MUSE Magazine Issue 7

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ISSUE VII




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it

RISE OF THE DORK

The term “It-girl” typically brings about images of the gorgeous Blake Lively, trend-setting fashionista Alexa Chung and pop sensation Britney Spears (circa 2000). The it-girl is characterized by her charming personality, her impeccable style and her flawless hair. Defined by Oxford Dictionary as “a young woman who has achieved celebrity because of her socialite lifestyle,” the classic it-girl is beautiful, stylish and cool… or is she? Do you need to be born with obnoxiously great genes, a closet that’s three times as big as your bedroom and a calendar full of parties to be an it-girl? Once upon a time maybe, but these days it seems the answer is a resounding “no.” Originally coined by Rudyard Kipling, the term has to do with magnetism, something that is certainly not in short supply in this generation of it-girls. However, that’s not to say that this era is like the others. Over recent years, the term has been redefined – the it-girl has evolved and she’s cooler and dorkier than ever. Still in possession of all the traits that make up an it-girl – self-confidence, coolness and charisma – this generation feels more real and more approachable than it-girls of the past. These girls probably weren’t the most popular kids in high school but they could have definitely been your best friend. You could imagine yourselves clad in onesies eating an entire tub of ice-cream together. That’s right, these it-girls wear onesies. Take Lena Dunham for example. She writes, produces and acts in her own HBO show Girls which has evoked almost as much criticism and controversy as it has applause. What makes Dunham an it-girl is her realness both on the show and in life (at least her life via Twitter and Instagram). Dunham teaches us that not everything has to be glamorous all the time, nor do you need to take yourself seriously all the time. Her Emmy tweets for example: “It’s probably best we didn’t win any Emmy’s because I definitely would have dedicated the award to Al Pacino’s girlfriend” and “Best quote of the night: ‘if you want to be left alone at a Hollywood party just stand near the food.’” These girls are achieving “it” status by being unapologetically real. Take Taylor Swift’s relentless yet empowering documentation of her perennially unsuccessful love life, or Jennifer Lawrence’s infamous Oscar trip that made her only more endearing. “It” isn’t about being perfect. “It” is about honesty and having fun. Most importantly, “it” is about embracing your inner dork. These new it-girls leave us with the message that you don’t have to (and shouldn’t) apologize for who you are. Have no fear and forget about embarrassment. Amy Poehler said it best: “There’s power in looking silly and not caring that you do.”

an article by MADDIE PACE

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GIRL


LORDE Pop Culture’s New Royalty If you aren’t yet acquainted with the smooth pulses and sultry voice of the new single “Royals,” then I have to say you’re missing out on one of the up-and-coming starlets of this generation. Just a mere two months after her billboard-topping single, “Royals” caught fire on the Internet, Lorde AKA Ella Yelich-O’Connor gained international success and attention for her music. Her fans took to Twitter, Facebook and Instagram to show their admiration and loyalty to pop culture’s new royalty. In case you aren’t a fan yet, here are just a few reasons why we should all be completely enamoured with this Kiwi: 1. She isn’t your typical mainstream artist Unlike the bare-everything attitude many pop stars today support, Lorde uses a different approach to performance. Rather than using her body to make a statement, her music says it all while her unique sound and catchy songs keep our attention longer than any outfit Miley Cyrus sports in her music videos. In her song, “Royals” Lorde emphasizes this separation from mainstream songs, stating: But every song’s like gold teeth, grey goose, trippin’ in the bathroom Blood stains, ball gowns, trashin’ the hotel room, We don’t care, we’re driving Cadillacs in our dreams 2. Lorde stays true to her sound Yes, the rumours are true- Lorde turned down the opportunity to open for “California girl” Katy Perry. When asked in a televised interview why she turned down the mega superstar, Lorde re-

sponded, “I think she’s really talented; I just don’t think it was quite for me.” 3. At the age of 16 she’s cooler than you will ever be Lorde was scouted at age 12, signed to the Universal Music record label at 13, began song-writing at 14, and released her first body of work, The Love Club EP at 15. If that isn’t enough, at the age 16 she is the first solo artist in New Zealand to reach number 1 on the Billboard Top 100 List. 4. But she’ll never admit it Known for her modesty, Lorde doesn’t fall for the superstar status and obsession with material things like many other artists in the industry do. In an interview with The Observer, she states, “Lana Del Rey is always singing about being in the Hamptons or driving her Bugatti Veyron or whatever, and at the time, me and my friends were at some house party worrying how to get home because we couldn’t afford a cab. This is our reality!” 5. A true intellect at heart Daughter of a prize-winning New Zealand poet, Lorde’s songs are considered sacred poetry to many. Before turning to songwriting, though, Lorde was an avid short story reader and writer. Her favourite modern classic authors include: Kurt Vonnegut, Raymond Carver and Wells Tower. Her keen interest in reading and writing is what makes her music stand out in a genre filled with superficiality. So, when looking for a new song to add to your playlist, give Lorde a try. You might start to “crave a different kind of buzz.”

an article by CALISTA KIM

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The Spectacular Now You’re bound to fall in love with characters in this film. They’re young and they’re making mistakes just like we are. Directed by James Ponsoldt, The Spectacular Now, is a coming-of-age story about first love, alcoholism, and the fear of adulthood. Eighteen year-old Sutter Keely (Miles Teller) is about to graduate from high school with poor grades and a growing alcohol problem. At first, he seems like a typical charming teenage boy, but as the story unfolds, we begin to see hints of his dangerous habits and complicated issues. When his girlfriend Cassidy (Brie Larson) dumps him, he finds himself caught in limbo and can’t quite seem to get his act together. It’s not until Sutter meets Aimee Finecky (Shailene Woodley) that purpose is thrown back into his life. Aimee is a breath of fresh air and her open-minded perspective on life allows Sutter to find the root of his problems and tackle them head on. The chemistry between Teller and Woodley is undeniable. What

makes this movie great is its honesty. The laughter is so genuine and the lines are so natural that it seems as if the producers were simply taping a real life conversation between the two actors. Woodley’s portrayal of Aimee Finecky is fantastic – the character’s naïve but assertive attitude is refreshing. We need more of these girls on the big screen! Ponsoldt’s choice to include alcoholism in a teenage film is intriguing. We watch Sutter drink and drive while very little is done to address his issues. Sutter’s flask is his coping mechanism during stressful situations and difficult conversations. Alcohol is constantly used to numb Sutter’s pain. As the film comes to an end, we witness the personal struggle Sutter faces over wanting to live in the moment while trying to forget about future consequences and responsibilities. I highly recommend this film. Its youthful but compelling characters are worthy of your screen time.

an article by EMILIE RABEAU 8 | ENTERTAINMENT


A GOODGOODNOTBAD LOOK INTO TORONTO’S GAME CHANGING JAZZ TRIO Whether it’s Nicki Minaj’s pseudo harajuku get-up, Lil Wayne’s sizzurp-infused voice croaking through the radio, or Kanye’s ego getting the best of him again, students often associate hip-hop with the popular, mainstream artists that represent the genre on the radio. However, they will rarely associate jazz with hip-hop because to the majority of students, jazz is irrelevant. Frank Sinatra, who? Don’t you mean Frank Ocean? In 2010, a group of Toronto natives set out to break the barrier and blur the lines between these two genres, forming a hip-hop jazz trio known as BadBadNotGood, or BBNG for short. The group met while attending the jazz program at Humber College. The band members include Matthew Tavares on keyboard, Alexander Sowinski on drums, and Chester Hansen on bass. So, what’s significant about this? Who cares about a local band that attended a small Ontario college? For one, they played a set at Glastonbury, sharing the stage with Major Lazer and Public Enemy. Prior to that, they backed Frank Ocean at Coachella. They’ve also jammed with other Odd Future members, including a two-hour session with none other than Tyler the Creator. Their session with Tyler was recorded and later uploaded onto their YouTube channel along with others. Their videos gained over a million views, giving them the exposure and recognition that they so obviously deserved. Like the Toronto-based Drake, they started from the bottom and now they’re here. If you’re skeptical about their hip-hop and jazz fusion, you should check out their dope remix of Soulja Boy’s track, “Pretty Boy Swag.” How can any song by Soulja Boy be good, you say? Before you call bullshit, give it a listen because BBNG definitely pulls it off. They also uploaded their live performance of their cover of TNGHT’s “Bugg’n” at Toronto’s 2012 Mad Decent Block Party. Other covers include several songs from Zelda: Ocarina of Time, “Title Theme/Saria’s Song/Song of Storms,” as well as their badass remix of Yeezy’s, “Flashing Lights.” Flashing Lights is my favourite of their covers– it may be synth-heavy but it gives me chills every single time. BadBadNotGood debuted their first album in 2011 and their second in 2012 with minimalistic titles, BBNG and BBNG2. Drawing influences from Bill Evans to Wu-Tang, BBNG interprets modern jazz, and incorporates these interpretations into their covers of various hip-hop songs. Clearly transcending genres, BBNG’s albums consist of remixed classics, with their smooth jazzy style alongside a handful of original tracks, creating two distinct and incredibly game-changing albums. BBNG may not have perfected their sound yet, since they’re still just 20-somethings trying to have fun. Really, who reaches perfection on the first try anyway? Definitely not Emily Haines of Metric, who met several future Broken Social Scene members at Etobicoke School of the Arts, or Bedouin Soundclash, who met right here at Queen’s. They were all students once, playing at local gigs, but their passion drove them somewhere incredible. All in all, there’s something to be said about supporting your local bands.

an article by ANNA TRAN

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an article by KELLY MACPHERSON Have you ever found yourself surfing through social media sites to fuel your own negative outlook on things? Have you ever caught yourself browsing the web for the sole purpose of critiquing an author, an image or an opinion piece? I know I’m guilty of it, and I bet most of you are too. It’s the art of hate-read, an art form perfected by our generation of social media mavens. Hate reading is essentially the act of purposefully exposing ourselves to ideas and individuals we despise. Your blood starts to boil and your anger brews, but you can’t stop – and you don’t want to stop. It could be laughing at that health junkie whose entire existence is dependent on photographing every vegan, gluten free or “clean living” meal in existence. Maybe it’s rolling your eyes at the selfie-crazed fashion freak whose main goal in life is to make her outfit look better than all of ours. It could be hating on Miley, the infamous Anne Hathaway, or even our own infuriating ex. Whatever the target may be, we all seem to find personalized material that satisfies our twisted love affair with hatred. With the click of a mouse, in the privacy of our own home, we can binge hate to our heart’s content. While are a million ways to engage in hate reading, most of us don’t stop to ponder why we love it so much. Even though the term is new, the behaviour is anything but. In CLST 205 (Ancient Humour), we discussed Thomas Hobbes’ concept of Schadenfreude, literally translating to ‘harm-joy,’ used to describe the pleasure we get from witnessing the sufferings or misfortunes of others. Though we are often told that happiness cannot be found in comparison to those around us, I don’t think this is exactly true. In 1954 Leon Festinger proposed the social comparison theory, stating that much of our sense of self comes from social comparison. It is therefore an inherent part of our nature to evaluate our opinions, behaviours, and attitudes against others; this is essential in establishing our unique identity or place in the world. When we engage with material from our favourite hate-targets, it fuels our feelings of either superiority (we feel better knowing that we would never be as obnoxious/annoying as them), or inadequacy/self-loathing (we can never obtain the ideal lives that they live.) Simply put, it’s toxic and it leads to an antagonistic way of viewing the world around us. Maybe all that’s needed to end this vicious cycle of hate is an adjustment to the way we relate to our social environment. So, the next time someone posts a half-naked gym selfie, don’t hate. Smile, pick up a pair of shoes and go to the gym yourself. Let your inner hate motivate you, and maybe the world will be a better place after all.

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hat do Haitian voodoo, Greek mythology, the number nine, and David Bowie have in common? It’s not a sequel to the Da Vinci Code; but rather a few hints at the content of the new Arcade Fire album. The album was not so much announced as it was discovered. A strange trinket was found on the grounds of the Lollapalooza music festival in Chicago: a crystal divided into ninths containing the letters “REFLEKTOR,” later found to be inspired by Haitian Veve, writings closely associated with the practice of voodoo. The symbol was also found on the band’s Instagram page, thus confirming it as part of a worldwide guerilla marketing campaign for the new album. The next clue came in the form of a singular reply to a tweet from a fan, the first clear and definite announcement of the album’s release. A thirty second teaser for the album was then released, including backing vocals provided by a strangely familiar voice later confirmed to be the Thin White Duke himself, David Bowie. After the release of the album’s first single, Reflektor on 9/9, an impromptu show was announced for that very same night in Montreal, featuring a previously unknown band called “The Reflektors.” It has since been confirmed that the band was indeed the Arcade Fire playing under a pseudonym. Unsurprisingly, the cost of a ticket to the show was exactly nine dollars. Since, the cover art has been released, depicting Orpheus and Eurydice, the doomed lovers of Greek mythology.

GET ARCADE FIRE(D) UP If Reflektor is in any way indicative of the new album’s sound, fans can look forward to the classic Arcade Fire combination of garage-rock and backing baroque instrumentals infused with new electronic synths. The band’s first two albums, 2004‘s Funeral and 2007‘s Neon Bible are more musically similar, but certain tracks on 2010‘s The Suburbs hint at the sound prominently heard on Reflektor. Some fans may welcome the Arcade Fire’s new “21st century” electronic sound, whereas others may hope for a return to the band’s edgier style. The voices of Fire-founders Win Butler and Régine Chassagne exist in harmonious matrimony on the track, as do Win and Régine themselves, married in 2003 and parents of a child born last April. Both lead singers are bilingual and continue to use both of Canada’s official languages on Reflektor; the English allows for easy lyrical comprehension while the intrinsic beauty and mellifluous nature of the French language adds depth to the tracks. It will be tough for the band to surpass the success of their last album, winner of the Album of the Year award at the 2011 Grammy Awards.Without a doubt, though, another great album will secure the Arcade Fire as the Kings and Queens of Canada’s indie throne.

an article by PETER DROHAN MUSE | 11


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Something powerful happens when certain melodies and lyrics are meshed together in one fluid song. It is a power that can distract your focus and intoxicate your brain for hours on end. A power that can energize an entire house full of university students on a Friday night. A power that can seep deep into your psyche and make you want to do “hood-rat” things with your friends... This is the power of the music created by Lana Del Rey. Lana Del Rey was born “Elizabeth Grant” in Lake Placid, New York some twenty-seven years ago. Initially, she tried her hand at the music with the demure name Lizzie Grant. Her attempt turned out to be a complete flop and set her two steps back in her career. Only one year later, she reemerged in the industry for a second try under the mysterious persona of Lana Del Rey. The key word here is persona. Persona by definition is a role adopted by an actor. Not only has Elizabeth Grant adopted this persona as her new musical identity, when one listens to even a handful of her songs, one is also immediately affected and influenced by Del Rey’s American road-dog way of life. Okay, maybe I’m stretching a little here, but I know that whenever my housemates and I put on Lana Del Rey we somehow find ourselves smoking cigarettes outside of grungy Revolutions and trolling around for our “full time daddies.” The point I am trying to make is that Lana Del Rey’s music has struck a powerful chord with our generation. Her songs make you want to turn into an honourary Hell’s Angel. Her look and style make you want to wear a thick cat-eye and slap on a bright lipstick before going out. Her music influences us in our own unique ways. It transforms us outside of our ordinary, stand-still lives and takes us to a “dark fantasy” filled with Polaroid pictures, roadside bonfires, and love affairs with ASAP Rocky. You may think that drugs and alcohol are the only way to captivate your alter ego but Lana Del Rey’s music is just as intoxicating. Her lyrics encourage us to “live fast, die young, be wild, have fun” and she reminds us that it is OK to be “fucking crazy” as long as we are “free.”

LYRICAL INTOXICATION article by EMILIE NOLAN photography by EMILIE NOLAN modeling by THEA BRYSON make Up by EMILIE NOLAN hair by JENNA DEMCHUK MUSE | 13


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live fast, die young, be wild, have fun


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DIRTY

PROJECTO 16 | EDITORIAL


ORS photography by PATRICK RODEE direction by ANDREA NAZARIAN, JENNA DEMCHUK, EMMA HOFFMAN modeling by VICTORIA WATSON, ALEKSANDAR KOJIC MUSE | 17


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Music and fashion have a symbiotic relationship in the tangled mess that is my brain, so when people ask who my style inspirations are, the answer usually involves me rattling off the most recent obsessions occupying my iPod. Lately, I’ve been turning to pop stars- I’m not referring to Miley, Lana, Demi, or any of the other “manufactured” products of the industry. Rather, I’m taking notes from a set of alternative up-and-coming artists who are changing the game with killer style, infectious beats, and most notably, a sense of authenticity that previous rulers of the genre lack, both sonically and sartorially speaking.

Solange Knowles

When the world thought they’d seen all the Knowles clan had to offer, along came Queen Bey’s baby sis Solange, revealing a reinvented version of herself with the release of her critically acclaimed EP, True in late-2012. To achieve her 70’sinspired look, masculine pantsuits, boxy silhouettes and bright lips are a must. Solange’s wardrobe is the perfect inspiration for those looking to brighten up the winter-white months of Kingston with a pigmented palette. A master of bright patterns and bold textures, she has made a name for herself by setting a consistent example of how to utilize tailored pieces to avoid looking like a hot mess when mixing prints. Solangeworthy items that fit a college budget can easily be found at The Gap, H&M, and most notably, Joe Fresh.

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SkyFerriera

Pint-sized Sky Ferreira is notorious for her rat’s nest of bleach blonde hair, blatant awkwardness, and encounters with the law, but don’t let her reputation deceive you. Ferreira is an incredibly talented performer redefining pop music with singles like “You’re Not the One” and “Everything is Embarrassing.” She is the go-to style icon for lazy days on campus; trade in yoga pants and hoodies for tomboy-ish basic t-shirts and combat boots. Nail Ferreira’s look by pairing them with girly skirts, leather moto-jackets and a smudge of red lipstick. Ferreira’s penchant for fashion has even attracted the attention of the most prestigious designers; she can be spotted from the front row of Givenchy to the ad campaigns of Saint Laurent, proving that high fashion isn’t exclusively limited to polished, stuffy looks.

grimes Canadian ambient pop artist and for mer McGill student Claire Boucher, better known as Grimes, possesses a refreshingly surreal fashion sense that offers no apologies. Her Japanese-inspired music is like Enya on acid- dreamy, and incredibly danceable. She is a rare unicorn in the industry—seamlessly weaving Grunge staples with Harajuku influences to create a kooky DIY aesthetic that embodies imagination come to life. Boucher’s fans vary from Donatella Versace to Hedi Slimane with who she designed a line of t-shirts for Saint Laurent. Look to her if you want to step outside the box with funky hair-cuts, nonsensical layering, and mind-bending graphic prints. Channel Grimes with last season’s camouflage-print military jacket, baggy hoodies, and anything that looks like it came from your grandmother’s closet or the Halloween aisle of WalMart.

an article by ASHLEY LARAMIE an illustration by ALEXANDRA BRICKMAN


o r c i M

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an article by JOHANNA AZIS

Have you ever felt uncomfortably old realizing a good majority of successful people are either your age or younger? All-around-life-muse Cara Delevingne just turned 21; guilty pleasure Harry Styles isn’t even of legal drinking age in the United States; and FYI, the cast of the Hills was only 19 when season one began. If these reminders aren’t enough to kick start your life into gear, there’s a new trend in fashion bringing in a slew of much younger individuals who are dressing, acting, and networking a more glamorous existence than you could ever imagine. The concept of “micro-fashion” pairs young children with striking ensembles, resulting in undeniably cute mini packages of couture. Between fur coats, leather skirts, three-piece suits, and flared jeans, these little models are taking the hottest trends and influencing the biggest designers to shrink their hemlines. Some “micromodels” to keep your eyes out for include Aila Wang, niece of designer Alexander Wang, and Romeo Beckham, son of pow-

er couple David and Victoria Beckham. At the mere age of five, Aila has become one of the internet’s most adorable street style muses with her photographs multiplying over hundreds of different blogs and Tumblrs. Not only are her outfits styled to make any fashionista jealous— she’s most recently pictured in a snake skin printed leather dress, Chanel swing bag, and Nike Air Force Ones—but Aila’s go-to’s include one of a kind pieces designed especially for her from the worlds coolest uncle. Romeo on the other hand has become one of Burberry’s youngest campaign models and has been defined as, “a ten-year-old with impeccable taste,” by head designer Christian Bailey. Sunglass designer Karen Walker recently released her Fall 2013 campaign featuring the likes of four adorable toddlers rocking pairs of her futuristic shades. The sunglasses, retailing at a base price of $350, not only look markedly cool on their small faces, but sadly look better on these micromodels than they probably would on me.

Venturing into the world of social media, you’ll have no trouble finding the hottest micro-fashion divas of them all in Quinoa and her best friends Chevron, Kale, and Fig. Their fictitious lives are documented on the famous Pinterest board “My Imaginary Well-Dressed Daughter.” It’s no coincidence that Quinoa and friends’ names, ages, and clothes combine the three things every girl loves: fashion, tiny things, and health food trends. So while fashion weeks from New York to Paris have come and gone, don’t be surprised if you see a stream of designers tapping into this new age bracket in the coming months. This is just the beginning for the fictitious Quinoa and her ilk, and a starting point for the world’s obsession with Micro-Fashion. At this rate Annie Leibovitz will be photographing baby North West for her first spread in Vogue by the time she’s four. But until then, we can all just wallow in the fabulousness of these minimuses and try to ignore the fact that we are all now actually grown adults (sort of).

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MADE MOIS ELLE an article by CLAIRE PIERCE Is this some kind of joke? Admittedly the overwrought, operatic video accompanying the announcement that Kim Kardashian would cover the third issue of French fashion magazine CR Fashion Book did not do much to dull the talons of scathing 140-character critics. The clip, showcasing behind the scenes footage of the Ricardo Tisci-styled, Karl Lagerfeld-shot cover shows the reality TV superstar donning fresh off the runway looks from Celine, a grill, and a couture Martin Margiela mask matching the one Kanye West infamously wore to perform in Paris last year. Many decried the fact that the Carine Roitfeld, former Editorin-Chief of Vogue Paris and one of the chicest women in the world, would stoop so low as to put the girl who became a superstar from a home movie on the cover of her glossy biannual. But perhaps both the choice of cover star and the shoot are indicative of a changing tide in fashion, one that certain publications seem hesitant to accept. When American Vogue began putting actresses on its cover, the argument was that this was whom the readers wanted to see. The average Midwesterner didn’t care for a nameless model, and executives were quick to realize that it was name recognition, not impeccable styling and art direction, that sold magazines at the grocery store check out. So if it’s name recognition that the magazines want, who better to call than Kim Kardashian. She has three million more Instagram followers than Taylor Swift and more

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importantly, her face sells magazines. She’s arguably had more US Weekly covers than Jen and Angelina combined. But perhaps the biggest selling point for Kim Kardashian is that, as her CR cover proves, she is not afraid to take risks. It goes without saying that as an Armenian-American, she is also a good deal more diverse than the typical cover star. She may pronounce Lanvin “lawn-vaughn”, but she bought it herself, and isn’t that kind of the American dream? At least Kim tried out avant-garde makeup and was game for the edgy art direction, and many of the designers she was shot in are ones she actually supports in real life. Carine Roitfeld seems to be making a bold statement: fashion magazines have already sold out to the commercial powers-that-be, but that’s no excuse for them to be boring. It still seems unlikely that we will ever see a Real Housewife on the cover of Vogue, but at least Anna Wintour could meet us halfway. Instead of being bored to death by the banal, publicist-approved musings and uninspiring portraits of Anne Hathaway or Carrie Mulligan, why not put women who balance name recognition and industry power on the cover? Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, Stella McCartney, and Victoria Beckham would all fit the bill perfectly. I for one would love to see American Vogue one-up their French competition; we’ve seen Mom and Dad in Margiela, how about starting production on a crystal mask for baby North? Now there’s a cover with serious checkout appeal.


