POLY-CULE? MORE LIKE POLYCRUEL. MY POLYCULE STABBED ME 48 TIMES.
IF YOU FLOAT A BABY DOWN A RIVER, IT WON’T BE ABLE TO MAKE YOU A COOKIE USELESS TALENT? AMNESIA MAN CAN FORGET ANYTHING. MY FAVORITE PART OF ANDORRA IS VISITING EL DUOMO DE MILANO ( ITALY ) !!!
Join us! Email chair@yalerecord.org
Dear Baby,
Where the hell are you?
—Moché IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT BABY GO WALKING IN ITS SLEEP THROUGH THE DESERT OF TRUTH TO THE RIVER SO DEEP WE ALL END IN THE OCEAN WE ALL START IN THE STREAMS WE’RE ALL CARRIED ALONG BY THE RIVER OF DREAMS
Dear Moché, Barcelona.
—Baby
WHAT AM I? WHAT AM I DOING HERE? PLEASE LET ME GO THE LATEST FASHION TREND: ARE 5-LEGGED JEANS COMING BACK?
Dear Magic Man,
Can I have the ears once you’re done with them? Please. —Fool
RIVER IS THE NEW RUNWAY, MOCHÉ ADVERTISES
Dear Fool, Check your ears.
—Magic Man
D. Beber-Turkel
ANDORRA NAMED “THE MILAN OF EUROPE.” “WAIT A MINUTE,” SAYS ASTUTE, GEOGRAPHICALLY MINDED RECORD READER. “I THOUGHT ANDORRA WAS THE VIENNA OF
Dear Magic Man, Why can’t I go slow? What happens when I’m not fast like you?
Sincerely, Fan
Dear Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda,
I’m looking for someone who knows how to send a newborn baby down a river. Do you know what’s up?
Best, Curious Andorran
Dear Fan, Not
Best, Magic Man
Obituary Correction
Margeaux, unfortunately, has passed. That was a correct obituary.
WANTED: FOR SALE:
New CEO of Moché!
A Schvaab! 100 Schvaabs!!
POLYCULE? I STOPPED PAYING ATTENTION IN MATH.
FASHION? FASHION WHAT? YOU THINK I’M SOME KIND OF SURVIVALIST?
MAILBAG? DON’T CALL ME THAT.
FLOAT A BABY ON A RIVER FOR A BETTER HOME AND LOSE PERFECTLY GOOD BIRKIN BAG
SAFETY FIRST: DANGER SECOND
Did You Know?
A Schvaab is every article of clothing and none of them.
D. Beber-Turkel
Dear Reader,
We’re not sure if Andorra is a real place. 90% of the Record learned about the European tax-haven fifteen hours ago. Its ski resorts and skinny women make it a bad place for warmth, a good place to be rich, and a better subject for satire.
When one finds themself in the Andorran mountains, and the snow sparkles like sand, and your fingers start to thaw, one might fall in love. When one sees the marks in your eyes, scarred by the bright spotlight, and they heal, the first thing you see might be someone to fall in love with, especially if they are a high fashion ski model. And they might be named Margeaux. And they might become pregnant with your child, and one might want the baby to be yours, though one never really thought about how much they wanted a child. Unfortunately, the baby probably is not one’s. If you have to ask Paury Movich, then one already knows the answer: no. Sorry. Welcome to the 24 Hour Issue. When you meet the love(s) of your life, they might have very tall hats, or no shirts, or very many pairs of pants, or or have teeth more wooden than a piece of wood, like a tree. We don’t choose who we love. We don’t even choose the mother of our children, let alone their other mother, if you live in the genetic vacuum of Andorra, Il Duomo de Milano, or the Vienna of non-Germanspeaking Europe, where our scene—that begins with love, middles with birth, and ends with death—unfolds.
Couture. Fashion. Fear of Scalp. Welcome to the Ski Fashion Show, where Madame Margeaux Jeanjaquet Fragolanda meets her partners, Monsieur Explotación, James Pants, and Camille L’Chic, any of which might have sired her child—but this is not a beloved jukebox musical starring Meryl Streep. This is a crime scene.
After Madame Fragolanda gives birth to her child, the genetic parenthood is debated, for each father/mother sees themself in the child. It has long hair. It has wooden teeth. It has a tall hat. The custody will determine the future of the child, and the future of the parent, which tears the polycule apart at the hands of the mysterious and deceitful Margeaux. In an attempt to preserve the innocence of the child, Fragolanda’s Spinster, Castratta, floats him down a river in a Birkin Bag, which some might call a metaphor, but I call a waste of money. Labelless is the new label.
In the child’s absence, the Spinster turns the polycule against Margeaux, resulting in a Murder-On-theOrient-Express-Style murder, because nobody reads it but everybody knows what happened, consistent with the spirit of the 24 Hour Issue. The Spinster has no ears because they are frivolous and unbecoming. So does Baby Boutón. Does this mean motherhood? Do epigenetics work that way? Can two women have a child together? Sure, it’s the 21st century! Except it’s 1976. But everything is legal in Andorra, except murder, though we never really resolved that.
Loose ends are the antithesis of the 24 Hour Issue;
Amelia Herrmann ’26
Chair
Adam Hagens ’27 Online Managing Editor
Issy Arroyo ’25 Copy Editor
Daniel Wang ’27 Social Media Manager
Lin ’25 Old Owl
Ari Berke ’25
Audrey Hempel ’25
Betty Kubovy-Weiss ’25
Cormac Thorpe ’25
Chet Hewitt ’25
Evan Calderon ’25
Ezzat Abouleish ’25
Jacob Kao ’25
Mari Elliott ’25
Maya Melnik ’25
Neil Sachdeva ’25
Theo Schiminovich ’25
Tyler Schroder ’25
fueled on coffees, bagels, and minimal water, the staff of the Record hunkers down in the TD Buttery to write 40 pages of raw satire, chugging vitamin C supplements because Norovirus is going around. Though parts of this will not make sense, it is a relic of process. It is what happens to the mind when one tries to be deliberately funny, which is unfortunately the antithesis of funny, but is the function of written comedy nonetheless. The real 24 Hour Issue is the friends we made along the way, and also the 24 Hour Issue we print.
This might be my favorite day of the year. I keep seeing lightning. And there’s a faint ringing that won’t go away. In the face of sleeplessness, next to no ventilation, and the distant sound of Instagram Reels, we write together, and develop a world together: simultaneously utopia and dystopia, life-bearing and murderous, me and I. It is Andorra. It may not be a real place, but it is the Milan of Europe.
Lizzie Conklin ’25
Gabi Cohen ’27 Online Managing Editor
Avery Misner ’27 Copy Editor
Oz Gitelson ’26 Webmaster
Katya Agrawal ’27 Art Director
Terence Harris ’27 Managing Editor
Dash Beber-Turkel ’26 Lead Design Editor
Anna Lehman ’27 Staff Director
Emma Madsen ’25 Old Owl
Adham Hussein ’26
Aidan Gibson ’26
AJ Tapia-Wylie ’26
Alejandro Rojas ’26
Alexa Druyanoff ’26
Alexis Ramirez-Hardy ’26
Alice Khomski ’26
Amanda Budejen ’26
Andie Gately ’26
Andrew Lake ’26
Ariel Kirman ’26
Bella Panico ’26
Brennan Columbia-Walsh ’26
Mayagoitia ‘25 Old Owl
Devika Kothari ’27 Managing Editor
Harper Murray Nelson ’27 Design Editor
Emmet Houghton ’26 Business Manager
Sophie Spaner ’25 Old Owl
Staff:
Caroline Utermann ’26
Elio Wentzel ’26
Emily Hettinger ’26
Emmet Houghton ’26
Grace Davis ’26
Helen Shanefield ’26
Jimmy Ruskell ’26
Linden Skalak ’26
Mia Cortés Castro ’26
Natasha Khazzam ’26
Owen Curtin ’26
Oz Gitelson ’26
Paola Milbank ’26
Emma Upson ’27 Design Editor
Ainslee Garcia ’27 Merchant
Emily Cai ’25 Old Owl
Josephine Stark ’25 Old Owl
Sam Kumar ’26
Sivan Almogy ’26
Thomas Varghese ’26
Toby Salmon ’26
Tristan Hernandez ’26
William Wang ’26
Wolf Boone ’26
Zadie Winthrop ’26
Zoe Halaban ’26
Ami Gillon ’27
Anna Calkins ’27
Anna Feldman ’27
Anna Papakirk ’27
L. Conklin Editor in Chief
Bipul Soti ’27 Managing Editor
Sadie Lee ’26 Supplementals Editor
Sofia Morfin ’27 Prank Czar
Andrew Cramer ‘25 Old Owl
Emmit Thulin ‘25 Old Owl
Audrey Jiang ’27
Avery Lenihan ’27
Braeden Cullen ’27
Ellen Windels ’27
Elora Sparnicht ’27
Gha Yuan Ng ’27
Gustavo Dominguez ’27
Jaylynn Cortes ’27
Juliette Propp ’27
Lucas Ranfranz ’27
Lucas Santos ’27
Max Watzky ’27
Nava Feder ’27
Special thanks to: Everbody who does the dishes — my people.
