Your Magazine Volume 14 Issue 2: November 2020

YOUR MAG

VOLUME 14 | ISSUE 2 | NOVEMBER 2020

CONTENTS ROMANCE 3 WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOUR BOYFRIEND...

EDITORIAL STYLE

EDITORIAL LIVING

EDITORIAL ARTS & ENTERTAIMENT

YM ADVISES Y.MP3 ARTIST STATEMENT

5 7 9 11 19 21 23 25 27 35 37 39 41 43 51 53 55 57 59 61 63

WE JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN...DAMENTAL RIGHTS A SCOOTER TOOK MY VIRGINITY WHY SO INTOXICATING? OUT OF MIND MAKE IT YOURSELF EVERYTHING’S COMING UP ROSES FASHION FLUIDITY FASHION FOMO WAX A POCKET OF MEMORIES FINDING MY COMMUNITY TIME’S UP, BOOMERS INDIE INK HEAVEN SENT CONCERTS FROM YOUR COUCH THAT’S ALL, FOLKS! SHE’S EATING BOYS BRAVO’S RECKONING WITH RACISM OUR BEST THRIFTS POLITICAL ANGER JALYN COX

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1 | YOURMAG

EDITOR’S

YOUR Mag

letter

VOLUME 14 | ISSUE 2 | NOVEMBER 2020

LILLIAN COHEN

LILY WALSH

TALIA SMITH

MADISON DOUGLAS

MARIANNA REYES

TATIANA GUEL

OLIVIA CIGLIANO

MARIANNA REYES

AMANDA HAMPTON

ILEANA PEREZ

Co-Creative Director

Editor-in-Chief

Co-Creative Director

Managing Editor

S

Co-Head Designer

Romance Editor

Co-Head Designer

Style Editor

Assistant Designer

A&E Editor

MARYCATHERINE NEAL EMILY KING Living Editor

Photo Director

TIFFANY CARBON

PALLAS HAYES

JESS FERGUSON

NATASHA ARNOWITZ

ALLISON HUGHES

RICKI KALAYCI

SHAWNA KONIECZNY

ELOISA DE FARIAS

KATIE POWERS

LAUREN DILLOW

NEEKA BOROUMANDI

DELANEY BAILEY

LAURA PHILIPS

JULIA MALLON

Assistant Photo Director

Web Director

Art Director

Co-Copy Chief

Assistant Art Director

Co-Copy Chief

Editorial Director

Co-Head Proofreader

Style Director

Co-Head Proofreader

Co-Social Media Director

Marketing Director

Co-Social Media Director

YMTV Director

RANA SAIFI Talent Manager

COPY EDITORS: CATE HAYES, MEHER GUPTA, ALLISON CARAVELLA, MADELYN

MULREANEY,

THOMAS

GARBACK,

KATE

HEALY,

CHARLOTTE DRUMMOND, LEX GARCIA-RUIZ, ANDREA MÉNDEZ, LEISSA ROMULUS DESIGNERS: GABRIELA

AINSLEY

BASIC,

PORTUGAL,

MADELYN

ANA

HALEY

MULREANEY,

HEIN,

BROWN,

SEREN

CHLOE

LILIANA

CHO,

WILLIAMS,

FERNANDEZ,

SHERRY

MA,

TOBY LICHTENWALTER PROOFREADERS: KAITLYN

FEHR,

REBECCA

LETTS,

MARYCATHERINE

CAMILA

ARJONA,

KATE MADELYN NEAL,

CHARLOTTE

HEALY,

MULREANEY,

AMARIS

DRUMMOND,

CHRISTINA

RAMIREZ,

HORACIO,

FIONA

MURPHY,

KATIE

REDEFER,

ometimes it feels like nothing is new anymore.

We’re living in the age of popularized nostalgia.

Big vintage sweaters with boyfriend jeans. Small sunglasses and butterfly clips. Saved by the Bell. Lizzie McGuire. The Hills. It’s like we’re stuck in an endless feedback loop of the past.

Maybe it’s because we spent so much time this summer holed up in our childhood bedrooms with nothing but Netflix. Maybe it’s because the only activity options seemed to be embroidering old clothes, feeding sourdough starters, and playing Animal Crossing on our Nintendos. It’s hard to move forward when the future is so uncertain. Our mental health is thrown for a loop and we try to make sense of the world through blurry vision. So we lean on what we know. It’s comfortable.

It’s reliable. Like our favorite pair of jeans. And that’s not always a bad thing.

In this issue, Laura Philips dissects why series finales make us so emotional [page 52], having to say goodbye. Christina Horacio explains why we idealize toxic relationships like Carrie and Big in older favs like Sex in the City [page 10]. Our Executive Board recommends their favorite thrift finds in YM Advises [page 58], the section a blast from the in and of itself.

For this issue, we’re going back to our roots and reviving the single-copy semester print that stood as the standard for seven years, unable to guarantee a spring semester to distribute larger copies. And that’s scary.

The unknown. But we’ll take familiar comfort in our snug and perfect 7’x10’ magazines, hugging them extra close to our chest while miles away from Boston during the uncertain months on our horizon.

With love,

JESSICA ROSS

YOURMAG | 2

What Happens When Your Boyfriend is Your Business ParTner WRITTEN BY JESSICA APATOW ART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

3 | ROMANCE

O

f course I thought it was a beautiful idea to work on a creative business venture with my boyfriend (who is now my ex). As the saying goes, you will never work a day in your life when you do something you love, and in this case, with someone you love. While I had never experienced this, I went into it as if I were a pro. I soon realized I knew nothing.

I’ve always wanted to be with someone who never shuts up about their passions until it starts to drive me crazy. Usually, I find these people in the entertainment industry, which is luckily the field I’m striving to work in. Both of my previous relationships were with people who were so invested in their careers that I was surprised to be let into their lives. As a passionate person myself, I longed to work with these talented individuals. I constantly asked my first boyfriend to collaborate with me on a creative endeavor, but he never wanted to. He didn’t want to feel like being with me was work time. While it was sweet, I didn’t comprehend it at the time. Now I understand exactly what he meant.

At the start of my next relationship, I was working as a producer for a stand-up show my boyfriend co-created and co-hosted. The arrangement fell into my lap too quickly for me to think about it. We were working together, and there was an attraction that was hard to deny. Our romantic relationship was real, and the stand-up show was something fun we were both lucky enough to make happen together. As a couple, we felt unstoppable, and this feeling reflected in our work. I was oblivious to the fact that this feeling could change, but it quickly did.

I soon realized our honeymoon phase was coming to a close, and the stand-up show was taking precedence over our relationship. The love felt like it had to be scheduled, and I began to feel forgotten.

I watched our relationship become a part of his business life. In the summer of 2019, we both had internships in Los Angeles. While we were there, we

decided to host our stand-up show with one of the guys we worked with.

It seemed like everywhere we went, everything we did was for the show. Even times that were supposed to be “dates” became us going to see stand-up shows to get ideas. When we were home, we watched sets of those whose shows we couldn’t make it to. I was annoyed every day. In the times that weren’t related to business, it was clear his mind was elsewhere. I was anxiously begging for him to be in the moment with me, which is pretty ironic, since I definitely wasn’t in the moment, either. I was desperately waiting for our passion to reappear out of thin air. This became a theme in our relationship: the way he fell more in love with the show, and I fell out of love with him.

At the time, I didn’t want to come to terms with the problem; I just knew I was sad. I managed not to see what was in front of me because in the back of my mind, I knew it would hurt too much to face it.

I couldn’t bring myself to admit, or even realize, that it was because of the new reality of our relationship.

It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to notice.

He worshiped his work, which I admire, but suddenly it was hard for me to be proud of the show because it felt like it was his other girlfriend. This seemed like a ridiculous notion, so I attempted to tuck the feelings away. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t proud of the strides we made. The times not revolving around a business venture were so precious and freeing for me, but became so few and far between that I couldn’t hold on anymore.

A relationship is its own entity. It cannot feed off of a third party, which in our case was the stand-up show. It’s crazy to think a show meant to make people laugh constantly brought me to tears. The power of a relationship lies in the hands of the people in it.

I thought I knew this, but it was hard to acknowledge my boyfriend had a more romantic relationship with a business than he had with me. YM

ROMANCE | 4

5 | ROMANCE

WE JUST WANT TO HAVE

FUN...DAMENTAL RIGHTS

WRITTEN BY MARIANNA POLETTI REYES PHOTOGRAPHED BY XINYI XU

W

ho knew 2020 would be the year where we would not only be fighting for our lives during a pandemic, but also fighting for our fundamental rights as humans? With the Affordable Care Act on the line during the 2020 election, uterus owners from all over the United States are rushing to gynecologists in fear of the future inability to afford birth control, have abortions, and afford medical care with either planned or unplanned child births.