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Phantom Planet: Ten Years After the OC The O.C. was the last show I would ever watch with a portable home-phone glued to my ear and my friend on the other line. Ten years ago, we would watch in silence, occasionally muttering comments and analyses, switching ears as the phone heated up more and more, until the battery began to beep or the show was over; whichever came first. Other nights, at the start of a commercial break, the shrill telephone ring indicated urgent discussion was about to ensue.

Seth Cohen No one made nerdy cool like Seth Cohen did. Where did you first hear about Chrismukkah, Comic Con and indie music? From a lanky, humidifier carrying, Penguin shirt and sweater vest wearing, high schooler in Orange County. Sartorially, it makes sense that Seth and Summer were paired together, given their penchant for more quirky outfits.

I don’t want to get lugubrious about it, but the O.C. was great. Though all shooting stars are but flashes of ephemeral brilliance amongst the darkness, the short-lived show was no exception. Sigh. There are countless directions one could go when talking about The O.C.: the music, the character dynamics, the issues discussed, etc. But tonight, let’s light a candle for the California fashion from a decade past.

Ryan Atwood Who better to don a pair of chinos than the boy from Chino? Ryan saunters into the Cohen’s lives like 2003’s James Dean in dark denim and a leather jacket with a pack of smokes to seal the deal: wifebeater, hoodie, and wrist-cuff included (“Who are you?” “Whoever you want me to be”). Ryan’s outfitting mirrored the dissemblance of his character—one wonders: who is the real Ryan Atwood?

Marissa Cooper Chanel. Ballet. Flats. I cursed the high heavens in tweenage angst over the injustice that was Marissa’s handbag collection. Not only was she tall, gorgeous, and always had perfectly texturized hair, but she was continuously trendy and cool. Who else would wear a Chanel dress worth thousands of dollars to a school dance? Summer Roberts Ah, Summer, the fashion foil to Marissa; is it any wonder that during the pilot episode’s fashion show Marissa looked charming in a pale pink strapless number while Summer looked garish in a Pucci-esque frock? It took Summer a while to pin down her style—there were a lot of tops cut too low and velour tracksuits a la Julie Cooper in the beginning—but she eventually drew upon bohemian-chic California ‘vibes’ to foster an enviable wardrobe.

Honourable mention to Julie Cooper: those yoga-lates classes paid off big time. Ten years later, hindsight tinged with nostalgia only makes me think of The O.C. as one of the best shows of its time. Sure it was a teen drama, but it unraveled with such prescience and knowing irony that I wouldn’t shrug it off quite so quickly—The Valley, anyone? Its been ten years since the audience was “Welcome[d] to the O.C., bitch,” and all I want to do is go back.

an article by VERONICA SAROLI

an illustration by ZOE BELKIN 26 | FASHION


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a photo editorial by SAM KOEBRICH

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BASQUIAT

BABY

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an article by MICHELLE TRIPODI ean-Michel Basquiat. Have you heard of him? Chances are if you’ve listened to a Jay-Z, A$AP Rocky, Macklemore, or Rick Ross song in the past 6 months the name is probably familiar; and if you follow the art market you may know one of his paintings recently sold for almost 5 million dollars at Sotheby’s. But why is an artist who died of a heroin overdose 25 years ago not merely relevant, but deeply entrenched in hip-hop culture? Basquiat’s continued resonance seems to be tied to the fact that he is undoubtedly the most prolific of a group of artists who paved the way for African American art to become highly in demand within mainstream culture. The name “Basquiat” has become a status symbol in the hip-hop world, spurred by the release of Radiant Child in 2010, a documentary of Basquiat’s career directed by his close friend Tamra Davis. As the most infamous artist of the ‘80s, Basquiat’s art has always been closely aligned with African-American identity. Starting out as a street artist under the tag SAMO© (Same Old Shit), Jean-Michel would spray cryptic, often philosophical, messages around New York City to get attention from the high-art world, a tactic recently appropriated by Banksy. Eventually he rose to colossal fame within the art world, and became an icon outside of his work; his friendship with Fab 5 Freddy (a hip-hop legend), relationship with a prefame Madonna and modeling work with Comme des Garçons all contributed to his mystique.


To examine all of the references the hip-hop community has made to Basquiat since the release of Radiant Child would be exhausting. Using Jay Z’s Picasso Baby as a case study, it is apparent that emulating Basquiat (“it ‘aint hard to tell, I’m the new Jean-Michel”) is not enough in today’s hip-hop culture but owning a Basquiat, now more so than flashy cars, has become the ultimate status symbol. It seems that many rappers are now looking to art and cultural awareness as a way to elevate and distance themselves from the harmful “gangster” stereotypes that have plagued the genre. When HOVA references “sleeping every night next to Mona Lisa / The modern day version with better features” and “yellow Basquiat in my kitchen corner,” he’s shouting out Mona Lisa, 1983 (1983) and Charles the First (1982), respectively. Jay Z also refers to Charles the First in his freestyle Most Kingz, and in the final verse, states “Spray everything like SAMO,” effectively chronicling Basquiat’s career in reverse. Picasso Baby is only the most recent development in the on-going trend of Basquiat references in hip-hop but there are other rappers who have consciously appropriated Jean-Michel Basquiat’s lifestyle. Swizz Beatz owns six Basquiat paintings, has two tattoos dedicated to the artist, and has spoken out about the im-

portance of Basquiat for African-American artists. Diddy posed at Art Basel Miami last year proudly displaying a neck tattoo of the crown used repeatedly in Basquiat works as he stands in front The Ruffians (1982). However, A$AP Rocky has taken the emulation of Basquiat to the another level, and not only by referencing him multiple times on his debut album. The “Fashion Killa” drapes himself in Riccardo Tisci, Alexander Wang and Raf Simons and when he chooses to, he looks eerily like the late artist. Basquiat was known for his love of fashion, often destroying the Armani suits he liked to wear while painting. In February 2012, A$AP posed with eclectic designer Jeremy Scott for Complex Magazine and created a reproduction of the Basquiat/Warhol exhibition poster in 1985. Last month, A$AP was seen wearing a shirt with Basquiat on it, from the latest collaboration of Supreme and Basquiat’s estate. So, if you’re looking to emulate the most famous rappers of today and aren’t sitting on a couple million to drop on a Basquiat painting, pick up a t-shirt from the Supreme x Jean-Michel Basquiat collection that was released at the end of September 2013. It may be a phase, but it’s not very often that your art-history professors and Ricky Rozay share the same heroes.

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{ } Zeitgeist

Status update: caught in the digital-minute. -ugees transported to nearby detention facility for processing. Authories are esco-

Ephemeroptera (εφημερος, ephemeros = ‘short-lived’; πτερον, pteron = ‘wing’) refers to the order of airborne insects known as Mayflies… [Wiki:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mayfly]

...unbridgeable matryoashka worlds: cities, people, minds: me, you, them. But also...

