You should at least concede that their cover is one of those lovely stick-it-to-the-man scenarios. The man, here, being a white-washed lovechild of privilege and tradition, which in itself has many spawn…this one in particular being the gilded laurels over which Queen Anna Wintour presides.
When fashion week (on week-on week-on week) rolled around last month, I found myself dreading it. This, despite the fact that I’m not directly involved in it in any way.
If I’m going to walk around with a vagina, I’m not going to refrain from talking about it, and learning about it! Because learning is fun, guys–and so are weird facts about the human body.
Because my brain power is on reserve for non-blog-related pursuits this week, I will simply defer to these envy-inducing images of Joan Smalls frolicking on a beach and generally living the dream for us all.
“When you say things like, “Kim Kardashian has become decidedly less Birkin, more Stock,” don’t expect other people to understand.” I don’t mean to brag, BUT–this may be one of the best Dear Diary’s yet.
The Sephora perfume shelves have beckoned to hordes of young girls since my own middle school days, when ones choice of perfume began to connote something more than just simply what they reeked of. My friends and I spent ample time spraying ourselves with various scents and hoarding perfume tester strips that would build up at the bottom of our purses. A detritus of aspiration, if you will—for the seemingly glamorous womanhood that was just out of our grasp.
Hedi Slimane’s collections for Saint Laurent continue to convince me that he is perpetually stuck inside the mind of a fourteen-year-old girl longing to be Kate Moss, and his most recent for Fall/Winter 2014 was no exception.
Trying to assign one lifestyle or worldview to an entire generation of people is bound to be faulty, but EliteDaily really wins the award for hitting the ball farthest out of the park. Actually, I’m not even sure they’re starting in the park—they’re somewhere far outside it, seemingly locked in the basements of their college frat house (a land where tales of Taylor Swift’s de-virginizer moonlight as worthwhile news).
After reading a poorly articulated article on Refinery 29 titled “Why I’ll Never Regret My Nose Job,” I wanted to counter it by sharing why I’m so glad I never went under the knife.