Your Magazine Vol. 4 Issue 17: May 2015

MAY 2Ø15

Volume 4 Issue 17• May 2015 CLAUDIA MAK

DANNY LEMAR

Creative Director & Head of Design

Editor-in-Chief

CHRIS GARCIA

Asst. Editor-in-Chief

Photo Director

CHELSEA TREMBLAY Romance Editor

RIANA ODIN

Living Editor

CHRSTIAN LOPEZ

PEYTON DIX

CHRISTABEL FRYE A&E Editor

LINDSEY GONZALEZ Asst. A&E Editor

PAULINE HEVIA

Editorial Stylist

MATTHEW MULLEN Managing Editor

CAITLYN BUDNICK

Head Copy Editor

ARIELA RUDY

Asst. Head Copy Editor

ANDREA PALAGI Style Editor

HALEY SHERIF

Marketing Director

PIMPLOY PHONGSIRIVECH

Asst. Creative Director

PERI LAPIDUS

HANNAH PERRIN+ RIVKA HERRERA

MADELINE BILIS+ KAREN MORALES

Head of Beauty & Talent Manager

Art Director

YMtv Directors

Web Editors

Copy Editors JACQUELYN MARR, PAULINA PASCUAL, KELSEY PERKINS, JAMIE KRAVITZ, DIANA DILORETO, ISABELLA DIONNE Marketing KATJA VUJIĆ, SYDNEY HANNIBAL, KATHY BAIK, EVAN MCCRORY YMtv RIVKA HERRERA, HANNAH PERRIN, BRITNI BIRT, MARIA SANTORA, KATHLEEN HOWES, SYDNEY DRUMMOND, ZEKE ST.JOHN, SEAMUS MCGORRAY, STEPHANIE PUMILIA, SAVANNAH STRANGE, SHAWNIE WEN, LEILANI THOMAS, AMELIA FABIANO, NORMAN OLIVER, ZOE DAVANZO, RAE PECKHAM, LLOYD MALLISON, HARRIS RUBENSTEIN, JACK CAPATORTO, JACKSON DAVIS, JENNI LEAHY, SOPHIE SCHOENFELD Layout Design by CLAUDIA MAK Editorial Credits: SCOTCH AND SODA, LURE, LIPSTICK, AMERICAN APPAREL Special Thanks: MANDY DARNELL, RACHEL PEARSON, KATE HARANIS AND THE DENTERLEIN TEAM, THE VERB HOTEL

INTRODUCTION

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

Well… this is it. My very last “Letter From the Editor.”

I have spent months wondering what I would write, what story I could share that would make an unforgettable farewell and, in turn, make me remembered at Your Magazine for years to come as the best editor-in-chief ever.

But as I sat down to hammer out the end to my story here at Your Magazine, I realized that this wasn’t about me. It never has been. This magazine—this product of hard work, careful planning, and razor-sharp editing—belongs to every single talented person who has contributed to making creative content and an inspirational aesthetic. I know it sounds redundant but I would like to remind the staff that without them there would be no magazine. Thank you for being part of our team, part of our family, and please continue to create and innovate.

For some of us, it’s time to move on. In our editorial, "Bye!," we say goodbye to our senior staff members: the model-perfect editorial stylist Pauline Hevia, the cooler-than-cool A&E editor Christabel Frye, the light of my life and head copy editor Caitlyn Budnick, and our creative director and head of design Claudia Mak. When I joined Your Magazine, Claudia was my editor in the Romance section. To work with her ever since has been the most positive experience. Thank you for everything, bb.

I would also like to thank someone who does not get enough praise for the amount of work that he devotes to Your Magazine.

Matt Mullen, our managing editor, has held this publication together every single month and makes every meeting a great place to be. One day, I hope everyone I encounter in my career is as together and as kind as Matt.

As I wrote in my very first letter, published in our January 2014 issue, “It’s time for a reinvention and change.” I was talking about resolutions for the New Year (that are probably long dead), but the sentiment applies here as I leave my title. I’m thrilled to formally announce that our next editor-in-chief will be the phenomenal Peyton Dix. Peyton has more vision, more style, and more class than I could ever imagine having. She has been the mind and hand behind some of our most bold and stimulating content, giving me full confidence that she will, no doubt, continue to lead the magazine into

XO,

territory that is even more exciting and fresh.

So perhaps this won’t be my last letter ever. When I’m editorin-chief of Vogue or GQ (or both! HA!), I will always look to Your Magazine for the fondest memories. Thank you for giving me, not only something to be proud of, but also the opportunity to work with a team that possesses brilliance and humor. This has meant the world to me.

DANNY LEMAR EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 3

INTRODUCTION

COUNTING DOWN FROM 10

CON

EVOLUTION OF FEMALE SEX WRITERS

DEFINING THE FUCKBOY THE THINGS I'VE LEARNED

THE FIRST DATE VS. THE JOB INTERVIEW ANNA WINTOUR FRINGE DE FORCE GOD BLESS THE FIRST LADY OF FASHION NO LOOKING BACK

A NON-BASIC GUIDE TO FESTIVAL STYLE

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CHRISTABEL FRYE

CHELSEA TREMBLAY ANTHONY MASTRACCI CABOT LEE PETOIA

DANNY LEMAR ILLUSTRATED BY NIKI CURRENT MEGAN CATHEY ANDREA PALAGI PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRIS GARCIA AND CLAUDIA MAK

KAREN MORALES

AIN'T NO REST FOR THE WELL DRESSED THE SPEAKEASY BOSTON'S ETHER DOME PURE BARRE TORTURE AMORINO GELATO MODERN LOVE

LACI GREEN'S SEXUAL EDUCATION LEGACY WHAT IS ART? THE MENACES OF SOCIETY HANDS BEHIND THE BANDS BUT WHAT ABOUT BOISE?

BYE!

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CHRISTIAN LOPEZ CHELSEA TREMBLAY KYLE EDWARDS RIANA ODIN LINDSEY GONZALEZ PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRIS GARCIA

JESSICA COLAROSSI CASSANDRA MARTINEZ CLAUDIA MAK KATJA VUJIĆ MATT MULLEN

PHOTOGRAPHED BY NYDIA HARTONO

COUNTING DOWN FROM

1Ø

BY CHRISTABEL FRYE PHOTO ART BY CHRIS GARCIA

ROMANCE

6

REARRANGING THE PIECES OF MY ABORTION, NINETEEN MONTHS LATER

I SAT HOLDING MY ROOMMATE’S HAND,

continuously adjusting my position to make the best of the uncomfortable chair. I could feel slight tremors going through her fingers like little bumps on a road, but she tried her best to stay steady. I flashed a less-than-toothy smile at her, assuring her everything was alright.

“Hey,” said the not-so-strange stranger sitting next to me. “Wanna hear something funny?”

“Anything,” I replied, trying to break the tension.

“Over the summer, my co-workers made me watch a documentary about a guy with a 132 pound scrotum.”

My roommate and I both laughed, probably too loudly, before looking at each other awkwardly.

Just then, a woman emerged from behind a wooden door and began to stumble over a name. “Ch-Christab—?”

“That’s me,” I said before she could finish.

“Come with me,” she said as she turned her body back towards the door.

I stood and trailed behind her, and entered into the first of three rooms I would go in that day. I had hoped someone would wake me up, tell me that my life wasn’t really becoming a deleted scene from Gossip Girl.

No one woke me up.

One night in early September, my new(ish) roommates and I decided to throw a housewarming party for ourselves.

We had punch, we had red Solo cups, we had ping pong balls, we had a cardboard cutout of Obama and bright orange traffic cones. Not to brag, but we had set things up to get weird.

The party went as any party does, and it would have been damned if I had not kept up my history of sloppily making out with a not-so-strange stranger. And since a guy I had a flirtationship with had decided to surface at the party, I went with it.

Drink after drink, the night continued and somehow we ended up making out on top of an orange traffic cone.

Hand-in-hand, we kicked everyone out of my room and closed the door.

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The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my head and a knot in my stomach. I found $20 in my bra, then remembered I had made my one-night partner give it to me for Plan B. Just in case, of course.

I climbed out of bed and forced myself down to CVS to spend $40 that probably wasn’t necessary. When I got home, I ate a bagel and swallowed the small pill, then allowed my hangover to lull me back to sleep—it was easier than I had been the night before.

My first year at Emerson seemed to be eating the life away from me, my college junior self not used to the academic rigor that was an education where the professors actually cared. I was tired all the time. I would wake up, go to school, go home, and crash. It was a never ending cycle, but it made a month and a half go by rather quickly.

On the Monday after a weekend full of tequila, I decided two weeks had been long enough without a visit from my monthly friend. I made an appointment with Health Services on campus and went through the day, patiently waiting for 2:00 p.m. to roll around.

I finally arrived at the 3rd floor of Union Bank, my phone buzzing with texts of encouragement saying things like don’t even worry about it, or you’re definitely not pregnant. I knew that I wasn’t—I had taken Plan B. This was just a precaution, to put my mind at ease.

I couldn’t help but be nervous, though, as I sat alone in the waiting room, spinning my phone and tapping my foot until a nurse called my name.

“Christabel?” she said, questioning the pronunciation like most people do the first time they read my name.

I stood without saying a word, following the woman in the white coat to a small room.

Despite having the form I filled out in front of her, she looked at me and said, “What brings you in today?”

“My period’s late,” I replied. “I’d like to take a pregnancy test.”

She handed me a cup and pointed to a bathroom, “Just

ROMANCE

go right in there. Pee in the cup, and put it in the metal door when you’re finished.”

I nodded then walked into the bathroom and took a deep breath, unintentionally inhaling a big whiff of cheap bathroom cleaner. I followed her directions and went back to the office where I continued to spin my phone.

“I forgot to ask you,” she said a few minutes later as she walked back into the room, closing the door behind her.

“What did you want the result to be?”

“Negative, obviously,” I said, almost chuckling at the prospect of being excited to have a baby with a year left of college.

“Well, it is positive. You are pregnant, but you do have options.”

My ears started ringing; my hands started shaking; my stomach was turning over and over and over again. I started to hyperventilate, I started to cry. I had to call my mom, I had to text my roommate, I had to call, I had to text.