Chat: hey!

#Distracted #CompulsiveTaskAvoidance #DopamineAddiction

3:13 AM 50 ways to achieve greatness in your life: passion, focus, hardwo ‘What are you doing still awake? Do you know what time it is?

-illion dollars worth of methamphetamines smuggled over the boarder in electronic hardwa-

-rk, dedication, assertiveness, flexibili-

Status update: can’t. Amy Hepburn: mutual friends 26; photos 1067; map 12; likes 146. Chat: are you there?

-roblems of poor mental health among the refugees; consenus: desolation.

.

...two million bits of sensory data impressing the subconscious mind at any given moment and...

-rength, mindfulness, sympathy, efficiency, fearlessne #Anhedonia #AttentionDeficit #Neuroses 4:23 AM

Chat: are you lonely? -uthorities suggest the market for these particular methamphetamines thriving; regulation required from without-

...all of them are smiling.

“When an individual persists...despite problems related to use of the substance...dependence may be diagnosed” [DSM-IV, 2000]

-onfidence, curiosity, ambition, willpoweChat: Hello? a poem by MICHAEL PRECEL

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HT AT’S NOT

. u o y f o k n u P VERY

Pulsing music, flashing lights, shoulder-to-shoulder twenty-something’s drooling over leather jackets, a store selling Givenchy t-shirts, and what seemed a fully functional—albeit horrifyingly unhygienic— nightclub washroom. Not a typical day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but for the over 442 000 visitors who saw Punk: Chaos to Couture during its 100 day run this May - August, that’s exactly what they got. Despite mixed critical reception, the exhibition placed within the Museum’s top five most attended shows of the last 25 years. The secret to the mammoth uptick in attendance seems to be tied to a renewed interest in non-traditional curation. The immersive, multi-sensory experience of Chaos to Couture seemed tailor-made for the image obsessed youth of today, who in turn flocked to the exhibition in droves. A minimalist gallery can appear exclusive, intimidating, and- worst of all- boring, while a traditional museum exhibition can seem just as much a dusty relic as those it houses. But in recent years, both traditional museums and commercial galleries have made a concerted effort to break these stereotypes, such as NYC’s Pace Gallery, which in July played host to Jay-Z and co. as he filmed his “Performance Art Film” for the song Picasso Baby. Eliminating the barrier between the art museum and pop culture is a sure way to breathe new life into seemingly static institutions. Costume exhibits pose perhaps the biggest challenge to curators, since the inevitable need for mannequins can make the

an

RE by CLAI e l c i t r a

PIERCE

shows seem somewhat lifeless. Yet, the masterminds behind some of the world’s most famous collections are rising to the challenge with aplomb. Olivier Saillard at the Musée Galleria in Paris enlisted Tilda Swinton to enact a serious of performances in which she handled priceless pieces from the extensive costume anthology. Victoria Broackes and Geoffrey Marsh of the Victoria and Albert Museum in London looked to video installation and technological integration when designing David Bowie Is, which went on to become the fastest selling exhibition in the museum’s history. The key to the success of these ventures appears to be a combination of innovation in the curating and selection of subject matter that maintains cultural relevancy in the eyes of the audience. It is fitting that the most successful Met Costume Institute exhibit of the last 25 years was 2011’s Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty, which benefitted from publicity surrounding the designer’s untimely death, and a certain Royal Wedding dress. When contemporary fashion is shown in costume institutes around the world, it legitimizes not only the featured designers but also the generations who defined; and continue to define; themselves by these styles. It is representative of a much needed ideological shift in the way art museums view fashion and is not only valuable as historical costume, but as a living art form on par with painting and sculpture. By supporting these exhibitions, the public reaffirms its role not only as supporters of the institution, but as the final, and most important, critics of art. How punk rock is that?

MUSE | 33


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MUSE | 35


(mis)Understanding Surrealism

S

o much in the world of art seems to get lost in the chaos, I’m hoping to change that by sparking some interest in one of the freakiest art movements in history, Surrealism.

This artistic movement was sparked by André Breton’s 1924 manifesto, which put into words the intense emotional experiences and amalgamation of opposites that are the main tenets of Surrealism. Above all, Surrealism was concerned with liberation from social convention, oftentaking the form of sexual liberation, which explains why so much of Surrealist art is both highly erotic and violent. Freudian dream theory was also incredibly influential on the Surrealists. According to our friend Sigmund, a dream is an unfulfilled wish and for the Surrealists, the key to creating art was in the freeing of the unconscious, despite whatever bizarre impulse laid there. This resulted in fantastic dreamscapes populated with other worldly creatures. Fantasy was the new reality; a reality where goldfish burst forth from flying pomegranates and vomited up tigers. Yeah, that happened. Some of the major players were Spanish artist Salvador Dalí (known for his “melting clocks”), German artist Max Ernst, and French artist André Masson. A lot of Surrealist art may have you wondering whether the artist was high out of his mind, and you wouldn’t be wrong. Drug consumption in the name of art isn’t a new concept, and it certainly held true for surrealist artists (all for the good of accessing the depths of their unconscious of course). Rooted in

literature, Surrealism extended beyond the visual arts and gave rise to some intriguing poetry. Many surrealist poems have simply charming titles, such as I want to show you myself naked (Joyce Mansour), or A recipe: how to produce erotic dreams (Remedios Varo). There’s also this snappy little guy titled Love that goes like this: “To be / The first to come.” (René Char). And they can be just plain strange: The earth is blue like an orange (Paul Eluard). Surrealism also made it into the world of film, thanks to Dalí’s wonderful mind. His short 1917 film Un Chien Andalou (An Andalusian Dog), is perhaps most memorable for the opening scene of an eyeball being sliced by a razor— just another day in the life of a surrealist. This 20-minute long film can be found on YouTube if you ever feel like trading up the real world for a surreal one. So what can be made of surrealism? Two words sum it up best: utterly weird. And that’s precisely what’s so wonderful. Sure, some of it might be disturbing, but it’s certainly not boring. It’s the surprising collision of seemingly disparate concepts that truly captivates my imagination. The good news for the uninitiated is that surrealism is not necessarily meant to be deciphered but rather experienced. Much of surrealism is nonsensical, irrational, etc. and encourages imaginative freedom. Now that you’ve understood that you’re not meant to understand, maybe surrealism, and the world of art, is a little less misunderstood. Then again, maybe not.

an article by CARLING SPINNEY 36 | ART


OH You FancY, Huh? “Are you going somewhere?” “You look fancy!” “That is sooooooo EMMA!” The above musings, including the ever-eponymous Drake lyric are just a few of the oh-sotypical responses to my outfit choices. In an age of fashion bloggers, fast fashion, and fabulously festooned celebrities, one would think that the formerly unconventional has in fact become conventional. It’s still surprising to me that whether I’m in Kingston or my hometown ofToronto, I know this is not true—that my eccentricity is not the “norm.” However, I’d like to shout it out from the pages of MUSE that I’m quite alright with that because I’ve always been enamoured with the unconventional. As long as I can remember, I’ve been labeled as contrary. When I was twelve, I refused to wear a dress to my Bat Mitzvah because “I didn’t want to be like everyone else.” I ended up wearing a silk cargo-pantsuit that then resembled what I now imagine Beyoncé’s pyjamas would look like. I proceeded to go through a four-year long phase of wearing black nail polish exclusively, overlapping with my high-school period of dressing like a combination of Cher Horowitz from Clueless, Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl (headbands included), and a lumberjack with an addiction to bedazzling. To make matters weirder, I owned a particular headband that looked like the swirl atop a freshly made blueberry frozen yogurt. Despite the acknowledgement of my past “fashion faux-pas,” I can honestly say that I’ve always dressed true to who I am (or was), and for the majority of my life, have used my personal style as an outlet for self-expression. That being said, as young adults, many of us feel a need to express ourselves as individuals separate from the normative constraints of our time. Although some of us “individuals,” myself included, resemble those whom we deem “fitting” of the societal mold we create, I think it is important to embrace your own mode of self-expression in order to know who you are and what you want out of life. I’ve learned that it’s okay to feel comfortable being over-the-top and that embodying your own aesthetic can be a positive and satisfying experience. So whatever your thing may be, DO YOU and rock it with confidence. I know the next time someone tells me that what I’m wearing is “totally Emma,” I’ll smile and reply, “Hell yeah it is!”

