Flavor of the Week: Miley Cyrus

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Because you haven’t already read at least 50 strongly-worded articles about Miley Cyrus and her shit show at the VMAs, I thought you should read one more.

Don’t get me wrong–if there is a Miley Cyrus fan, I am it. Although with the start of Hannah Montana the uniqueness of my name decreased by 200%, I didn’t hold a grudge. She took away my individuality, but I loved her through and through. When I decided to chop off my hair two years ago, I showed my hairdresser the photo of Miley when she went for the long bob. At the time, I didn’t realize that the haircut only looked good on skinny people. But ne’ertheless, I am #blessed to have shared a stage of beauty and fashion with Destiny Hope, the queen of legginess, crop tops, and now, plastic underwear.

I should not digress; we need to discuss this VMA performance.

First things first: on August 26th, Dave Stopera published an article on BuzzFeed titled “22 Things Miley Cyrus Looked Like At The 2013 VMAs.” This article was incredibly successful, with a total of over 3 million views since its release. I was loving every second of this article until I saw this blasphemy:

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Then, my mood turned from “Robin Thicke getting twerked upon by Miley” to “Will Smith shielding the eyes of his young children while watching Robin Thicke get twerked upon by Miley” because obviously I MADE THIS CONNECTION WHEN I APPOINTED ANGELICA PICKLES (and Cynthia–who’s a really cool dancer–by association) AS FLAVOR OF THE WEEK.

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Here’s my take on Miley’s stint at the VMAs: was it comparable to my experience watching Saving Silverman as a fourth grader in the same room as my teenaged babysitter? Yes. Did I love every minute of it? Yes. Miley looked like she was having the time of her life. Yeah, her tongue was out a lot. But if you look at my Facebook profile photos, it turns out that in about one-third of them, my tongue is out too. I think it’s just a girl thing, similar to feeling happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. Right T. Swift?

Leave her alone–after all, she’s just being Miley.

On Staying Friends

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“Let’s stay friends.” “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that.” “I miss having him as my friend.”

There is clearly a reason why someone put the “friend” in “boyfriend.”

In other languages, there is a single word for “male significant other.” In Spanish, it is novio. In Hebrew, it is chaver. But in English, it’s a compound word. Boy-friend. Girl-friend. English often seems to fail with its inability to be phonetic and its reputation as one of the most difficult languages to learn as a non-native speaker. Other languages have simple, direct words for phrases, human habits, and other occurrences that English does not. My favorite example of this is the Norwegian word forelsket, which explains the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.

Typically, English is more complicated than it needs to be. But then again, so are our relationships. When it comes to the words we use to explain the one we’re with, I think we are spot on. Boy-friend. Girl-friend.

In life, you will date many people. You will love a few. And if you are lucky, one of these relationships will last forever. Most of them will not. The possibilities of the ways that your relationships will end are endless and infinite. I’m not so old myself, yet I’ve already heard what seems to be 1,000 ways to break up. Even though we all have our own stories and secrets of how our once-lived fairytales came to a close, I believe in that in reality, there are only two ways things can end: badly, or well.

If it ends badly, then it’s obviously difficult to stay friends. If things end well–or just not so badly–then you should be able to stay friends. And unless a hellish, unforgiving act was taken by either person in the relationship, friendship (or at least mutualism, a term I learned in AP Biology but often apply to real life) should eventually occur. If you liked each other once, it seems silly that you wouldn’t like each other again. Because, in their lifetimes, humans date so many people, most relationships do not end horrifically, although I totally ruin that statistic. It would make sense that most of us should be able to stay friends. If you like someone as a human, that does not mean you would necessarily like them romantically. But if you like someone romantically, then you really should like them as a human. If not… then I don’t really know what to tell you. Maybe you’re doing it wrong.

So then why the hell is it so effing difficult to stay friends?

I’m just going to come right out and say it–the main difference between your relationship with someone when you are dating and when you are not is all the stuff with the birds and the bees, which I don’t have to delve deeply into because 1) you all know what I mean and 2) my mom reads my blog. So you take the kissin’ and the lovin’ out of your relationship, and suddenly, you stop talking. Not only do you stop talking, but you really don’t like each other. When I put it like that, doesn’t it sound kinda horrible?

If you love someone for who they are and not for what you do behind closed doors, it doesn’t seem like it should be so hard to look past whatever obstacles you faced in your relationship–given, a few weeks of personal space and separation have been taken–and enjoy each other’s presence and company as friends. And if you can’t even speak to someone after years and years of dating and months and months of silence, and the only real difference in who each of you is that you aren’t sleeping together anymore, isn’t there a huge flaw in that?

It’s a shame that recently, we’re taking the “friend” out of boyfriend. That word is in there for a reason. Isn’t it?

Flavor of the Week: Bandeaux

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Yes, the plural of “bandeau” is “bandeaux,” and no, I do not have dyslexia nor think that I’m French.

Bandeaux were a brilliant invention until some sorority girls decided to wear them as shirts. Then, they became [somewhat] acceptable as crop tops, and essentially all hell broke loose. The sanctity in the ingenious purpose a bandeau was originally supposed to serve became tainted by fifty shades of neon and a hundred shades of “my high wasted shorts compensate for the fact that I’m literally wearing a bra to a social event, right?”

My freshman year of high school, I wrote a letter to myself with the intention of opening it my senior year. In it, I said, “You are wearing a colorful, beaded Free People dress, no bra (just a bandeaux).” Clearly my spelling was a little off back in the day, but my sense of sensible style was right on point.

Bandeaux are excellent for use when you are wearing a low-cut shirt (except for the fact that the newest trend after the peak of the bandeau was to wear ridiculously cut shirts with your bra just hangin’ out there to give the whole world a big hello) or, for my personal favorite purpose, when you just don’t feel like wearing a bra. You all know you love it, for comfort and for style–while everyone likes the look of “Bra!!!!!!!” no one likes the look of “Bra Straps!!!!!!”.

Bandeaux are excuses to wear a bra as a shirt or to not wear a bra at all. So if you love bras or hate bras, it’s all very win-win.