Front Cover: Anneliese Hammer, ‘28, who invented the spotlight.
Back Cover: Katya Agrawal, ‘27, who drew it in only 23 hours.
11,
Weiss ‘25 Old Owl
Rohan Shivakumar ’27
Samhita Kumar ’27
Sui Yu ’27
Tom Commander ’27
Victoria Mnatsakanyan ’27
Vidhi Bhartiya ’27
Will Sussbauer ’27
Ge Yu
Annie
Alejandro
Natasha
Editor in Chief
Debbie Lilly ’26 Online Editor in Chief
Erita Chen ’26 Publisher
Dom Alberts ‘25 Old Owl
Joel Banks ‘25 Old Owl
Tara Bhat ‘25 Old Owl
Edward Bohannon ’25 Old Owl
Leah Burch ‘25 Old Owl
Grace Ellis ’25 Old Owl
FASHION ICONS COME TOGETHER AT 476TH ANNUAL ANDORRA SKI FASHION SHOW
ANDORRA LA VELLA — For over ten years, the world’s most talented designers have debuted snowsport fashion in Andorra: the Milan of Europe. Who could forget 1964, when Dolce & Gabbana introduced ski goggles which also covered the “third eye?” Or 1899, when Hermès showcased the world’s first FrenchCanadian tuxedo? The star of this year’s show was the CEO of global fashion house MOCHÉ, Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda… but not for the reasons you’d expect!
Often called Andorra’s most eligible single and the world’s twenty-eighth most eligible bachelorette, she was found having intimate conversations with not one, not five, and definitely not three, but exactly four designers/ models from all around the world. The first to catch Margeaux’s eye was the Russian fitness icon Camille L’Chic, whose stunning calves shone even below her thirteen-layered ski pants. Valentino was found gagging when he saw the pair kissing after L’Chic’s catwalk, “I just don’t think it’s right, you know? All the cooties?”
However, Margeaux’s team denies any such claims:
“The global fashion icon and Forbes’ 29th under 30 reaffirms she does not believe in ‘cooties’ or any other ‘contagious diseases.’” So, naturally, James Pants was next on Margeaux’s roster. Mr. Pants, an American mouth model with teeth like opals, was caught showing off his heart-stopping mouth diamonds for Colgate’s line of winter toothpaste. This drew over both L’Chic and Margeaux, and the trio were soon found giggling and braiding each others’ hair. Valentino was now frothing at the lips, muttering, “Frivolous conversation leads to sin.”
The group ceased their fun to watch the last models of the show, Contessa Vladdia (“Baddia” on Soundcloud) and Monsieur Explotación. An unlikely duo, Vladdia is an up-and-coming hatmaker described as “way taller than Stephen Curry,” and Explotación is a mysterious model declared “3rd Sexiest Man in the World, 1968.” Vladdia was found dragging Explotación towards the gang of three, which many are claiming sums to five.
Valentino fell over when he saw the group leaving together, but the question remains: who will Margeaux choose?
Salaries (122 adults)
Salaries (1477 children)
Benefits (Adult)Medical
Benefits (Adult)Dental
€1.2 million
€9,800
€1 million
€0.5 million
Benefits (Adult) - 401k 20 bucks
Benefits (child)Bathroom break (1x/day)
Materials - Canadian mongoose teeth
Materials - Horse glue
MOCHÉ QUARTERLY EARNINGS REPORT
Schvaab - Standard
Schvaab - Premium
Schvaab - Flammable
€5 billion
€10 billion
€7 billion (currently discontinued)
Hedge Fund subsidiary big number
Security Forces undisclosed
Child brawl -14 children
Evil occurrences #ERROR!
Unintended sentience (2x) morality crisis
Chimp shortage banana surplus
Magic man-related HR concerns
€400,000
€20 million (lost labor) Organ “donations” the goodwill of the community Fertility crisis (uranium) reverse internship program significantly expanded
I AM A TENURED PROFESSOR OF FASHION. HERE IS WHY YOU NEED TO STOP WEARING SHOES
Over the course of my long tenure as a professor of fashion, I have only written three academic papers regarding fashion. In the first paper, “I am an adjunct professor of fashion. Here is why you need to stop wearing jackets,” I took a deep dive into the components of outerwear and unpacked the superficiality of putting clothes on top of other clothes. It was received very well. In my second paper, “I am a regular professor of fashion. Here is why you need to stop wearing shirts and pants,” I attempted to dismantle the systemic tyranny of clothes altogether.
It was received poorly. I now realize I went too far by discussing shirts and pants in one paper.
In this third paper, “I am a tenured professor of fashion. Here is why you need to stop wearing shoes,” I have decided to take things a little slower and release just one idea at a time. So, for now, I’ll just say this: the potential growth of the foot is limitless. If not for shoes, who knows how big our feet could be?
— J. Banks & O. Gitelson
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN
We open in Monsieur Explotación’s estate. His odiousness stands lifeless in the center of the parlor like a mannequin, which he literally is. The butler, Sir Coddlesworth, walks in with a cloche-covered platter of fruits and nuts.
SIR CODDLESWORTH: Good day, my dear Monsieur.
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: You look quite famished, Sir. Like a mannequin, which I’m certain you’re not. Breakfast?
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: Oh, dear heavens! Behave yourself, you scoundrel!
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: By God, think of the children! Your cruelty knows no bounds, esteemed Sir.
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: We can’t give all the children polio. They need to work!
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: Yes, Madame L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda is a beauty. “The Diamond of the Milan of Europe,” as they say. But that’s hardly relevant, is it?
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: But sir! You’ve hardly touched your food. It’s like you always say: “There’s no point in torture if you haven’t had fruits and nuts first!”
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN: …
SIR CODDLESWORTH: You…you want me to do it? The torturing? Y-yes, sir.
Sir Coddlesworth picks up “The Work Motivator 9000,” which breaks bones.
SIR CODDLESWORTH: It will be as you’ve willed it, sir. The fashion industry depends on it.
Sir Coddlesworth walks into the torture room, where Explotación keeps his “happy” and “well-paid” laborers. Explotación watches, unfeeling, because he is just a mannequin.
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN
—T. Harris & A. Hagens
—A. Coelho
STEAL HIS LOOK: JAMES PANTS
WELCOME TO THE JAMES PANTS APPROACH, BITCHES!
JAMES PANTS : YOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOO what’s up my Pantaloons, hope you’re keeping it nasty!
Today, I want to talk about the idiocy of socalled “influencers.” These Andorran bitches don’t understand life, they don’t understand fashion! Worst of all, they wear one pair of pants at a time. Disgusting!
In all seriousness, I want to take a minute to talk to the kids out there who are living rough—life on the rails, life on the buses, life on any form of underfunded public transport is no joke. I’ve seen some things. I’ve been through dark times. Hell, before I turned my
life around the spruce wood was rotting out of my mouth and I was down to my second-to-last pair of pants.
And I’m here to tell you: you can do it too. And though it’s scary, improving your life is nowhere near as hard as it’s made out to be. All you have to do is seduce 2-4 European fashion moguls and settle into a socialismfunded paradise of constant sex and healthcare. Through sheer willpower, I was even able to regrow my biological teeth! Because it’s real now. Definitely. This is yesterday’s spinach, not splinters.
—S. Lee
—A. Hagens
AN ODE TO BEING WAY TOO TALL
Baddia standing on the beat! No chair big enough to seat…
Ay, oh, yuh
The rain hits me first, it’s hard being wet earlier than other people are wet
They’ll never know what it’s like to be wet early Isn’t that the worst?
It’s just the worst.
I was short once And then I became tall.
You’re probably still short
But I’m tall, tall enough to see your scalp!