an article by EMMA HOFFMAN photography by SHAYNA MARKOWITZ

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L U C K Y 38 | EDITORIAL 38 | EDITORIAL


photography by PATRICK RODEE direction by CLARE PIERCE modelling by BRIE GASCHO, ALISON FOX, JAKOB PUGI MUSE | 39


PICK YOUR POISON THE PARTY CULTURE AT QUEEN’S 40 | LIFESTYLE


Pick Your Poison: The Party Culture at Queen’s When I arrived in Kingston at the end of Frosh week, the setting was all too familiar. I stepped into war-torn territory coming to the end of its weeklong engagement. The students of Queen’s University, tired and hoarse by this point, saw victory only a few pints and millilitres away. I stood watching with a guilty conscience, like a cripple who had been granted safe passage. Their droopy eyes, frazzled hair and less-than-perfect memories were eclipsed by grins of accomplishment and of glorious resilience. And, after weeks of punctuated ceasefires, these brave men and women rose yet again to welcome the real veterans of homecoming. How inspirational. This is the homecoming that was once cancelled for raucousness but recently reinstated to improve the school’s profitability. We, the Queen’s community, are briskly unapologetic about our messy keggers, tipsy pre-drinks and dirty dancefloor antics. Our solid academic reputation is matched only by our affinity to drink. The age-old adage, ‘work hard, play hard’ is used proudly and unabashedly. Ale and Stages have become institutions with daily events. Tumbleweed Tuesday is the new Toonie Tuesday. The city of Kingston is a tourist’s paradise, claiming to be home to the most restaurants per capita of any city in the world. Yet, a rendezvous at a restaurant is unthinkable. For one, it’s too ‘expensive’. A “twofour” of beer is around $34 for a pseudo-premium brand. A ‘kegger’ in the ghetto is $10 for all-you-can-drink. Most importantly, though, restaurant culture is not student culture at Queen’s. Party culture is so ubiquitous that it is unavoidable. Inside a house in the student ghetto, a public service poster saying that ‘one third of people don’t drink’ is placed ironically to inspire more drinking. Peer pressure and social norms are exceedingly difficult to escape. In some circles, being part of the 30% can be both exclusionary and socially unacceptable. It even affects extra-curricular involvement and employment. Parties, which were almost always religious before the de-emphasis of God during the Enlightenment and quite rare before economic welfare became widespread with the industrial revolution and gained secular and mainstream status in the post-WWI years. The prohibition era of the 1920’s only convinced the electorate of its love for drink and spawned an underground distribution network for the guilty pleasure. Ironically, government intervention gave partying a daring feel. It recently traveled to Europe and visited London, where Brits had their own love-hate affair with anything American. For modernizers in the post-war era, acting American was essential. With

it came a bold, new party culture that astounded the conservatives. The rise of partying traces modernity itself. Next, it touched Europe, where today the perennially-unemployed use their alcohol purchasing power to out-party the stingy Americans. By now, partying has reached all corners of the world. Some of the best party destinations in the world are in the so-called ‘third-world’: Sao Paulo, Bangkok, and Bueno Aires. In Spain, where youth unemployment is over 50%, the clubs operate until the public transit turns on in the morning. There, talking is optional. The partying movement was partly enabled by feminism and by women’s ability to stay unmarried for longer. It created a vacuum of young and exploratory females in their undergraduate years, when prurient desires were the strongest and commitments the weakest. Never before in history have so many attractive and single people been stranded in the isolated bubble that is the university campus. Nightclubs opened to facilitate the introductions. It is a cleverly devised strategy to form as many potential connections between as many socially-lubricated individuals as possible. Clubbing is an exercise in sensory overload. It is highoctane speed dating without a safety net. It is effective precisely because it funnels, filters and stratifies. Participants dress themselves up and put their best foot forward. It then tosses them into a match-making game with losers delivered to a conciliatory and quasi-equivalent game. Emphasis is placed on rapidity. It relies on split-second decisions based on looks and one-liners. The sensory overload helps cover imperfections. The resulting ‘relationships’ are often shallow, but the relatively low success rate is more-than compensated by the gargantuan sample size. It topples the traditional courting process and moves the easy eliminators like attractiveness and confidence to the forefront. It is a logical system, and a highly effective one. However, party culture is not for everyone. The infinite wisdom of GS Elevator, a popular twitter account in the realm of finance, says “If you are wittier than you are handsome, avoid loud clubs.” Critics might demean partying as a form of indecency, as prohibitionists did for alcohol in the 1920’s. Such critics are forcing their own values onto others. To those engaging in the culture, its fun, liberating, and potentially life-changing. Each one has its merits. Pick your poison. Much of university culture can be summarized as the result of a perfect storm; a bunch of similar-minded, desire-filled, freeroaming people with no societal requirement to settle anytime soon. Partying is just one consequence of this abundance of the young and single. Simply put, it helps release desires in the early 20-somethings.

an article by DAVID KONG MUSE | 41


Y’all Going to This past summer I went to The Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival, located all the way down in Tennessee. A 16-hour car ride later and I was catapulted into the best weekend of my entire summer, the greatest mental diversion from reality that I’ve ever experienced. Today, however, my story comes not from the festival itself, but from the car ride down. There were several points along the road wherein I thought I would never actually get to Bonnaroo. The first roadblock occurred when I was downtown Toronto, anxiously waiting for my ride. I had my backpack, sleeping bag, snacks, drinks, and (as included on the list of things not to forget on the Bonnaroo website) a huge-ass smile. I was tagging along with a friend and his group of friends, people that I had never met, and my ride wason schedule to meet up with another convoy of cars. Only five minutes before my ride was supposed to pick me up, I realized that I had forgotten my passport. Since I live quite north of the city, it took two painful hours to get back to my house to retrieve my governmentissued identification. Telling the convoy to wait two hours would be akin to telling an angsty teen that their curfew was 11 o’clock so naturally, we pretended that we were right behind them. As the clock struck 5 pm, we were finally on our way to Tennessee. Unfortunately, we were supposed to be on our way at 3 pm. We sped through Sarnia, raced through the American border at Detroit, and tore up the freeway on our way to Kentucky. No bathroom breaks, no stops to stretch our legs, just one short stop for gas. We were driving so fast that we completely made up for the time we had originally lost; we were now only ten minutes behind the convoy. This was essential because we had to meet up and drive in to the camp together in order to camp beside each other. Finally, I was able to release my tension. THANK GOD, I thought. So there we were, somewhere past Cincinnati with the gas pedal to the floor, when our car starts to slow…slow…slow down, SHIT. We take the next exit off the highway. The car wouldn’t go any faster than 60km/hr. At 1am, we pulled into a gas station and saw a robust-looking redneck with a cowboy hat, shoe-

