Lizbartelt

What I Learned From My Father

Recently Max Wastler of All Plaid Out asked me to write a brief piece about what I’d learned from my father. The result has almost nothing to do with clothes, but I thought I’d share it here. Above: my father and I in 1981.

My father was homeless when I was conceived. That’s something I found out recently.

I knew he’d been without a home and had even lived on the street a little, but I didn’t know that particular circumstance of my origin story. It’s true, though: In 1980, when my parents first met, he was a homeless alcoholic and drug user, suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder. You can see how maybe my parents’ marriage, which happened after the events of my conception, didn’t go well. In fact, it went about as poorly as a marriage without physical violence could possibly go. They divorced before I remember.

But my father isn’t the villain of this story. Far from it. He is the hero. This is a father’s day appreciation, after all.

Here’s the thing: my father grew up in an abusive home. He tried to escape by enlisting in the navy at the beginning of the war in Southeast Asia, and his two years in the service further scarred him. In many ways, by the time he was 22 or so, when most people are just hitting their stride, he was broken. He drank, used drugs, and generally didn’t have control of his life for the next twenty years.

When I say he didn’t control his life, I don’t mean to say completely. He was using and drinking and making a lot of mistakes, but he participated in some amazing things as well. When he got back from the war, he helped found an organization called Veterans for Peace. Along with a group called Vietnam Veterans Against the War, they helped provide a voice for veterans in the peace movement. People who knew what war really was were speaking up against war for the first time. He was beaten and arrested many times. It was a brave thing to do.

But by 1980, when I was conceived, he was at a low point. His first marriage had long since broken up. He’d struggled to hold a job. His PTSD and alcoholism were running his life. And he was entering his late thirties. He could see the path down which he was headed: at the end of this abuse would have been an early death.

From what I’ve heard, my mother told him he didn’t have to be involved in my life. She just wanted a baby, by whatever means necessary. She was prepared to raise me herself if that’s what it took. She’s told me since then that she had visions of me in the clouds — literally in the clouds. She’s not generally the type to have visions, but she was serious about this baby project. He could have just left.

So that’s where my dad was thirty-some years ago, when I came into the world. Moving from homelessness to a bad marriage. Alcoholic. Intermittenly employed and generally unemployable.

But like I said: this is a tribute to my dad.

Because the quality that I admire most in my father is his commitment to being better.

My dad got clean around the time he divorced from my mother, when I was a toddler. I still remember going to AA meetings with him. They had joint custody, but he couldn’t afford a babysitter. He liked to go to vets’ meetings, which in our neighborhood, the Mission in San Francisco, usually meant that half or so of the attendees didn’t have a place to live. While I colored in the corner, they’d talk about the low points of their lives, both at war and with drink. Even then, I think, I understood that my dad was learning to be better.

His PTSD was always part of my life. I’m not sure when I figured out that other kids’ dads didn’t jump out of their chairs when the ground rumbled from a grocery truck passing outside. Sometimes I would stand next to my dad as he was lost in the newspaper, and I’d yell at the top of my lungs in an unsuccesful effort to break into his private world. When something went wrong between us, he was like a prosecutor, his PTSD-paranoia in full flight, tearing me apart. It could be very, very scary.

But he was working so hard to be better. I remember once when I was thirteen or so, we were in a screaming match in the kitchen. When he was zeroed in on his target, he was unstoppable, undistractable, undivertable. With one hand, he pushed me back into the wall, six or eight inches. Honestly, it was quite a fight, but not much of a push.

A few hours later, he came into my room and apologized. A sincere, full-throated apology. He knew I hadn’t been hurt or anything, but he also knew that he was wrong, and wanted to make sure I knew that, too. It was something that in the moment, when we were screaming, would have been unthinkable. He was trying hard to be better.

When I was ten or twelve, he founded an organization called Jhai. The world, in Lao, means hearts and minds working together. He had met and befirended a Laotian woman who was a refugee from the part of Laos his aircraft carrier had bombed during the war. He started by bringing medical supplies to the village where her family lived, and over years helped the people he had so horribly wronged build community-owned schools and get access to communications infrastructre.

He called his process reconcialiation-based development. He was reconciling with these people who’d fled the bombs he loaded, but I think he was also reconciling within himself. It wasn’t a matter of doing penance. It was about being better today than he was yesterday.

My father told me that after his first visit to Laos, he slept through the night for the first time since he was a teenager. He didn’t sleep through the night every night thereafter, but he got better. These days, he tells me that walking is what helps him most. He does what he needs to do.