While the nurse was trying to comfort me, I shook her off and said, “I have to call my mom.”

“Okay,” she said. “But maybe after that we can put the phone away?”

I mumbled an “okay” back to her, not paying attention to what she was saying. I hadn’t even told my mom that I was going to get tested. Hell, I hadn’t even told her I was sexually active (jump cut to that scene in Juno).

She answered me on the second ring.

“Mom,” I said, attempting to breathe as deeply as possible without breaking down in tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

Please don’t be mad.”

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked. “I won’t be mad.”

“I-I—” the extremely slight composure I had held for 20 seconds decided to run away and hide at that point, “I’m pregnant. I’m so sorry. Mom, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

She sighed on the other end of the phone, “It’s okay honey, I’m not mad. How do you know?”

I explained where I was to the best of my ability before hanging up, and turning to the nurse.

Suddenly, my emotions jumped to the side. As the nurse started pulling out pamphlet after cliché pamphlet, complete with stock photos of smiling women explaining which each of my options were, I said, “No. I know what I have to do. I can’t have a baby.”

She nodded her head, walking me through the process

ROMANCE

of calling Women’s Health Services in Brookline, making an appointment for that Friday. When I couldn’t talk anymore, she took the phone and talked for me. The nurse gave me her email address and walked me to the door, before giving me an awkward hug and saying, “It’s going to be okay.”

I immediately regretted telling anyone that I was going to take a pregnancy test, because they all searched for answers like a nosy suburban mom after she finds out her daughter’s ex-boyfriend’s lab partner’s cousin is gay. I didn’t want to tell them, I didn’t want to tell anyone, I just wanted to get it over with, to get to Friday.

After going back and forth, I decided I had to tell the not-so-strange stranger from that fateful September night.

It was a warm Tuesday afternoon in October when we met on top of the hill in the Boston Common. As the sun shined down, I answered questions like, “How could this happen? Are you sure it was me? What are you going to do?”

I told him I was having surgery that Friday, and that I expected him to pay half the bill.

“Surgery? What do you mean...?”

“An abortion, you dumb ass. I just...don’t want to say it,” I remember saying to him.

“Oh,” he said, relieved. “I want to come with you.”

I looked at him, shocked, and said, “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he said. “I think I need to.”

All of my friends that knew said I was doing the right thing; even my friend who had a child of her own said I was doing the right thing. The logical part of me knew that it was the right thing.

But a very small part of me struggled to believe this.

That’s what lead me to doing probably the worst thing someone can do when getting an abortion. I googled “post abortion syndrome,” or PAS. Scores of religious websites donned my screen, page after page of people saying I would have a form of PTSD from making this decision about my life. I read it and let the words soak into my brain. They jumped off the page and slapped me in the face, making me feel overwhelmed with guilt and sadness. I had never felt as alone as I did in my room in the early hours of that Wednesday, tears hitting the keyboard and

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rolling onto the bed where the very deed had been done.

Wednesday passed and I sat holding my stomach, thinking about what was in there: a cluster of cells made up of half of me. And about what wasn’t in there: chocolate covered strawberries.

Before I knew it, Friday had arrived and I was sitting in a cab on my way to the clinic at 6:30 a.m. I followed the directions: wear comfortable clothes and shoes, don’t eat or drink anything for 12 hours before the surgery, bring $600, don’t pee before you come.

So there we were, sitting in the uncomfortable chairs in an uncomfortable position in an uncomfortable situation, waiting for what seemed like forever.

They called my name and I entered the first room, a quick therapy session.

“Is anyone making you be here by anything other than your free will?” a short haired woman asked me.

“No,” I replied.

She continued to rattle off questions until she let me go.

Then another woman came to get me, squeezing my arm for blood pressure and taking samples of my blood.

After I left the examination room, I sat down in the waiting room again. Next to my roommate, holding her hand.

The third and final woman came out.

“Christabel?” she said in a clear, confident voice. I got up and followed her, trying my hardest not to look back.

She led me into a dimly-lit room where the main feature was an elevator. She pressed “B” for basement and asked me what I was studying in school. The elevator dinged before I could answer, and she walked out the metallic doors into a sterile looking hallway. The carpeted floors from upstairs had been replaced with teal vinyl, and the walls were painted a stark white. She led me to a bathroom and instructed me to undress and put on one of the dresses from a basket on the floor. I picked the first one, an autumnal floral smock which was obviously hand sewn, folded my clothes neatly, left the bathroom and handed them to the woman.

I walked in bare feet to another room. It was as clean as the hallway, with everything neatly arranged around an OB/ GYN exam table. A doctor stood in the room alone, distracted by her own affairs. When I walked in she greeted me, without a smile, and guided me to the table. Another woman, the anesthesiologist, walked in and searched for a vein while another nurse asked me how I was doing. I absentmindedly said, “All right,” and stared up at the bright light shining down on me.

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The anesthesiologist leaned over and blocked my view of the light, placing a mask over my face and said, “I’m going to count down from 10, and you should fall right asleep. 10, 9, 8, 7….”

I woke up in a leather chair, drunk on anesthesia. I shook myself back into reality to the best of my ability, and shouted obscenities at the nurse in the room until she came to my side.

“I wanna go…” I mumbled to her, waiting for her response. She handed me a packet and a paper bag with painkillers and a prescription for birth control and antibiotics.

Oh, and a pamphlet about Plan B. “Have you heard of Plan B?” she asked me. “You should keep it in mind.”

My anesthetized self couldn’t help but laugh.

It took almost a year for me to come to terms with my abortion. Despite being surrounded by supportive friends, I felt like I was on a deserted island, where everyone could see me struggling to build shelter, but no one could reach me. My heart kept breaking, and every time I would pick up the pieces it would all fall apart again. One day I would call myself selfish for suctioning out my cluster of cells, the next I would feel selfish for even thinking that it was my cluster of cells. One thing was for certain, though, I thought about it all the time.

For months afterwards, I would feel wrong if I hadn’t cried at least once in a day. My hormones were adjusting to the birth control and to not being pregnant, placing me in the middle of a sandstorm.

But eventually my heart stopped breaking. My brain stopped needing to comfort my heart, because I realized that I had made the right decision. I struggle to feed myself and keep myself healthy, I let my emotions get the best of me. I’m still a kid. While young people can make great mothers and fathers, I just realized that it wasn’t for me. Instead of raising a child before I’m ready, I want to wait until I know I’m ready.

That time just isn’t now.

ROMANCE

I WONDER HOW MANY 1940s housewives sat at their kitchen tables, glasses of iced tea sweating perfect O’s on the table, thumbing through their copy of Good Housekeeping, wishing that instead of reading about bed linens, they could be learning how to also achieve perfect O’s.

Back in 1885 when Good Housekeeping was born, women had made decent headway in the publication world. Decent by standards of people who still couldn’t vote, at least. However, they definitely weren’t writing about sex. Sex was very hush hush for centuries, and when discussed was solely a man’s topic (aside from Sappho. Thanks, girl.) But progress was progress.

In 1784 the United States saw its first unisex magazine, Gentlemen and Ladies’ Country Magazine, which specifically requested submissions by female writers. In 1829, Frances Wright managed to publish an article about birth control (a wildly radical topic of the day). Jane Cunningham Croly became the first woman to obtain a desk job at a major newspaper, first sitting in her office chair of triumph in 1859. Unfortunately at this time, women were still largely encouraged to write from home and use pseudonyms.

As the publication industry grew larger under William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer, more women were recruited for writing positions. While stories of national importance and impact were reserved for men, women were asked to sensationalize, write about social life, and pen advice columns.

So basically, women could write about everyone else’s problems but their own.

Women sat by as Playboy and Penthouse gained popularity and money by having an open, fluid dialogue about sexuality—a dialogue women were absolutely not allowed to have. Instead, they were expected to read cooking and cleaning advice. Then one day in the 1960s, a woman spoke up—Helen Gurley Brown.

Brown, who had just released her autobiographical novel Sex and the Single Girl, chose to revamp the general interest magazine Cosmopolitan to open the sex dialogue to women. According to Brown, “I wanted to tell the truth: that sex is one of the three best things out there, and I don't even know what the other two are." Her first issue as editor-in-chief discussed birth control, which still (130 years later) is a scandalous and taboo topic. Later issues focused on ways to meet, please, and keep men (married or not).

BY CHELSEA TREMBLAY

ICONS BY ROGER CASTILLEJO OLAN, SANTIAGO ARIAS, AND LE GARAGE STUDIO

ROMANCE

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While Brown helped create an open platform for women’s sexuality, catapulting the discussion forward and fueling the era’s sexual revolution, the value of her contribution only went so far. Once society accepted female sexuality as an actual possibility, Cosmo’s purpose as a liberator faded away. It instead became a beacon of female insecurity and inequality: how to be sexier, thinner, and more pleasurable to him.

In 1966, Lynn Barber showed the world a new way for wom-

"Some people just think of sex writing as frivolous, but I think it’s important to feminism.”

en to write about sex. For seven years she interviewed celebrities about their most intimate sexual desires for UK Penthouse, earning the nickname “Demon Barber.” She gained a reputation as one of

everyone everywhere,” says Moss. “I enjoy writing about the grosser

Britain’s harshest interviewers and was one of the few women around

side of sex—the things that I thought made me a disgusting human,

the globe writing for a male interest magazine. Thanks to Barber, we

but then people write to me saying, ‘Oh, that happens to me, too.’”

now know that Salvador Dali had a particular fondness for fondling

Open discussions about intimacy do more than break down

himself, especially with androgynous onlookers.

barriers for female writers; they open doors for their female readers.

Also thanks to her, we are able to consider women just as ca-

Now audiences have the ability to talk about the not-so-pretty things

pable, witty, and intimidating as male reporters.A London billboard

that would never make it to print in Cosmo—topics such as butt hair,

once read “Doner kebabs. Tequila slammers. Being interviewed by

semen drippage, and queefing. While many consider this informa-

Lynn Barber: You know you’ll pay.”

tion oversharing, some women take comfort in knowing that they’re

While Brown and Barber no doubt made strides, there was something missing from their dialogue: how women could reclaim sexuality for themselves, not for their men.

not alone in these circumstances.