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Bonnaroo? less, checking underneath the hood of his car. So, the four of us city-folk step out of the Jeep and do the only thing we know to do - pop the hood. Of course, steam rose from out of the engine. “What now?” we thought. Well, you know that shoeless Joe I mentioned before? I suppose the bewildered looks on all of our faces summoned him over to us, and, in the thickest southern accent I have ever heard he asked “do ya’ll need help with your car?” We nodded our heads with a mixture of shame and hesitation, as there was a group of scary-looking biker men located not too far away – just what were they doing hanging out at a gas station at 1am anyway? “Gather round everybody, let’s help these dumb Canadians out with their car troubles.” After three expert opinions, ranging from “it’s your motor” to “it’s your belts” to “it’s your valves… yenno what, if ya’ll want to come over to my house just up over that hill there, I could change your valves for ya’ll.. whaddya think?”… we were stumped. The four of us looked at each other wide-eyed, each of us with horrific scenes out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or House of Wax playing in our heads. Were we about to be turned into this cowboy’s southern human soup?!?!?! I took this moment to grab some water in the gas station, and started to chat with the nice gas station attendant lady. She told me that the men out there have no idea what they’re talking about, and “if anyone around here asks you to go back to their house, absolutely do NOT trust them.” She also told me that we should get in our car and leave, but no matter what – do not stop at the next two exits on the highway, as “they are two of the most dangerous areas in the South.” I hurried out of the gas station, and nervously told my friends that I think it’d be a good idea for us to leave. We got back in the car, jumped on the highway, and told my friends about the nice lady’s advice. We all felt alive as hell as we averted a death trap! Unfortunately, we had to drive the rest of the way at the speed limit with our car making weird noises, but an hour later we finally met up with the convoy of four cars. Though we were an hour late, we had a fantastic story. At the end of the day, it’s true: getting there is nearly half the adventure.

an article by ALYSSA BIALOWAS

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DIRTY PROJECTORS The concept of psychological projection is something that fascinates and confuses me. The Freudian idea that we superimpose our own negative characteristics onto other people, that we ascribe the shitty traits that make us unlikeable by some to others, is puzzling. Why do we use this strange defense mechanism? Why do we feel the need to turn the people around us into the villains of our anxious mental narratives? Saying I’m above this mental phenomenon would be a lie. I’ve convinced myself that someone I don’t get along with resents me for no reason. I’ve told my parents that my past apathetic and unmotivated attitude was really just a byproduct of my tormented and confused generation. Oh yes, I’ve projected. Everyone from our friends to the authors of our Hallmark birthday cards tells us to be ourselves, to be true to ourselves, and to unconditionally love ourselves. What if there’s something about us that we don’t love, something that bothers us that can’t be fixed by stylizing our faces with makeup or toning our bodies with exercise machines? What if it’s a problem nobody’s advice can appease? It’s not easy to take the time to reflect on the origins of our insecurities or how we came to be the way we are, but it’s certainly easy to spit the manifestations of our self-doubt onto some poor suck who never saw it coming.

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We do it because we’re scared to come to terms with the demons that eat away at us. We do it because it’s easier to put the onus on someone else than it is on ourselves. Some of us do it without even knowing. Who are we to blame? Society? Our families? The media we consume on the daily? We’ve been told to let out our frustrations and to talk our problems out with others. While that’s all fine and dandy, it seems no one has really ever taken the time to show us how to look in. For fear of sounding cliché, I won’t tell you that the four years I’ve spent at this school have made me who I am today. Instead, I’ll tell you that my experiences at Queen’s have pushed me to think about myself in ways I never have before. I’ve learned that I possess traits that some will initially love but will later grow to hate. I’ve learned that accepting and moving forward with these traits is the only way to really “be you”. More than anything, though, I’ve learned that reflection is the cure for projection, and that we can’t be true to ourselves unless we truly know ourselves.

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an article by ANDREA NAZARIAN


G

OOSE CHASE

an article by MATT TURANO I was riding in the passenger’s seat of my mom’s car when I noticed that the traffic in the oncoming lane had come to a standstill. Finding the sudden gridlock suspicious for noon on an industrial road, I began looking for the source of the congestion. As I scanned the automobiles in the lane next to me, I noticed a single car making its way to the side of the road. “Oh no, someone must’ve hit that goose.”

As the vehicle slowly pulled over, I caught sight of the goose that had been hit. Stumbling to the far side of the oncoming lane, I could see that the collision had left the bird severely injured. One of its legs seemed to be broken, and its right wing was horribly twisted. The goose tried flapping its wings as it called out in pain, but the unbalanced force only caused it to be thrown onto its bad side. Instead of showing concern for the goose, the faces of the drivers who were forced to completely stop their cars were just downright angry. As the seconds of this somewhat minor inconvenience stretched into the double digits, the facial expressions on these people became nothing short of furious. There they sat, hunched over in their seats with the same half-crazed look in their eyes, the same bone-white knuckles showing through skin that seemed stretched too tight. Different fists clenching identical steering wheels, attempting to suppress caffeine-fueled jitters in vain.

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It looked like a scene right out of those cartoons that you used to see. You know, the ones where the cars lined up at the starting line would rev their engines in anticipation of the checkered flag? Car wheels spinning so fast they’d lift the car and bunch up the road behind them like some flimsy carpet? Well, there was nobody holding a checkered flag, and all four wheels of each car remained firmly anchored to the road’s surface. Let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, these drivers were maniacs. The question is: will I turn out any different? Each runner in this human race has become trapped in a societal cage, the steel enclosure forged centuries ago by the hard work of hands that didn’t know any better. Earth’s most intelligent species has effectively been reduced to a few billion mechanized rodents, all trained to spin the wheel in front of them- each yuppie hamster trying desperately to outrun their neighbour. Luckily enough for the goose, it had finally gotten close enough to the road’s edge that the lunatics in their armored tanks could race by without causing a second collision. But the dark trail of blood marking the goose’s arduous journey seemed to suggest that its luck was about to run out. “Oh for God’s sake. Now what is this stupid goose doing? It’s no wonder they get hit.”


COMPASSION for The agitation was directed towards a second bird, which had just darted in front of the traffic on our side of the street. I too was annoyed at first, as this goose had clearly just dashed onto the road without a moment’s hesitation. But as our car came to a rest, I began to understand the second goose’s seemingly reckless action.

There stood this inconsolable creature, flapping its wings and darting out in front of unyielding traffic, just barely avoiding fatal collision after fatal collision. This goose was the epitome of helplessness, but none of the drivers in the opposing lanes were willing to part with the thirty seconds it might take for it to cross the street.

The bird was waving its head side to side as it ran, projecting its demented tone in both directions, the distressed call serving as a plea for drivers to let him cross. There it was, rushing frantically towards its crippled companion without any regard for its own safety. Why?

After the wounded bird’s departure from this world, there would be no formal grieving. There would be no tears to be wept, no funeral services to be arranged. Instead, there was just one distressed animal who, at that particular moment, wanted nothing more than to be alongside its dying friend in its final moments. It couldn’t even have that.

I can only guess what the second goose’s relation to the first was. The dying goose could have been a sibling, a parent, a mate. Or perhaps it was just a member of the same flock; a friend. Regardless of the connection between them, just what was this second bird planning on doing once it reached the first? I’ve yet to come across a bird trained in emergency first aid, and I’ll be damned if this goose was about to pull out a cellphone and call for help. No, this miserable creature was risking its life just to cross the road and watch its companion die. The most agonizing part of this whole mess was that the goose couldn’t even do that. Although the cars on our side of the road had stopped, the vehicles in the oncoming lanes refused to be inconvenienced for a second time on such a short stretch of road.

Eventually, the helpless goose retreated to the side of the road from which it came, while the first goose died in wallowing isolation. As our car moved closer to the site of the accident, I finally saw the person whose car had hit the first Canadian goose. “That poor woman...” It was clear that the young female was visibly shaken. She was standing next to her car, her left hand clutching the top of her hair as the other held a phone to her ear. I couldn’t help but notice the tears that were pouring down her cheeks, and I thought who knows - maybe we’re human after all.