The stigma behind birth control has shifted throughout the years, as both the benefits of contraception and the number of people taking the initiative to prevent teen pregnancies has increased. We are also living in a time where there are many birth control options that are more effective and have fewer side effects than before. One of the top methods of birth control is the intrauterine device (IUD). The IUD is a T-shaped device that is inserted into the uterus and can last up to 10 years without being removed.

Not only does it prevent pregnancy, but it also regulates hormones and periods, provides contraception for those with difficulty with the oestrogen hormone in pills, and can be removed easily by a doctor at any time. The cost of this contraceptive and other forms of birth control ranges from $0 to $50 per yearly dosage with medical insurance and $500 to $1,300 without medical insurance under the Affordable Care Act. “How is this happening in a developed ‘free’ country?” an advocate for global reform says. “The amount of social media posts I’ve seen of women and people fearing for their life and warning others to stock up on birth control and reproductive health care material all started after RGB passed away and the Supreme Court seat was at stake. I am very scared for women and those with a uterus.”

During the 2020 debate, candidate Joe Biden explained that after the death of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and the nomination of Amy Coney Barrett, the Roe v. Wade decision could be overturned and is on the ballot during the elections, despite President Trump’s refusal to accept it.

“I like to try to keep a positive outlook on the future because I believe that we’re fighting for a better world,” political communication major Alexa Bodner says. “If Trump does win, I would say I would be very, very scared for the future of women’s rights.”

People are not going to stop having sex, and 98 percent of those sexually active in the United States use birth control. Therefore, if abortions become illegal in every state after the elections, and people will be forced to use contraceptives to prevent unwanted pregnancies, how is the removal of arguably the most important health care reform since 1965 even an option? All human beings, no matter how they identify, deserve the chance to have affordable options when it comes to taking control of their bodies. YM ROMANCE | 6

A Scooter Took My Virginity M

y first time having sex was with my boyfriend, and I was expecting to bleed a lot. From my mother and other sources I had looked up, I had been taught that when you lose your virginity as a woman, your hymen (a thin tissue that covers the vaginal opening) would break and you’d consequently bleed. However, the multiple towels that I placed on the bed underneath us ended up being completely unnecessary. Not only did I not bleed, but I also felt barely any pain or discomfort signifying that my hymen had ripped, which led me to believe I had tore it years ago.

I have a distinct memory from my childhood of riding a scooter around my daycare when I was about eight. I had been balancing on one leg until I inevitably fell. I remember that “down there” hurt more than my scraped hands and knees, and even bled a bit.

Looking back, I’m quite certain that I tore my hymen then from falling on the scooter. But in a society where a woman’s virginity is thought to be physically indicated by if her hymen is intact, and whoever tears it open “takes” her virginity, wouldn’t that mean that the scooter that tore my hymen in turn took my virginity?

If this sounds ridiculous to you, it’s because it is.

The very concept of virginity being connected to the hymen is pointless. To use the hymen as an indicator of sexual activity is to ignore the fact that many vagina-owners can tear them at any point in their lives from doing things completely unrelated to sex.

A hymen can be torn by tampons, intense exercise, or, as in my case, riding a scooter or bike. Some women can even be born without a hymen or with very little tissue. This renders the whole idea of the hymen as a signifier of purity untrue.

7 | ROMANCE

This connection between the hymen and virginity is often used as a way to scare women into waiting to have sex until their marriage. If a woman didn’t bleed after penetration, her husband could determine she was not indeed a virgin. This ideology typically tied to religion is used to confine women to a specific set of expectations that may simply not be anatomically possible for them. Shaming women for having torn their hymen one way or another is intrinsically shaming women for not fulfilling the patriarchal standards society pushes on them.

Even the concept of virginity itself is something that has been manipulated by these standards.

The loss of one’s virginity is often regarded as after the point when someone first engages in sexual intercourse (which is most commonly defined as penetration). While for some people, penetrative sex may be what they consider their “first time,” first sexual encounters can look very different for different individuals. Virginity cannot be tied to the event of first penetration because not everyone has sex that way, and not everyone would chose to identify a certain point in time as the “loss” of virginity. Thus, if we cannot connect virginity with a specific event or part of the human sexual experience because of everyone’s different interpretations of it, it’s fair to say that virginity is simply a social construct.

Dr. Jane Fleishman, a sexuality professional from Massachusetts, says that she is wary of even using the term virginity. She prefers to use the term “sexual debut,” so as to include all first sexual experiences.

To limit sexual debuts to penetrative sex is to completely disregard the validity of oral sex or other sexual interactions. Dr. Fleishman says that “Historically, virginity has been a term that has been used… as a

WRITTEN BY GEORGIA HOWE ART BY MADELYN MULREANEY

prescriptive term for heteronormative sex for centuries.

For these reasons, I find the term difficult at best.”

A singular definition of sexual debuts excludes many’s experiences.

When interviewing some Emerson students about their own definition of virginity and first sexual experiences, I was not surprised to find that everyone’s answer varied. While some students defined virginity as their first act of intercourse, others argued that virginity doesn’t exist. One Emerson student, who would prefer to remain anonymous, didn’t consider her sexual debut having sex as when she lost her virginity. “I would say that my first time was with my ex-girlfriend…I did all the work and she finished, but I never did. So I wouldn’t count that as me losing my virginity,” she says. So, for some individuals, the loss of virginity is tied to the achievement of an orgasm.

On the other hand, Orly Morris, a freshman who identifies as bisexual, says,“I don’t believe in virginity.

I think it’s a social construct because sex is whatever you believe it is.” She also explains that she never really had a definite moment where she felt like she wasn’t a virgin anymore, but rather acknowledged that she’s

shared an intimate experience with someone else.

The toxicity of the concept of virginity can come into play when it is used to try to invalidate the sexual experiences of others. Another problem with virginity that Emerson freshman Isabel Degrandi brought up is that “There’s a whole concept of I’m either giving something to somebody or somebody’s taking something from me.” To refer to virginity in terms like “given,” “lost,” or “taken” suggests that it is a tangible thing that determines the wholeness of a person.

Putting so much value in the idea of virginity allows others to try to reference it to exert power or discredit sexualities.

First times in media can be highly romanticized, seeming like a life-changing moment. But this oftentimes not the case in real life; the level of significance associated with sexual debuts is different for everyone. The social construct of virginity imposes a number of expectations (hymen-related or otherwise) that we are expected to accept, but sexual experience is ultimately up to your own interpretation. Confining everyone to one universal definition of virginity is as ridiculous as saying a scooter took mine. YM ROMANCE | 8

Why So Intoxicating?

WRITTEN BY CHRISTINA HORACIO

ART BY REBEKAH CZUKOSKI

9 | ROMANCE

I

was watching an episode of Sex and The City when I had a thought: why do we root for Carrie and Big? Their relationship is evidently toxic. He screws her over just about a million times—i.e. not being able to commit, constantly playing mind games, and even leaving her at the altar. However, they reconcile each time, and we celebrate. We celebrate in spite of seeing Carrie suffer at the hands of Big. We celebrate, even though we all sympathized when she yelled tearfully “[if this is love] why does it hurt so f****** much?”

We still yearn for her to get right back into the mousetrap that is Mr. Big’s arms.

The idolized relationship between Carrie and Mr. Big is hardly the only one of its kind. There are always going to be people pining for a Ross and Rachel, Chuck and Blair, or Damon and Elena type of love—despite the cheating, the constant breaking up, and the “we were on a break”s. But what makes us love seeing these romances—the good, the bad, and apparently the ugly?

Dr. Daniel de Paula Valentim Hutchins, an Emerson professor specializing in love and eroticism in western culture, has a valid answer to this question.

“People like gossip and drama. In terms of ‘the media’ in particular, their job is to create interest and attract eyeballs. Few things do that more than public relationships with clear problems…It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Hutchins says.

There is something so accurate about describing these couples as the gift that keeps on giving. Drama is always to be expected, and that’s what keeps us intrigued. I think it’s fair to say to many fans, this drama is what makes them consider these romances to be so “epic” in nature. We see two partners who have a complicated relationship; two people who have been through a lot with one another. For some reason, this seems to excuse the toxicity of it all for us. And this led me to my next thought: does this mirror the reasoning behind getting entangled in these types of toxic relationships in real life? The answer seems to be yes.

“I think there is an obsession with the unattainable…that completely saturates every aspect

of our civilization…You can’t have people happy with what they have in a capitalist system…You need people buying things, buying into advertising, striving, aspiring, always hoping for something better…

But there’s this idea that you can never settle for what you already have; never have enough—I imagine that also translates into relationships,” Hutchins says.