I wouldn’t wish PTSD upon anyone, nor addiction. And I wouldn’t wish a parent who suffered from them on any child. I can say, though, that I don’t wish for any father but the one I have.

Even when things were as horrible as they could be, when he was fighting my mother in court and fighting with me at home and struggling with his awful diseases visibly every day, I never doubted that my father loved me. I never doubted that he wanted me. I never doubted that he supported me becoming the man I wanted to be. And I never doubted that for my sake, he wanted to be better each day than he had been the day before.

I try to live my life by that example. Thank you, dad.

Creating meals ahead of time can save you a lot of money and stress, but it may also leave you with soggy sandwiches. Reddit user m_bia suggests putting peanut butter on both slices of bread to prevent this problem.

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As soon as we came across Rachel Phipps’ lifestyle, foodie, and travel blog, we knew we were hooked. It sent us down the rabbit hole to The Glossy Guide, a beauty blog created by the British style maven and her best friend. From secret steals to haute products, she’s sharing some of her best insights here with us this week!

Everyone is always going on and on about how you should identify your signature scent, but it’s really more important to find your perfect lipstick. I discovered mine when I was 17 and while I love playing around with bright retro reds, deep vampy burgundies, and pretty pinks, I always go back to my signature shade: MAC’s Satin lipstick in Brave. 

I came across my shade when I went on a back-to-school shopping trip with my mom at the mall near my house. I was about to start my last year of high school, and while my alma mater has a really strict dress code (my uniform included a winger collar fastened with a brooch!), girls were allowed to wear natural-looking makeup. That’ why it became my mission to find something that was noticeable but not overdone. I wore Brave practically every day to school because it’s the perfect dusty pink and non-glossy, so it blended with my skin tone. After graduating, I could have chosen any color under the sun to wear (no more dress code!), but I still find myself reaching for the familiar black bullet every morning.

Do you have a signature shade? 

Check out the rest of Rache Phipps’ series here. 

Anchorman 2’s First Full Trailer, Tom Ford’s Makeup Line for Men and More

• The trailer for Anchorman 2 is finally out and Ron Burgundy’s hair is as “salon-quality” as ever. [People] 
  
  
• Actor James Gandolfini, best known for playing mob boss Tony Soprano on The Sopranos, has passed away at 51. [New York Times]
  
  
• Tom Ford is the world of luxury beauty to…men! Ford’s new grooming line includes concealer and bronzing gel. [Fashionista]
  
  
• Fashion House Alexander McQueen is releasing a new fragrance. We’re expecting it to be totally provocative and attention-getting. [Refinery 29]
  
  
• Hairstylists, step aside. This dermatologist gets to the root of the problem with tips on getting great hair and a healthy scalp. [Bella Sugar]
  
  
• In honor of beach weather, we give you: the evolution of lady swimwear. [The Gloss]

—Geraldine

Searching for the perfect summer fragrance? Here are three floral scents for you to try. 

The first dress I have sewed in several months. I call this one my Miami dress. The pattern is drafted from another dress I own. Super simple, over the head, elastic waist.

I’m not even going to. I just wanted to share. I can’t begin to set-up. You know what, just press play. Press play and when you’re done laughing and hitting replay and laughing again, we’ll talk.

[Appropriately long pause to allow for laughter, replaying and more laughter.]

Yeah. I know. Right, so that was Hart, who also goes by Heartbeat, who is a young gay comedian from Southern California and is, as you can clearly see, very funny. Also pretty fearless. Also very, very funny. Also loves watermelon. And has adorable dimples. Yeah. I know. That just made my whole damn week, possibly longer.

Want more? Subscribe to Hart Beat’s YouTube channel right here.

shinnanigans:

A super fun way to spend time and stock up for the winter! Check out DIYwithsuzieshin.blogspot.com  for more!

knittomania:

Right??

UPDATE: Oscar has been found!

Please help a fellow Greenpointer find her missing cat Oscar.

Male gray striped tabby cat named Oscar – last seen on June 4th near Sutton between Nassau and Driggs.

If you live in this area, take a moment to look in your basement, garage, anywhere a scared kitty could be hiding. Another missing kitty we posted about spent three weeks in a neighbors basement and was found alive.

If you find or see Oscar, call 917-974-8596. Reward for his safe return.

Please share this on facebook and twitter.