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Food for thought an article by MATT TURANO

A lean, hungry-looking man (the kind Caesar wouldn’t want around) walks into a bar. The man is me, and the bar is my kitchen. Try to keep up. I open the door of the fridge to find that everything inside is yelling at me, which is definitely out of the ordinary. And yet here I stand, facing a tantalizing array of different pitches, tones, and essential nutrients. Each syllable flows into the next and the noise blends together in a way that is curiously reminiscent of both a V8 engine and a can of V8. A coloured printout of the Canada Food Guide covers the better half of the inner fridge wall, like a solemn family portrait. I find the segregation distasteful. I try to strike up a conversation with an apple, but she’s busy blackmailing my doctor. Don’t get me wrong, I hate appointments. I’m just afraid that, in this case, what I don’t know might indeed go on to kill me. I go on to exchange pleasantries with the grapes. Now and then I’ll affectionately refer to them as my “raisins d’être.” They invite me to a game of hopscotch but I respectfully decline because, I don’t play with my food. Not much else is new. The blueberries sound upbeat, unlike the beets, who kind of sound like BB King. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the ketchup looks more disgruntled than usual. It’s murmuring threats under its breath and shaking rather violently. Two seconds later, it’s gone. Catching sight of the ketchup, I could tell it was headed towards the vegetable crisper. When it finally came to a halt, the bottle was towering over a tomato that seemed to be past its prime. “Ketchup!” the old tomato gasped. “I’m not falling behind anymore, am I, pop?” said the half-full (but seemingly vengeful) Heinz bottle. “Son, I’m sorry-” the tomato pleaded. But it was too late. With as much force as a bottle of ketchup could mustard muster, the bottle leapt above the frightened tomato and landed with a hard splat. As I reach out to grab a paper towel to clean up my new mess, I spot some spotless bananas. A hush falls over the bushel as I tried to determine which one of them contains the most potassium. The family of five stares blankly, paralyzed equally by fear and lack of appendages. With meticulous care, I pluck off what seems to be the youngest son. He might be the littlest of the bunch, but unfortunately he’s also the ripest. Though they say nothing, I can tell the family is saddened. I can’t help but peel their sorrow. As I leave, the remaining four are left looking a bit green. I know in my heart it is not with envy. I’ll admit that things got pretty ugly in this war zone I call my kitchen. But there is order amid the chaos, and this pleases me. The banana tastes good too.

48 | LIFESTYLE


Miley Cyrus Bright floral blouses Twerking on the dance floor Breaking Bad Onesies Making your own hummus Gold accessories Oversized sweaters Owning your finals Kim K with Kanye

HOT

s vNOT

Miley Cyrus Bright neon crop tops Hurling on the dance floor Breaking the bank Snuggies Making your own drama Gold teeth Oversized egos Getting owned by finals Kim K pre-Kanye

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let’s talk about sex...

photography by EMILIE NOLAN

50 | LIFESTYLE


Got a pressing sex question you want answered? Too nervous to talk to your friends or family about it? The lovely folks at the Sexual Health Resource Centre took the time to answer your sex questions, and they didn’t hold anything back. Here’s what these sexperts had to say: Q: How often should I be getting tested for Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs)? Is once every couple of years enough? A: This is a great question! Everyone who has sex or engages in sexual activity should be asking this. Before we answer this question, it’s important to note that we are not doctors, nor are any of our volunteers. If you have substantive medical questions, then you should be discussing them with a healthcare professional. Now that that is out of the way, let’s move on to some guidelines! If you’re having sex or engaging in any sexual activity beyond kissing you should be getting tested for STIs. Are you performing oral sex? Are you giving people hand-jobs? Are you having anal sex? Are you having vaginal intercourse? If you’re doing anything involving someone else’s genitals and your body, you should be getting tested. A good guideline is to get tested before having sex with each new partner. If you are extra spontaneous and enjoy having multiple, impromptu partners, this might not be feasible, but it’s a good thing to aim for. If you get tested before engaging in sexual fun with a new partner, and your partner does the same, you can rest easy knowing that you’re not at risk of getting any STIs you were tested for. Q: What about those scary situations when the protection fails? This is a harsh reality. Protection (condoms, dental dams etc.) can be very effective if used properly, but are not infallible. If your chosen method of protection breaks or fails, you should be getting tested before having sex with anyone else (ideally, the sooner the better). You are covered by OHIP to get tested as often as you please, so do it often: whenever you feel like it, whenever you’re going to have a sexy time with a new partner, if you plan on having unprotected sex, or if you feel worried about something that may have happened. The peace of mind is worth it. Q: My partner and I have both been tested for STIs and have come back with clean results. He doesn’t want to use condoms but I’m nervous that the pill on its own is not enough, how effective is it?

The pill does not protect against STIs, only pregnancy. It’s also important to keep in mind that some STIs (like herpes and HPV) cannot be tested for with conventional methods, so even a clean bill of health from a doctor does not mean you are totally STI free. Watch out for visible symptoms of these STIs and get any of them checked out before engaging in unprotected sex. As to whether or not to use condoms, this is a question that depends on a lot of things. You need to take into account what type of pill you’re on and how good you are at taking it. This is something that’s best talked about with your doctor. If you’re very good at taking your pill on time and do not miss pills, the pill can be very effective. If you’re still nervous, try to ask yourself why. Sex is supposed to be fun, relaxing and enjoyable. If you’re going to feel nervous every time you have unprotected sex and be worried about pregnancy, it’s probably not worth it. Tell your partner to wear a condom, or come shop for them together at the Sexual Health Resource Centre. We have lots of different styles, from extra thin, to latex-free, to de-sensitizing; we’re sure you can find something you both enjoy. Q: I want to know what kind of protection to use with vaginal oral sex. All I ever see are condoms in the drug store! Awesome question! Cunnilingus, going down, or whatever you want to call it, is fun. However, if you or your partner have not been tested for STIs, or are concerned about STIs, then protection is probably a good idea. Dental dams are thin, stretchable pieces of latex that can be used while engaging in vaginal oral sex. If you don’t have a dental dam, but have condoms handy, you can make a dental dam out of a condom! Cut the condom (latex or non-latex) down one side and stretch it out to make a dental dam. You can stretch it in different ways to change the sensation, and dental dams come in lots of great flavours you can try out. Always remember which side is for your partner and which side is for your mouth: you can use a permanent marker to draw a non reversible, asymmetrical letter, or the word “mouth,” on one side of the dental dam (on a part that won’t touch your partner) in order to tell which side is yours. You can come by the Sexual Health Resource Centre to buy dental dams or condoms!

The Sexual Health Resource Centre is a confidential, non-judgmental, feminist, queer positive, pro-choice, sex positive and non-heterosexist information and referral service. The SHRC is located in the J-Duc at 99 University Avenue. For more information, contact (613) 533-2959 or info@shrckingston.org

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HOMECOMING 2013

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PHOTOGRAPHY BY PATRICK RODEE DIRECTION BY JENNA DEMCHUK AND JOHANNA AZIS MODELLING BY EMILY PILE AND KATHY SCOTT

bad to the bone

56 | EDITORIAL


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58 | EDITORIAL


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Rachel Wong

Johanna Azis

Rebecca Lasagna

Ashley Tse

Isabelle Chui

Brittany Oates

Jennifer Shamie

Veronica Saroli

Emilie Nolan

Claudia Pettigrew

Patrick RoDee

Matt Turano

Abi Conners

Hemani Kamdar

Judy To

Jenna Demchuk

Emma Hoffman

Andrea Nazarian

MUSE MAGAZINE X DIRECTORS

MUSE MAGAZINE X EDITORIAL TEAM

52 | MUSE


yours creatively, The MUSE Team

photography by PATRICK RODEE

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Avery Hoffman

Ashley Moraca

Erika Streisfield

Lulu Tong

Kelly MacPherson

Vivian Lau

Danielle Cummings

Kat Pearce

Tegan Valentine

MUSE MAGAZINE X BUSINESS TEAM

Tiffany Tang

Sharon Zhang

Rachel Adams

Ivana Grahovac

Andrea So

Annie Xiong




photography by EMILIE NOLAN modelling by THEA BRYSON


yours creatively,

Where Science Meets Strategy



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