yes! You’ve got one on Bond Street,” and he nodded and smiled. He was really nice with everyone, I have to say. But the bodyguards made me laugh—when you look around the room, we’re a bunch of old people. What are we going to do?
I also went to a Garden Party in Edinburgh when Prince Charles and the Queen were there. Only two people from each community could be invited, so they drew our names out of a hat, and it just so happened that mine came out! It was a beautiful day. They booked our transport and everything. I’ve always wanted to ask Charles one question–Why did he marry Diana? Diana was so beautiful, but he never loved her and he should have never married her. That was wrong. His mistake. Luckily I didn’t ask him that because I probably would have been escorted out!
Photos by Jodie Hill.
The post A Handful of Strong Opinions Care of Joan Hornsby, 91 appeared first on Man Repeller.
August 26, 2019
Hot New Jeff Goldblum Content & More Instagram News
I promise I don’t get all my news from Instagram, but Instagram does supply me with some news, occasionally against my will and/or pleasure, as in the case of this shark “saying hi” to a boat. This weekend was no different; between patronizing a bar I thought was cool but turned out to be empty (humbling), fretting about the planet in both a specific and a general sense (learn more about the Amazon fires here, and help here), and eating disappointing chocolate-covered pretzels (marginally less upsetting), I scrolled a fair amount. Below, eight things I discovered while doing so, plus a bonus you’ll most certainly want to see, so don’t touch that mf dial:
1. Jeff Goldblum announced his new show
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