Hot dogs/ 4^th of July

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Is it even legal to pledge allegiance to the flag and mimic the almighty patriotic gestures that accompany without ever setting taste buds on an All-American hotdog? Your guess is as good as mine and twenty-three years later I continue to suffer for my blatant anti-American digestive path. Every 4^th of July the BBQ’s fire up and my only question is: Can we cook the veggie dogs first? Hot dogs are a sure signature staple in this culture and veggie dogs just aren’t cutting it. For what they accomplish in uncanny looks, they lack in taste with an everlasting cardboard savor that can’t seem to find its way out of your mouth.

Bacon/ New Years Day

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If I were to pick one moment of bliss, my ultimate guilty pleasure—I’d have to choose bacon. Have I had the honor of tasting it? No. Can a kid dream? Yes. It’s New Years Day and my head is pounding. I need a quick dose of grease with a serious side of delicious. A sizzling sound emanates through the air as a welcoming waft transcends from my kitchen to my soul. I instantly know this is an answer directly from hangover heaven: a steamy slice of bacon.

Pepperoni Pizza/ Super Bowl

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If we’re being honest here, I’ll go ahead and come forward. I have fully enjoyed every second of a full-fledged pepperoni coma: the cramping, the nausea and the aftermath. It’s hard enough to bear the smell of a fresh pepperoni pizza, but when a newly cut slice is staring straight at you with all eight of its pepperoni eyes—there’s really no other option. I took the plunge. I started slowly and “accidently” left a few pepperonis under the cheese that I “couldn’t see.” Once that perfectly spiced mysterious meat hit my taste buds there was no going back. Whether I had to induce myself into a liquored up state to brave my heart’s true desire or close my eyes and pretend it was just a slice of cheese– I was helpless against that paramount, persuasive taste. I yearned for pepperonis. They were unavoidable. Twenty-three years as a vegetarian doesn’t make it easy to digest, but living a life without that spiritual taste is merely unimaginable.

Turkey/ Thanksgiving

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Is there anything I really even need to say about turkey and Thanksgiving? How do I even get an invite to any Thanksgiving dinner? Mashed potatoes and gravy are the grave reality every vegetarian pseudo-hipster opts out for. Have you ever seen a Thanksgiving plate full of just potatoes? Pathetic. Every year I stare down that plentiful poultry and tell myself I should have just ordered pizza. (Yes, preferably pepperoni.) And no, don’t ask me about tofurkey.

Chicken/ Every Mexican Gathering Ever

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As a proud Chicana-Mexican-American-born-and-raised-vegetarian-mut, I instantly put the damper on a good meal with the familia. There’s always chicken; whether they are live, cooked or in the backyard. Grandma offers me a piece of chicken enchilada and even with a polite dismissal; she leaves the table with rosary in hand. Apparently home cooked meals lose their merit in a vegetarian’s belly.

Don’t get me wrong– I care about the animals; I have 4 cats. I just want a damn piece of bacon.

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image – woodleywonderworks

Oh snap, yes she did say “Worry about yourself!”

Boom!

The post August Does NOT Need Help With Her Car Seat! appeared first on HelloGiggles.

cat + vacuum

omg. that’s it. I can’t.

In many states, a membership to stores like Costco or Sam's Club is not required to buy alcohol. Additionally, in the U.S., all membership stores have to provide access to medication to the general public.

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As Tom and Donna from Parks and Recreation say, Treat Yo’ Self Day is the, “Best Day Of Year!” It’s a day to splurge on the those things that are outside your normal budget; facials, designer handbags, totally impractical shoes, expensive meals, etc. Since that episode aired, every time I go to make an extravagant purchase and question whether I REALLY need it, I hear Tom in my head saying, “Michelle, treat yo’ self!”

Affiliate Link|Press Sample

You see, I was raised a frugal barganista (thanks Mom!) so it takes a lot for something to be worth its full price tag. In this new series I’ll be sharing the nail polishes and products that I are consider fitting of a Treat Yo’ Self Day indulgence.

Even though I’ve been avoiding dark nail polishes this spring, I could not escape the mystical allure of Chanel Taboo.

Formula & Application: Chanel Taboo is 5-Free (free of DBP, Toluene, Formaldehyde, Formaldehyde Resin and Camphor). The signature square glass bottles are topped with a black square outer cap that is removed to reveal a stubby, round, ribbed inner cap. The brush is round, medium in length and width and reminds me of the old OPI/new SOPI brushes. It easily fans out and covers the nail without much resistance.