“I would have questioned the value [of sex writing] before I began writing so much of it,” says Moss. “But now I see that there

Candace Bushnell, known for her column-turned-TV-show

are lots of things about the body we’re taught to think are wrong and

Sex and the City, transitioned the sex perspective to reflect that wom-

that we’ve been taught to shame. I figure there’s no value in keeping

en enjoy sex for themselves. From 1994 to 1996, Bushnell shared

this information to myself if it can instead be helping someone else.

stories of sexual ambiguity with the world in the New York Observer.

Not all sex writing is revolutionary, but a lot of stuff can open eyes

She told her audience that it was okay for women to seek out casual

and help women accept themselves. So it’s important we keep it up”

sex for the purpose of fulfilling their own needs (not men's), and the

Of course, a girl can’t write about menstrual cups and con-

show depicted that message to millions of women within the next decade.

doms stuck in buttholes without catching a little flack.

“Men surely tell me I’m disgusting,” laughs Moss. “They tweet

However, readers still had no publication to turn to when they needed answers instead of inspiration and good stories.

me saying ‘she’s disgusting,’ but interestingly, women never do. Some people just think of sex writing as frivolous, but I think it’s important

Enter today’s feminist writers.

to feminism.”

Gabrielle Moss, associate lifestyle editor for the online me-

When wondering why men don’t have the same culture of on-

dia site Bustle, spoke with me about the modern writing climate for

line sharing, Moss responded, “Men always have written about sex—

women and why their voices are important—and why writing about

they’ve had centuries of literature to share their sex lives. Women

sex in particular is important.

don’t have that literary history, it’s our turn now.”

“Progressives say we’ve already accomplished equality and that we don’t need to write about it [sex] anymore, but that’s not true for

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To read some of today’s (brutally honest) female sex writers, check out Bustle, The Frisky, and Nerve.

ROMANCE

DEFIN ING THE FUCK BOY

BY ANTHONY MASTRACCI

PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRIS GARCIA

MODEL: MATTHEW CHAUBY

EVERY YEAR, trend words flow through conversations both verbally and digitally. Some stick around, just ask your

bae, but others aren't so dope; I literally cannot even express how many trendy words aren't winning because with time, they just aren’t on fleek.

“Fuck boy” is the newest of these buzzwords.

The conversation about "fuck boy" has been loud and debated among different groups of people who attribute different meanings to the word based on their own genders, sexual orientations, life experiences, etc. But the question remains: what the fuck is a "fuck boy?"

We at Your Mag conducted a social survey of about 80 men and women in person and through Tinder, to gain perspective on the way people perceive this new trend word. After collecting various opinions, we composed one solid, detailed definition of this new creature who seems to be trolling the masses.

fuck boy: /fuk boi/ (n) •

a smooth talker who initially comes across as nice, but doesn't really have respect for you, has nothing to offer, and relies on charm to make it through life

•

one who asks for nudes at 3:00 a.m.

•

one who pretends to be interested but whose only motive is sex

•

a houseboy or “pet”

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one who is too thirsty

•

one whose greatest accomplishment in college is how much alcohol he consumed in one night

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one who always wants others to know the state of his penis

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one who wonders what another would be doing if they were there right now ;)

•

one who always unnecessarily, awkwardly sexualizes the conversation

•

one who expresses sudden, vulgar opinions about you upon rejection

Basically, a fuck boy is a boy who just wants to fuck. And he doesn’t care who it’s with, what he has to do to make it happen, or where it goes down. He probably has an intricate excuse about why he doesn’t use a condom. And if you accept his advances, don’t expect a text tomorrow because he will be back at it in his natural habitat (i.e. online).

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ROMANCE

THE THINGS I'VE

LEARNED

BY CABOT LEE PETOIA ILLUSTRATION BY PIMPLOY PHONGSIRIVECH

I AM IN LOVE. I am in a healthy, happy romantic re-

lationship with another human. The good news is: it was a seamless, obstacle-free road to get here. The bad news is: I’m lying. But what I’ve learned along the real, rocky road is something I’ll take with me forever.

I met Janelle Levesque ‘16 during a drunken St. Patrick’s Day weekend, and we became friends instantly. We stayed up late together, talking about everything. We went on adventures—she showed me her favorite spots in Boston since it was my first semester here, places that have now cemented themselves into my heart and will always make me think of her.

The start of my Emerson experience was amazing, and meeting Janelle was just brown sugar on top of a cinnamon bun life. I arrived in Boston full of anticipation, and all my expectations were exceeded. My classes were stimulating. I made friends quickly. I loved my job. I immersed myself in various clubs and projects. My relationship with Janelle was flourishing. I was genuinely and unwaveringly happy for perhaps the first time in my life.

Like many people, maintaining happiness is not easy for me. I recently reread 10 years of my journal entries, and there were repeating patterns throughout. One theme was: “I wish I could bottle up the happiness I feel now and take it out whenever I want, because I know that it won’t last.”

Throughout my life, I would experience periods of extreme happiness. Everything was beautiful! Wonderful! Fun!exciting!

I would jump out of bed, ready for anything. Until, without warning, a dark cloud of despair would swoop in and cover my entire being, nearly paralyzing my limbs and brain, and making it hard to communicate or find enjoyment in anything. Nothing and no one, especially myself, would be good enough. I would either be gripped with anxiety, finding it hard to breathe, or I would feel so heavy that breathing would be all that I could do.

Spring 2014, however, proceeded without a glitch.

Everything was beautiful! Wonderful! Fun!Exciting! I was happy with myself, the people around me, school, and, best of all, I was completely in love with Janelle.

When the semester ended, things began to deteriorate.

My classes ended and my friends went home. I was used to being in the North Carolina countryside, running around in the sun naked, jumping into raging rivers, and singing around

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campfires. But I stayed in Boston and lived in a building surrounded by concrete and cars. I was very unhappy.

Beyond these factors that, presumably, I could control, the dark cloud returned. Janelle and I stayed together, even though she moved back to her parents’ house outside of Boston. Suddenly, our visits were often full of fighting and tears instead of curiosity and laughter.

Looking back, I was so embarrassingly and tragically wrong. Yes, Janelle is not perfect. Not every single fight we had was entirely my fault. But the problem was that I wanted her to be perfect. I thought she could be. I thought that I could be. I thought that our relationship could be, and should be, perfect. Everything was a zero sum game again, and the more I tried to make things perfect, the more horrible things were. I wanted her to show me the utmost affection, love, and respect at all times, while simultaneously giving me the perfect amount of personal space. She couldn’t win. Any insecurity she expressed and any bad moods became indicators of the imperfections of our relationship. I didn’t want to hear about problems she had with me, because it meant that she was accusing me of being imperfect and tainting our potentially perfect relationship. I was already unhappy enough with myself, so hearing anything less than complete positivity from Janelle put me over the edge.

I scrutinized myself ferociously. Am I girly enough for her? Funny enough? Smart enough? Good enough in bed?

Why doesn’t she seem happy today? It must be my fault, so I am going to be miserable while she questions what is wrong.

What is wrong? Everything. Everything is wrong, but I am going to make everything PERFECT, don’t worry.

While I didn’t consciously think these exact words then, I certainly felt them, I can see how irrational they were in reflection now. I was making us both miserable, and I was convinced that it was not my fault. No, I was the one fixing it. A few times trying to be perfect got to be too much, and I tried breaking up with her, only to come whirlwinding back in a fit of tears, apologies, and feeble excuses. We both questioned each other constantly. Why isn’t this working? What are we doing wrong? Is it supposed to be this hard?

It was not all bad. It couldn’t have been, or we wouldn’t have stayed together. And it’s not that I didn’t care, because I always have. I was just so blinded by my own unhappiness that I couldn’t see the big picture. We took weekend trips and

ROMANCE

had adventures. But the fun times were peppered with hysterical fights about petty issues that I blew up into horrifying traumas.

Fall 2014 was equally tumultuous. I moved into an apartment with strangers an hour away from Janelle. I worked full time doing early morning shifts and I could still barely afford rent, struggling with classes, and had no free time to spend the few dollars I did have after bills. Any preexisting problems with our relationship were worsened by stress. We tried to navigate our relationship together, wondering if we were better off as friends. We always had fun together and understood each other until the pressures of a romantic relationship came into play. Underneath it all, we were best friends, so were we better off being just that?

I broke up with Janelle in December. I honestly thought it would be the last time. I was so unhappy, and I realized, finally, that it was not because of her. I realized that she deserved to be with someone who made her happy, and that person was not me.

A month passed, and we remained friends…who still hooked up. We established some space though, and I relaxed without the label of an official relationship. I was still struggling with myself and was upset that I had hurt her, but I stopped judging myself from the eyes of another person. We stopped fighting...and I stopped tearing myself apart every day for starting yet another fight. I knew I was doing the right thing. And as I healed, I felt myself learning how to love her the right way.

I went home for half of Christmas break, anticipating how beneficial space would be for us. In my mind, I would arrive back in Boston and run straight into Janelle’s arms, after we both had blissful breaks spent with our old friends and family. We would save the first kiss of 2015 for each other. It would be perfect.

Instead, Janelle barely returned my texts. Instead, she told me she was fucking a girl I’ve always hated. Instead, my New Year’s kiss was a boy with a beard, and then my best friend from high school, and then a stranger, and then the stranger’s girlfriend, until the entire party had been kissed by an extremely drunk, extremely emotional me. I was devastated. And I knew it was my fault. I had broken up with her three times and complicated her life tremendously, instead of treating her like the wonderful person she is. She needed a real break from me, and the fact that I understood why she needed it hurt. So I spent my break contemplating everything that

ROMANCE

I LEARNED TO CHOOSE MY BATTLES. ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS OFTEN DEPEND ON COMPROMISES.

16

had happened, and giving her enough space so that maybe, maybe, she wouldn’t come out of this hating my guts.

I came back to Boston after barely speaking to Janelle, extremely humbled, and ready to be good. I wanted to be a good friend to the girl that I had hurt so badly, and good to myself. What I really wanted was for Janelle to be my girlfriend again, but after my reflections, it was the last thing I expected.