Yeah, that’s fucking right
While you’re down there I can see your scalp!
Every time I see your scalp, I become sad, I want to cover it up I really want to make a hat
It’s not easy at the top Scalps are weird to look at, And everyone looks a little small.
But not me, I’m tall. I can watch as you go bald. I frequently return online orders because my size is big, so tall!
The rain hits me first, it’s hard being wet earlier than other people are wet
They’ll never know what it’s like to be wet early Isn’t that the worst?
I can hear the power lines You think your calls are anonymous? I can fucking hear the telephone lines too.
I can also hear the voices in my head, which are above yours. I have never seen under the chin, not even mine because no mirror is tall enough.
Even when I bend down, I’m still too tall. The only time I see anything but the top of a head is when I lay down
And I’m so tired being so damn tall.
My ankles are also really cold And my belts don’t fit.
That’s not related to being tall I’m just huge.
I can’t fit into a Honda.
Because I’m too rich.
But when I am in a Honda, my toes reach the pedals too early So I have use my knees
I’m upset I can’t be an astronaut, though it’s not related to my height It’s largely a result of my education and so-called demeanor
The rats at NASA are losing money by not investing in me.
Most of my height is in my legs, I have a normal sized torso
Consequently, I can’t tie my shoes.
They don’t make velcro for big girls like me.
The rain hits me first, it’s hard being wet earlier than other people are wet
They’ll never know what it’s like to be wet early Isn’t that the worst?
It’s just the worst.
—G.
Cohen, A. Stankunas, M. Sprintson, and B. Soti
CONTESSA VLADDIA
—A. Coelho
Andorra National L’Hospital
East of the Restaurant, South of the Practice Red Carpet
Andorra, “The Milan of Europe,” 06514 +376 784569
CONTESSA VLADDIA, A.K.A. “BADDIA”
DATE OF LAST PHYSICAL
DOB: 04/02/1949 12/09/1976
SEX: Female
ACTIVE ISSUES
Pollen Allergy
Tone Deaf
Fear of Scalp
VISIT SUMMARY FOR 02/12/1977
Jules Bouffant, MD
Chief Pediatric Endocrinologist, Communist
CHIEF COMPLAINT:
Short
DOCTOR’S NOTES:
ACTIVE MEDICATIONS
Elephant Bone Marrow
Raw Megafauna Milk
Zinc Supplements
● Patient measures approximately 3 72 Louboutins tall Patient often wears Louboutins, thereby making herself approximately 4.72 Louboutins tall.
● Despite such shortcomings (Ha! Get it?) Patient has somehow managed to convince members of her so-called “fashioncule” that she is in fact 21 5 Louboutins tall, equivalent to 8’4” in the philistine Americans’ imperial system.
● Patient owns a renowned millinery collective under the ubiquitous Andorran conglomerate, MOCHÉ Patient has pioneered such revolutionary designs as the 14 Karat Gold Stovepipe™, the Towering Tungsten Trilby 2.0™, and the Culturally Sensitive1 Lead Sombrero (vertical configuration). Average hats weigh 23.5 kg.
TREATMENT PLAN:
● Patients must stop inventing such giant hats. Patient utilizes such tall hats to make up for her height They compress patient’s spine Patient now shrinking at a rate of 0 21 Louboutins per month.
● 4.3 hours on medieval stretching rack daily.
● If all else fails, creatine
E. Chen
1 Addendum: I, Dr Bouffant, personally dispute such claims towards “cultural sensitivity,” and believe that such a term is but another example of the bourgeoisie fashion industry’s hyper-capitalist, colonialist ethos Anti-proletariat tendencies aside, Patient is ’aight.
SUPREME COURT FOR ANDORRA PARISH OF ANDORRA LA VELLA
CAMILLE LALA L’CHIC
North of the Primary Red Carpet
Case: 26394-239cwnr–238048
Assigned to: Thomas Ilschvaab East of the Elephant Storage Assign Date: 23/5/1977 Andorra La Vella, Andorra
Plaintiff, v.
ANNETTE
JANE DEAUX, M.D.
Defendant
Plaintiff, Camille Lala L’Chic, alleges the following:
SUMMARY
Description: Medical Malpractice
COMPLAINT
1. This action arises from violations by Defendant Annette Jane Deaux, M.D. (“Jane Deaux”) of medical malpractice due to repeated refusal to administer necessary vaccinations to Plaintiff on account of her accent.
2. From 1970 to 1976, Plaintiff would request mandatory and life-saving vaccinations from her general practitioner, Jane Deaux, which would be rejected. Defendant said that Plaintiff would frequently comment on their anti-vaccination political standpoint as a justification for their actions. The plaintiff is decidedly pro-vaccination as they are prone to illness, and the miscommunication was a result of her Russian accent, which made “anti-wax” sound like “anti-vax”.
3. The plaintiff attempted to rectify the situation by injecting herself with every vaccine at once, which caused her irreparable harm. The plaintiff, Camille L’Chic, has been marred by numerous health issues and maintains a sickly state at all times due to smallpox, polio, and toxic polygamy. For these reasons, the plaintiff brings medical malpractice charges against the defendant.
—A. Garcia
DIARY OF DR. CARLOS LAZARENZ
Wednesday, 3/17
Today, I cut a stupid woman’s ears off.
She seemed lucid. Calm, in a motherly sort of way. Puttogether. When I walked into the waiting room, she stopped fumbling with the slightly warped mirrors my assistant leaves on the table for patients to look at. She smiled at me.
“Mr. Surgeon, I would like you to cut off my ears.” “What?” I said.
She said the same thing again. Then she added: “Coco Chanel tells us that, ‘before you go outside, take one thing off.’ My sweater is beautiful and expensive. I don’t want to take it off. My scarf? A warm and woolly delight. My boots are practical––and the subtle glue that binds the other pieces together. I have no other option, sir. The ears must go.”
Coco Chanel. The woman’s voice held the kind of reverence with which some men speak of God, or progress.
“But you’re already here,” I said. “You’re in my office, which means you already left your house, without taking something off.”
She hit me.
I asked her if she was crazy, or if someone was forcing her to do this. Did she need help? She smiled––a gentle smile, the smile of a person whose ears you don’t want to cut off––and said could a crazy person do this? She sang the alphabet backwards effortlessly.
She was sane as can be.
“Ma’am, I haven’t done ear removal surgery in a long time,” I told her, trying to strike the right balance between inspiring confidence and telling her that ear removal surgery doesn’t exist. “But I’m happy to do my best.”
She offered me a surprising amount of money to finish the job in the office that day. And I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or turn away a beautiful person who wants to change the part of them they don’t realize makes them beautiful. Or refuse an ugly person obsessed with a feature that isn’t even the worst one.
I took the money. And the ears. It was easy––so, so easy. She slept for a long time afterward, head wrapped in bandages. When she woke, she fumbled for where her ears had been.
“I took those off,” I said to her.
Now it was her turn to say “what?” But, of course, she had no ears to hear her own voice. “What did you do?” she yelled, more loudly still. “I can’t hear!”
She hadn’t realized that ear loss would mean hearing loss too. And I realized that, though sane, she was very stupid. And sometimes stupid people sue you.
I panicked. When I panic, I lie. “Are you speaking?” I
mouthed. “I can’t hear you either. This is so strange!” She screamed. I screamed too. “Oh my god,” I yelled. “Who is doing this to us?”
My assistant took her from the office and called her an Uber. Her scream is ringing in my ears. Nothing is ringing in hers, because they are in a fridge in my office.
It’s not my fault, I tell myself––and will continue to tell myself, as long as that scream lives in my head. She was an idiot. A big, stupid idiot who wanted her ears cut off.
If anyone should be sued, it’s the estate of Coco Chanel.
—I. Arroyo
HOW I LOST MY EARS: CASTRATTA
Coco Chanel once said to always “look in the mirror and take one thing off” before leaving the house. So I take a hard look into that mirror. What I see is pure beauty. I try to pinpoint something wrong with me. My Carhartt jacket? Vintage. The Bottega Veneta wool cropped shirt? Expensive. My Doc Martens? Cutting my heels. But what is beauty without pain?
As I glance up and down, I find only perfection in my apparel, but there must be something I can remove. Coco Chanel was too beautiful to be wrong. Obviously not as beautiful as me, but a pretty madame regardless.