Taboo flows effortlessly on the nail. The consistency is thin and easy to manipulate yet it’s extremely pigmented. I barely needed two coats for full coverage. Even though there are tiny micro-glitter particles in the polish, it dries glossy and smooth to the touch. Warning: Because it is so dark, it can stain your skin during removal, so apply a bit of cuticle oil around the nail to prevent.

Chanel Taboo is a unique color to describe. When you first apply it, you see this super saturated indigo shade at its base. Then the deep amethyst shimmer takes over and finally the tiny blue and reddish-bronze metallic flecks come into play. Combined it becomes a captivating work of alchemy. A shimmering eggplant with a reddish glow.

Chanel Taboo

Chanel Taboo

Chanel Taboo

Naturally there are no dupes for Taboo in the Chanel family so I’m showing you its cousins for comparison sake. Chanel Strong, with its inky black base, looks more maroon/brown. Vendetta leans way more towards the blue side of purple. And Feu De Russie is much more similar to Strong with its brownish black base and maroon and gold flecks.

Chanel Strong, Taboo, Vendetta and Feu De Russie

In my personal stash, the only colors that even came close to matching Taboo are NARS Purple Rain, which is too red and Givenchy Purple by Night, which has similar sparkle but looks murky in comparison.

NARS Purple Rain, Chanel Taboo and Givenchy Purple by Night

The only way I could come close to Taboo was by layering them and even then it’s not the same. And let’s get real. Trying to dupe a Chanel by layering two shades that cost way more combined, is just ridiculous.

Chanel Taboo vs Givenchy Purple by Night over NARS Purple Rain

Bottom Line: Chanel Taboo is utterly unique and a must for Chanel fans and vampy polish lovers. Is it necessary to life? Obviously not and the price tag will keep most polish lovers at bay. But, if you’re in need of a little retail therapy and having a Treat Yo’ Self moment, you won’t have buyers remorse if you pick up a bottle.

Chanel Taboo is available now at Chanel.com and Chanel counters nationwide including Nordstrom.com & Saks.com. Chanel nail polish retails for $27/ea for a .4oz bottle.

Thoughts on Taboo? Is this a splurge-worthy shade? When was the last time you had a Treat Yo’ Self Day and what did you indulge in?

Disclosure: A product sample was provided by Chanel. Affiliate links may appear via a third party link service. For more info view my Disclosure Policy.

Current research shows that some of the most commonly used and seemingly positive phrases we use with kids are actually quite destructive. Despite our good intentions, these statements teach children to stop trusting their internal guidance system, to become deceptive, to do as little as possible, and to give up when things get hard.

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What always really impressed me were the girls who knew exactly who they were. At thirteen, I was a frantic bundle of self-consciousness and doubt — and, let’s be real, not a lot had changed since then – so the ones who did as they liked and didn’t care what anyone else thought were the ones I was drawn to.

Amanda would bring a book to canteen some nights, wait in line for a snack with everyone else, and then plop down at a picnic table amidst the crowds of teenagers shimmying to Usher and read as she ate. The rest of the camp was busy with their prepubescent mating rituals, but Amanda couldn’t be bothered with that bullshit. She wanted a slice of pizza as she read Ender’s Game, thank you very fucking much, and wasn’t about to let the world make her think that was weird or wrong. Gemma rarely bothered to go at all – she thought it was stupid. She was perfectly content to grab an ice cream and retreat back to the bunk for a night of Apples to Apples and dumb quizzes out of J-14.

Hayley was absolutely gorgeous, in a really iconic way: long red hair, bright blue eyes, tanner than any 14-year-old has the right to be. Along with the prettiness came the obvious boy obsession – she always went to canteen. She had a life to live, suitors to entertain. There was one night she made it back to the cabin well before curfew, though – she flung herself onto her bed, sobbing, right as I was getting out of the shower. It took a fair amount of time to calm her down enough to get a coherent explanation: she’d been making out with a boy on one of the tennis courts (oops, summer camp), when he’d begun to unbutton her shorts and shove his grimy, teenage boy hand down her pants. Hayley had jumped up in a panic and made up some excuse about needing to get back to he friends before sprinting off.

She was terrified he would tell everyone. “The entire camp will know I’m a prude by tomorrow morning,” she choked out between sobs.

“Dude, who cares?!” I said. “Do you not realize how awesome what you just did is? You weren’t ready, and you didn’t let him trick you into thinking you were ready. You basically yelled, ‘FUCK YOU, I’M FOURTEEN!’ at him and ran away, which is so cool. You don’t even understand how cool.”