Luckily, shockingly, after working out some kinks, she gave me one more chance. This chance was an ode to Janelle’s empathy and forgiving nature, a tribute to the passion that was always part of our relationship despite the bad times, and proof of the friendship we maintained through the turmoil of trying to make a romantic relationship work. I will be forever grateful for this last chance because our relationship has been a blessing since.

So what have I learned? First, I learned that striving for perfection ruins everything, because perfection is a myth. And maybe that is just the beauty of it—the biggest messes make the best stories, the hardest struggles are the most rewarding.

Life can get tough, but that’s what make the good times so good.

I learned to choose my battles. Romantic relationships often depend on compromises. If you are happy, and if you care about the person you are with, the compromises you make won’t feel like much of a sacrifice. They will simply demonstrate that you both care enough to meet in the middle.

I learned that sometimes your instincts are worth listening to. Janelle and I always wanted to be near each other in a way that we tried to explain through the tough patches of our relationship. It was a constant battle between what we felt and what actually worked. Once I was able to work through my own issues, and we learned how to listen to each other, the instincts we had made sense and allowed us to truly enjoy each other like we had always wanted to.

I learned that a miserable lifestyle is never worth it.

Even if you think you need your job to pay rent, it is never worth waking up far too early, angry, every morning. There is always another option for a young, able-bodied American in 2015. Quitting the job I hated and refusing to work shitty hours at my next job was one of my best decisions yet. And I invited one of my best friends to move in and split my rent in half, bringing warmth to my previously lonely apartment.

Finally, most importantly, I learned that the greatest love of all really is loving yourself. It is impossible to be happy

17

with someone else if you dislike yourself, because you will feel judged by two people instead of just you, no matter how gentle the other person is. I eventually realized that my anxiety about pleasing Janelle was based on nothing. She has always encouraged me to be who I am and do what I want. She never cared about my clothes or if my jokes fell flat, even though I convinced myself that she did. The one person you are always guaranteed to have is yourself, so it is crucial that you enjoy your own company.

Dealing with mental issues while trying to maintain any relationship, whether romantic, friendly, or even with family, can be very difficult. Everyone deals with mental health in their own way, so I won’t make any recommendations to our readers beyond sharing my own experience. I do not have an official diagnosis or a therapist, but I have done some research and determined what triggers some of my dark cloud symptoms. I’m still learning and figuring out what to do, but realizing that preventative and reparative measures exist has made a huge difference. Simple changes to my lifestyle, such as practicing affirmative thinking, doing things that inspire or relax me, eating clean, focusing on the present, and surrounding myself with people that lift me up have all contributed to an overall healthier me. And that health translates to all my relationships, especially my relationship with Janelle.

While it is wonderful, my relationship with Janelle is still not perfect. But the problems we have are normal, mundane issues that are easily fixed with a compromise or a kiss.

And we are happy. Janelle has always been a positive presence in my life, to the best of her own ability, and I have always cared about her. But it wasn’t until I cared about myself, that I was able to be a good girlfriend. Maybe life is a learning curve, and this was a big one for me. I’m not sure what happened, what clicked in my brain and made me realize how lucky I am to have someone who accepts me, that I am not the worst person in the world, but can’t be the best either, and that perfection is just an illusion that makes us all unhappy. Maybe it was almost losing my best friend. Maybe I just grew up. Whatever it was, it made me realize that romance is appreciating all the things that make your partner human. Romance is accepting another person and celebrating them as they are, and celebrating yourself as you are. I don’t have all the answers, if I have any at all, and that is okay. The adventure of going through life, especially with a companion by your side, is the gift we have been given. And I will enjoy it from now on.

ROMANCE

THE FIRST DATE

FIRST DATE HOW MUCH TO DRINK

Liquid courage is cool and gives you something to do during the date, but it’s easy to go overboard. Alternate one drink with a glass of water to keep level and also be mindful of trips to the restroom.

TOPICS OF DISCUSSION

It’s okay to jump around and be spontaneous. If the conversation is natural, it shouldn’t have any real organization. And it goes without saying to remember to, in turn, listen.

VS.

KISS

Not encouraged on the first date. The second date exists in a strange world of its own, so save it for the third.

By then you should be standing on pretty solid ground, even if it feels like you’re walking on air.

THE JOB INTERVIEW

BY DANNY LEMAR

PREPARATION

Pay close attention to details. People are superficial creatures, especially in a one-on-one setting.

Start top to bottom: your hair to your eyebrows to your lips, then continue south. If you'll feel your best plucked and groomed, go for it. If you know you can rock a "just-woke-up-like-this" look, then by all means, muss it up. Outside beauty with nothing inside gets boring. What makes you beautiful is confidence. Make an empowering playlist for when you're getting ready and do some stretches. If you still feel your nerves making you quake, repeat some positive affirmations in the mirror (It sounds silly, but it works). Try Ugly Betty's mantra: "I am a attractive, intelligent, confident business person." Because you are.

TOPICS OF DISCUSSION

Feel free to talk yourself up. Some sage advice is to steer clear of things which you feel negatively about. Focus on what you’re interested in and ask questions about what you want to know more about.

Take full advantage of the opportunity to really get to know the person sitting across from you, whether a potential lover or a future employer.

LASTING IMPRESSION

Leave with a sense that you have done all you could have. Remember to extend the offer to follow up. You might not be their cup of tea, and they might not be yours. But life goes on.

JOB INTERVIEW WHAT TO BRING

Pack a hard copy of your most updated résumé and a cover letter, even if you didn’t have to write one. It’s good practice to know your reasons for wanting this job inside and out, as to avoid any sense that you just showed up to this out of nowhere.

TOPICS OF DISCUSSION

This will depend on the interview. Make sure to anticipate what you might be asked (you know yourself best) and try to include smooth segues throughout. Full sentences, please.

HANDSHAKE

Really grip on there with just enough charisma to be memorable. Maintain eye contact the whole time. And then let them go.

STYLE ILLUSTRATION BY NIKI CURRENT

fringe de force

BY MEGAN CATHEY

E

xplore the fashion frontier this summer by incorporating fringe into your wardrobe. Fringe is an easy way to give a playful update to dresses, jackets, vests—you name it.

Fringed clothing has come and in and out of style throughout fashion history, and, fortunately for us, the frilled trimming is back, and super easy to find.

Native Americans were some of the first people to wear fringe. They wore fringe for practical reasons like repelling water or for symbolic reasons that varied depending on the tribe.

Many would embellish fringe with shells and beads, which would create sounds during dance rituals.

In the 1920s, designer Madeleine Vionnet helped to popularize fringe in mainstream fashion by creating fringed frocks ubiquitous with the flappers of the era. The movement of fringe paired well with high-energy Charleston dancing. However, fringe was too impractical during the Great Depression and World War II due to its excessive use of fabric. Fringe had a rock ‘n’ roll makeover in the late ‘50s thanks to Elvis Presley. In the ‘60s, musicians like Jimi Hendrix and Roger Daltrey from The Who rocked fringed ensembles during their performances.

Today, designers draw from the glamorous ‘20s and the badass, rock ‘n’ roll aesthetic of the ‘60s with their fringed

21

designs. During the Proenza Schouler Spring/Summer 2015 show, designers Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez sent out elegant gowns with fringed bottoms that swayed with the models' movement. Alberta Ferretti made a nod to the ‘60s with fringed suede dresses, vests, and bags. Celebrities like Alexa Chung, Gwen Stefani, and Kate Moss are all fringe fans, on and off the red carpet.

Fringe has trickled down to mass retailers like Topshop, Zara, Free People, and Urban Outfitters, making fringe accessible for all of us. With fringe, you can embrace either your bohemian or glamorous side. Feel like Daisy Buchanan in a fringed cocktail dress, or keep it casual with fringed tank top or kimono. Add some swish to your step with a fringed skirt.

For the beach or pool, try out new waters with a fringed bikini top.

An easy way to rock fringe is with accessories. A backpack with fringe is super practical, as well as stylish. A fringed crossbody bag or clutch is a foolproof way to dip your toes into the trend. For shoes, try a pair of fringed ankle booties, or sandals with fringe detailing. When wearing fringe, keep the rest of your outfit simple. That way, the fringe can make a statement.

STYLE

She never says no to neutrals. Michelle waves hello to the people of the United States while all wrapped up in a tan knee -length wool coat with a matching highwaisted wool skirt. We the people applaud this refreshing take on First Lady formal wear (pant suits aren’t always the answer).

GOD BLESS This is perhaps our favorite First Lady look.

From the bright fuschia gloves to the checkered pattern on this stunning A-line overcoat, right down to the metal detail on the belt that cinches it all at the waist, everything about this outfit makes us want to follow in our First Lady’s footsteps (which must also be chic considering the kickass knee-high stiletto boots she’s wearing.)

Ah, here our fashionable First Lady goes for a pretty pastel, secret garden, first day of spring look in a flouncy mid-length front button dress. This look gives us a softer side of Michelle that we can’t get enough of.

Oh my palazzo! Not only does Michelle make a statement in these high waisted pants, she pairs them with a white blazer on top of a white cropped button up top for a no-fear, all-white look. Go bold or go home, that’s the Obama way.

STYLE

22

Hawaii will never be the same after Michelle makes a splash in the Aloha State with this silky multicolored,multi-patterned tropical tank dress. This outfit truly shows that the First Lady can dress to impress in and out of the continental United States. Also, look at those precious orange kitten heels!

THE FIRST LADY OF FASHION

BY ANDREA PALAGI PHOTO ART BY EMMA YOUNG

Okay, okay! We just can’t get enough of the First Lady and these white palazzo pants. This time, Michelle goes for a more casual look by pairing these goddess-like pants with a mustard yellow, floral embroidered cardigan. We’re not even mad that she’s an outfit repeater because she looks so good!

Hi there poppy-colored pant suit!

Michelle sports a very un-stuffy version of the classic First Lady pant suit tied at the waist with a patterned silk scarf and bottomed off with matching pleather flats.

Michelle isn’t afraid of a little (or a lot of ) pattern. Her presidential secret: muted colors and a classic cut.

With this look, the First Lady gives off a vintage vibe in a black and white floral patterned dress with a gold trim with a cropped buttonless blazer to match.

Michelle spreads the holiday cheer in this short sleeve skirt suit that leaves her shimmering from head to toe. Between the color, the collar, the three statement buttons, and the mock pockets, this outfit puts a modern twist on the skirt suit.