We are no strangers to the desire of wanting what we can’t have. It’s practically been taught to us. So it’s not so far off to say—as Hutchins suggests—that this mindset can translate into relationships. It all comes down to the excitement of it all. I think a lot of us crave that same thrill we get when we watch or read about these toxic romances. Perhaps we also want the thrill and drama of chasing someone so unattainable.

I have consistently found myself going after the unattainable while witnessing many do the same.

And the funny thing is, when the chase loses its thrill, we end the pursuit, which begs the question: was the thrill the main source of fulfillment, rather than the person we were chasing? However, the craving for this excitement can’t possibly be enough to keep us going despite the pain that can evidently come along with this pursuit. Or can it? Maybe, as Carrie Bradshaw proposes, we are addicted to the feeling of “the exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable.”

If that is true, doesn’t it all come back to loving the drama—which must undoubtedly include pain— that is chasing someone so very out of reach?

When I reached the end of the episode, Carrie Bradshaw left me with this: “I was the real sadist.

He might have been the one with the whip, but I was the one who tied myself up.” As infuriating a thought that it is, perhaps we are responsible for the pain we experience at the hands of our own Mr. Big. After all, we keep on playing, despite knowing very well that the odds were not in our favor.

I decided that whatever or whoever is to blame for our distorted view about what makes an “epic love,” or what we want in a romantic partner does not matter. We deserve better. And it ought to be time that we claim it. YM

ROMANCE | 10

DIRECTED AND PHOTOGRAPHED BY LILY WALSH MODELED BY MATT SALORT

make it yourself WRITTEN BY ELOISA DE FARIAS PHOTOGRAPHED BY ELIZABETH APPLE

19 | STYLE

Q

uarantine has made me fall in love with embroidering. When I first got home in March, I picked up a hobby sewing dainty flowers at the edge of my shirts, and soon enough everything in my closet had something embroidered on it. I embroidered Frog and Toad, Casper the Friendly Ghost, and lots of chickens. Amidst a pandemic, shopping became significantly difficult. Shopping online was the only option when going out wasn’t feasible, not to mention the cost of shopping when you don’t have a job. I soon found that making my own original pieces was the way to go. Originality and fashion are intrinsically connected in one way or another, so making your own pieces further delves into that individuality.

Making your own fashion pieces can mean many things, clothing, accessories, or jewelry. For Elizabeth Apple ‘22, making earrings out of polymer clay has been her go-to this summer. Although she’s made earrings for fun since she was a small child, the pandemic helped mold her happy hobby into a business where Apple can share her customized projects as well as make money. Her business, “Earrings By Elizabeth,” that she began on Instagram (@earringsbyelizabeth), has been a perfect way to share her appreciation for individuality within fashion.

“I think when you create your own jewelry or items that you can wear, they give you a better appreciation for handcrafted things in general, especially artisan related products that you see on Etsy for example,” says Apple. “Someone spent a lot of time, effort, and love into making different handmade jewelry, and personally that’s what I feel is so special about it. When I wear jewelry that I’ve made, or when I see someone else wearing jewelry that I’ve made for them, there’s this great sense of connection and community.”

“Holding onto something you know someone made especially for you holds a whole other dimension of meaning. In comparison to buying a product in stores that was mass made, having something that only exists for you makes you trendier on a much more personal level.”

“I think fashion and personality are largely connected,” Apple notes. “I have great respect for

fashion designers, entrepreneurs, and even the average person who puts together unique outfits because they understand their style so much that they can create their own clothing pieces—like how amazing is that? When you have originality in your outfit or in your style, it’s a reflection of yourself as an authentic person.”

While Apple sits at her kitchen table with her big box of crafts supplies, she is a gateway for many individuals looking to make their outfits a tinge more original. Making your own piece is not only a reflection of inventiveness, but it’s also sustainable. It’s always better to make your own things rather than buy from a big company. The process of making your personal item can also teach you about a variety of things.

“It’s an opportunity to try new things and put your name out there. If you’re looking for a side hustle to help with funds, the way I finally was motivated to start my earring business was with COVID-19, I couldn’t go outside. I couldn’t get a job.

I needed some money for the summer,” says Apple.

“It was a great way to combine all my talents into one, and let me explore more of my talents without a stressful environment. It led to me taking more action for myself to get the business off the ground.

That meant I was watching YouTube videos, reading articles, understanding marketing, photography, pricing, connection, all those business-y aspects.”

To Apple’s point, making your own fashion pieces and accessories has been trending on marketing apps such as Etsy and Depop. With the rise of social media apps, such as Tik Tok, society is becoming more aware of the hazardous repercussions of fast fashion.

Of course, this realization has also led to shining a light on small creators who make unique, sustainable pieces. All of a sudden having something that is custom and different from everyone else has become trendy. This change in dialogue within the fashion world comes largely from the way the pandemic has shaped fashion. With COVID-19 affecting how much we make at work, as well as limiting the places we can shop, individuals have turned to making it themselves.

Creators such as Apple are the pioneers of such trends.

These artists are teaching us that there is magic in individuality and fashion, a powerful intersection. YM

STYLE | 20

Everything’s coming up roses

WRITTEN BY ALEJANDRA CUELLAR ART BY ZACH BURGESS 21 | STYLE

F

or most of us, if we found ourselves being forcibly evicted from our homes, we’d run for our electronics, memory boxes, saved up cash, or furniture. For Moira Rose, when the government raided her mansion after her family’s business manager ran off with their fortune, she rushed to pack up her own personal fortune—wigs.

The Pop TV comedy series Schitt’s Creek, which first aired in January 2015, has recently wrapped up its final season. Mainly due to their recent streaming on Netflix and widespread adoration from celebrities (Mariah Carey, Nicole Kidman, and Paul Rudd, just to name a few), Schitt’s Creek has risen enormously in popularity over the past few years. At the Emmys this September, the Canadian cult-favorite surprised the world with their complete sweep of every comedy category, taking home a record-setting nine awards, including Outstanding Contemporary Costumes.

Creator and showrunner Dan Levy has been praised for different aspects of the series’s success: the erasure of homophobia within the town, the dramatic dialect of leading lady Catherine O’Hara, and the carefully curated balance of humor and sentiment throughout the series. When people think of Schitt’s Creek, they can be expected to mention an array of different defining characteristics. At some point, though, the fashion is sure to be brought up.

Each member of the Rose family has their own style. Johnny is clean and sleek, dressed to the nines in a fresh pressed suit. Alexis brings us back to the world of boho-chic, rocking large gold earrings, sparkly headpieces, and floppy hats—picture a washed-up influencer stuck in the 2010s. David creates a new aesthetic of printed sweatshirts and designer knits.

His wardrobe is strictly black and white, featuring bold sunglasses and choppy skirts. Most notable, however, is Moira. Already an eccentric woman, her personality is enhanced through the most overthe-top costumes imaginable: bright pink wigs, furry hats, huge black bows, jewel-studded fingerless gloves, feathers, sequins—everything is fair game.

These riches-to-rags characters stick out like a sore thumb among citizens dressed in plaid work shirts and zip-up hoodies.

Typically, on larger film sets, the element of intimacy between departments is easily lost. Actors, creators, and designers rarely come into contact,

much less have the opportunity to extensively discuss their visions. Because this production was smaller, as well as Canadian, decisions were open and honest.

For example, before shooting began, Levy met with O’Hara to discuss the kind of life she wanted to breathe into Moira. In terms of appearance, she expressed that socialite-designer Daphne Guinness was a big inspiration, and she wanted Moira to be dramatic and unconventional. Along with designer Deborah Hanson, Levy scoured the internet, as well as vintage and consignment shops, to find authentic pieces, stating, “If we were going to base this on reality, the clothes needed to be real designer clothes.

They had to be expensive, and they had to look like a million dollars.”

In terms of storyline and character development, the clothing also assists in telling an authentic story.

Previously, the family lived as CEOs, actors, models, and art curators, constantly gallivanting around the world. When they lose all their money, their only option is moving to the town of Schitt’s Creek, which Johnny had purchased as a joke for his son’s birthday.

Surrounded by dinginess, they all force themselves to keep up a facade of wealth and exclusivity. They cope with their hardships by dressing themselves up as neatly as possible, or in Moira’s case, hiding behind colorful wigs. O’Hara has said in the past that she matches the wigs to whatever mood her character might be in, sometimes even giving the wigs names, wearing them backwards, or putting them over her hair like a hat.

