After a few requests from readers, I have decided to add a DONATE button to the site [see right hand column] in case your heart desires supporting this 100% labor of love in any way other than your eyeballs (which has always been my main goal).
I think it is common for teens to want to push their damages under the rug, hoping that they’ll disappear. As I’ve grown older I’ve learnt that the most interesting, well-rounded people tend to pull them out, stare them boldly in the face, and, eventually, move on.
A trip to Brooklyn results in a little sartorial nausea, courtesy of the trying-so-hard-to-be-hip transplants crawling out of every nook and cranny. On the other hand, my native-to-NYC friend doesn’t seem to be trying much at all, and blows them out of the water.
Because little did you know, where you buy your coffee is a loaded choice, one which even the most philanthropic humans can lose sight of.
Inspired by the brilliant Meh List published every week in The Sunday Magazine of The New York Times, I thought I’d start crafting my own, in a similar spirit to the Dear Diary posts.
Should I expect everyone to know that I’m not entirely healthy, from a simple glance? Of course not. But I do wish such assumptions were given more thought, with health being considered for the complex equation that it is. It’s dangerous to do otherwise—to assume that less flesh is always more.
“…and I am not your transitional phrase.” Quick thoughts on love, and what it’s not.
A bad date gets me thinking about the inner-war between the outfits we truly like to wear versus the outfits we sometimes feel we should wear.
A spring forecast of the sartorial-meets-attitude persuasion.