23

STYLE

Say hello to the First Lady in the sexiest presidential LBD that we’ve ever seen. Michelle shows off her shoulders in this off the shoulder, floor length gown. This neckline creates the perfect frame for the statement necklace of the century that ensures all eyes are on her (sorry Mr. President!)

NO LOOKING BACK

Photography by Chris Garcia & Claudia Mak Styling by Peyton Dix & Claudia Mak Makeup by Peri Lapidus Models: Felice Magistrali & Jess Vosler

A N O N -B ASIC GUIDE

MODEL: MEL STOKES

TO FESTIVAL STYLE

BY KAREN MORALES PHOTO ART BY CHRIS GARCIA

1.

MUSIC FESTIVAL SEASON is in full swing

and events like Coachella, Bonnaroo, and The Governors Ball are centerpieces for fashion inspiration. Millions tuned in to Instagram to see what their favorite celebrities wore to Coachella this year, creating the incentive for brands like H&M to launch Coachella clothing lines and cash in on the festival style craze.

Although we at Your Mag can get behind the idea of looking fabulous while attending a music festival, (hello photo ops!) we think festival style has gone a little too far the last few years.

Unfortunately, the point of these events, which is to enjoy live music, gets lost in the mess of wacky and offensive getups that festivalgoers concoct.

We want to move past the overzealous fringe, tie-dye, and face paint. Not to mention the rampant cultural appropriation of festival participants who wear Native American headdresses and Hindu Bindis because they look "cool."

If you've committed these fashion faux pas in the past and would like to repent, we forgive you. But only if you’re willing to try these fresh outfit ideas for any upcoming gigs you're planning to attend this summer.

2.

3.

4.

SHIFT DRESSES Easy to slip on and easy to lift up and...what? Get your minds out of the gutter. Simply lifting up your dress to go to the bathroom is a lot easier than fumbling with a shorts' button in time to catch Drake perform at the next stage. They're cute and easy to dance around in. We recommend pairing a colorful, graphic print shift dress that falls mid-thigh with cool Nike sneakers and funky sunglasses.

DENIM JUMPER Both cheeky and classic, and probably not what your basic festivalgoer would wear. Not to be confused with denim overalls, a denim jumper is essentially a denim mini dress.

Wear a sleeveless jumper and a sheer button-up with bell sleeves, or an off-shoulder crop top underneath. Don't forget sandals and a floppy hat for the sun.

SILKY SHORTS Wearing flouncy silk or chiffon material shorts is the closest you can get to wearing pajamas to a concert without looking ridiculous. Brandy Melville pairs are extremely comfortable and do not suffocate your legs in the summer heat.

They look great with a vintage band tee and strappy gladiator sandals that stop below the knee.

PALAZZO PANTS While skinny jeans can be too restricting, with palazzo pants, you can feel the breeze swish around your legs as you party it up to your favorite band. Because they’re so loose and wide-legged, you get the look of a maxi skirt, but with the flexibility of pants. A pair of high-waisted floral palazzo pants with a flared hem are deliciously retro. They look great with any type of crop top and comfortable wedge heel sandals.

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STYLE

AIN'T NO

REST FOR THE

WELL DRESSED

BY CHRISTIAN LOPEZ PHOTOGRAPHY BY MAGGIE MAIN

ARE YOU A PAJAMA GUY?

Or are you one of those who go to bed in exactly what you wore to the gym? For some of you, you catch your Z’s in your birthday suit, and depending on your workout plan, you might have the wrong gym. But, let’s say you do wear jammies—what kind are you wearing?

I have yet to see any sartorial sleepwear in the halls of my dormitory. I am, in a way, relieved I am not experiencing any FOMO as I’ve left all of my pajama suits at home in fear of ridicule from my peers, but mostly the frat lords. But, I contest, why aren’t the frat lords wearing pajama suits?

The way I see it, all collegiate affairs should begin in pajama suits, if not end in them. We must forego the gym wear, the nakedness, and put on some regalia that suggest more than to procreate (yet, I spit on those who think that pajama suits suggest the opposite of reproduction). Pajama suits may not exactly allude to more mini pajama suits, but they do suggest: I want to sleep here… as in, O-V-E-R. Slip not on a banana, but into some negligée and into your sheets.

This Christmas Eve, I received a text from my father that read: Did you want pajamas? Um… would I ever turn down a pajama suit? I have experienced 18 wonderful, pajama filled holidays.

I long for them. I was not aware that my 19th, my first year unhoused meant unclothed as well.

Everyone should rest seriously. As seriously as they would feel if they lost a year of Christmas Eve pajamas. Recognize the importance of being earnest in your relationship with your sheets and invest in them because good style never sleeps.

How do I take my rest seriously? How do I dress for my sheets, you catechize? I am not campaigning that you sell your third leg to afford a velvet robe à la Hugh Hefner, because your third leg is required to sport such a costume and you should never spend a dollar to get someone in bed.

I am urging you to indulge in how you sleep. Have a fiesta for your siesta. Brooks Brothers has not stopped selling PJ suits. Sleepy Jones can be an avenue for those who enjoy suits with patterns that are not a snooze fest, also providing sleeping boxers and knit tees alike. Shop H&M and J.Crew for sleeping joggers if you are the gym short sleeper reaper. And if you snooze in the nude, any clothing store can provide you with slumberland getup.

I have since received a pajama suit as a birthday gift from a dear friend and quickly forgotten the stigma that I should not wear my suit in fear of swirlies. How high school, I’m in Slumber College now.

Oh, and joke’s on you frat lords, I have never slept better.

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STYLE

THE S

Y S A E PEAK

0s 2 9 1 HE T M FRO Y A D O TO T

Y EMBL A R T A E AK ELS

BY CH CL AUDIA M Y SB PHOTO

LIVING

40

IN THE EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY,

it was believed that alcohol was tearing families apart, causing corruption, and increasing crime rates. The Anti-Saloon League and the Women’s Christian Temperance Union strongly advocated the ban of liquor, persuading others that it cultivated ungodly atmospheres and actions. The people complained, and the government listened.

On Jan. 16, 1919, the 18th amendment was ratified.

A year later, alcohol disappeared from the shelves completely.

Reverend Billy Sunday, a “dryist,” described this victory by saying, “The reign of tears is over. The slums will soon be a memory. We will turn our prisons into factories and our jails into storehouses and corncribs. Men will walk upright now, women will smile and children will laugh. Hell will be forever for rent.”

While he and other “dryists” rejoiced, bootleggers and mobsters united. Secret rooms were built. Deathly moonshine concoctions were brewed.

The speakeasy was born.

Technically, it was never illegal to consume alcohol during Prohibition. The amendment merely banned the manufacturing, transporting, and sale of alcohol. However, people’s home stashes dried up quickly, clearly leaving only one option: buying it illegally.

Speakeasies provided this market. Supposedly the term came from owners urging customers to “speak easy” about these illegal, secret locations. They came in all shapes and sizes; some were literally two chairs and a bottle of whiskey.

Others were more akin to upscale jazz clubs with live music and stage shows. One famous speakeasy, 21, in New York City, had a hidden wine cellar and mechanical bar that would disappear during police raids.

Recently, speakeasies have resurfaced around the country (without the charm of being arrested for going). There’s just something about crime—and the roaring ‘20s—that fascinates us. Perhaps it’s the allure of the glamorous lifestyle associated with rebellion. Perhaps it’s our love of recycling

what used to be in fashion. Boston joined this revival and you too can now experience the lite version of Prohibition. Simply take the red line to Davis Square and try finding Saloon.

Like traditional speakeasies, Saloon was not created to be easily discovered. Tucked beneath a sign for the Davis Square Theater, this bar is virtually undetectable. There is no sign or street side window looking into a crowded bar. There is only a doorman wearing a long peacoat, suspenders, and sporting a curled mustache.

Once you get past him, you are ushered through a door that couldn’t possibly lead to chic Boston nightlife. But at the end of that narrow hallway and dimly-lit staircase, there’s the loud hum of buzzed conversation and music. Oddly, it’s modern music, but I guess historical restoration can only go so far.

Late on a Saturday night, Saloon is packed from wall to wall. Shockingly, the attentive bartenders—also in suspenders—are quick to quench everyone's thirst. During Prohibition, the modern cocktail was born; where as it was popular to drink alcohol straight up before the 18th amendment, speakeasies popularized the use of mixers in order to mask the taste of their cheaply-made alcohol. Saloon reflects both of those styles with drinks like The Stranger (rye whiskey, Benedictine, and Green Chartreuse) and the Hamilton Daiquiri (white rum, maraschino liqueur, mint syrup, and lime).

During Prohibition, speakeasies did not cater to the lower class. Sneaking liquor was a risky and costly business, so patrons did not have the luxury of drinking for a bargain.

Saloon’s prices reflects these times: two cocktails will cost you about $30 with tip.

Although the interior screams bourgeoisie and highend flapper dresses, most people appeared to be in their midtwenties and were dressed rather casually. Some drank from tumblers garnished with mint sprigs or raisins, while others drank Colt-45 from cans. Saloon seemingly caters to anyone who is willing to pay for a drink—just like a true American speakeasy.

TURN TO THE NEXT PAGE TO LEARN HOW TO MAKE A CUSTOM COCKTAIL FROM SALOON

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LIVING

EGG WHITE

ANATOMY OF A

DEATH WISH

ANGOSTURA BITTERS

2 oz TEQUILA

3/4 oz RAISIN SYRUP

COURTESTY OF DERRICK, BARTENDER AT SALOON 1/2 oz LIME

1/2 oz MONTENEGRO AMARO

THE PECULIAR, BIZARRE SPECTACLE OF

BOSTON'S ETHER DOME

BY KYLE EDWARDS

SEVERAL MOMENTS in Boston’s storied past are a few

of the weirder anecdotes in Northeast United States history.

In 1919, a molasses tank burst on a blistering North End day, killing 21 and injuring 150. During the 19th century, surgeries were conducted before crowds at Massachusetts General Hospital. Dubbed the “Ether Dome,” the lesser known site has become the city’s strangest historic landmark.

Still located at MGH, the Ether Dome began as an medical theater between 1821 and 1867. Surgeons would perform operations before a regularly packed group of curious onlookers—a medical coliseum. This was before the advent of anesthesias; the challenge and reason for spectators was to see how quickly doctors could amputate a limb. Scottish surgeon Robert Liston was world renowned in the 19th century for his ability to saw off a leg in under three minutes.

During this time, ether was primarily used by socialites as a giggle-inducing narcotic. The only pain relief patients were offered was a chug of whiskey or a club to the head—a knockout blow. This was practiced until 1846 when Edward Abbott received ether vapors before a tumor was removed in his neck. A stunned audience observed William Morton

43

administer the drug and John Warren work on the unresponsive subject. Abbott reported no pain and medical history was made.

The Ether Dome is available to public view when it’s not hosting meetings and lectures. As was popular during the Antebellum era, the amphitheater was designed in a Greekrevival style. Its white walls, wooden floors, and staggering natural light—on a cloudless day—give the Ether Dome an antique aesthetic, transporting visitors to an earlier age.

Horror fanatics will appreciate its unsettling vibe. Art enthusiasts will marvel at a 19th century period oil painting made during a reenactment from 2000.

Also on display are early surgical tools, a complete skeleton, and an authentic mummy of Padihershef. The Egyptian artifact was donated to the hospital in 1823, and is on exhibit in its full, painted coffin. Anyone who has been to the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia can expect a similar experience.

The Ether Dome is open Monday through Friday between 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. Admission is free and the museum is easily accessible from the Red Line Charles/MGH T stop. 55 Fruit St., Boston, MA 02114

LIVING

PURE

[BARRE]

TORTURE

BY RIANA ODIN ILLUSTRATION BY CLAUDIA MAK

I HAVE NEVER BEEN

particularly susceptible to peer

pressure. Even though it meant stifling my high school social life,

she instructed everyone to tuck, press, or squeeze their seat, they

I wouldn’t hesitate to pass on the murky depths of a red Solo cup,

quickly complied. Over the weeks that I would return to this hellish

and sometimes even the parties themselves. Growing up, even my

nightmare, I would come to recognize its unique language—even if I

musical preferences could not be molded by my friends’ influences.

could not always get my body to understand it. To tuck is to squeeze

My iPod may have been filled with Top 40 songs like everyone else’s,

in your lower abs to the point where it juts your hips forward. A press

but with music from 30 to 40 years before the existence of Limewire

works the upper abs and is achieved by squeezing your core as if you

downloads and bewigged pop stars. Yet when my friends Annie

were about to receive a blow to the gut. To get the lengthened muscle

Loppert ‘16, a design technology major, and Paige McCarthy ‘16,

tone of a ballet dancer, Pure Barre has you complete hundreds of

a communication disorders major, pushed me to join their trendy

squats while standing on your tip-toes with hips tucked under while

workout class Pure Barre, I lost my usually steadfast footing.

grabbing the ballet barre mounted on the wall and leaning your up-

Maybe it was the dust gathering on my sneakers, or maybe

per body back fully. The seat, I should have guessed, is a euphemism

the Instagram Paige recently posted of her flawless six-pack abs that

for the butt I sat on for the many months before Pure Barre started

convinced me; either way, I found myself agreeing to test out a class.

kicking it.

To my credit, however, my efforts to resist were admirable.

The class is structured around four different areas of the body.

“I don’t want to pay for a class before I even know if I like it,”

After the brief warm-up, you complete a series of small, repetitive

I explained to Paige and Annie with feigned frugal regret. At a steep

movements for your arms and back, thighs, “seat,” and abs. The tran-

$23 per individual class or $100 for your first month of unlimited

sitions are fluid, allow no time for recovery, and never seem to occur

classes, I felt this a reasonable limitation for a college student. No

until a few minutes after you’re sure you will puke from the searing

fitness membership is cheap, but Pure Barre on Newbury Street—or

pain. That first class was so much of a whirlwind I was left without

at any of its locations— will make you sweat just looking at their

the strength to fake a smile at the instructor who asked about my ex-

pricing menu.

perience. I was aware of both Annie and Paige watching me with ex-

Lucky, or not, for me, Paige has earned the title of LTB girl.

pectant smiles, eager to gauge my reaction to the class Annie repeat-

The acronym stands for the Pure Barre motto “lift, tone, burn” and

edly assured me was “addicting.” The face I gave them assured her I

is the name of its student ambassadors. Considering the strength and

did not feel the same way. At least, not initially. After wobbling to

motivation needed to even take the class, let alone be noticeably pro-

the T, I pulled out my phone and tweeted, “Pure Barre is the devil.”

ficient at it, earning the title is a major accomplishment. For Paige,

Two days later I was laying in bed waiting for my body to re-

the title is a testament to her dedication and skill. For her friends, it

cover from the torture I put it through. Despite the lactic acid aches

means getting a free first class and a friendly face to help introduce

ravaging the better parts of me, the pull to return to Pure Barre was

the unique movements taught at Pure Barre. For me specifically, it

relentless. It’s a strange phenomenon to hate something so purely

meant the evaporation of the one legitimate reason I had to duck my

with every fiber of your being, literally, while also being drawn to it.

friends’ invites.

The intensity of the class earned my respect, and even though I was

As I took my place on the floor, I thought my suspicions

easily the most pitiful person in the class, I felt compelled to go again

about the group workout class were confirmed. Women of varying

and get better. I signed up for my first month of Pure Barre that day.

ages filled the studio in overpriced yoga clothing. As they stretched

After completing my first month, I can’t regard my relation-

and preened before the wall of mirrors, I noticed not one hand bare

ship with Pure Barre as having improved significantly from the first

of polish, and an abundance of glittering bangles, diamond rings,

painful class I endured. When asked, I still explain the experience

and blowouts. I never knew a real, worthwhile form of exercise that

of taking a class as the most torturous hour of fitness I have ever

allowed so much jewelry and makeup.

encountered. I continue to put myself through it, however, because

Moments after the double glass doors shut, sealing us in for the next hour, I understood my mistake.

even better than the physical improvements is the undeniable satisfaction of accomplishing something so challenging and so far out-

The instructor entered and put on a headset microphone

side of my comfort zone. My goal has always been to just finish the

similar to what you might see on a mega-church preacher. When

class, and struggling through each round of 60 minute masochism

she cranked the upbeat music, everyone leapt to their feet. When

has proven quite addictive. Just don’t try to get me to admit I like it.

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LIVING

AMORINO GELATO

BY LINDSEY GONZALEZ PHOTO BY KYLE KENNAN

SPRING HAD RELUCTANTLY SPRUNG in Boston, so I headed out to enjoy the warm weather.

Shopping my way down Newbury Street, I decided to stop at Amorino for a cold treat. I opened the door of the tiny café and my eyes widened, devouring the enticing display of creamy gelato. Perfectly whipped, it rested in large tubs inside a glass freezer. Like a child, I leaned over the clear case, mouth watering, trying to decide what flavors to choose.

Once I’d announced my order, a woman wrapped in a black apron with a matching chef ’s hat, scooped out dollops of decadent chocolate and smooth raspberry. Grasping a waffle cone with one hand, she brushed the gelato along its edges, shaping red and brown petals out of my chosen flavors.

I smiled as I took the cone from her, hesitating a moment before licking up one of the petals. The raspberry and chocolate melted in my mouth, as though I’d just bit into a rich chocolate truffle. I closed my eyes to better savor the taste. This was just what I needed.

Amorino’s Italian gelato made its way to Boston on March 26, when owner Léa Sasportes set up shop in Back Bay. Located on 249 Newbury Street, the small shop has seating for around 20 in a warm café setting. It’s the perfect place to escape from the summer heat by grabbing a cone with friends.

The intimate setting is also great for sharing a cup of gelato with a loved one.

The Boston location features 23 gelato varieties plus one specialty flavor each month. The store also sells a variety of teas, frappés, macarons, waffles, crêpes, breakfast items, and, in the warmer months, granitas, or Italian ice. But their signature flower-shaped scoop is a must for any first time buyers.

Although this store may be the first time many have tasted Amorino, this Newbury newcomer has a history as rich as its gelato. In 2002, childhood friends Cristiano Sereni and Paolo Benassi opened the first Amorino in the heart of Paris

47

on Ile St. Louis. In an effort to produce the best Italian gelato, Sereni and Benassi sought out natural and organic ingredients from reputable suppliers and oversaw every step of production.

Instantly, their product was a hit, and their shop became a hotspot during the Parisian summers. Stores began popping up all throughout the city, and today there are a total of 56 stores throughout France. Eventually, Amorino reached beyond French borders, establishing locations in a number of different European countries like Italy, Spain, and England.

More recently, Amorino has taken up roots in the United States, opening two stores in New York in 2011.

Currently, there are six US locations, with Boston being the newest addition, and Chicago planning to join the ranks in the coming months.

Even as the chain has traveled overseas, its emphasis on natural products and careful production remain at the forefront of the company. Founders Sereni and Benassi ensure their gelato is churned daily in a traditional Italian fashion under the watchful eye of trained chefs. The recipes they use allow the gelato to mature slowly, letting the flavor reach its full potential. The combination of fresh free-range organic eggs with the highest grade whole milk and the deletion of coloring agents and artificial flavors keeps Amorino’s gelato wholly authentic and absolutely delicious.

In order to ensure this quality in each of their shops, locally and internationally, Amorino has their products shipped to its stores. This way, customers can enjoy the same quality of gelato no matter where they decide to buy.

The Newbury Street location is open from 7:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. daily, with extended hours on the weekend. This authentic and delectable Italian gelato is sure to prove an irresistible summer treat.

LIVING

photography by chris garcia styling by haley sherif

modern love

DOMINIQUE CARRIERI+BECCA CHAIRIN

SHEFALI VASUDEVAN+AREN KABARAJIAN

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LIVING

51

LIVING

ALEX SMITH+KURT JOYCE

L ACI GREEN'S

“WE

need to stand up, we need to get serious. Let’s take action, let’s take down rape culture, ya’ll,” said Laci Green as she concluded her talk at Emerson College last April, with adoring applause from the audience and an anthem of encouragement. The 25-year-old stood at the podium beaming with her signature wide-frame glasses and dirty blond curls.