So at the end of the series, when the characters are embarking on independent journeys, it’s no surprise their clothing mirrors this growth. Johnny leaves the town in his signature suit, the constant holding his family together. Alexis, ready to live alone and expand her business, gives away bags of clothing to a friend. David walks down the aisle in a designer suit, with pleated skirt bottoms—an homage to fashion aficionado Levy. Moira, splendid as ever, officiates her son’s wedding in a golden papal tunic and her longest wig yet. Levy shared, “The minute it all came together, it felt like such a celebration of the character, but it also felt like this celebration of our costume department.”

And rightfully so. This master class of connecting appearance and character is something rare to come by, and deserves to be celebrated. YM

STYLE | 22

FASHION FLUIDITY WRITTEN BY SYDNEY TAYLOR ART BY LILY HARTENSTEIN

I

n February 2019, actor Billy Porter wore a “Cinderella tuxedo dress” to the Oscars. That was the first time I had ever seen a man wear a dress—a “typical” feminine style of clothing.

Since then, I’ve seen celebrities breaking fashion gender roles on the red carpet as well as on social feeds, in an expansion of menswear and normalization of femininity.

Beginning in the 1910s, Coco Chanel gave women the option to wear pants and masculine silhouettes when she started designing clothes in 1913.

According to TIME, Chanel believed people should express themselves based on how they feel instead of societal perceptions of masculinity and femininity.

Another groundbreaking designer, Yves Saint Laurent, was the first to put women in suits in 1966 by creating a feminized tuxedo called Le Smoking. It wasn’t until the Peacock Revolution in the late ’60s that gender-fluid fashion shifted from women to men.

T h e Pe a c o c k Re vo l u t i o n w a s a c o u n t e rculture movement that began in London after the decriminalization of homosexuality in Britain. Some supporters of this revolution included The Beatles and David Bowie, all of whom began experimenting with femininity.

The term androgynous, which comes from the Latin word ‘androgyne,’ means a mix of male and female physical characteristics. Androgynous fashion is meant to avoid creating a harsh distinction between the masculine and feminine. Now, gender-fluid styles are becoming mainstream.

Although the idea of androgyny is not a new concept, when major design houses make progressive shifts, such as Alessandro Michele’s Gucci combining its mens- and womenswear collections in 2015, it lifts some stigma surrounding gender in the industry and introduces a way for nonbinary gender expression in fashion.

“Gucci really pushed towards androgynous trends: they were putting skirts on in the 90s and they were doing all that kind of stuff,” says Jacob Conlon, a junior at Marist College in New York. “Everything in fashion comes from the designer and then trickles down to the mass market.”

Fashion icons such as David Bowie and Prince were celebrated by the queer community for wearing bright, flamboyant colors and dresses. Women such as Grace Jones and Janelle Monae are known for their

menswear. When accepting an award at the 2012 BETs, Monae says, “embrace what makes you unique, even if it makes others uncomfortable.” Because of style pioneers from the LGBTQ+ community and pop culture, exploring gender through fashion is much more widely accepted today.

Now, large e-commerce companies such as Amazon are exploring the idea of unisex clothing.

In 2017, Amazon announced its partnership with London Fashion Week: 60 minute delivery of a unisex collection. Although brands such as Guess, Zara, and H&M have released unisex collections in the past, Amazon has the ability to normalize gender-neutral fashion and make it more accessible to a larger audience because of the inclusivity of all ages.

Conlon has also seen changes surrounding rigid styles of menswear. He transferred into menswear freshman year, and now as a junior, almost all of his classes are focusing on menswear. “I originally came in and I wanted to do womenswear because everyone did womenswear, and then I switched into menswear and I noticed there weren’t as many resources for me in my program,” Conlon says. “My professors used to tell me that menswear is restrictive because not all men wear everything and then I was like no, that’s not true.”

Although Conlon would not consider his style androgynous, he frequently buys from the women’s section and embraces both his feminine and masculine sides. Similar to Conlon, many Emerson students identify with gender fluidity and continue to express themselves through nonbinary fashion on campus.

Social media has created a space where individuals feel comfortable to experiment with societal designated gender styles without fear of judgment.

Platforms such as Tik Tok and Instagram show trends of women in traditional menswear styles, such as baggy streetwear and oversized blazers. Men can also be seen in pleated skirts, sheer tops, corsets, and makeup.

Today’s pop culture stars are following suit too.

Billie Eilish is known to wear oversized streetwearinspired outfits as a way to reject public sexualization and also express her personality, while Harry Styles expresses his feminine side by painting his nails and exploring womenswear.

Experiment with styles, and most importantly, don’t be afraid to step outside of your “assigned” gender roles. Gender fluidity is powerful, and it should make others uncomfortable. YM STYLE | 24

FASHION FOMO WRITTEN BY MARYCATHERINE NEAL

I

PHOTOGRAPHY BY EMILY KING

never liked alarms. A loud, obnoxious sound designed to interrupt my sleep is, quite frankly, the worst. But when I get excited about an outfit, my alarm is a welcoming sound. It’s almost like it’s saying: “Get up, girl! We’ve got places to be so people can see us.”

Last spring, I grew especially excited to get up and start my days. I started thrifting for a lot of my clothes and felt like I was finally expressing my true self through my clothing— baggy sweaters, turtlenecks, blazers, and statement earrings. But when Emerson told us to pack up and leave amid the ever-spreading COVID-19 pandemic, everything changed.

Suddenly my love of layering and showing off my thrifted finds disappeared.

Don’t get me wrong, I made an effort to wake up and get myself ready during the first few weeks of Zoom University from my kitchen in Virginia. I put jeans on—JEANS— to sit in my house and participate in a class where I could only be seen from the chest up.

When I realized that no one cared about what pants I had on, I started only dressing up my top half. Sweatpants became my go-to. Then, when Zoom became too draining, I switched to sweaters and leggings. And eventually, I stopped using the video component so I could roll out of bed and “show up” to class in my pajamas and a face mask. I was in a fashion funk, to say the least. And that fashion funk followed me back to Boston.

Like most people, I dressed up for my first week of in-person classes. I was so excited to finally have somewhere to go where I could be stylish while also being safe. But after getting used to my schedule—where I typically have one in-person class and one online class per day—I noticed myself slipping into a funk again. Why get dressed for my 8 a.m. when my 10 a.m. was online? I could save so much time if I just started my day in sweatpants and didn’t have to change outfits, right? I could even get more sleep since I wouldn’t have to stand in front of my wardrobe and choose an outfit. Although all of this is true, I found that starting every day in my favorite gray sweatpants just isn’t healthy for my mental health or self-esteem. Instead of feeling awake and motivated, I felt sleepy and depressed.

Everyone needs sweatpants days every now and then. In fact, I fully support changing out of uncomfortable clothes once class is over. But why not boost your self-esteem with that cute shirt you got on vacation or those jeans your sister gave you for your birthday?

I like to feel good about myself. I like to feel productive. And for me, starting off my day in clothes that energize me and make me feel involved in my day helps me maintain a happy mind and a happy soul. YM

WAX DIRECTED BY TALIA SMITH PHOTOGRAPHED BY NOLAN KAFAFIAN MODELED BY TALIA SMITH SERGIO CANA RODRIGUEZ GABRIELLA AVELINO

A POCKET OF MEMORIES

WRITTEN BY ALTHEA CHAMPION PHOTOGRAPHED BY XINYI GAO

I

n lieu of watching the first presidential debate, my two friends and I, one of whom I live with, marked our heights on the door frame that separates our kitchen/dining room from our “living area”—a lame euphemism for the room that divides our two bedrooms from the place where we keep and eat food. First, it was Anna Hubbard’s turn, the guest and shortest among us.

She stood against the frame, I set my Moleskine notebook on her head, and Francis Huntley 35 | LIVING

marked her height with a pencil at the bottom edge of the notebook.

The next morning, after Huntley and Hubbard left for their respective obligations and the marks on the door frame were left in my custody, or I in theirs, I began to think about the inevitable severance of the three of us. I have plans to move back to Boston in the spring after this remote fall semester. Huntley, who graduated from Smith College last spring with a degree in studio art, will be left to fill my vacancy with another

roommate and Hubbard, who also graduated in the spring with a degree in environmental science from Colby-Sawyer College—well, she will figure it out.

The expiration date that looms over my time here has pushed me to appreciate this period with more reverence than I have felt for any other period of my life. Sure, trips and vacations inspire a similar feeling, but the situation I am in now is the result of an unforeseen sequence of events. I am home because of a pandemic, but unable to actually stomach staying at home, change forced my hand. I rented out a place in southern Vermont a quarter mile west from the Connecticut River with a friend using the money I made this summer, a decision I now consider one of the best I have ever made.

The marks we drew are in no way permanent.

We deliberately used pencils because we are, after all, renting and still holding out hope to one day welcome the security deposit back into our bank accounts—$450 will feel like a lot once I move out and my savings are woefully depleted.