She smeared away her mascara-soaked tears and looked up at me, blue eyes wide and only beginning to comprehend the kickass precedent she’d set for herself. She crinkled her nose. “I mean… it was on a field.”

Lizzie did magic, even though it was widely regarded throughout camp as super lame. Nora corrected the grammar on a One Direction poster someone had hung up in the bathroom with a Sharpie. Maggie made stop-motion movies under the moniker “Interrobang Productions” but hid and cried when the bunk took a group photo without her.

It’s hard to be weird when you’re thirteen. That was what I tried most to teach them: it wouldn’t always be like that. Their world would grow huger and their tribe would emerge and they’d find their place, really and truly. Someday soon. Just not in the eighth grade.

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image – Corbin Corbin

1. “Chivalry is dead.”

I consider myself a male feminist; I have no issue with the idea women are as capable as men in nearly any tasks. Giving birth is where I may draw the line; you gals are rocking that. However, it is often impossible not to hear some women impart standards upon men when they cry out against even the slightest disregard of inequality which goes their way across the fence. This oft-quoted line could often be pointed towards any person (chivalry applying to both sexes), but it is more often than not a complaint against men who do not pull out chairs, do not carry all the bags, or do not pay for the entirety of a date. So you want a man who treats you with standards imparted by a patriarchal culture? How about a man who wants a woman to quit her job, pump out kids, and fulfill every harsh standard befitting a housewife?

2. “I refuse to date a man shorter than me.”

I do not mean to slice open issues of physical attraction, but what this tends to say to me is “this is an extremely shallow person.” Perhaps the reverse is “I refuse to date a girl with a cup size below C.” It imparts an unfair standard on short guys and tall girls.

3. “Any guy living with his parents is a loser.”

While not just deaf to the sort of financial issues which can put anyone back in their parents’ basement, it seems to me women are subjected to far less shame than men if their post-adolescence feels a bit too much like an extension of their adolescence. That said, the US Census found 59% of men ages 18-24 live with their parents, but the number is fairly similar with women of the same age, coming in at 50%.

4. “If women ran the world, there would be no war.”

First, I’d like to point out that organizations which have more diversity of any kind tend to function better. However, the idea that women would be more peaceful as Heads of State is fairly ridiculous. Margaret Thatcher, who passed away earlier this week, was infamous for her invasion of the Falkland Islands. There were plenty of female pharoahs in Ancient Egypt which waged war like few other nations. It’s true even further down the power structure; Lynndie England was a key player in the Abu Ghraib scandal and the (possibly mythical) Amazonian warriors actually could not marry until they had killed in battle. It is apparent, if given the opportunity, women could be as savage at waging war as men.

5.  “All guys think about is sex.”

And all women think about is SHOPPING!! Am I right, guys?

6. “All men are animals.”

I am certainly not here to deny the very brutal reality of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, or rape. However, assuming every guy is looking to rape you is about as ridiculous as thinking any person of an ethnic minority is out to mug you. In fact, let’s just rule out any statement which begins with “all men” or “all women”, because that is the central point of this. Any movement meant to celebrate “equality” or “diversity” should do just that, not create an Us vs. Them mentality. Women around the world are subjected to injustices much larger than hearing something which offends them and those are certainly issues which demand attention. But always be prepared to hold yourself to the same standard you hold others.

You should like Thought Catalog on Facebook here.

Shaina is a Senior at Pepperdine University and decided to use her upcoming college formal to cross something off her bucket list. She posted a little video asking Joe Jonas to be her date. Well, Joe responded like a BAWSE! Sadly, he can’t make to her event, but he offered her something better in HIS ask video:

This is the vid Shaina posted:

The post Joe Jonas Responds In The Best Celebrity Date Video EVER! appeared first on HelloGiggles.

Check out Paramore’s new video for “Still Into You”

I’m totally loving this song (and how cute is Hayley?)

The trees haven’t even bloomed yet, and my spring calendar is full: a trip to visit friends who just bought their first house in Madison, Wisconsin, two weddings here in New York, an open invitation to a friend’s backyard on the Jersey shore, and a Mother's Day brunch in May. These are all good things, but as the invites pile up, so does the daunting task of finding just the right gift for house warmings, weddings, hostesses, and dear mom!

