Hailed as “the Taylor Swift of fashion designers,” Sebastian Errazuriz actually manages to be less popular with me than Ms Swift’s pop music. This guy transformed his heartache into art—okay, that’s relatable—only for all of the heart, there’s no soul. No inspiration, nothing new expressed. The series relies on tired, unoriginal cliches.
Yes, the art is cool… sometimes. “The Boss,” pictured above, is no more revolutionary than Hot Topic. And while “Hot Bitch" is probably a pair I’d actually wear just because I find the detail lovely and "Cry Baby" I would appreciate in the MoMA… the rest of it is utterly lacking bordering on downright offensive. These women ‘happened to him,’ as he is the reactor to their dynamics.
Their dynamics, however, are all things we’ve heard before. Honey; Cry Baby; Gold Digger; Heart Breaker; Ice Queen; Hot Bitch; The Virgin; Jet Setter; The Boss; GI Jane; The Rock.
Seriously? What, have we fallen into some sexist teenage bullshit? Did Stephanie Meyers write this? I’m not knocking the writing; I’m knocking the fact that these shoes, examples of stereotypes too heinous to be propagated, are accompanied not only by personal stories, but names as well. This is three cheers for cheap revenge.
The talent is there, but gosh, have some (non-sexist) originality. I half expected a “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” shoe. Didn’t these women inspire you, challenge you, move you, more than to be put into titles that are as worn out as Cinderella’s serving shoes? You owe them more than that, especially if you’re using them to launch your career. Challenge yourself.
"Real" Women & Oversharing
TW for brief discussions of self-harm, eating disorders, and body image issues.
Most of us have enough brain cells to rub together to realize why the phrase “real women have/are _____” is absolutely degrading, dehumanizing, and a shitstorm in four words. If you happen to miss why, it infers that some of us are imaginary; some of us are invisible; some of us are replicas; we are inauthentic, fake versions of women. And if that doesn’t sound like anything you want remotely describing anyone—ever—then you begin to understand.
Why it’s an issue is because it’s actually predominantly poached around by women-identified-women for the body image du jour. While it originally began as ‘real women have curves’ (and the point, I 100% support, which is to say that a woman’s worth is not defined by her body’s ability to resemble Barbie and to bring awareness about privilege regarding certain body types), the phrase in general should have been better thought-out. But they (whoever they are who wrote it) could not have dreamt of the co-opting the phrase would undergo.
The only redeeming facet of the phrase is that now, it has been co-opted by so many body types that, if nothing else, it underscores how very real all body types are. The problem remains that in the same breath, alone and alienated, the phrase demeans all similar others in that same faux pas that modern religion seems to propagate: There Can Be Only One. And people still use the phrase to body- and slut-shame, still use it to degrade our fellow women, even without meaning to.
So with that in mind, I actually want to “come out” of my body closet and talk about experiences I’ve recently come to understand. I do not mean to set any body experience as ‘worse’ or rank or decry privilege in any fashion; I just want to share in case it helps someone, somewhere, who was like me. Which I guess is really why we write anything of this nature, ever. To reach into the silent void, hold up a mirror, and see if anything reflects back at us.
stripperific! happy halloween
Banksy has been spending some time in my hometown of New York City in October. At first glance, the street art depicts a man “with a shrugged stature and wilting flowers… look[ing] like a depressed, yet well-dressed, man on a street corner being stood up by a date. But stepping back reveals the irony of his patient gentleman’s waiting in vain – ‘at the door of the club.’” Oh, darling boy. You should know better. And dare I ask if you even tipped the girl? Haha.
Happy Halloween1 Listen to these rad girls slam about it. Get in touch with your inner monster—or your inner (stripper) tooth fairy.
This is poetry from the Brave New Voices Grand Slam Finals 2013 round 4 in Washington, D.C. The 4 incredibly talented girls, from left to right, are: Hannah Halpern (@hanhalp), Amina Iro (@FlipsHijab), Reina Privado (@PoetryAndCurls), and Asha Gardner (@AshaGPoet) and they are a part of the DC Youth Slam Team.
A cheeky Vikki’s Secret parody stands to make change in consumer culture against rape culture.
"Sometimes reverse shoplifting is the best way to stop a crime. EnterOperation Panty Drop. Activists have started distributing these pro-consent underwear in Victoria’s Secret stores into dozens of VS stores North America and Europe.
This is a fight VS should love to lose. They will sell more underwear if they help give women choice and are seen as empowering women, rather than just encouraging them to be constantly available.” —Paxus.
Learn more at PINK ♥'s Consent.
Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless.