Yes, trends come and go, so we should probably just shut up and learn to live with them.

However, that is so not my style.

So, that said, here are the three trends of the summer that I most hate. Agree? Disagree? Couldn’t give a shoop? All fine, but I flippin’ hate these.

(3) Fuchsia Lips

Or, rather, fuchsia lipstick.

Fuchsia lips are an example of a trend that works fine on the runway but fails just about everywhere else. In other words, it looks fine if you aren’t trying to look at the actual person.

In the pictures above, we’ve got two adorable, gorgeous celebrities (Christina Ricci and Beyonce)…and they both look strangely washed out and clowny and old, even with the help of celebrity make-up artists. Read More »

I’ll admit it right here, right now: I’ve always been a total sucker for the “artsy” guy. Now that I’m venturing into single early twenties territory, I’m sorta wishing Kurt Cobain hadn’t been my love interest when I was younger.

If I could have just had a super crush on a lawyer…or even a football player…maybe everything would be more normal in my love life.

Maybe I wouldn’t find myself waking up on an air mattress in a loft in Williamsburg… pinching myself and then repeating over and over, “He’s an ARTIST, Elizabeth…he’s an ARTIST.”

But I’m an artist, too. Hell, all I do is write everything from books to songs all day. I even paint. And take pictures. And I dance. And I do mosaic. AND I sleep on a REAL bed in a real apartment that has heat and cable and plants that aren’t dead.

And so I sit on the train pondering this question. With every hipster/artsy looking boy I see, I wonder if he too sleeps on an air mattress. Is this a prerequisite for being cool?

Certainly, my artist lovers past….which would be…ugh…all of my lovers past…didn’t all sleep on air mattresses. In fact, I can only think of one other.

And then I realized: Read More »

Don’t you just L-O-V-E the Super Bowl? It’s that time of the year when all of the dudes in our lives melt themselves down into screaming little boys.

They stuff their faces with whatever you put in front of them, drink their manjuice from a keg, and lose their temper at the television set.

As grotesque as this may sound to some of you, I actually enjoy this night. Then again, I’ve always been pretty good at kicking it with the guys.

There is a certain art to hanging with the guys, specially on Super Bowl Sunday, without being THAT chick. You know…THAT chick:

1. Who’s there solely to baby sit her boyfriend.

2. Who’s there solely because she has no life outside of her boyfriend.

3. Who’s there to invite all of the girls so that they could all have “Girl Time” while the boys have “Boy Time”.

4. Who admits she’s only there for the food and beer.

5. Who doesn’t know which teams are playing.

You don’t wanna be any of those girls. Instead, use this event as a chance to prove your ability to truly hang. The cool points you’ll score might just last you all year.

So how do you do it? Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 143

Mood: Weirded out

“So you know what I was thinking?” Sasha pushed his empty coffee cup across the table. “I was thinking you should come to a party we’re having this weekend.”

Sasha, Justin and I had spent the last 20 twenty minutes making more small talk than I had ever made in my entire life. Sports, weather, school, assignments, the holidays, favorite cookie flavor; anything small and miniscule, we covered it. Or rather, Sasha and I covered it. Justin spent most of the time staring at Sasha with a frustrated expression, turning it up into a cheap imitation of a smile whenever his friend looked his way.

“It won’t be one of our famous ragers”, Sasha grinned and flicked his cup even farther away from him, “just a bunch of us guys and some other lucky people spending their January breaks in front of books.”

“I don’t know if she’ll like it, dude.” Justin was doing his best impression of easy going. “She’s kind of low key. Right, Grace?”

“Of course she’ll like it! It’s a party, dumb ass. Who doesn’t like parties?” Read More »

Chivalry is not dead. It’s alive and well—or, at least alive.Since moving to New York, I have come across varying degrees of gallantry. Some is well intentioned and friendly; while some has a faded, slightly sour quality. Some acts of chivalry are carried out with genuine kindness, and some are done because the guy can’t bare the thought of letting a woman exert any kind of power.

How do you know what level of chivalry you’re getting on a daily basis? Read on.

LEVEL 1: On this, the brightest and friendliest level, the guy is being polite and helpful because he wants to be. Opening a door for you, standing up so you can take his seat on the subway, giving you room to pass on the sidewalk, all of these things are done with a smile and a pleasant glance. This guy’s mama taught him well, and it’s no trouble at all for him to show women that he holds them in high esteem.

Although it’s rare, this level does indeed exist, and I recommend immediately inquiring if such a polite lad has a partner, and if finding him to be single, snatching him up as quick as possible. Read More »

American Apparel makes me f*cking nauseous.

Actually, let me restate that. American Apparel’s ads make me f*cking nauseous.

Their clothes are fine—if you enjoy looking like every other “non conformist” out there—but their ads are so annoying I feel the need to scream at everyone involved in making them.

It’s no news that AA enjoys exploiting the tired, probably drugged, dead-eyed look of the ubiqutious New York Hipster, but I just can’t understand how skinny, messy haired models photographed in bad lighting is supposed to make me want to buy clothes.

I guess if I was as desperate as them to be cool, saw a bunch of sluggish girls wearing one-piece bodysuits, and thought to myself, “Wearing an American Apparel bodysuit will make me so cool I’ll be bored!” I’d be likely to buy a brightly hued shirt or two.

But other than having no sense of self, I can’t understand why jaded models who look like they’re 12 would influence me to purchase anything—let alone a pair of silver lamé work-out shorts. Read More »