After making the three lines to mark our heights, Hubbard measured them using her well-boasted-about field skills—Hubbard is 5 feet 3 inches, Huntley is 5 feet 7 inches, and I am 5 feet 6 inches.

We knew our heights. Hubbard’s measurements only corroborated what we’d already known before we threatened our security deposit. Huntley was the only one who’s vertical claim was refuted. They lost an inch, but we expected that; their proclaimed height, 5 feet 8 inches, was the point of contention that inspired our fact-checking.

“Well,” I said, grinning. “At least we know your field skills work.”

Just for fun, we also measured our heights while standing on our tiptoes.

Later that night after the debate, Hubbard climbed the same door frame, and clinging to the crown molding with her toes and fingertips, she hung down like a sloth, dangling the brown hair that Huntley would cut one week later in the parking lot under a street light, while I assumed the role of idle spectator and wayward photographer—an amateur memory catcher, effectively.

Humans and change are in a constant tug of war.

The logic goes that if we are content or satisfied with what we have, we resist it, and if not, we welcome it.

While that way of thinking may be consistent with the thought process preceding Hubbard’s haircut, it is

often more complicated. After all, I could stay longer.

Remote learning is an option for next semester, our leases are month-to-month, and I have not made any binding decisions that would guarantee my departure.

But, I have made a resolute decision to return to Boston in the spring.

I have lived everywhere in the area—the area being about a school district and a half in southwest New Hampshire that probably measures 30 miles in diameter. My mom and I wandered, sure, but I never felt deprived of roots. Each move did not later conglomerate and reveal itself as a constellation of past traumas. On the contrary, I relished in digging my feet into the ground and planting roots each time we found another place to stay. And each transplant provided me with a new place to grow and explore, like a philodendron that is repotted or a morning appetite for cereal that calls for a bigger bowl.

My return to Boston will be bittersweet. It has only been one month since Huntley and I signed our lease, and we have already established our routine, roamed empty streets barefoot, emptied glass bottles of water and soda so they could hold candles and flowers, and eaten good pasta with people who are valued members of our air-tight COVID-19 bubble.

This weekend, we have planned a themed gathering of five—a soirée, you could say, or a stifled prom: the highschool event none of us particularly enjoyed.

On the other hand, Boston is brimming with professional possibilities and friends I left behind who I am thrilled to reconnect with. And, when December nears its end, I will hopefully have another cheap place lined up—this time in the greater Boston area, and change will force my hand again like it did in September. The place on Grove Street will no longer be ours, and Huntley and I will negotiate what is mine and what is theirs because we furnished the 500 square feet together. And then I will leave. We will keep in touch and see each other during breaks, but little compares to the relationship one has with the person they live with.

Life will commence and this period we are living through will become a pocket of memories we recall later. It was that sliver of time when our tracks intersected and we dipped our toes into adulthood for the first time while still acting like teenagers, when we bought checkbooks and Drain-O and a cast-iron pan, complained about prices and responsibility, and cried about politics. YM LIVING | 36

Finding My

Community

A

WRITTEN BY GEORGIA HOWE

bout a week ago, while hanging out with two friends in my dorm, I was reminded of how alienating it can feel to be agnostic.

My roommate, who is Catholic, and my other friend, who has transitioned from being Episcopalion to another faith, were talking about who their godparents are. When I realized I couldn’t remember who mine are, I texted my mom to ask about them, to which she responded that I didn’t have any because that was a “Christian thing.” While I brushed it off in the moment, I’ve been thinking more about the rites of passage that I’ve never had because of my lack of religion. It’s strange that I will never experience the same kind of security that comes with religion that others do.

I was raised in a non-religious family. This means that in forms where you label your spirituality, I always select the agnostic or atheist choice, and that I believe in nothing except for scientific fact. This also means that I’ve been told that I’m going to hell, and that I “can’t celebrate Christmas.” Contrary to what some classmate yelled at me in fifth grade, I actually do celebrate Christmas, but simply with the religious context removed. My family sees holidays not as dates of spiritual significance, but rather as times to connect with friends.

Some people find my beliefs, or lack thereof, incomprehensible. But for me, following a religion seems comparable to taking a fantasy novel literally.

It’s not that I have anything against people who are spiritual—in fact, I sometimes wish I could be like them. To have religion is to have an automatic community of which you are a part. Organized religions offer the support of having a second family within one’s mosque, church, temple, or otherwise.

Even if you practice a belief that doesn’t interact in the ways major religions do, there’s still something comforting in knowing that other people believe in the same principles that you do. Not having that sense of community, those shared traditions and ideologies, can certainly make me feel like an outsider sometimes.

It sometimes feels like I’m left out from something

ART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

that others can bond over. In the same conversation of discussing godparents in my dorm, my friends also shared stories about their baptisms and confirmations.

It was interesting for me to lear n about these ceremonies that I barely knew the purpose of, but it was also a reminder that religious experience is something I’ll never be able to share with them. I am reminded of this also in an academic setting. A lot of the art and literature that we examine for classes throughout our academic career utilize religious imagery. Many teachers simply expect students to be familiar with the common symbols and stories of common faiths (particularly Biblical references, seeing as American curriculum is largely Eurocentric and thus focuses on Christianity). As someone who was only ever taught the barest details of religions because of their irrelevance to me, it can be difficult to try to contribute to academic conversations about them.

There is no time when I wish I believed in a higher power more than when I think of life’s “big questions.” Because of the lack of scientific evidence, I don’t believe in any sort of afterlife, including the continuation of a soul or conscience. So, as you could imagine, not having a religion to explain to me what death will be like leaves me with a lot of existential dread. The concept of ceasing to exist in any way, shape, or form is one that’s so disturbing for me to wrap my head around that I wish I had a religion to turn to that offered an alternative explanation of death.

I’ve experimented in spirituality. During my senior year of high school, I spent a lot of time researching Wiccan practices in hopes of finding some answers there. I’ve explored Reiki and other energy work, as well as the “Witchtok” videos that show up on my TikTok feed.

Yet even after some time playing around with these concepts, I still don’t believe in anything that isn’t scientifically proven. As much as I still love to read tarot cards for my friends, I know that I am only improvising in the reading, and I’ll find no answers about existence in them. It’s hard to live without the comfort of religion, but it’s a way of living in which I can search for and create my own community. YM LIVING | 38

Time’s up, Boomers

WRITTEN BY TALIA SMITH

I

’m sitting in front of my television watching the first Presidential Debate of 2020, tears glazing my eyes, recalling my grandmother’s voice blaring through the telephone some ten years ago.

With cries of defeat, I heard her tell my mom that the insurance company she’d worked at for over 40 years had decided to “regretfully let her go” because she was “a little bit too past normal retirement age.” The company wanted to focus on younger workers looking to expand their future careers—and although my grandmother was one of their most diligent employees, they had a point.

Regardless of issues with age discrimination, we all knew it was time for my grandmother to take more than just the weekends off. We wanted her to finally relax during her old age. And after a while of fussing and fighting, she finally agreed.

I didn’t just reflect on this overheard conversation for memory’s sake or because I miss my grandma, but because as I watched Donald Trump and Joe Biden banter like two drunk uncles at a family barbeque during that debate, all I could think about was how seriously old and out of touch these two men are— largely because of the difference in their age to mine.

If my grandma couldn’t keep up a job at an insurance company because she was “too old,” then why am I watching two men in their 70s run head-tohead to lead the United States? And I can’t help but wonder why you must be at least 35 years old to be president, but there’s absolutely no definitive cap on that age requirement.

I do not support ageism and I’m not challenging the ability of anyone, of any age, to do an adequate job so long as they are able. But representation in our government just isn’t as in touch with a massive part of the population—the younger generations whose lives have just begun.

I won’t knock all older politicians here either.

I n l i g h t o f Ru t h B a d e r G i n s bu rg ’s d e at h i n September, I will mention that time well spent in a position of power can make incredible strides in terms of public policy and large scale change.

However, I also feel it’s important to stress that she

ART BY ELIZABETH APPLE

was literally working up until the day she died.

When we look at age and how representatives have historically connected with the general public, one of the notable ‘loved-by-all’ Presidents was none other than 43-year-old John F. Kennedy— the youngest ever president, in stark comparison to Trump, the oldest. I’m not saying JFK’s policies were perfect because he was young and attractive, but I am saying that his age had to do with his general public likability. Ask yourself—why is it that Gen-Z listens to fiery, young politicians like AOC? It’s because we see something that just isn’t alive in older cis white men; something we can actually find solace in identifying with—youth.

21-year-old Sophomore Musical Theater Major Gabriella Avelino believes that age seems to be a roadblock for this sought-after, youth-inspired change.