My hair falls in this really chic way. I get out the scissors to cut some off but I can’t. Like, physically. My hand keeps inching towards the corners of my eyes, forcing its way past the hair and across my face. Maybe my eyebrows? No, the hand keeps going. Oh, the eyelashes! But the hand continues. That’s when I see them sticking out, like elven mountains marring my perfectly sculpted face.
I run my fingers along the canvas of skin that God gave me. Ha…God! God does not exist. Not in a world as cruel and horrible as this. No, this was just meant to be. I was meant to be. Castratta without beauty is like sex without butt stuff, I’d imagine.
As my fingers graze over my lips, eyes, nose, all I sense is perfection. Not god-given, rather Castratta-given. And then I clash with those stinky, gross canals. I get distracted as I cover my ear flaps to make those cool whooshing noises. And then my fingers continue into my canals and I feel the nasty substance within. Before I know it, my fingers have begun to snippety snip snip away. Yeeeouch!
I like this look. Obviously, my ears need some cleaning up so I’ll make another appointment with my plastic surgeon, but still… It’s perfect. I’m perfect. Right as always Coco Chanel.
—S. Singh
MARGEAUX
L’JEANJAQUET
FRAGOLANDA: A PORTRAIT IN TELEGRAMS
With Commentary by Donatella Versace
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda: To INNOVATE, one must pay homage to ancestry. Thus, for my show at Grandvalira Ski Collective, I’m honoured to reimagine my mother’s seventeen wedding dresses.
Donatella Versace: Donatella Versace ��
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda: To be free, you must free yourself. Forget your name with L’Jeanjaquet Embrace. Anonymity is the new heroin.
Donatella Versace: Donatella Versace ��
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda:
To be is not just to say what you are. You show them. Thank you to the Grandvalira Ski Collective for allowing us to display our fur collection: Unethical.
Donatella Versace: Donatella Versace ��
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda: I’m just so tired of these false influencers putting their names out there in a desperate bid for relevance.
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda!!! Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda! How do you like it?
Donatella Versace: Done some thinking lately. Why do we always seek to tear others down? Fashion houses have so much money, but yet, why poor people? Love is love. Black Lives Matter. Ashamed of the behaviour of my fellow fashionistas. #cancelmljjf
—E. McMullen
MARGEAUX L’JEANJAQUET
—A. Coelho
MOCHÉ: HOTTEST FASHION ITEMS IN ANDORRA
Shirts, pants––heck, even socks. There are so many types of clothes you could never wear them all at once. MOCHÉ makes ‘em all though. Here are some of their best releases of all time:
1. Jeans with Holes in the Knees: What started as an unfortunate meeting between Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda and the sidewalk ended in an awestruck crowd of spectators and the 1966 Best Fashion Award.
2. Pants for Dogs: The hardest part was deciding which of the dogs’ limbs were legs. It was all downhill from there.
3. Elephant Leather Jackets for Growing Elephants: The baby elephants needed to be kept warm, so they survived till adulthood. Business was booming until there was no one left to wear them.
4. Pants for Dogs for People: Hooo baby. This one’s a doozy. No one saw it coming. One day dogs were wearing pants and then BOOM. People are wearing pants for dogs. Incredible. Andorra was never the same again.
5. Under-your-hair Hats: Nobody will know you’re wearing them until you let them know. You have so many secrets. Who knows what you’re capable of? Mystery. Power. Intrigue. Allure. Lumpy head shape.
6. Pants for Dogs for People for Cats: Oh my God they’ve done it again.
—A. Hagens
PANTS FOR DOGS FOR PEOPLE FOR CATS
—E. Wentzel
WAYS TO STYLE YOUR SCHVAAB
Everyone remembers when Abraham Féret won Andorra’s Summer Fashion Show ten years ago with his iconic Tränsparent Schvaab design. Féret was later burned at the stake for criticizing the Andorran government, but his design has exploded in popularity. These days, much like Ferét, every Andorran wears their Schvaab from birth to death. So, let’s be Schvaab-sessed, take a trip down memory lane, and talk about 8 ways to STYLE YOUR SCHVAAB!!!
1. Use your Schvaab as a cape for fighting crime in the night! Vigilante children should fold it twice so it doesn’t get tangled up in their teeny-weeny footsies.
2. When dealing with the possible guilt of killing innocent people, use your Schvaab as a nifty handkerchief to dab your tears.
3. Wear it around your harmonica so you can play “Piano Man” with both hands!
4. For the vivacious magician, use your Schvaab to carry specialty doves!
5. Most of us had parents who despised and were disgusted by us, so respect them by covering your body in Schvaab!
6. Use your Schvaab as a backup sock! Be careful, because Schvaab doesn’t wash well and your feet reek.
7. For pilots who like to have a little fun, use it as an emergency parachute!
8. Everyone remembers how in elementary school, you realized you couldn’t put your Schvaab in a three-dimensional space. So, express it as a complex projective space — CP4 — and then use a manifold representation to wrap it into a comfortable arm scarf! Just follow these simple instructions: -Schvaab ex2dx a= 14\{x a4} !
If you follow these instructions, you’ll be sure to Schvaab your way into fashion! Not too Schvaabby, huh?
—M. Sprintson
UNTRUE FACTS ABOUT ANDORRA
Andorra contains slightly more people than Wyoming
Andorra is the smallest country in the world
Andorra is not the Vienna of non-German Europe
Andorra is known worldwide as a “caretaker” of elephants
The most common name in Andorra is David
Andorrans name rabbits, in addition to people
There are a lot of rabbits in Andorra named David
There are a lot of rabbits in Andorra
One Andorran claims to have invented the hamburger
Nobody listens to that particular Andorran
Andorrans are concerned
Andorra contains the largest known spider web
Andorrans are really good at poker
Andorrans are really good at card counting
Madrid is the Istanbul of Iberia
Andorra has its own version of Maroon 5, called Maroon 4
Nobody listens to Maroon 5, even in Andorra
— T. Schiminovich
WORE AND PIECE: THE RISE OF THE MOCHÉ FASHIONCULE
ANDORRA LA VELLA—The
heads of MOCHÉ, Andorra’s most impressive and elite fashion house, have long been renowned for their exceptional use of boas and sequins. However, today, the most impressive part of MOCHÉ is its infamous leadership. But how did this polycule tailor the fashion world to meet its measurements?
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda, Camille L’Chic, Monsieur Explotación, Contessa Vladdia, and James Pants met first in December 1976 at the 476th Annual Andorra Ski Fashion Show where Fragolanda made out with each model on stage as they debuted their signature looks on the primary Andorran red carpet.
Despite the 70% divorce rate that grips Andorra, the Milan of Europe, the polycule has endured. While the members have had relatively few issues, tensions can sometimes run haute. One key moment occurred when L’Chic and Vladdia moved into the estate, with both bringing so many items that the building was practically bursting at the seams. This problem was resolved after an extension of the house was constructed over the former site of the Andorran National Children’s Orphanage.
The polycule’s members each introduced their signature styles to MOCHÉ, allowing the house to remain relevant regardless of the weekly trends. Their combined focus on hats, pants, athleisure, and enamel has touched every part of the globe and of the human body, boosting Andorra’s economy far past Vienna or Florence. Their success has put notably sexually frustrated competitor Valentino out of business. Considering this group has been together for only five months, we must ask what else they can accomplish.
— A. Garcia
A FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR’S ACCOUNT OF THE MULTI-NODED LOVE AFFAIR OF HOUSE L’JEANJAQUET FRAGOLANDA
Madame Margeaux recently returned from the Ski Fashion Show, and brought with her some succulent gossip worthy of the Joan of Arc of Dresses. We all know that the jean-jacketed gentlewoman has left a trail of broken hearts longer than her infamous 7-mile tartan scarf. But rumor has it that the bachelorette of the clothier’s world has finally settled down! This morning, I peered through her living room window, and would you believe what I saw?
Reader, it was a man! And not just any man, a man with a wedding ring on. A wood-toothed gentleman wearing 12 pairs of corduroy trousers entered the sumptuous dining room and greeted Mistress Margeaux with a passionate embrace and ligneous kiss.
And just when I thought I had found the scoop of the century, something stunning happened.
Reader, this time a woman entered the room. A woman, superhumanly healthy in appearance and clad only in the Andorran flag and yet another wedding ring! Like her predecessor, she greeted the Madame with a fiery kiss.
But then something extraordinary happened.
Reader, two more people entered at the same time: the tallest-looking short woman I have ever seen and a mysterious heartthrob with a synthetic air. They too kissed the madame good morning, and I knew I had my story.
