Flavor of the Week: How Girls Look Good in Pictures
Flavor of the Week: Pregaming
On Insane Girls
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Flavor of the Week: Solange Knowles

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Image by Rog Walker

Solange Knowles’ wedding to video director Alan Ferguson looked a lot like the national monochrome convention. But whatever, I’m into it. Since the affair in good ol’ New Orleans — which is actually an oxymoron — no one has been able to stop talking about her. Between the wedding and Kim Kardashian’s astoundingly large tush both breaking the internet, I’m starting to get a little worried about Beyoncé. She should start thinking about putting out another HBO bio-doc stat. Otherwise her throne could be gone before she knows it. At least she got to wear white to her sister’s wedding — that’s every power-chick’s dream come true.

“So when are you going to write about Solange?” my friend asked on Sunday. The problem, I realized, is that I didn’t know a lot about Solange Knowles besides a) I think she may have been in Destiny’s Child but I’m not positive and b) she was involved in “Elevator-gate.” C) is that she wore a jumpsuit AND a CAPE to her wedding, and if you know how much I love overalls and all things related, and who doesn’t love a good cape, then you know how excited this makes me. I just kinda wish I wore it first. Solange and Ferguson rode to their nuptials on white, wide handlebar beach bicycles. I would ideally have done this first, too, but I didn’t learn how to ride a bike until eighth grade. That makes me about nine years behind everyone else in cycling skills.

To me, it seemed like Solange was hiding in the shadows until the internet decided her worth from her wedding. As it turns out, Solange was not in Destiny’s Child, though I really wish she was both because I like her music and because I’m ashamed to know so little about the inner workings of Destiny’s Child. Only in googling Destiny’s Child did I discover that Kelly Rowland was also a member, and that just happened two minutes ago. And, as I’m sure you can imagine, my life has been forever changed.

Solange did look make a stunning bride. She was the most creative in a milestone moment that many make the most traditional. But is that she’s suddenly on the map? Or has my mind just been completely in the gutter, which is often the case, and she’s been relevant all along?

We are obsessed with celebrity weddings for understandable reasons. Celebrities, like Solange, have two receptions instead of one. They enter on bicycles you can rent in the Hamptons, and file people onto party buses for 10-block parades through the streets of the city, accompanied by live jazz bands similar to the ones that make me cry when I watch the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Their ceremonies are in opera houses. The clothes are incredible. Solange’s wedding dress is more fashionable than anything I’ll ever be able to afford or have the proper taste to purchase until I’m at least 30 — maybe that’s why we care. Because it was so pristinely styled that Vogue wanted the exclusive. Yet we’re now obsessed with Solange because of her celebrity wedding — because we now see what the girl is capable of when you give her a white dress (or a jumpsuit and a cape). And is that okay? Does it take a wedding to make a woman out of a baby sister?

Perhaps if I was really cool, or just more on top of my shit, then I’d have known Solange all along. Still, it’s important to wonder, in all of my new age feminism, what the wedding does to a girl. Or, as in the case of Solange, we’re much more impressed with what the girl does to a wedding.

Image via Vogue. 

On Doing Better

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“No. No. Hannah, you can do so much better than him.” It’s an iMessage response we’ve all gotten before. You talk to a guy who’s familiar — you kinda know him, or you know of him — and you text your friend in search of approval before putting in the mental energy it requires to flirt for the rest of the night. All is takes are those two letters us stubborn girls are all too familiar with, the N and the O, to make you run for the hills.

But waaaaait…!!!! I really liked him. I really liked our conversation. I really liked that immediately after introducing himself to me, he asked if I was Jewish. And I really liked that he tried to play it off like he was kidding, but he obviously wasn’t. I really liked the chemistry. But then I received a text that shattered my dreams of Friday night Shabbat dinners and romantic debates about the pervasiveness of normcore. This is when we become un-attracted and uncomfortable. So I, and you, and every other girl who’s ever experienced the “You can do so much better” reply, went from sweetheart to psycho in a matter of seconds. He gets the picture, walks away, and we — you and I — are both standing alone, wondering if being alone and not not doing good enough is better than being happy and not “doing better.”

When you get the “You can do so much better” reply, you lose control of your own libido. Even if you want to keep liking someone, or if you did a minute ago, you won’t like him nearly as much anymore. The reverberating voice of your suddenly authoritative BFF sits like a Quest Protein chip on your shoulder. Even if you want to keep liking him, you find all of his flaws. Or you do whatever you psycho girls do to convince yourself that you knew he wasn’t good enough in the first place. (On the inside, though, you look like a depressed emoji.)

Let’s think about what “You can do so much better” really means. Well, first, it means that your friend thinks you can do so much better. Secondly, it means one of two things: that your friend thinks you have poor taste when the guy you’re actually interested in doesn’t meet your socially assigned standards, or that the guys who go after you aren’t good enough — as in, there are other, better guys out there, but they just aren’t the ones who are openly interested.