“We really have the potential to change so much, but we don’t really recognize it because the culture that surrounds politics is so aged,” Avelino says.

She believes that American politics today generally seem “so distant from everyday life as a 21-year-old.”

“I hope more people recognize that the only way to survive is to think of the future in a more current way… But that’s just not gonna happen if everyone whose President is 80 years old,” Avelino explains.

When it comes down to it, the people at the top of our government system as it stands are not the people who are going to be living with any finalized decisions. So why do we not see a bigger conversation centered around the need for young perspectives in politics? Why are the most powerful people in our government also the oldest?

So, here I sit, jaw opened wide after watching two old white men jab at each other for an hour and 30 minutes, and all I can think about is my grandma.

We accepted her forced resignation with open arms because we knew that it was time for her to sail smoothly into old age. So, why can’t we as a nation recognize and change the widening age gaps between us and our representation within government?

I’ll end by saying that I hope everyone voted.

And until the next election, the better half of those old drunk uncles will have to suffice. YM

INDIE INK WRITTEN BY OLIVIA CIGLIANO PHOTOGRAPHED BY ERINA MCSWEENEY

L

ately, I can’t stop thinking about the blocklettered “YOLO” on Zac Efron’s praying right hand. Even as the chaos of the pandemic and pending presidential election swirls around me, I’m distracted by the itch to get a new tattoo—or three.

I joke to friends that it’s just to feel something, but maybe I’m not kidding. I worry I’m missing out on aspects of my college experience because of COVID-19, so I feel compelled to indulge my youth however I can. During “quarantine” I even entertained the idea of learning to hand-poke myself, since tattoo parlors were closed, exiting lockdown with a souvenir sleeve—prison style. When I returned to Boston, I realized I wasn’t the only one on a tattoo kick.

VMA major Marissa Cardenas ‘21 received an overwhelming response when she posted an Instagram story (@onealaskanbullworm) asking her followers if they’d be interested in stick ‘n’ poke tattoos by her.

(I was one of the responses, promptly DMing “Literally please,” to which she replied, “brother lets gooo”).

Cardenas learned hand-poking over a year before her friends pushed her to sell tattoos this semester.

“They told me, ‘Yo you have a talent,’ and I was like ‘Yo you’re kind of right,’” says Cardenas. She was shocked to see such a high demand off the bat.

“I feel like now is the best time to take the time to do something like that and experiment because everyone wants tattoos. And for cheap too.”

Stick ‘n’ poke is non-electronic and uses a single needle dipped in ink to dot the skin, often done in a doodle-y, organic style. Similar hand techniques are an ancient art form in many cultures. Now it’s a staple on college campuses.

Cardenas practiced on oranges, watched YouTube videos, and found her groove through trial and error, though she’s never inked herself. Cardenas’s weekends are busy with appointments she plucks from her waitlist—I’m patiently waiting my turn. Her first flash sheet has been popular, especially the frog doodle that reminds her of an Animal Crossing character, though she does many custom tattoos. However, Stick-and-poke is a more timely process, as the dots of ink need to be layered to create solid lines, so appointments could span hours as opposed to tattoos done with machines.

“Right now it’s very relaxing and fun,” Cardenas says. “It’s nice to meet new people and talk to people that are on campus that I never met before. It’s just a cool personal experience.”

In September, my attention fell upon a slew of posts by Emersonians boasting fresh machine tattoos

by VMA major Trey Glickman ‘21. Glickman runs his tattoo business over Instagram (@treydoestats), where appointments are booked over DMs. “I realized that my appointment bookings are so correlated with the second I post,” Glickman says.

“So I ask people if they’re going to take artsy photos to send them to me, and I’ll post that because those photos get way more traction.”

Glickman’s a graphic designer who’s created logos and posters for Emerson students in the past, though it was “the most draining shit.” Because of his background, tattooing is a natural new venture.

“This is the first thing that’s making me a full living,” he says. In just over a month since students returned to campus, Glickman’s given 50 tattoos and counting.

He taught himself over quarantine with a machine he ordered online and started on his leg.

He later practiced on his friends and family. When he returned to Boston his business started taking off.

“If I mess up, it’s like you’re paying 50 bucks for a tattoo in some kids’ basement,” Glickman says.

“And also, I make it cheaper so I have more clients.

I might do a bigger, more expensive design and charge less because I know it’s important for Instagram.”

“I think tattoos are more in with girls nowadays than guys for some reason,” notes Glickman, who’s mostly tattooed women. “There are more trends.

The other thing I’ve been hearing is a lot of girls get very uncomfortable going into tattoo studios because it’s mostly men who are obnoxious and hyper masculine.”

It makes sense demand is high for amateur tattoos because it’s a more personal experience, friendlier price, and, considering both Cardenas and Glickman take proper COVID-19 precautions from their homes, safer than a public studio. Sure, you risk low quality, but if you’re already in the market for an impulsive body modification, why not add a little ink? You only live once after all. YM

LIVING | 42

DIRECTED BY LILLIAN COHEN PHOTOGRAPHED BY ANNIE WOODBURY STYLED BY LAUREN DILLOW MODELED BY LAUREN DILLOW NATASHA ARNOWITZ RISHONA MICHAEL

WRITTEN BY MOLLY GOODRICH ART BY ANDREA MÉNDEZ

9 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

CONCERTS FROM YOUR COUCH N

othing brings people together like live music, but at a time when crowding together to sing and dance is quite literally illegal, are virtual concerts the next best thing? Digital concerts aren’t a new concept, though they certainly have become normalized this year. It’s hard to imagine a reality where we all crowd together again, and for many, concerts are not only a chance to see your favorite artists, but the basis of your livelihood.

Emma Harrison, 20, who worked at a concert venue before the pandemic, is dubious that she will ever get her job back. She insists that things will forever be different if she does.

“There will likely be no more flat floor shows and the seats will have to all be six feet apart, which not only takes the fun away but will limit the amount of people able to go,” she says, emphasizing how part of the fun of concerts is the closeness you feel with those around you.

Curious about the new format that could replace her job, Harrison purchased a $20 ticket for a virtual Vance Joy intimate acoustic show. She had been to an in-person Joy concert before and wanted to know how the experiences would differ. As it turns out, things were pretty strange. “It was a Zoom call, so all of our cameras could be on but we had to be muted,” she recalls. One-thousand tickets were sold but only about 700 people tuned in.

Unfortunately, at a real concert, part of the experience is everyone singing, dancing, and moving around you. Harrison agrees that it felt “harder to feel connected to him” in such a setting.

Luckily, Joy is not known for his upbeat, chaotic concerts. “He’s a very laid back artist, so this vibe wasn’t horrible, but I can’t think of many other singers or bands who would be able to pull this off,” she admits.

Liam Payne announced in July he would be doing a series of live-streamed concerts called The LP Show. These tickets started at $10 and were on a “pay as much as you can” basis. A Liam Payne concert is possibly the exact opposite of a Vance Joy one, as one results in a massively passionate fanbase coming from a band who used to break records for crowd volume, and the other is an acoustic singer with only one or two radio hits. Payne’s show was not an intimate Zoom and was not live streamed from a living room. Instead, it was a fully produced show, which took place at an out-of-use music venue with a full band, set, and crew, all seemingly socially distant.

Despite initial technical difficulties that caused Payne’s Act 1 show to be significantly delayed, fans seemed to be enjoying themselves and continued to rave about the shows after the fact. With the third LP Show set to drop on Halloween, clearly it is successful enough to maintain the high cost of production that these shows entail. It may not be the concert experience many of us yearn for, but for now, it seems to get the job done. YM

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | 10

A

few weeks ago, Netflix added the final season of T he Good Place. I spent my weekend bingeing the last 13 episodes and was left in an existential, tearful crisis by the time I reached the finale. When I finish a show, whether I’ve been watching for many years or bingeing it to feel time, my emotional reactions are strong. Not to give Ryan Murphy too much credit, but I watched the Glee finale and cried for an hour and a half after. It’s easy for our hearts to feel heavy when finishing shows, and with that much emotional investment involved, there’s a lot on the line in a series finale. Writers, producers, and anyone else involved in creating a show are trying to give closure to the story they’ve been telling for a long time, wrap up the development of their characters, please audiences and rabid fanbases, and ensure a legacy that will stay with the show forever.