With some skillful questioning of the housekeeper (and a well-placed engraved thimble bribe), I later learned that I had spotted none other than James Pants, Camille L’Chic, Contessa Vladdia and Monsieur Explotación — the Madame’s new partners in marriage and more importantly, MOCHÉ!
—S. Lee
MOCHÉ EMPIRE IN TURMOIL: WARRING CLAIMS OVER FRAGOLANDAEXPLOTACIÓN-PANTS-L’CHIC-VLADDIA BABY ABOUND
ANDORRA LA VELLA – Andorra, the Milan of Europe, has been a longstanding global symbol of high culture and fashion. From the elite Yearly Ski and Swim Fashion Shows to the boutiques that dot each street, each aspect of Andorran life and society draws upon a rich couture culture, with MOCHÉ Fashion at the helm. Experts fear this international identity is in jeopardy now, as leading fashion icons lock horns in a brutal battle over the genetic makeup of Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda’s unborn baby. In a startling turn of events, Fragolanda revealed a hidden pregnancy at last week’s Swim Fashion Show, sparking rumours about her unborn baby’s parentage. Fragolanda has been spotted consorting with various members of MOCHÉ Fashion Elite, and a bitter feud has broken out as these personalities clash over the baby’s parentage. “They’ve been at it like rabbits, and now they’re fighting over the kid like crazed coyotes,” stated Serafina Vietta, a fashion critic who only wears leaves. “We have three days before society collapses.”
Sociological experts are in agreement with Vietta’s view, as the personal polycular spat takes on a public dimension. As each member of the FragolandaExplotación-Pants-L’Chic-Vladdia polycule refutes others’ claims to the baby, the MOCHÉ fashion empire, and the whole of Andorran society bears the brunt of their attacks. So intertwined are the two. Just yesterday, Lady Camille L’Chic reportedly sabotaged Monsieur Explotación’s supply chain, turning all clothes produced this week a chlorophyllic shade of green. As Orange Week prevails in Andorra, citizens cannot risk being seen in public dressed in green, and are thus forced to resort to public nudity. This has overwhelmed the nation’s police force, causing an uptick in opportunistic crime. If this wasn’t enough, emerging reports suggest that all ships transporting Vladdia Hats for international export have mysteriously been shipwrecked. “Considering that Vladdia Hats make up 100% of Andorran international trade, the economy is expected to collapse tomorrow,” stated Serafina Vietta, who is also the country’s Minister of Trade.
As each member of the MOCHÉ polycule strikes, what will become of the Andorran state? And who is the parent of the mysterious Fragolanda-Explotación-PantsL’Chic-Vladdia Baby? Updates to follow.
—D. Kothari
—H. Shanefield
ENTRIES
FROM THE JOURNAL OF MARGEAUX L’JEANJAQUET
FRAGOLANDA
January 25, 1977 — I fell ill this morning. Perhaps it was the oysters? They have troubled me before. By the second crack of the shell, the tremors began to take me. The lady in me was wont to stop, but something else within implored me to go on. After four, five, six, I pulled myself away, already destined for a restless night and a rude awakening.
February 11, 1977 — Contessa Vladdia and James Pants have been closer as of late. I am beginning to suspect that Vladdia is interested not only in James’ pants but also what’s inside of them.
March 2, 1977 — Fundraiser dinners have grown more frequent, in anticipation of the upcoming election, with exquisite soft cheeses and fine wines. Perhaps the champagnes have a diuretic effect — I find myself visiting the washroom at increasingly short intervals these days…
March 14, 1977 — My kickboxing partner has been improving, and my stomach aches terribly. But no matter. For as long as I live, I will kickbox, and for as long as I kickbox, I will take kicks to the stomach, like my mother before me and her mother before her. Strong women with strong stomachs.
April 16, 1977 — I’ve taken to weekly spa visits to alleviate my growing physical ailments, inevitable for a woman of my active lifestyle. They ease the muscles, with the regrettable side effect of dizziness in the morning and night. No matter. I will be healthy forever.
May 20, 1977 — My abdomen is inexplicably distended. I am taken by nausea at all times of the day. I am fatigued beyond function. Could it be… I dare not consider it. I am certain it will pass with time.
June 3, 1977 — I can deny it no longer. I am with child. But I shall stay discreet — the others mustn’t know. Aside from their scandalous and duplicitous tendencies, this may prove an advantageous opportunity for Madame Fragolanda, if treated with prudence. Children have oft proven more useful than they initially appeared…
—L. Dunn
WHOSE BABY IS IT?
Everyone’s raving about Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda’s shocking baby bump reveal at the Swim Fashion Show, but there’s one question that has yet to be answered: who’s the second parent?
Fragolanda has long been known for her conspicuous love affairs, most recently making headlines with the four designers/models she met at the 476th Ski Fashion Show. Given her unabashed PDA, we can only imagine she has spent the last six months being loved up by all of them, but only one can be the child’s true parent. So who is it? Well, all of them claim that it’s them.
One potential father is James Pants, an American expat whose jaw-dropping teeth have chewed up the runway. While we’d love to see a baby with a set of teeth as gorgeous as those of Mr. Pants, would it really be right for the heir to the MOCHÉ fashion empire to be halfAmerican?
That would be horribly embarrassing, at least according to Camille L’Chic, another potential parent. “Margeaux is going to have a beautiful, healthy, half-
Russian baby,” L’Chic tells us. “I can tell you with full certainty that this baby is mine. I’m Margeaux’s favorite, after all.”
Contessa Vladdia, another of Fragolanda’s lovers, disagrees. “Margeaux loves me more than all of them combined!” Vladdia announced on Andorran National Radio last night. “I am the true mother of that child, and it will be clear the moment that baby comes out of the womb as the tallest baby Andorra has ever seen.” Last year, Contessa Vladdia underwent a height-augmenting procedure that entailed purchasing a really tall hat.
The fourth potential parent, Monsieur Explotación, refused to comment when we reached out to him, though his butler assured us that Explotación has just as valid a claim to paternity as any of Fragolanda’s other lovers.
In the end, we will have no way of knowing who truly impregnated Fragolanda until the baby is born. Whoever it is, one thing is for certain: this baby will be one hell of a fashionista.
THE FRAGOLANDA-EXPLOTACIÓN-PANTS-L’CHIC-VLADDIA BABY IN UTERO
— S. Lanz
Major Impors:
Andorran Travel Guide
ANDORRAN TRAVEL GUIDE
Major Exports:
Major Imports:
• Morally Ambiguous Factory
• Blue dye for denim
- Morally Ambiguous Factory
• Indian Elephants
- Blue dye for denim
- Indian Elephants
Major Exports:
• Leather Top-Hats
• Scarf
- Leather Top-Hats
- Scarf
• Elephant Bone
- Elephant Bone
-A. Hagens
—H. Shanefield
THE EXPLOTACIÓN-PANTS-L’CHIC-VLADDIA JOURNAL
Dear Diary,
I am beginning to fear that something terrible is afoot. Margeaux is pregnant, and I am growing more and more fearful that the bebé is not mine. What will I do? If Margeaux announces someone else as the parent, I may lose all status in the polycule. But what if the bebé is mine and it’s ugly? I might need to leave the country. Or wait, what if the bebé is someone else’s and it’s ugly? That could be great for me, I could take my chance and get Margeaux pregnant with a far more beautiful bebé. Yes, I like this plan.
Sincerely, Contessa Vladdia
WHAT DOES PARENTHOOD MEAN TO YOU?
Contessa Vladdia
Dear Diary,
Haha, look at Vladdia getting worried that it’s not her baby. Couldn’t be me! I know that I more than doubled the fertility rates by merely stepping into Andorra. It will be my baby, and it won’t be ugly.
Sincerely, Mr. Pants
Dear James, Stop reading my entries in the shared journal!!! Those are private!!!
Hatefully, Contessa Vladdia
It’s all about raising them up as high as possible and exposing them to new perspectives, capeesh? I live in the public eye, so everyone would see my baby on my shoulders. They all say, “Wow, that baby is so lucky to have a tall mom. That baby’s looking out onto the world!” I’m also selfless and loving and humble and awesome, unlike some people I know. Like, if you’re always in the gym, you’ll be too sore to grab your baby from high places. If your teeth are too bright, you’ll blind the kid every time you smile. And you need to communicate with them! Silence might be sexy, but it isn’t fatherly.