I, of course, turned to the Purl Bee archives for some gift giving inspiration. I’ve always loved the Felt Flower Pillows that Molly made a few years ago but am wary of making something so big for someone else’s home. That’s when it hit me, why not shrink the scale and turn big pillows into pretty little sachets, easy to make and to give! Luckily, not only do these sachets appeal to my more practical nature, they are also a blast to make. The beautiful, vibrant colors of the new Mariposa Felt Bundle made picking color combinations so fun, and I am completely willing to admit that I spent far too long arranging and rearranging the petals before I came up with my final choices. But, with colors like these, how could you not?! And since each Felt Bundle makes 16 sachets, there are enough here to say good luck, congratulations, thank you, and even happy Mother's Day!

Tags:  Arrested Development Portia de Rossi Netflix

Getty ready to Blue yourself: This morning, Netflix finally announced the premiere date of the new season of Arrested Development!

All 15 new episodes will be released at the same time on Netflix on May 26! So, in honor of the return of one if the greatest comedies of all time, and the return of the world's co-favorite lesbian, let us countdown our ten favorite things about Portia de Rossi's Lindsay Bluth Fünke.

10) Her intelligence

Michael: So, there's going to be wine at rehab, huh?
Lindsay: Well, wine only turns into alcohol if you let it sit.

Michael: So, you just finished off the bottle?
Lindsay: Well, I had to. It's vodka, you know. It goes bad once it's opened.

9) Her intuition

Michael: She's a little bit more like me. It's like we finish each other's —
Lindsay: Sandwiches?
Michael: Sentences. Why would I say —
Lindsay: Sandwiches?
Michael: That time, I was going to say sandwiches.

8) Her chef skills

Lindsay: Check it out. I found that canned ham that we'd had forever, and I put it in a pot of boiling water, and guess what I'm calling it?
Michael: Soup?
Lindsay: Hot ham water.

7) Her compassion

Lindsay: You haven't had a serious relationship since your wife, and you guys weren't even speaking towards the end.
Michael: A lot of that was the coma.
Lindsay: Yeah, I've heard your side of it.

6) Her ambition

Michael: You've got to be the laziest person in the world.
Lindsay: If you weren't all the way on the other side of the room, I'd slap your face.

5) Her hotness

Lindsay: I'm going to see if I can get a wrench to strip my nuts. [Everyone stares at her.] I was trying to be sexy, it just got away from me.

Lindsay: You know what? I'm going to throw on a skirt, take off my underwear, and make your Pop-Pop proud!

4) Her nurturing nature

Lindsay: No, you're not going to that. You see, if I show up with you, it'll just make me seem like I'm a mother.
Maeby: I've never thought of you that way.

Michael: You know, instead of competing with Tobias, why don't you try just spending a little bit more time with your daughter?
Maeby: Why? Is Tobias doing that?

3) Her altruism

Lindsay: There's a cream with real diamonds in it. I can actually smear diamonds on my face, and it's only $400 a tub! That's like, what? A million diamonds for $400? A million fucking diamonds!

2) Her moral compass

Lindsay: Well, they expect a certain amount of theft, Michael. It's built into the price. If I didn't take it, then people would be overpaying for nothing ... It was shoplifting, and I'm white, I think I'm gonna be OK.

1) Her chicken dance

Are you excited for all new episodes of Arrested Development?

Television Tags:  television TV News Teaser Photo:  Teaser:  All new episodes hit Netflix in May!

I’m a self-confessed nail polish addict: My instagram is full of shots featuring my latest designs, and I’ve been known to use random household items to create nail art in a pinch (stray stud earrings are great stand-ins for toothpicks). Lately, I’ve moved beyond your average cream polishes into textured or effect formulas. Magnetic, liquid sand, holographic – I want them all! The newest addition to my ever-growing collection? Ruby Wing Color Changing Nail Polish. 

After seeing the aptly named Poppy and Peony both indoors and out (check out the GIFs below), I’m definitely putting them to regular use this spring. We could even end up being nail twins because some of you will receive a bottle in your April Birchbox! 

Unlike other color-changing polishes, this formula from Ruby Wing doesn’t rely on temperature to switch hues, which can lead to slightly uneven color. Instead, it changes in the sunlight so you get a new shade the moment you step outside. What’s more, these lacquers also have a light floral scent that lasts for about a day once they dry, and they’re non-toxic, not tested on animals, and vegan friendly.

I decided to paint one hand with Peony and the other with Poppy so you could see both colors in action. The difference is noticeable and I love both the indoor and outdoor shades!