Taking down rape culture sounds like a daunting task. Green, however, has laid the groundwork and aims to inspire and educate people to become advocates of a culture of consensual and positive

SEXUAL EDUCATION

sex.

There didn’t use to be many places in the vast corners of the interweb where one could find videos about secret vagina facts, “MAGICAL MULTIPLE ORGASMS,” lesbian sex, the truth about “pulling out,” and labias, to become better educated (sex-ucated?).

Green changed that with the creation of her YouTube channel Sex+. She started making videos as early as 2008 when YouTube was uncharted territory. By 2012, the year after she graduated U.C. Berkeley, Green’s videos were getting over 100,000 views. Today Sex+ has 1,300,369 subscribers and receives thousands of views each day.

Green is also the star of MTV’s web series Braless.

“I was really driven to use the internet as a platform to have conversations with people about the things that I thought were im-

LEGACY

portant in the world,” Green said in her 2013 video “DRAW MY LIFE.” Her content ranges from creating a culture of consent, feminism, positive body image, relationships, gender and sexuality, to just having really good sex.

One can say her sensational web presence triggered, or at least helped, a positive sex revolution and has broken down the walls of “acceptable” sex talk. Her quirky humor and ingenuity has brought her deserved attention from the media and Internet users. The core of her audience is college-aged teens and young adults. Green has sparked a much needed public interest in sex education in public

BY JESSICA COLAROSSI

schools—or the lack thereof.

Time Magazine recently published an online series called “Why Schools Can’t Teach Sex Ed,” which cited Laci Green as a helpful resource for teens to seek information. The piece noted that

ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

54

“ALL THE THINGS I TALK ABOUT ARE REALLY PERSONAL TO ME AND THAT’S WHY I’M TALKING ABOUT THEM.”

I’M A FEMINIST… *gasp*” went viral last April when it was shared on social media and web-curation site Upworthy.

Laci received a certification in dating violence and rape crisis counseling from the state of California when she was 20 years old and graduated with a degree in legal studies with an emphasis on rape and sexual assault in 2011. According to her site, Green has spent over 10,000 hours working hands-on in the field including crisis counseling at a family violence resource center, serving on the ACLU's Board of Directors, working on various reproductive health campaigns, and initiated peer-led sexual education groups in bay area high schools. Her first job was with Planned Parenthood as a sex education vlogger. She was also a science writer and host for Discovery News from 2012-2014 and brought their YouTube channel to 1,000,000 subscribers. All the while, Green was posting YouTube videos on Sex+ every week. In 2012 Green also started giving discussions on college campuses, like the one she gave at Emerson, and is

nearly 80 percent of sexually active teens aged 15-17 had sex for the

continuing her tour across North America. Green spoke at over 30

first time with no formal sexual education. Studies have also found

colleges for sexual assault awareness month this April.

that 10 percent of young women who had their first sexual experience in their teenage years said it was not their choice.

“Knowing that there are people out there who felt as alone and isolated and confused, or without a place to get their questions

Green moved to California at the age of 12 and attended public high school in the San Francisco Bay Area which taught

answered, as I felt, is definitely my strongest motivation,” said Green.

“I want to be a resource for them.”

“abstinence only” sex education (though it is illegal in the state of

Green became the host of MTV's first original YouTube chan-

California, as it is in 21 other states). She experienced first-hand the

nel, Braless, in November 2014. The show examines gender, race, and

flaws in the education system and witnessed multiple forms of law

sexuality issues in pop culture. A prominent example she gave dur-

breaking as far as sexual health goes.

ing her campus discussion was Robin Thicke’s hit “Blurred Lines,”

“There were a lot of things that happened in my life...I’ve had a lot of experiences with really blatant misogyny and rape culture,” Green told me recently. “All the things I talk about are really personal to me and that’s why I’m talking about them.”

which is a song about sexually assaulting women and is considered controversial.

Green traced this idea of “sex commodification” to gender roles—which dictate how people of each gender should act and what

Recent CDC literature also showed that 43.9 percent of wom-

their place is within a society. People are taught from a young age

en have experienced some form of unwanted sexual violence that was

that sex is something that can be owed or earned. In traditional gen-

not rape and 23.4 percent of men have experienced the same. Public

der stereotyping, this can be translated to meaning a man feels en-

health experts agree both sexes need education on appropriate behav-

titled to sex from a woman. In reality, as Green explains, only a verbal

ior, education is necessary to create a culture of consent.

and enthusiastic “yes means yes”—this does not include silence and

“The main thing I try to encourage people to do is to be

is not valid if a person is impaired by drugs or alcohol.

aware, and then use that awareness, spread it and speak up about it.

“We need more people to be advocates,” said Green. “We are

Using your voice is the most important thing,” said Green. “There’s

gonna’ become the system, we are in training to be the system! So in

power in those voices and there’s power in numbers.”

order to change the systems we need to change it from the inside out.

In the past couple of years she has sprung up on ABC, Doctor Phil, Huffington Post, Atlantic Magazine and more. Her video “WHY

55

That starts with trying to get to people and trying to educate people before it’s too late.”

ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

A R

WHAT IS

LIZA WAGNER '18, VMA

What piece of art inspires you?

The “Runaway” music video by Kanye West. It’s a 30 minute music video for his entire album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. He stars in it, and did the cinematography as well.

What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?

The Breakfast Club is the movie that made me want to make movies. Because of it, I want to make a film about a group of strangers who are able to connect with each other emotionally. Watching The Breakfast Club is also the moment I realized I wanted to impact society through film.

What piece of art is extremely important to your life?

My dad once painted a scene of Heaven filled with a bunch of celebrities. It has been hanging in my house forever and to me it represents that creativity that has been present in my life since I was a child.

AS A COMMUNITY of aspiring artists, film-

makers, writers, painters, musicians, and actors, what we all have in common within Emerson’s community is an overwhelming desire to leave a mark upon the world, to communicate our souls through imagery, music, literature, and countless other mediums. In an attempt to understand how the work of other artists inspires the future generation of storytellers, I interviewed various members of the Emerson community to discover how and what art has inspired them. This is what they had to say.

MATT BENSON '18, VMA

What piece of art inspires you?

I am really inspired by the painting, Irises, by Van Gogh.

I think that it has the perfect shade of green and the contrast between light and dark is incredible. It shows emotion and movement, even though it’s a painting.

What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?

Hal Ashby’s 1971 film, Harold and Maude, is one of my top five favorite films. I love how the characters feel tremendous losses but still hold onto their morals, refusing to be corrupted by the sadness and troubles of the world.

What piece of art is extremely important to your life?

Wes Anderson’s Rushmore. I think it was probably the movie that inspired my whimsical, childlike, and wondrous style of filmmaking and has influenced exactly what I would like to portray in my own films. Like Ashby’s characters, those in Rushmore stay good-hearted even when they suffer so much.

They all have the heart to overcome the cynicism of the world.

ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

56

A R

PROFESSOR WENDY WALTERS, AFRICAN AMERICAN LITERATURE

What piece of art inspires you?

I’m inspired by Ralph Ellison’s great novel, Invisible Man, because the writing is so beautiful. Ellison captures an entire sweep of American history in gorgeous literary form. His novel reminds me of why I love both history and literature.

What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?

Claudia Rankine’s poetry book, Citizen: An American Lyric, locates the pain and trouble of our contemporary moment in poetic precision. Yet her work also reminds us that this is not a new story. Her book ends with two images of a painting from 1840, JMW Turner’s Slaveship.

What piece of art is extremely important in your life?

The above painting is important for me in the ways that contemporary black poets and novelists (such as Claudia Rankine and Michelle Cliff) have incorporated it into their own literary art. Slaveship is also in the permanent collection at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

BY CASSANDRA MARTINEZ

?

PAUL HOOVER '15, THEATRE STUDIES

What piece of art inspires you?

Needles and Opium, a theatrical performance written and directed by Robert Lepage. His work, this play in particular, inspires me because of his ability to take dazzling special effects far beyond the imagination of the common man and use them to tell a simple, true story that we can all relate to. As a theatre director, he fulfills his basic duty of storytelling in a larger-than-life way that is so uniquely his.

What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?

When I was in seventh grade I received the Queen Greatest Hits album for Christmas. Those tracks are some of the most listened to on my iPod today. Imagine if Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, and Handel decided to start a rock band: and you’ve got Queen. Each man in that band had the musical knowledge and the talent to rival those great composers, and they played right into the zeitgeist of their day.

What piece of art is extremely important to your life?

I think that the artistic medium of today is television. I’d say that Mad Men is one of the most important series in ushering in the platinum age of television. Very fitting that an homage to the past is such an important catalyst that has shown us just what TV is capable of today.

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ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

THE MEN ACES OF

(e m e r so n's r ap & hip- hop)

S OC I ET Y

BY CLAUDIA MAK PHOTOS BY CLAUDIA MAK

IN A CIT Y

where Michael Christmas is the only rapper who puts it on the map, one may wonder: where exactly are all the rappers in Boston?

Hiding in the depths of a Piano Row basement room, a group of students meet to discuss their organization’s goals, talk over the daily agenda, and, most importantly, spit some freestyles. Emerson’s Rap and Hip-Hop Society was only founded this year. A first of its kind: the Society crew meets weekly to discuss hip-hop and offer critique to each other’s raps. Founders Carlyle Thomes ‘15 and Sean Clampett ‘15 sought to create a group where rappers, producers, and rap enthusiasts could find a home at Emerson.

“The fact that there were four or five a capella groups and no rap or hip-hop groups [at Emerson] surprised me.

I would see people standing in circles freestyling at parties so I knew there had to be other people on campus that would join and be down for the cause,” says Clampett.

Thomes shared the same sentiments and was completely on board when Sean came to him with the idea, “We knew the school was filled with talented artists and we wanted to bring rappers together in order to make connections, improve our skills, and just enjoy hip-hop music.”

The organization has grown in all sorts of ways since last semester, but primarily in the members’ rapping abilities.

“It’s amazing that in a two-month span you could notice improvement from everybody, especially the younger guys. Before they were nervous to freestyle in front of 10 people, but now by the end of second semester people are jumping in and wanting to be the first to go,” says Clampett.