Camille L’Chic
Dear Diary,
Monsieur Explotación has been very quiet lately… I have been getting suspicious. While I don’t trust any of the other polycule members, at least I can get a read on them. What is Explotación hiding? It is no matter; I will get to the bottom of this. I and I alone will bring glory to Andorra by Margeaux’s side.
Dear Diary,
I live by two maxims: health is wealth and children are the future of Andorra, the Milan of Europe. Being a parent is about raising fit kids for a fit nation. I know how to raise a happy and healthy kid— just look at these biceps! Everyone would see us on outings and say, “Wow, that baby could probably out-lift me. I don’t even want to think about how strong its mom must be!” Some people just want to coddle their kids, carry them around tall and proud. And others? Their pants are so big, they’d lose toddlers in the folds! Not a chance with my yoga pants.
James Pants
L’Chic
Sincerely, Camille
Sincerely, Monsieur Explotación
—S. Lanz
Listen guys, I know how to brush my teeth and I know how to put on pants. Lots of ’em. Ever seen a two-yearold good at that? My kid would be the first. It’s all about nurturing the exceptional, and no one else can do that. It’s that American exceptionalism, baby. ‘Nuff said. —B. Soti
SPINSTER APPLICATION
Thank you for applying to be a Spinster with the L’Escargot family. We would love to have you join our wonderful family, but first, we need to make sure that you’re up for the challenge! Please fill out the following application and snail mail it to Le’Frootsnaque L’Escargot at 865-409-1021 Palace of Giggles, Vive La Revolution Museum for Car Wheels and Headlight Accessories, East of the Elephant Storage, North of The Red Carpet, Andorra, 06501 (The Milan of Europe).
1. What is your experience with Spinstering?
⬜ Extensive experience.
⬜ Previously fired from L’Escargot family & Co.
⬜ Significant jail time.
⬜ Limited experience (Please continue to Question 10).
2. The child cries in the dark room. How to make the child quiet?
⬜ Darken the room until the creatures reappear.
⬜ Show it football bloopers.
⬜ Soothe it and pat its back repeatedly. (Please continue to Question 10)
3. The child has failed to come out of the womb with a proficient understanding of multivariable calculus and quantum electrodynamics. How to fix it?
⬜ Give it textbooks until it learns to be a productive member of society.
⬜ Scold and deliver diatribes until it grows into well-adjusted professor.
⬜ Love it unconditionally and ensure it knows that everyone is talented at something. (Please continue to Question 10)
4. The baby fails to breathe even though it was given a pamphlet for this purpose at birth. When to intervene?
⬜ Ignore as the baby really never had a chance in the fashion world in the first place.
⬜ Intervene according to a linear scaling of relative beauty and ability of prospective baby.
⬜ Take out classified ad and hope that its suffering can at least benefit your gentleman caller statistic.
⬜ Intervene immediately. Failing this, resign and let it be someone else’s problem.
5. The prospective toddler has fallen into a well! When you arrive, you discover the child is stuck next to Village Beauty Baby and side hustle vigilante child Little Tommy. What can do?
⬜ Save Tommy in hopes that he will owe you one and resolve tensions between you and Village Bully.
⬜ Ransom their safety and begin a bidding war. Stable microeconomic theory informs us that they would be willing to trade all their earthly possessions minus one euro in exchange for life.
SPINSTER APPLICATION
⬜ Play “Freebird” and put on an Ayn Rand audiobook in hopes they can deal with their own problems without intervention.
⬜ Save both of them. (Please continue to Question 10)
6. Child neglects studies and cries all day. Unproductivity is frowned upon in our family before age 2. How to restore the glory of our family?
⬜ Sell and recoup lost profits of taking care of baby that is slowly losing value.
⬜ Have a backup productive baby to replace child with.
⬜ Find group of unproductive children and allow original child to rule over them for an hour. With this taste of delicious power, child will realize it must work hard to have a taste of that sweet, sweet feeling of superiority.
⬜ Give it love until it is strong enough to find something to be passionate about. (Please continue to Question 10)
7. Baby addicted to Cocomelon. How to fix?
⬜ Let it watch Cocomelon and find peace again.
⬜ Let it watch Cocomelon so it shuts up and I can find peace again.
⬜ Let it watch Cocomelon so it shuts up and I can smile again.
⬜ Let it watch Cocomelon and find peace again for the first time in months.
8. Child assumes throne of an ancient kingdom at age 2 and is having difficulty being a competent ruler. What you do?
⬜ Find it competent advisors who were loyal to its parents. (Please continue to Question 10)
⬜ Create a Council of State that rules in its stead until it is old enough to rule. (Please continue to Question 10)
⬜ Rule as Regent and protect the throne until it reaches 18. (Please continue to Question 10)
⬜ Kill all dissenters. Only iron boot of child can stomp out the fire of rebellion.
9. What happens when child develops into adult?
⬜ If the child is not i) billionaire fashion icon or ii) mildly addicted to cigarettes, you have failed. You will not get severance.
⬜ Celebrate with Cheesesteak.
⬜ Introduce child to Natty.
Light,specially if it has not yet felt pain
⬜ Teach it to hula hoop. This will come in handy in college.
10. You have completed the application. Please place your answers in an envelope with €200. If you were directed toward this answer from another answer, please include €400.
THE Schvaab
— E. Chen
The streets have spawned a new style—the smart, Scandinavian, supercilious Schvaab. It sits spectacularly, spotlighting every spare silhouette and smirk in the state of Andorra. Straight from the storefront of MOCHÉ, the smart and slick sight has sold a sum surpassing sixteen sextillion Sueros. But since the Schvaab began sirculation seven seasons ago—and Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda has stimulated four sensual scandals—a sparkling speculation has sat at the summit of our psyche— which supreme and stylish serebrum schemed up the Schvaab? Was its the synthetic soul of Monsieur Sexplotación? Was it the Statesly spirit of James SvweatPpants? Sickly L’Shique? Stubby Scontessa Saddia? Solely, we can surmise that the Schvaab seems splendid on stunning squirt Boutón. I suggest that the Schvaab’s source is not a single strand, but a shadowy syndicate of savants, scheming in secret to stitch together the sartorial statement. Sperhaps swe swill sever snow, sand swill save sto sbe satisfied sith sthe snowledge shat a supreme sbeing shas slessed sus sall spermenantly.
— G. Cohen
THE MAGIC MAN
To do magic you have to move fast. One time, I moved slow. No good. Since then, I’ve been moving fast. Whoosh!
I’ve learned a lot in my days as a magician. I’ve also lost a lot. Mostly doves. Sometimes women. Sometimes to gain a dove you have to lose a woman.
One time I cut a woman in half. Oops. She bled a lot. Don’t worry. It’s a perfectly natural part of life for them. Strangely beautiful, but it does affect their mood.
I did magic on a horse once. Bad idea.
The best real magic I ever did was making a kid turn 7. Wow!
The Council is actually pretty nice. Sometimes they allow me to feel like I am their friend. Befriending the Council is strictly forbidden.
The Council reprimanded me once. No more horses.
It is hard for me to make money.
It is easy for me to sleep with women.
— N. Stack and J. Banks
A SERIOUS LETTER
Esteemed lower-tier members of the FragolandaExplotación-Pants-L’Chic-Vladdia Polycule,
I write to you bearing terrible news: Fragolanda has deceived you and the entire population of our glorious nation. “She would never do that,” you probably think, because you are stupid. Well, I am not stupid so I will tell you all the truth now:
Margeaux L’Jeanjaques Fragolanda is a closeted monogamist. Disgusting, I know, but true. To have your Polycule’s leader betray you in this way must be hard, I know, but difficult truths such as these must be shared.
It may seem harsh, but there is only one thing to be done. In the wise, revolutionary words of Brutus: “Let’s kill Caesar, guys.” Now replace the word Caesar with Fragolanda. Hopefully you’ve understood this coded message.
ANDORRA LA VELLA — Tragic news from the MOCHÉ mansion as L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda’s baby, Baby Boutón, has gone missing. Even worse, Fragolanda’s long-awaited seasonal piece, Schvaab, has vanished as well. Whether or not Baby Boutón stole it is unclear, but detectives have not ruled out the possibility. If Baby Boutón did steal the Schvaab, he would be tried under Andorra’s highest court: The Politburo of Thirteen Hat-Wearing Geese. The Schvaab is predicted to cost €7 million a piece, x1.1 the average household income of rich people. Although the working-class Andorrans who spent 24,000 hours manufacturing a single Schvaab have complained about the “exorbitant” price, Fragolandat told them to “just stop complaining and make more money already.” Fragolanda — the owner of Andorra Magazine — is always right.