So when you tell me that I “can do so much better,” do you think I have low self-respect? That I’m insecure because my standards are too low? That I have poor taste? Does that make me a bad lady? Do you also think I’m the kind of person who makes piles of her gum wrappers on the Starbucks communal table instead of throwing them away? You must assume that I go commando under jeans and opt for the sweetened coconut flakes rather than the unsweetened ones on top of my fro-yo too, right? I must defend myself in that I do always go for the unsweetened flakes and I’m not insecure. In terms of the rest — you got me.

And on what articles of judgment can one friend tell another that she can do better? Attractiveness is the most explicit category, of course, but past that, how do we determine if someone if good enough for us? Maybe the friend asks herself if she would hook up with the suitor herself. If we wouldn’t, and we tell our friend that she can do better, then we are good friends. If we wouldn’t, and we don’t tell our friend that she can do better, then we are bad friends. If we would, and we tell our friend that she can do better, then I don’t even know. Then we need to go to therapy, or something.

I don’t know what would make me a more inferior person — if I only pursued guys whom my friends insisted I could do better than, or if I never trusted my instincts and listened to my friends. Luckily, my friends never really say this to me. We very rarely say it to each other, which could influence my indecisiveness about how kosher the “You can do so much better” reply is.

It could, actually, be very likely that if one of us finds herself in a situation where someone needs to tell her that she can do so much better, and no one tells her, she’ll one day wish that someone did. But she might be the only one who has the authority to realize that, and she won’t realize it until after the fact.

My advice? Do what makes you happy. Also make wise decisions with the recognition that drunk goggles are a very real thing. Then, you’ll be set.

Image via

Flavor of the Week: Yoga Pants

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If any given Buzzfeed writer were to GIF a recipe for the ultimate hashtag-basic bitch, the most voluminous ingredient would be yoga pants. After all, they are what literally holds the basic bitch together. They suck all the junk into your trunk. Can I get an ‘amen,’ sista friends?

In order to understand yoga pants, we must track their evolution, discuss their function, and contemplate their implication.

Evolution of the yoga pant
It all started with this:



And then that turned into this:


But for me, it was really only the first generation (tye-dye) and this:

Screen Shot 2014-11-11 at 5.11.57 PM

…because my mom thought it was inappropriate to walk around with pants that said “So Low” on the butt.

Then out of the blue, leggings became a thing as if a girl wearing So Lows pulled them right out of her tightly covered and accentuated ass. So leggings happened for a while, and now, there’s something else. There’s Lululemon leggings, which are really the new yoga pants. They’re still referred to in the media as ‘yoga pants,’ which is a ripoff because I spent my childhood convinced that yoga pants had to be bell-bottomed.

Function of the yoga pant
I used to have this thing where I didn’t wear jeans. While I was down to wear my flared Hard Tails ’til the cows came home, I was not down to wear the flared denim my mother bought for me because it “better suited my figure.” Okay, we get it. I had a Kim Kardashian, which is great if you’re 26 but not is you’re 10.

Destitute of the skinny jean, I resorted to leggings. They looked absolutely terrible on me, and weren’t flattering in the least, but they were comfortable and didn’t leave indents in the skin below my belly button and around my hips. They were much better suited to sit criss-cross-applesauce in. These are the important things.

It used to be that the yoga pant was about comfort. Let’s be real — it was never really about yoga. But now, it is about style.

The implication of the yoga pant, perhaps the most important part
You see, the yoga pants we wear now aren’t really yoga pants. They’re magic pants.

Of course, assuming that everyone’s Lululemon leggings are the standard yoga pant is astoundingly ignorant. Lululemon is an expensive luxury brand. In fact, I only own three things from Lululemon, and all of them have been purchased with my own babysitting money. And they were all ridiculously overpriced, too. But that’s besides the point. The point is that people are buying pants meant for exercise and wearing them not for exercise. I’m not quite referring to wearing your Nike Free’s out and about — that’s another discussion of trend for another day. I’m solely talking about exchanging your jeans for exercise leggings because, as it turns out, the leggings kinda look good.

This can be attributed to two factors: material and style. The material of the pants undoubtedly sucks you in. They don’t stretch out like your cotton leggings might, and they’re extra tight because they’re meant to feel like skin while you’re jogging, walking your dog, or doing your daily workout of 15 crunches. You know, something like that. But the style –the style is what’s revolutionary. Exercise pants have a higher waist than every other kind of legwear does. Yet they aren’t ‘high-waisted,’ or marketed as anything other than ‘exercise pants.’ They consistently come at a perfect height and sit 2/3 of the way between where low-rise pants go and where your belly button is. This is the perfect place to be sucked in!!! Raise your hand if you’ve been wondering why every pair of pants doesn’t come with that waist height. Also raise your hand if you now understand why your mother was always so insistent on buying you the ‘hipsters’ style of underwear as a child. Just me? Okay then.

Yoga pants, which are really exercise leggings, are perfect to wear with a crop top, they are perfect with boots, they are perfect with everything, they are great for sitting criss-cross-applesauce, and they somehow make you look like you ARE wearing pants even though you kind of aren’t.

Perhaps yoga pants are making basic cool. Yoga pants could be putting the basic back in basic: forming an essential foundation or starting point; fundamental. Yeah… yeah. Now that sounds more like it. Screw the Starbucks cups and 2004 Uggs. Basic ain’t always so bad after all.

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