“It’s a judgment-free zone so if you freestyle a whole verse about Pokémon, or repeat words for a few lines, or even stop and start over, there’s no looking down upon anyone for doing any of that,” says Clampett.

As the co-founders approach graduation, they have shared what they expect the future of Society should be with the younger members. To name a few, SGA recognition, booking performance spaces on campus, and inviting more people to join at organization fairs would help Society grow into permanence at Emerson.

“I want Society to really grow into a well-respected, recognized organization at the college. I think Sean and I have formed a good base for the other members to build off of, and I expect them to really make Society into something important. I think the possibilities for the group are endless once it extends to more of the Emerson community,” says Thomes.

Society definitely implicates an expansion of the rap scene at Emerson and, with its exponential growth and the music coming out of the organization, it could even help the Boston rap scene grow.

“By bringing artists from all over the country and world together, the variety of sounds coming out of the group could begin to define a sound for rap music in this city. For now it is only at Emerson, but in the future I would want to see Society’s artists expanding their reach throughout the entire city, and giving Emerson and Boston a hip-hop/rap scene that has been lacking up until now,” says Thomes.

So could Society help bring Boston to the forefront of the national rap scene? Very possibly so, but until then, these hooligans will keep the breadth of their raps to the basement, patiently waiting to pounce on Boston at a decisive moment.

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ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

HANDS BEHIND THE BANDS

EDC NEW YORK

WHAT: This festival is held in the MetLife Stadium, and it’s described as a “twenty-first century carnival”—basically, it’s all six senses intensified. With dance/EDM/dubstep style music, light shows, art displays, carnival rides, and paid dancers and performers, it’s great for someone who wants to go wild for two days straight.

WHEN: May 23 & 24 WHERE: MetLife Stadium, East Rutherford, New Jersey BIGGEST NAMES: Bassnectar, Benny Benassi, Calvin Harris, Kaskade, Tiesto, Umek GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $229 VOLUNTEERING: You can email volunteers@insomniac. com for volunteer information. Make sure to specify you’re inquiring about the New York festival, because there are multiple EDC festivals across the U.S.

BY KATJA VUJIĆ PHOTO BY CHRIS GARCIA

Summer is almost here, which also means that festival season is upon us. If there’s one summer activity that is universally loved and appreciated, it’s music festivals. Music festivals unite groups of people in a unique way and foster a community connected by mutual love of live music. However, not all of us have hundreds to shell out on tickets.

That’s where volunteering comes in! Most festivals offer free admission to volunteers, and it’s a great option for anyone who loves music but can’t afford the festival lifestyle.

ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

GRANITE STATE MUSIC FESTIVAL

WHAT: This festival functions as a nonprofit organization that raises money for music and arts related efforts in the state of New Hampshire—it was founded by a group of local musicians and music fans. Featuring local music, an artisan marketplace, and a solar powered beer garden, it’s a great festival for a great cause. You can’t camp on the actual festival grounds, but there are plenty of nearby campgrounds to choose from, as well as a varied selection of nearby hotels.

WHEN: June 20 & June 21 WHERE: Concord, New Hampshire BIGGEST NAMES: The lineup is unannounced, but it’ll include “local and national musicians.”

GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $40 IN ADVANCE, $60 AT THE GATE VOLUNTEERING: Volunteers will work in 2-3 hour shifts and receive free admission; you can go to http://nhgsa.com/ volunteergranite-state-music-festival/ or email the volunteer coordinator, Lisa Jackson at lisa@nhgsa.com

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NEWPORT FOLK FESTIVAL

SOLID SOUND FESTIVAL

THE FRENDLY GATHERING

GATHERING OF THE VIBES

WHAT: The Newport Folk Festival is pretty historically significant—it was first founded in 1959 and has continued to grow ever since. It’s been really prominent within the folk music scene, although it now incorporates genres like indie, rock, and reggae, too. They’ve got a great mix of tradition and innovation, and the Newport Folk Festival Foundation is run as a nonprofit to benefit music education and collaboration.

You can’t camp on the grounds, but there are campgrounds available nearby, and of course plenty of hotels.

WHEN: July 24-26 WHERE: Fort Adams, Newport, Rhode Island BIGGEST NAMES: Iron & Wine, Brandi Carlile, Shakey Graves, Sturgill Simpson, First Aid Kit GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: UNAVAILABLE VOLUNTEERING: You can email Lauren Carson at lcarson@cleanwater.org for volunteering information.

WHAT: Solid Sound is all about the nature and the music.

They have a campsite of their own for a cost, and there are also hotels and state campsites nearby. You can come and go at your leisure as long as your wristband stays on, and attendees can also enjoy art installations!

WHEN: June 26-28 WHERE: North Adams, Massachusetts BIGGEST NAMES: Wilco, Shabazz Palaces, Charles Lloyd Quartet, Taj Mahal, Mac Demarco, Real Estate GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $149 VOLUNTEERING: You can fill out a volunteer form on the Solid Sound website. You’ll work either one 10-hour shift or two 5-hour shifts over the course of the festival in exchange for free admission and a cool T-shirt!

WHAT: The Frendly Gathering is best described as the most Vermont festival you could imagine. Camping is allowed and encouraged, as is sustainability and respect for the environment as well as other festival attendees. It’s a BYOB event, though they don’t allow glass bottles in order to protect bare feet. The festival is based around the “10 Anchors of Frendship”: passion, mutual accountability, collaboration, humility, honesty, integrity, inclusivity, selflessness, revelry, and respect. Needless to say, the vibe of the music is decidedly indie.

WHEN: June 26 & 27 WHERE: Timber Ridge, Vermont BIGGEST NAMES: Mac Demarco, Twiddle, Valerie June, Spirit Family Reunion, Sleepy Man, Rob Garza, Moon Hooch GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $139 VOLUNTEERING: You can fill out a volunteer form on the Frendly Gathering website at http://www.frendlygathering. com/volunteer/. They require a $75 deposit, which will be refunded post-festival, and you’ll be assigned to a crew with a specific job. There will be volunteer training to attend.

WHAT: Gathering of the Vibes started twenty years ago as “Deadhead Heaven—a Gathering of the Tribe.” It was founded after Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead died and basically started as a void filler that grew into a really cool music festival. Camping and hotels are both available, and it has the same environmentally conscious and respectful values as many of the more camping-based festivals.

WHEN: July 30-August 2 WHERE: Bridgeport, Connecticut BIGGEST NAMES: Wilco, Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals, Weezer, The String Cheese Incident GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $225 VOLUNTEERING: You can fill out a volunteer form on the festival website, but volunteer spots are limited because festival employees and volunteers tend to keep coming back every year. They recommend that you purchase a ticket before applying, which will be refunded if you are chosen for the job.

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ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

BUT WHAT ABOUT BOISE? A REVIEW OF CITY BY CITY, EDITED BY KEITH GESSEN AND STEPHEN SQUIBB

BY MATT MULLEN ILLUSTRATION BY PIMPLOY PHONGSIRIVECH

ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

62

n+1, the Brooklyn-based quarterly journal of culture, politics, and literature was named for an algebraic expression of redundancy: N+1, meaning when a system fails, there is a backup in place. Founding editor Chad Harbach elaborated to Harvard Magazine in 2010: “Keith [Gessen, another founding editor] and I were talking, and he kept saying, ‘Why would we start a magazine when there are already so many out there?’ And I said, jokingly, ‘N+1’—whatever exists, there is always something vital that has to be added or we wouldn’t feel anything lacking in this world.”

The idea of redundancy is interesting when considering the journal’s newest collection of essays, some of which originally appeared on the n+1 pages. The essays in City by City explore the past, present, and future of cities across the nation, ranging from Fresno to Boise to Atlanta. Why redundancy?

Because this book is the opposite of redundant: it is a needed, practically exhilarating voice in a cultural conversation that has a habit of dismissing the states (and cities) in between New York and California.

The premise for City by City is simple: one essay about one city. Subtle and shape-shifting, the pieces blend the personal and historical, the theoretical and the anecdotal. They are part memoir, part travelogue, and part—the introduction notes—Depression-era WPA guide. Many, for me, were an introduction to places that previously existed as nothing more than points on a map. (Growing up outside New York City, I thought Pennsylvania was the Midwest). I had never even heard of Williston, North Dakota, but now I can tell you about the hydrofracking situation there. These essays give us context: we learn how Fresno came to be, why Atlanta's traffic is so bad, and about Milwaukee’s socialist past, among myriad

63

other things. Don’t mistake this for an American studies textbook—many of the essays here are intimate, sometimes even confessional. But all are thoroughly researched and educative in spirit. You can think of City by City as a shrewd local—say, your cool older cousin—taking you by the arm and giving you a tour of his neighborhood, eager to point out the good and the not-so-good alike.

Indeed, all of the essays were written by those who were either raised in, spent significant time in, or currently live in the city at hand. This alone does not lend the work authenticity; rather these writers are forceful and searing in their observations. Take this evocative passage from Simone Landon’s “Saving Detroit:” “Rust is the metaphor most often used to describe Detroit’s extinct industry, and the rust really does tinge even the muntins of the windows of the shattered parts factories, their panes long since smashed. But on the blocks and blocks of once-residential city streets, the deterioration is due less to rust than to char: dozens of blighted, burned-out houses lost to neglect or arson, the rest on the brink of catching fire.”

The authors in this collection are not only geographically diverse but distinct in their voices and styles, making the entire reading sensation pleasantly chaotic. Of course, some pieces stand out more than others. Boston’s chapter, an interview with Steve Meacham, a community organizer who focuses on housing, felt preachy and exasperated at times. Some essays, and their cities, quickly slipped through the cracks of my memory. But no matter. Taken as a whole, City by City is a meandering, thought-provoking road trip through parts both known and unknown.

City by City, out May 12 from n+1 / Faber and Faber

ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT

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しまった！右から左へお読みください。

Pauline Hevia Editorial Stylist

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Christabel Frye Arts + Entertainment Editor

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卒業生、 さようなら！ファッション撮影会

MAY 2015

PLEASE READ FROM RIGHT TO LEFT!

FEATURING PHOTOGRAPHY BY NYDIA HARTONO MAKEUP BY PERI LAPIDUS