CCTV footage acquired from a river in our very city shows a mysterious woman placing Baby Boutón and the Schvaab in a surprisingly buoyant Birkin Bag. The Schvaab appears to have floated downstream into Spain, called by locals “Worse Andorra” and “Not the Milan of Europe.” Andorrans are not allowed into “Not the Milan of Europe” for national security reasons, namely, dumping elephant carcasses over the border. Where else would they go? Andorra is way too small for all those dead elephants. We barely have enough room for the leather we make out of them.
“I can’t believe that Baby Boutón stole the Schvaab,” lamented Fragolanda’s Spinster, Castratta, dripping in river water. “This is the greatest tragedy to befall Andorra since the elephant stampede of ‘63.” When asked about the woman caught on CCTV, Castratta pinky-promised it wasn’t her, “with a cherry on top.” The Politburo of Thirteen Hat-wearing Geese has recognized the “cherry on top” and cleared her of any suspicion.
At press time, Fragolanda warned “Not the Milan of Europe” that she would declare war if the Schvaab and her lil’ fugitive weren’t returned immediately: “You may take away our Schvaab, but you’ll never take away our freedom! That is, to dump elephants over the border.”
—T. Harris
THE FALL FROM GRACE OF MARGEAU L’JEANJAQUET FRAGOLANDA
Camille L’Chic, James Pants, Contessa Vladdia, and Monsieur Explotación — silent as ever — sneak over to the runway at MOCHÉ Fashion Headquarters, where Margeaux is practicing her routine. They look tense, with the exception of Explotación, who stands back because he is a mannequin.
CAMILLE L’CHIC: We all know — cough — why we’re here. We all agreed we wouldn’t let her tear us apart. Who’s going in first?
JAMES PANTS: No, it has to be all at once. It’s the only way. Hold up my pants are fallin’ down let me buckle them really quick.
CONTESSA VLADDIA (AKA BADDIA):
He’s right.
MONSIEUR EXPLOTACIÓN:
…
JAMES PANTS: What the Hell, Monsieur? No, man, it’s gotta be quick. We’re not animals. They all nod in agreement and stride onto the runway, brandishing really sharp nail filers. Monsieur Explotación, who is really just a mannequin, stays ominously behind because no one bothered to move him.
Lead Officer’s Notes: Urgent call from MOCHÉ Fashion Headquarters received at 13:23. Upon arrival onsite, victim of crime was immediately identified as Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda, kingpin of MOCHÉ Fashion.
Initial investigations suggested that Fragolanda had been assassinated. Visible stab wounds indicated that weapon of choice was a knife or dagger. Coroner was summoned, and confirmed suspicions. Some wounds were right-handed blows, some were left-handed. Disparities in depth and precisions of wounds noted, confirming hypothesis about potential multiple suspects.
Speculations about motives and suspects ongoing. May be linked to Fragolanda-Explotación-Pants-L’ChicVladdia Polycule disputes over Fragolanda-ExplotaciónPants-L’Chic-Vladdia Baby? Baby name appears to be Boutón. Assistant officer has confirmed baby named Boutón. Weird name for baby. Baby recently recovered from Spain? Spain seems cool for honeymoon locations. (Note to self: Spain honeymoon? Could afford if promotion happens)
— D. Kothari
BABY BOUTÓN’S ROUTE
—D. Kothari & E. Chen
QUIZ: ARE YOU A BABY?
Do you feel smaller than the people around you?
A) Yes, much smaller
B) Yes, a little smaller
C) No, not smaller at all
Do you find it difficult to communicate with others?
A) Yes, frequently
B) Yes, sometimes
C) No
How many teeth do you have?
A) Zero
B) Some
C) Too many
Are your pajama shirts and pajama pants connected?
A) Yes
B) No
C) Not sure
Do you have real shoes?
A) No
B) Yes
C) Not sure
Is it okay if strangers touch you?
A) Yes
B) No
C) Not sure
Mostly As: You are a baby! Mostly Bs: You are probably not a baby. Mostly Cs: Take the quiz again.
— J. Banks, N. Stack, & L. Burch
CATALONIAN FARMER FINDS BEAUTIFUL BABY IN GOAT PASTURE
BARCELONA — Jake Goatluver was hanging out in his pastures, tending to his award-winning goats, when he saw a gorgeous baby flowing down a river in a Birkin Bag.
“Immediately, it was a must-have,” Goatluver said. “It was twice, or perhaps thrice, as good as any of my goats.”
The baby could be easily distinguished from the goats not only due to the difference in species but also due to the outstanding beauty of the baby.
“What a pretty baby,” exclaimed Goatluver. “When I looked in the Birkin Bag, I expected to find lipstick and receipts and maybe some anti-poor people propaganda, but instead there was just a super pretty baby.”
The pretty baby declined to comment. Rude.
The Governor of Catalonia has issued an official warning to check all Birkin Bags for other beautiful babies, which will bring in millions one day as fashion models. So far, all other Birkin Bags have only held boring, normal babies.
—H. Lowitz
— D. Kothari & E. Chen
BABY BOUTÓN
FEEDING PLAN
Prenatal Diet
1. Meat
2. French Onion Sun Chips (imbued with the beauty of the sun)
3. Extra french fries with ice cream
4. Squid ink milkshake
5. Stroople floofle
6. Trench coat
7. French
8. Parmigiano Reggiano
9. NO CARROTS. STRICTLY.
Postnatal Diet
1. Baby food
2. Pomegranate water
3. Caviar
4. Pasteurized skim breast milk
5. The impoverished
6. Nuggets (gold)
7. Freshly plucked aloe vera
8. Dr. Pepperonique
9. Celery
—Z. Valedón
BABY BOUTÓN’S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE
I know what you are thinking. Do babies have advanced language competence? The answer, clearly, is no. I am not a baby. I am not an infant or newborn. I am not even young.
In mind — for the mind has authority over the flesh, as the legislator over the beat cop, as the professor of wisdom over the student of wisdom — I am aged. Wrinkles crease my intellectual brow, my intellectual member is gnarled and difficult to rouse. My imaginative faculties hold outdated views on the capabilities of women. In the palazzo of my mind, I have seen monkey turn to man, and man turn to monkey once more. I am wise before, beyond, and without my years.
And I understand what’s happening. Strike me down, Lord, but I do. I look and I see; I listen and I hear; what I observe I comprehend. My mother’s polycule is in a state of crisis, and will soon collapse. Likely violently. Certainly over the issue of my parentage — my regular baby size and perfect baby proportions, my damning, damning, damning lack of ears, expose me. Lord knows how I’ve kept them thinking I can hear.
The worst part about it is that I only speak Spanish! I’ve only lived in Spain. I try to make things as plain as can be, but I might as well be speaking Akkadian for all it means to these pseudo-cosmopolites. With just a few wellplaced sentences I could cool down this whole roiling frothy mess of enmity, threatening to boil over in tragedy. But the Lord will see to it all, in His own wisdom.
EAR REVEAL
—S. Spaner
BABY BOUTÓN
—L. Burch
—A. Coelho
ABSTRACT:
On epigenetics and inheritance in Andorra
Dr. Dahauttést University of Andorra
An incredible phenomenon has been witnessed in Andorra, the fashion and polygamy capital of non-German-speaking Europe. The inherited traits of its population are determined not by genetics, but by fashion. Thanks to government-sponsored projects, the atmosphere of Andorra contains alternate DNA-reading ribosomes, here termed “flybosomes,” which ignore the phenotypic in favor of the fashiontypic. Because of this, babies pop out already having had cool things happen to them, like ghosting vapes in pre-calculus, being arrested for public urination, kissing lesbians at functions, and cutting their ears off for reasons of de-accessorization.
INTRODUCTION:
I conducted this study because the Swiss wanted to know how to get their babies to come out of the womb with raspy smoker voices and badass medical issues. I was like, “Well shawties, it isn’t that deep, most babies can catch up within a month or two.” No matter what, I knew that our babies would always be cooler and raspier But then I started asking myself why they popped out awesome style. So, I checked it out, and boom: flybosomes from the government. I was like, “What the flip!?” I guess that’s sort of how it happened. Is this what’s supposed to go in the introduction?