Like with any polish, these ones work best when layered over a base coat. Paint two thin coats of the color of your choice and finish off with a clear topcoat. Don’t worry – it won’t diminish the color-changing effect or scent.

Which dual-shade would you rock?

—Bre

Need some inspiration for your next mani? Try one of these 8 amazing (and insanely easy) designs.

I scrolled through Facebook at lunch on Tuesday and was instantly overwhelmed by the influx of red equal signs smattered across my Newsfeed. I decided not to change my profile picture because Sonia Sotomayor recently unfriended me (typical falling out drama), but I do appreciate the overwhelming support for marriage equality from the fraction of the world — gay, straight, and everywhere in-between — I’m Facebook friends with.

However, with every few pictures of red equal signs came a post or shared photo like the one to the right. Posters like this remind me of the pink triangle pins so many of my college classmates brandished on their backpacks. The pins read, “Straight But Not Narrow,” a means of typifying oneself as a straight ally to LGBTQ students. As I did at the time, I still understand my friends’ reasoning for wearing the pin: equal rights will come more quickly with visible widespread support from the straight majority. Fair, and very well-intentioned. And the underdogs always need a little boost, right?

But in sharing your personal support for marriage equality, why must you tell me you’re straight? Why can’t you just say, “I support marriage equality,” and leave it at that?

Know this, Straight Ally: whenever I see, “I’m a straight person who just supports LOVE!!!” I read, “Well, my friends are gay, but I don’t want people to think I’m gay. God forbid. I just want to get some [genitalia of the opposite gender]!” Getting ass is easier if your peers know what you’re looking for, I guess. And don’t get me wrong, I respect your right to express your sexual identity. But, believe it or not, inserting your straightness in the frame of gay rights ultimately hurts the LGBTQ cause. “Straight But Not Narrow” essentially adds #nohomo to the gay crusade for equality.

Think about it. Are you really scared your Facebook friends are going to think you’re a homo when you make your profile picture a red mathematical symbol? Will your Aunt Mindy spend next Thanksgiving interrogating you about your sex life? Will your doucheface fraternity brother write “lol faggottttt” on your wall? Will your weird ex-friend from middle school message you, “ha ha always knew ur a dyke” and tell you you’re going to Hell?

Yeah, something like that could potentially happen. And so what if it does?

Allying with the queer community means embracing the endless combinations and permutations of sexuality, orientation, and gender expression human beings experience. Being comfortable with this idea means being comfortable with the reality that some people – gasp — might think you’re gay.

You may be thinking, “But I don’t want acquaintances to assume things about my sexuality when they barely know me! That’s totally unfair!” Straight Ally, welcome to the queer experience.

Though my gayness is obvious to queer girls, I’m forced to constantly wonder if acquaintances know I’m gay, if they suspect it, and precisely how I sparked said suspicion. Upon discovering I’m gay, a coworker told me, “You do wear pants a lot. More than most girls.” (Astute observation, bro.) On that note, guys do occasionally hit on me at bars, and only when I’m in a dress. I, like many queer people, routinely fumble with self-expression of my orientation. It’s quotidian, really.

So, Straight Ally, when you tell me you’re, “Straight but not narrow,” you tell me you’re too scared to embrace the ambiguity that has defined my personal experience as a lesbian. In doing so, you explicitly unfasten any empathy for the queer community you attempt to cultivate in so bravely making your profile picture a red equal sign.

This unintentional narrow-mindedness certainly flourishes within pockets of the LGBTQ community, as well. This weekend, an overweight, intoxicated 35-year-old gay man told me, “Oh my God, I love pretty lesbians!” In this case, “pretty” meant “feminine.” (I think I was wearing a necklace or something? He clearly had never witnessed me attempt to walk in heels or go H.A.M. on steak frites.) He then proceeded to prod a Republican friend of mine about her political beliefs, explaining, “I’m sorry to pick a fight, I’m just really committed to gay politics.”

While he meant to flatter me, his “pretty lesbians” comment merely crippled the progressive ideology he allegedly stood for. You only like “pretty” lesbians? I thought. You mean, femmes? This eliminates a pronounced community of queer women who thrive in blurring lines of expression (and are total smokeshows doing so). Only liking “pretty lesbians,” strengthens the gender dichotomy and effectively harms the entire queer community. I don’t care how much that dude loved cock; a commitment to equality means a commitment to flexibility in expression. (I wish I could have communicated this to him in the moment. Instead, I just said, “Me, too.”)