Another show with an ending that left me in tears was How I Met Your Mother. It ended in 2014 with one of the most highly anticipated—yet disappointing— finales of TV. While the finale gave its story an ending, it did not match the direction of the show or the point they seemed to be trying to make the whole time. How I Met Your Mother follows the frame story of the protagonist telling his kids about how he met their mom, and the simple yet compelling premise led to good ratings, and seasons after seasons of getting renewed. The show had great character work and running bits, but at the heart of it, audiences were always waiting to see the mother and the protagonist together. Their meeting is not officially shown until the finale, and only provides a glimpse into their relationship before going in another direction that doesn’t end up with them together. The general consensus among viewers was that the twist ending was unnatural and did not understand its audience or own writing well, defeating so much of what it had built for nine seasons.

Maybe one of the most highly controversial TV finales is HBO’s Game of Thrones, which finished in May 2019. I’d never seen the show, but it was difficult to escape the cultural tirade against the ending, both on social media and in real life. Longtime Game of Thrones

11 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

fan Jacob Sockett ‘22 explained that the final season had already been a letdown, but the finale “still stung.”

“What you had been expecting to happen all along, did come to a head, but the characters all were given endings that did not satisfy all the growth that they had been through during the show,” Sockett says. Closure for the characters is definitely needed for a strong TV finale. This feeling of dissatisfaction is explained well by Martie Cook, author of Write to TV, who says “TV shows are like friends, and when you watch them you are inviting the characters into your house.” Audiences are obviously going to want to see where the characters they’ve connected with end the journeys we’ve watched them go on. Like with an old friend, the characters should be left where you will remember them fondly, but are comfortable with the time you spent together.

I asked Martie if she thinks audiences are owed a certain amount of satisfaction with the end of a show. Plainly stated, she told me, “Yes, if you don’t have an audience, you don’t have a show, so you gotta give the audience something to satisfy them.”

Especially with social media and streaming, finales will be talked about, and depending on that, shows will go watched or unwatched after their original airings.

However, with the best shows, the writers understand their characters and stories well enough to deliver a quality ending.

TV is my ultimate comfort, yet it’s also easy to be let down by it. In Emily Nussbaum’s book I Like to Watch: Arguing My Way Through the TV Revolution, she says “the ideal viewer should behave less like a nagging critic and more like a soulmate, supportive and committed even when doubts creep in.” There are so many people putting these stories together, and I’ve got to trust that they know it better than I do.

However, Nussbaum also says, “If you build a show to be loved, heartbreak is always a risk.” For the viewer who invested their time and emotions into the story and characters, a disappointing finale sits with you like a breakup with no closure. YM

That’s All, Folks!

WRITTEN BY LAURA PHILIPS ART BY FRANCESCA POLISTINA

She’s eating boys

WRITTEN BY AMANDA HAMPTON PHOTOGRAPHED BY XINYI GAO

P

icture any traditional horror movie, and the image that first comes to mind more than likely involves a pretty girl being chased through the woods by a man with a big knife. All too often, women in horror films are highly sexualized and portrayed as weak; unable to do more than run, scream, and die. In the American horror film, women are often killed as punishment for their sexuality. A common slasher film trope involves women being brutally murdered directly after having on-screen sex. In opposition to this is the ubiquitous Final Girl—who is invariably virginal and is therefore allowed to survive until the end credits. This 13 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

makes for a pretty clear message: only “pure” women deserve to live, and having a sexual presence merits punishment. All sluts must die.

These commonly held tropes and archetypes illustrate how the horror genre was largely maledriven and ref lective of the fear and anxiety surrounding female sexuality. However, the genre has begun to rethink its male-centered narratives, with films like Jennifer’s Body, A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, Midsommar, and Us—all of which subvert the classic horror model of women being terrorized by making them the terrorizers. These films have made

strides in eliminating one-dimensional depictions of women in the horror genre, allowing space for female spectatorship and empowerment.

This subgenre of horror was given a name by Barbara Creed, whose 1993 book, The MonstrousFeminine, set the parameters for the horror genre’s positioning of female villains. She says, “I have used the term ‘monstrous-feminine’ as the term ‘female-monster’ implies a simple reversal of ‘male monster’...the phrase ‘monstrous-feminine’ emphasizes the importance of gender in the construction of her monstrosity,” asserting that the fear factor of the monstrous-feminine comes from her sexuality and often caters to male-driven cinematic pleasure. Films like Teeth, in which the protagonist’s realization that her vagina bites back, enables her to protect herself from a parade of attackers, play on castration anxieties, but do little to provide depth and agency to their monstrous women.

It’s worth noting that the protagonist’s story in Teeth, written and directed by Mitchell Lichtenstein, was told from a male perspective. One factor separating the problematic nature of the monstrousfeminine that Creed describes from movies that productively subvert male-dominated narratives may well be the experiences of the writers and directors.

Maria San Filippo, an Emerson College professor who teaches a seminar on women filmmakers, explains, “Women-directed approaches to horror have generally proven more willing and able to humanize women characters (whether they’re the ones terrorizing or being terrorized) which I believe makes for more interesting as well as empowering representations, though this isn’t exclusively the province of the many outstanding recent horror films made by women.”

Jennifer’s Body was written and directed by women, for women, and plays on the way women’s bodies are stolen from them, and often through violence.

Jennifer is sexualized from the start and often uses her sexuality to get what she wants. Because of her immediate introduction as a sexual being, she would normally be the first girl murdered in a horror movie.

In a sense, she is, as members of a Satanic rock band sacrifice her in a ritual for fame and fortune. However, she comes back to life as a powerful demon and begins using her sexuality to lure men in and eat them. This represents a refreshing turn of events; men have taken Jennifer’s body away from her for their own gain, inadvertently granting her the power to exact revenge on men who have wronged her. She survives because of her sexuality—using it to strengthen her physical

power over men—rather than being punished for it.

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, written and directed

by Ana Lily Amirpour, plays with a similar kind of irony. The title suggests that the audience should fear for the safety of the girl in question—of course, a girl walking home alone at night is an immediate cause for concern. Here, however, The Girl roams the streets without needing to fear for her safety, because she is the perpetrator of violence rather than a victim of it.

In the past several years, some horror films have taken the genre even further in its rejection of male-dominated narratives, creating a model of the monstrous-feminine that is not defined in terms of her sexuality. Ari Aster has shown a surprising ability to effectively convey aspects of femininity and womanhood. 2019’s Midsommar celebrates female power and rage, punishes men who lack empathy and respect, and allows femininity and monstrosity to happily coexist. In the last moments of the film, the protagonist Dani smiles triumphantly as she watches the men who dismissed and gaslighted her burn, knowing that she has taken back agency over her life.

In Jordan Peele’s, Us, neither Adelaide Wilson or her doppelganger Red (both played by Lupita Nyong’o) play into gendered tropes normally seen in horror protagonists and antagonists. Both are mothers and products of social injustice, which forces viewers to reconsider the traditional categorization of womanas-monster vs. woman-as-victim by occupying a hazy middle ground between and outside of the two.

Neither are defined by their sexuality at any point in the film, suggesting something much nearer to the “role reversal of the ‘male monster’” that Barbara Creed discounted.

The monstrous-feminine provides female viewers with a figure to identify with that does more than look hot and manage to survive until the credits roll.

Tiffany Carbon ‘22 explains, “Women in film are often mistreated or dumbed down, so it always feels really empowering to see a sinister female villain that takes pride in her rage and power.” These female villains celebrate the link between womanhood and monstrosity, making the Final Girl synonymous with the monstrous-feminine bringing the genre to new heights. They reject the notion of the one-dimensional female villain and celebrate sexuality without making it a site of terror and violence, turning the vapid scream queen of traditional horror into the thing to be feared. YM

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | 14

Bravo’s Reckoning with Racism

WRITTEN BY KATIE POWERS

ART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

B

ravo made headlines this summer after firing four Vanderpump Rules cast members. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills spinoff follows the lives of young socialites working in restaurants owned by former housewife Lisa Vanderpump. In the first season, Stassi Schroeder and Kristin Doute were introduced as stars of the show, where they remained until a story of their racist behavior surfaced this June.

In 2018, the two called the police on Faith Stowers, their former and only Black cast member, claiming she was a woman accused of a crime they saw in a Daily Mail article. They also made the false accusation on Twitter and on a podcast. Their casualness about the situation ignores the possibiliy that, given the history of police brutality against Black Americans, their actions could have very well caused a dangerous or fatal interaction between Stowers and the police.

Recent national protests, sparked by the unjust murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and Rayshard Brooks, have caused change in a way the country has not seen since the civil rights movement. In light of this transformational moment, Bravo fired Schroeder and Doute after Stowers spoke publicly about the false accusation. Fellow cast members Max Boyens and Brett Caprioni were also fired for past racist tweets, along with Peter Hunziker of Below Deck: Mediterranean.

This came as a surprise—not because the firings were not justified, but because Bravo does not have a history of being committed to diversity and anti-racism within the casting and production of their own shows.