MATERIALS AND METHODS:
Intuition. A disregard for others. I found an article that explained it.
RESULTS:
Wait, I said this part earlier. Basically, if you’ve never read a book because you’re too hot for reading, the Andorran flybosomes will read your DNA such that your baby is also not a book-reading idiot nerd. Thanks to this, fewer babies have become literate. Maybe the kids will be alright.
DISCUSSION:
EVERYONE
Thank you Dr. Dahauttést for helping me understand why my baby has a BBL.
DR. DAHOTTÉST
Ain’t no thang.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
Marlboro, Camel, and one million beers.
H. Lowitz
CRIMINAL DISTRICT COURT
PARISH OF ANDORRA
STATE OF ANDORRA (THE MILAN OF EUROPE)
STATE OF ANDORRA NO.547420
VERSUS SECTION 8 MARGEAUX
L’JEANJAQUET FRAGOLANDA
CHILD CUSTODY HEARING
“I PUT VENEERS ON MY BABY’S TEETH AND NOW HIS MOUTH IS ALL MESSED UP”
Testimony and Notes of Evidence, taken in the cause, before the HON. Judge, referred to henceforth as The Court, presiding on the 7th day of December, 1977.
REPRESENTING THE STATE OF ANDORRA:
Jane Smith, Esq. Assistant District Attorney, and visiting American
REPRESENTING THE DEFENDANT:
The Defendant (fearless and unrepresentable)
REPORTED BY:
Jimmy Roastbeef, CCR, RPR Official Court Reporter in and for the state of Andorra
JANE SMITH: Your Honor, the State is ready to proceed with the motions in the case of Margeaux Fragolanda.
MS. FRAGOLANDA : Okay, in my defense, his teeth were really messed up. And it came out that James Pants had fake teeth, so why wouldn’t I gift my child the beauty standard?
JANE SMITH: You’re supposed to wait for the Judge to—
THE COURT: Nah, it’s chill. We know why we’re here. Taking a hit of his vape, whispering: Why are we here?
MS. FRAGOLANDA : Anyways. So.
Ms. Zhoppe takes a long, lazy drag of her cigarette. We have decided to include this in the court record, because it looked really cool.
First of all, he was six. That’s not even really a baby. That would be a grown man in medieval times.
JANE SMITH: Objection! I move that this be struck from the record. The defendant has neglected to mention that the child is six months old, not years.
THE COURT: Whatever. Aren’t they obligated to pay a sliding-scale rent fee by then, anyway? Motion rejected.
Unsubtly, the judge begins playing Princess Cinderella: Fashion Adventure under the table. We know this because, about every thirty seconds, his face is illuminated in a swath of pink light, and there’s the muffled-yet-unmistakable, twinkly sound of birds singing. Also, because we’re in a multiplayer game.
MS. FRAGOLANDA : And he looked really boring before. Honestly. That mouth was a crime against fashion, and isn’t that the real abomination here? But like actually. I literally forgot he was there. She sniffles. It’s tragically beautiful, like a Lana del Rey cover.
I have this condition where I can’t remember what ugly people look like. It’s been, like, super hard on me, you know? I never
remember to feed him, cuz he’s so goddamn unremarkable that every time I try, his literal existence floats out of my mind like an antimemetic device. And he cries all night! It’s been really rough on my skin barrier.
JANE SMITH: Objection! Babies are supposed to be boring. You cannot actually accept “the baby was boring, I was building his character” as a defense to child endangerment.
THE COURT: Motion rejected. Wait your turn, Ms. Smith. Ms. Zhoppe, next point.
MS. FRAGOLANDA : Also: networking.
THE COURT: Real.
MS. SMITH: Do you have any actual arguments? Do you have a single kernel of proof that this child’s material well-being is improved by your continued custody? Any excuse for why the State is now required to pay for reconstructive tongue surgery because you found a veneer coupon on Temu?
THE COURT: Shut up, American.
MS. FRAGOLANDA : Closing argument, because I have a hair appointment. I never said I was a perfect mother, okay? I do what I can. I pick him up from daycare at least twice a week. I stopped drinking six months into my pregnancy. Kid’s going to fashion school, and he needs to fit in. I’m just making sure those fugly-ass buck teeth don’t get him bullied. How else am I supposed to restore honor to the family name? At least it wasn’t Ozempic.
THE COURT: Upon deliberation, the court has found the defendant innocent on all charges. Or something. What was she charged for, again?
REPORTER’S CERTIFICATE
This certification is valid only for a transcript accompanied by my original signature and original required seal on this page. Except I got drunk and left my stamp-maker on the Metro, so ignore that part. I, Señor Velcro, Official Court Reporter in and for the State of Andorra, employed as an Official Court Reporter by Criminal District Court, Parish of Andorra for the State of Andorra, do hereby certify that this testimony was reported by me in the stenotype reporting method, was more or less prepared and transcribed by me or under my personal direction and supervision, and is a true and correct transcript to the best of my ability and understanding—except where it’s not, because creative expression is important; That the transcript has been prepared in compliance with the transcript format guidelines required by statute—except where the statute makes me sound like a little bitch, or by rules of the board, or by the Supreme Court of Andorra, slay queens; that I am not of counsel, not related to counsel or the parties heroin, nor am I otherwise interested in the outcome of this matter. Except that I’m in love with Ms. Shoppe, but that’s not important. Unless it is. Call me, Margaux.
JIMMY ROASTBEEF
Uncertified Court Reporter (Working On It)
—J. Jackson
TO THE INVESTORS
THE TRUE MEANING OF FASHION,
BY MARGEAUX L’JEANJAQUET
FRAGOLANDA
Dear Andorrans,
If you’re reading this, I’m already dead. With my passing, Andorra has lost its only redeeming quality. Once a backwater slaughterhouse for the critically endangered Pyrenean elephant, I transformed Andorra into the “Milan of Europe” while murdering more elephants than ever before. Before my birth, fashion didn’t exist. People wore clothes to keep warm, cover their nethers, and protect themselves from highly corrosive elephant blood. I changed everything. My fashion put Andorra on the map and in the dictionary and in the thesaurus. Fashion is a powerful force, stronger than gravity but weaker than electromagnetism. Philosophers have debated its significance since my line of ivoryencrusted shoelaces broke industry records in 1965. But those geeks don’t have the answers. I have the answers. Fashion isn’t what makes us who we are. Fashion is what we are.
Let me break it down for you. You are fashion. Much like the Pyrenean elephants from which my ivory-encrusted lingerie gets its je ne sais quoi , you are a raw material for making clothes. If you reside in Andorra, I own — by law — all your skin and organs. Unfortunately, I could not acquire your bones due to the sacred Andorran custom of making bone xylophones and never bone clothes. Whoever inherits MOCHÉ has the Constitutional right to transform your cadaver into a unicorn onesie. Fashion is forever!
Sincerely,
Margeaux L’Jeanjaquet Fragolanda
Dear Investors,
When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, a Fashion-cule must appoint a new CEO. After following due process, we have decided to appoint Castratta, not because she is a member of our polycule, or the mother of our child, but for her incomparable résumé. Trained as a spinster, Castratta has experience in finance, communications, and murder, the three central tenets of big money business.
—L. Conklin
I AM AMNESIA MAN
Why must god be so cruel? This is the plight of Amnesia Man. Come now and hear my story. I woke up in a coat room, that’s the first thing I can remember. Through a crack in the door I heard the vague murmurings of unfamiliar voices. I stepped out into the light of the dressing room with nothing on but a MOCHÉ mink fanny pack covering my nethers. All eyes in the room rapidly swung towards me in my MOCHÉ pink mink thong. An older woman in dark glasses called out what I recognized as my name.
“Flubert,” she said, handing me a thin pen and an A4 sheet of premium-quality paper, “You are now my greatest design. Now draw, my boy.”
—T. Harris
I took up that pencil and let my body take over. I drew furiously, creating pieces of clothing which, to my knowledge, had never existed before: a hat combined with a wristwatch, a shirt combined with a pair of jeans, and even a hat combined with a wristwatch. The rest of the room was awestruck, simultaneously paying silent attention and providing commentary all along. When I was done, I took a step back. Slowly, my audience began to clap, or were they booing? Hmm. I’ll have to get back to you on that one. The next thing I knew, I was sent out onto the street where I have been living ever since, and thus my tale comes to a conclusion. I am Amnesia Man. Do what I cannot and remember me, and hear me as I tell my story...