Because your intentions are good, Straight Ally, this flexibility can extend to you for a rare moment. I understand your inability to fully comprehend how queer people navigate society; no one can help this. However, you can tiptoe toward empathy by feeling a pang of discomfort when acquaintances make false assumptions about your sexuality. Feel awkward and make it routine. Don’t just tolerate queer people fucking with normativity; blur the line from your own side, too. This certainly doesn’t make you queer, Straight Ally, but it allows you to share some ambiguity with those whose fight you choose to support. After all, if being gay “isn’t a big deal,” shouldn’t you be comfortable with your own LGBTQ potential?

Yes, omitting your personal sexual preference when you choose to support gay marriage via Facebook profile picture may turn a couple of heads. But know that when your homeschooled cousin texts you, “WTF u like pussy now???” and you don’t respond, you’re taking a teeny little step toward that vague, distant vista of equality we so avidly chase. 

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As much as we love nail art, we’re better at admiring designs than coming up with them ourselves. That’s why we’ve enlisted Anna Norman, the smarty pants behind Glitter, She Wrote, to be a regular contributor. Every Monday, she’ll be sharing her latest lacquer inspiration—you won’t be satisfied with plain ol’ polish again.

Of all of the current trends in nail polish (holographics, Pantone-approved greens, “liquid sand”), I have to admit: I’m crazy about chrome. These polishes aren’t just ordinary metallic foils. With a glossy, mirror-like finish, a chrome manicure is like coating each nail with liquid silver. Here’s one of my favorite ways to wear the trend for spring in four super-simple steps.

Step 1: Begin by painting each nail with chrome polish. I’m using Color Club On The Rock. I also love Essie No Place Like Chrome and China Glaze Millennium. Apply a quick-dry top coat and allow your nails to dry completely (this is important!). Your nails should be 100% dry before moving on.

Step 2: Working one nail at a time, cut a thin strip of Scotch Tape and press it down the center of your nail. Use a fingernail from the other hand to really seal it down onto your nail so polish can’t seep underneath. 

Step 3: Choose a bright, spring-y shade as your accent color. I’m using OPI My Paprika Is Hotter Than Yours, a saturated orange. Paint over your full nail, covering the tape. 

Step 4: While the orange polish is still wet, slowly and carefully peel off the strip of tape to reveal your finished design underneath. Once your nails have dried, apply a glossy top coat for even more shine and protection.

Experiment with chrome triangles, stripes, and squares—all easily achievable with a few strategically-placed strips of tape. I love the jewelry-like accent of this eye-catching polish, especially paired with a pop of color for spring.

Would you try chrome nail polish? 

For more mani-spiration from Anna, check out the rest of her Mani Monday column.

Resurrection: We Are Sweet Mag

kristiina wilson

I’m back from a trip to England! And Wales! We drove on the other side of the street and walked along the tops of bluffs on footpaths and saw the Dr. Who Experience and had cream tea and got really familiar with a few stops of the Underground and saw Book of Mormon and opened Kinder Eggs and gawked at cheese in Cheddar and watched the path emerge from the water from the top of Saint Michael’s Mount and looked the wrong way for traffic before crossing the street. But mostly our group spent time passing around a bad cold, which I was unlucky enough to have for the days we were in London where it was cold enough to snow and yet there was no way I was going to take a whole precious day to sit and be warm and still indoors.

Since we now have Uniqlo and Lush and Muji shops and Boots aisle in Target here in the US it’s harder to find new and fascinating things in the UK, but we succeeded! Behold something called “Mansize tissues”, shown above next to a regular sized tissue. The Mansize tissues are big, almost hanky sized, and I love them and I wish we had them here in the US. So, who knows somebody in the tissue industry and how quickly can we get these things here in the US and can we rename them something less sexist but still offensive like Texas Tissues or Supersize Tissues? Anyhow, they made having a cold slightly less miserable.

Finding time to pack a lunch ahead so you can eat well and save a bit of cash can be tricky. Thankfully the solution to making a healthy, tasty lunch that you can grab in the morning on the way to work or school may be in your pantry already: The humble canning jar. More »

I’m seeing Birkenstocks and socks everywhere! The new editorial in Vogue Paris, Garance’s blog, and the new J.Crew catalog! I love the idea for men or women. I might have to breakdown and get a pair myself.

 

To get the look right, it’s not really about the model of shoe but really about matching it to the right sock.

 

The look is really only made for the months of October, November, April or May, so move fast.