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.

Now, I’ve been told fuchsia lips just need to be treated like red lips: everything else should be minimal and then it’s fine. But I’ve got to say, I just don’t think there’s a way to make this trend look appropriate for anything except a rave.

(Disclaimer: If your look is punk, fuchsia’s adorable. Let me just say that.)

(2) Colorful Skinny Jeans

I don’t know. I have a feeling I might just be a fuddy duddy on this one.

But I just think colorful skinny jeans look completely lame.

I mean, jeans are cool. They’re like, I don’t care and I don’t have to try–my ass always looks this good. But the colored jeans, especially the skinny kind, are just trying so hard. They scream, LOOK!!! LOOK WHAT I CAN PULL OFF! when, in fact, I’ve yet to see anyone really look hot in them. Cute, yes. Hot, no.

Plus, all you can wear with them is white or black (or maybe another neutral if you’re lucky). Yawn. I’ll stick with my dark-blue low-rise boot-cuts, thank you.

(1) Scarves Tied Into Triangles

Why, God, why?! WE HAVE NECKS!!! WHY ARE WE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE NECKS?!

Doesn’t whoever is setting this trend know that the neck is one of the sexiest parts of the body? I mean, you wouldn’t wear a turtleneck to seduce someone, right? And showing the nape of the neck is traditionally and universally balls-to-the-walls sexy; that’s why geishas wear their hair up.

And worse, seriously, it’s HOT out this time of the year! Shorts and scarves do not match!!! Why must we putting ourselves through sweaty, itchy hell in the summer just to accomplish the heights of gross hipster fashion?

STOP THE INSANITY!!!!!!!!

So, voila! My top three most hated summer trends.

Got any you want to add?

[Images courtesy of http://thebestdamnthingever.blogspot.com, www.patriciafield.com/, and fashionsphere.wordpress.com/]

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:

It is a true struggle being an artist. Especially in a big city. It DOES take time to develop yourself and hone your talents so that you can begin to generate money. However, as I look around my romantic circles…and triangles…I notice something: plenty of the guys who I have dated who are artists have real beds. And some of them have multiple houses. And yachts. And while this point is not at all about material things, there is something to be said for an artist who has harnessed their skills well enough to live like a comfortable, regular person. Although their lives are anything but regular, being able to have the perks of a regular, stable life while doing exactly what you love for a living is a marker of success, to me.

And so I won’t be sleeping on the air mattress again.

Not because I am above it.

And not because it’s necessarily uncomfortable.

But because I’m no longer in that place.

I’m in a place where my art is paying for itself and so I need to leave Mr. Air Mattress in Williamsburg Loft to the high school musical theater girls who will feed off of his “independence” like vultures.

Meanwhile, I’ll be out sipping wine with another hot artist boy who CAN afford to drink outside of his loft.

The line between an accomplished artist and a total loser is very fine. And to be fair, almost all artists were once total losers. But if I’m gonna be a sucker for the artsy guy, well, these days…I’m gonna go ahead and be a sucker while sleeping in a warm, REAL bed. Which, if I may note, Kurt Cobain DID eventually have.

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?

1. If your boyfriend is there and you were invited to be there as well (never invite yourself), don’t talk to him. Let him hang with the guys, get excited, do whatever…but don’t play the role of the “girlfriend”. Just let him do whatever he wants.

2. If you’re going because your boyfriend is and you have nothing else to do…then find something else to do! Seriously, if you’re only going because he is, you should really reevaluate your social life. However, if you’re set on going (for no good reason), follow the rules above.

3. Don’t invite your girls unless they can follow all of these rules, too. Squealing while laughing, talking about sex, periods, drama…it’s just not welcome in the Super Bowl environment. This is a sacred day to most dudes, don’t insult the day by bringing your girly girl gang.

4. If you’re only there for the food and beer…well, you’re already ahead of all of girls 1-3. However, learn something about the game. Get into it. Pick a team to route for. Besides, going to a Super Bowl party without any real interest in the Super Bowl is…lame.

5. If you don’t know the teams playing, you’ve got homework to do, missy. Don’t walk through that door before you use Google and figure this all out. Know the teams, how the game is played, and if you don’t know something…just…stay quiet and don’t embarrass yourself.

As I said, hanging with the guys is truly an art. But if you can take the tips above, you’ll be well on your way to racking up those cool points with all of the dudes in your circle.

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.

LEVEL 2: The majority of guys circulate around this level. If you both happen to reach the door at the same time, he’ll let you go through. He’s not watching out for you on the sidewalk, but if you both happen to play the “which-way-am-I-going? game”, he’ll be the first one to shift definitively to one side. If you’re weighed down with packages on the bus, he may or may not move for you, depending on his mood.

Just expecting a guy to open doors and throw his coat down on mud for you isn’t the best way to go through life, and dudes in this level agree with that, dispensing their chivalry on a constant basis mostly for girlfriends only. Then again, catch a Level 2 on a good day and you’ll be presently surprised by their gentlemanly deeds.

LEVEL 3: These guys are chivalrous because they feel like they have to be. They’re not happy about opening doors for you, but they’ll do it, provided you move your ass through nice and fast. Begrudgingly standing when you walk by on the train, sighing heavily when they move over on the stairs, these guys want you to know that being chivalrous is a total chore—but they’re nice so they DO IT.

Don’t even try to hold the door for a Level 3. They hold it for you, damnit! Dissing their masculinity by trying to be nice is totally NOT cool. GOD. YOU WOMEN NEVER APPRECIATE ANYTHING!

LEVEL 4: Is reserved for douchebags and chauvinists. They’re just as likely to elbow you in the face as they are to help carry your groceries. Usually, their kind of chivalry is reserved for drunk girls who would have followed them home anyway…and for seducing the boss’s wife.

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.

Like those incredibly stupid Abercrombie and Fitch advertisements, the seedy, almost pornographic print ads for American Apparel make me think they’re more interested in selling a brand of coolness than clothes. Which is, so obviously, not cool.

Wear our stuff, the ads seem to be saying, and somehow, your sexuality will increase.

Thanks, but last time I checked, zebra-print leggings and shiny purple dresses weren’t magically inclined to make anyone sexier. Straight up uglier, yes…sexier? No.

They can, however, transform a person into a traffic hazard. Gag me.