15 | YOURMAG

The installations of the Real Housewives franchise are segregated. White women are cast in versions taking place in Orange County, Beverly Hills, New York, Dallas, and New Jersey. There have only ever been two non-White women cast on any of those installments. Black women, on the other hand, are cast in the Real Housewives of Potomac or Atlanta.

Though Atlanta and Potomac make up just 25 percent of the franchise, they have been wildly popular. Atlanta is consistently one of the highest rated franchises, and Potomac is currently having a surge in popularity as many took to binging the show during quarantine.

Po t o m a c s t a r G i z e l l e B r y a n t s p o k e t o Entertainment Weekly about the show’s recent uptick in popularity. Her response was “‘Yeah, where have you been?’ because we’ve been here, and we’ve been great, I feel, since day one.” Bryant points to how the show’s original cast members have on-screen chemistry that makes the show more enjoyable.

With the exception of the Persian American cast of Shahs of Sunset, the all-Black casts of Married to Medicine, and the Latinx cast of Texicanas, a similar lack of diversity exists in the nearly all-White casts of Below Deck, Summer House, Southern Charm and, yes, Vanderpump Rules.

The whitewashing and racism within these shows will not change overnight, but the network’s recent actions show that reality TV networks can no longer ignore their responsibility in anti-racist work.

On August 9, Bravo aired a discussion with 12 cast members called “Race in America: A Movement Not

a Moment.�

The discussion touched on the Black Lives Matter movement, systematic racism, inequality, interpersonal racism, and allyship; it did not, however, cover the network’s issues with racism. Bravo could have set aside time for the Black women and men present to talk about their own experiences with racism during their time on Bravo.

The absence of discussion about the fired individuals indicates Bravo may not be dedicated to ensuring an equitable experience for their Black cast members if it means the network has to address their own complicity. In June, Real Housewives of Atlanta star Nene Leakes expressed her frustration with executive producer Andy Cohen and other Bravo executives on Twitter, including a retweet calling for Cohen

to be fired. Since then, Leakes announced she is leaving RHOA. Cohen and other executives can do much more to ensure a better, more inclusive environment.

Firing racist individuals is important, but without purposeful change in the network, their response is nothing more than a performative action to save face.

The unfortunate reality is that networks like Bravo have long had the ability to ensure their shows were representative of the diversity in this country, but they have chosen not to.

Time will tell if Bravo, and other networks producing reality TV, will let these important conversations fade out or make them central to the production of their shows because, as Bravo said: this is a movement, not a moment. YM

YOURMAG | 16

YM Advises

“My favorite thrifting find is a butterfly maxi dress that I got from Savers in my hometown this summer— total ‘90s vibes and so comfortable.” — Jess Ferguson, Co-Copy Chief “My favorite thrifted find is a black sweatshirt with a whimsical balcony scene painted and beaded on the front that I got from Mass Appeal on Cape Cod. It’s oversized and so comfy and adds a little pizzazz to a basic outfit.” — MaryCatherine Neal, Living Section Editor “My all-time favorite thrifted item may seem cliche, but it is my jean jacket. It is comfy, cute, and warm; you can catch me in the streets constantly wearing it!

I of course got it at the one and only Garment District :)” — Ricki Kalayci, Assistant Art Director “I found these old ripped up/torn and distressed cargo army pants a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been able to go more than two days without wearing them at least once. I’ll admit that I got them from Buffalo Exchange, which means I knew they’d be at least $30 when I picked them up, but they were 100 percent worth it. The zipper’s busted, so I pin it closed with a safety pin, but I think it adds some spunk.” — Talia Smith, Managing Editor “It’s also my first thrifted item: a faded black New Hampshire Motorcyclists T-shirt, complete with gorgeous printed trees, an eagle, and a bearded motorcyclist, as well as scattered white paint stains.

It’s long and big and cozy and worn. It gives off strong ‘old dad shirt’ vibes. From my fav thrift shop

back home, Grime. I love to wear it tied up with jeans and a blazer or under a dress. In the summer, you can’t take it off my body.” — Lillian Cohen, Editor in Chief “I thrift a bunch of funky things, but my all-time has to be my trusty light-wash mom jeans. They’re by the brand Cruel Girl, and I found them for $12 in a Brooklyn thrift store in summer 2018. Finding jeans that are flattering, comfortable, durable, and versatile is like striking gold. Two summers later, I still wear them most days of the week.” — Olivia Cigliano, Style Section Editor “My favorite thrift is a dark blue, oversized sweater that I found at a Goodwill in Maine. It’s simple but the most comfortable piece of clothing I own. I wear it with sweatpants, skinny jeans, and Amethyst earrings, or purple pants—another one of my favorite thrifts.”

— Allison Hughes, Co-Copy Chief “My most recent favorite thrift is this short-sleeved sweater with flowers and ladybugs on it that I got at the Central Square Goodwill. It’s so cool because the ladybugs are 3D and pop off the sweater. I also just love how much of a statement piece it is!”

— Laura Philips, YMTV Director “I thrifted a pair of slightly ripped jeans with floral embroidery at a consignment store called The Vault back home in St. Louis that I love. Unfortunately, last year I plopped down too quickly to sit on a boardwalk near my friend’s house on the Cape, and I ripped the heck out of them, so I don’t wear them as much!” — Katie Powers, Co-head Proofreader

Y.MP3 ALRIGHT—KENDRICK LAMAR DEAR MR. PRESIDENT—P!NK ZOMBIE—THE CRANBERRIES BOYS WILL BE BOYS—DUA LIPA FUCK THA POLICE—N.W.A. MARCH MARCH—THE CHICKS FDT—YG (FEAT. NIPSEY HUSSLE) FIGHT THE POWER—PUBLIC ENEMY WHERE IS THE LOVE?—BLACK EYED PEAS FREEDOM - HOMECOMING LIVE—BEYONCÉ THE KIDS DON’T WANNA COME HOME—DECLAN MCKENNA WE THE PEOPLE—A TRIBE CALLED QUEST THIS IS AMERICA—CHILDISH GAMBINO RICH, WHITE, STRAIGHT MEN—KESHA LOCKDOWN—ANDERSON .PAAK HARD OUT HERE—LILY ALLEN I CAN’T BREATHE—AR WINGS THE MAN—TAYLOR SWIFT JUST A GIRL—NO DOUBT BITCHSLUT—ANNA WISE I CAN’T BREATHE—H.E.R. THE VILLAGE—WRABEL SONG 33—NONAME PISSED—SAWEETIE AMERICA—LOGIC HIM—SAM SMITH TRAPPED—2PAC

ART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

: t n e m e t a t S t s i Art x o C n y l Ja

Why did you start making jewelry? More specifically, why did you want to make jewelry centered around crystals?

When I was young, I used to make jewelry with my mom. It was like our bonding time together, creating something together. That was when I was very, very young though. I spent the summer of 2019 in Los Angeles, and while I was there I was entranced by crystals and went out to learn more about them. I felt like everyone was wearing crystal necklaces. However, I noticed most peoples necklaces were self-made and just a crystal wrapped in string hanging from around people’s necks.

I kept thinking to myself, I should make crystal jewelry. Jewelry that was trendy, but also held such intentional meaning behind each piece. I held onto this idea for a long time, but in all honesty, my own self-doubt prevented me from starting it. Last October, I went to Salem and sat down in front of a tarot reader for the first time ever. He ended up being a medium, and he didn’t even read my cards. He sat there and without me saying a single word about me, who I am, or even my name, he started just stating all these things about my life that rung completely true. One of the things he told me was that he can see myself making jewelry as a way to align me with my life’s path and a means for some extra money. I couldn’t ignore that sign, and it gave me the validation I needed to just start making jewelry.

How do you balance your creative work with schoolwork, and is this a career you want to continue?

In all honesty, I am still working on balancing my creative work with my schoolwork.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but it brings me peace to know I am doing a bunch of things that I genuinely enjoy. Raw Intention is aligned with my career path, but for me, it is not my end all career goal. My dream would be to own my own accessible yoga studio, and I see Raw Intention as means to leading to that. I am interested in accessible healing, and currently, yoga is not accessible. However, it can be, and even further than that I would love the studio to be a healing space with healing and self-care workshops of all types. I see Raw Intention jewelry leading into Raw Intention Studio. Right now, I am using Raw Intention as a way to harness a group of people that are interested in the things I am interested in - crystals, astrology, energy, yoga, HEALING. I am currently undergoing my yoga teacher training, and I am hoping that by January I can begin to teach donation based classes through Raw Intention.

What is your favorite part about your process?

My favorite part about this process is that I’ve finally found my passion and my dream, and I love being able to work towards it now.

Follow on Instagram @rawintentionjewelry and shop at raw-intention.com

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