Illustration by Audrey Helen Weber, via Aesop

There’s been a lot of gross stuff on the internet concerning Alabama this week, so naturally my thoughts have tried to shift towards something (anything) that could distract me from the growing pit of dread in my stomach. What better remedy than a glass of refreshing internet lemonade to quench our thirst for good news?

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1. First up, an oldie but goodie from the Paris Review on the Argentine poet Alejandra Pizarnik. I like this one because it dwells on her first days in Paris, which everyone thinks are glamorous, except hers go much the same way as mine would: staying with uncles in the suburbs, being bored, and finding. There’s a happy ending, she meets Max Ernst and makes friends with Julio Cortazar! So the bohemian dream was worth it after all.

2. Aesop’s May “newsletter,” the Ledger, is particularly charming this month. The Ledger is worth following every time but I especially enjoyed this month’s whimsical illustrations and the article on the Van Gogh Path (“a sinuous, sparkly marvel that echoes Starry Night’s sense of wonder”) that you can cycle through in Nuenen, the Netherlands.

3. Michelle Zauner’s (of Japanese Breakfast) New Yorker article on finding her Korean identity after the death of her mother, “Crying in H-Mart” doesn’t need any more accolades from me (it was short listed for some kind of internet journalism award), but I finally read it last night before bed on my phone and it nearly made me cry too. Apparently she’s also turning it into a book, so I can’t wait to cry even more!

4. Speaking of books! I’ve been making my way through “The Good Immigrant”, a collection of essays from American first-generation immigrants who reflect on what it means to navigate race and identity in the United States as an immigrant. While I do wish they had more essays written by “real” immigrants and not so many by their kids (and the Argentine section was a smidge less political), it’s a comforting read for anyone who’s ever made the U.S. their temporary home. The book is also beautifully designed so I recommend investing in the hardcover.

5. Finally, some music! Keeping in mind that the Met Gala theme was camp and it’s been a weirdly sunny week here in Scotland, I’ve been blasting Raffaela Carra until the clouds decide we’ve had enough. You can find most of her hits on Spotify but I highly recommend watching YouTube videos of her iconic TV performances. You never saw so many spandex-clad men in your life.

Til next week,

-M

Today, in Power Moves to Emulate as Soon as I Actually Get Some Semblance of Power, I present a letter written by fantasy writer and all-around literary godmother Ursula K. LeGuinn. Concise and to the point, she voices exactly the kind of attitude I wish most men were exposed to on the regular. In response to an author blurb request for a publisher's upcoming all-male science fiction anthology, she sent along the following letter (fax?):  

Let this be a reminder to you that sometimes, the phrase “I just don’t belong here” is one of the most positive things you can tell yourself. Especially if it’s preceded by the word “gentlemen”.

-M

On days like today, when I can barely get out of bed because facing the East Coast winters is a little too much to ask, I turn to cute things to cheer me up. Like a video of a labradoodle jumping into a puddle with delight, or a video of a shiba dog avoiding a puddle with disgust (they are very clean creatures). Lower on that list but still pretty high up is this lil t-shirt from Zara, which is apparently made for the kind of shy child who needs a little extra help making friends in the playground.

As a status garment it's got everything I need: embroidered English words written out of context, ambiguous shapes (are they ghosts? mountains? mountain ghosts? mountain goats??), and adorable faces with tiny mouths. Unfortunately, it is designed to accommodate a five-year-old child and not an adult 25-year-old woman, even if she happens to have the mind (and fashion sense) of a five-year-old child. 

But come on. How can you say no to this face??????

-M

Two weeks ago, I was having lunch with my coworkers when someone asked, "If you could invest in one status bag, what would it be?"

Now, something you should know about me is that there is nothing in this dear world I love more than questions that use fashion to paint a picture of your inner psyche. After all, miles separate the woman who would invest in a Hermes Birkin from the woman who just dropped her rent on a Mulberry Alexa bag.  By the time I reached 20 I had already decided what designer would make my wedding dress (Simone Rocha), what house would dress me if I ever went to the Oscars (Dior), what makeup artist would do my face (Charlotte Tilbury) and what designer I'd most want to have dinner with (it used to be Marc Jacobs but now it's got to be Raf Simmons). Sufice it to say, I was ready for this conversation to happen.

My coworkers started throwing names around like Celine's Nano tote and the classic Lady Dior bag. I've wanted a Bayswatter since I learned of Alexa Chung's existence, so I said that. But the experience got me thinking about the more attainable sides of fashion. After all, accessories are areas of investment for high fashion for those of us who can't afford a couture gown on the reg. Which brings me to the status tote. 

Ranging in price from $25 to $75, a status tote needs to have only two qualities: 1) it must be made from a nondescript standard canvas material, and 2) display the brand's name somewhere on its front. As the raggedy cousin of the It Bag, the Statement Tote says to the world "Like you, I may not be able to afford a Balenciaga bag, but at least I have the fashion credentials to judge you about it." It's prestige and approachable at once, a primer on fashion iconography without being all "IT'S CALLED FASHION, LOOK IT UP!!". Case in point, I proudly own a poppy bright orange See by Chloe tote bag, which proudly proclaims "That's right world, I read Teen Vogue in 2008!".

The status tote needn't limit itself to the fashion industry, however. Think of all the people you've spotted carrying tote bags from Iovine Brothers, or the Strand, or St. Vincent's Fear the Future Tour (that is a really excellent status tote, btw). The point of the status tote isn't necessarily to pledge allegiance to a fashion house, but to act as a secret identifier of your particular tribe, whatever it may be. It tells the world that you have a point of view, and allows a member of your community to identify you as such, maybe even making contact over an inside joke. Your phones may have your Tinder bio, but passer-bys have status totes.  

I was still ruminating on the conversation during my subway ride home, which quickly evolved into thinking about the kind of people that carry certain totes. Here's a lil list I wrote up. 

Margaret Howell Tote

 

"I am a surprisingly lucid grandmother who wears all linen, shops at No. 6 and spent time in Florence. My stage name is Maggie Smith."
 

Melville House Bartleby Tote

"I derive equal pleasure from lively intellectual conversations and watching out-of-balance skateboarders do that thing where they sway violently for what seems like an age but is actually less than a minute and then fall on their faces with an indignant 'Dude!'. Ha ha! There is a 15% chance I voted third party." 

Opening Ceremony Chloe Sevigny Logo Tote Bag From 2009 I Guess?

"I am a millennial who shops at the Glossier showroom (not online!) and sings along to Aqua ironically" 

Loewe Toast Tote Bag

"I need you to know that I spent $1700 on this canvas bag"

New Yorker Tote

"I'm on Bumble." 

-M

Happy new year!

-M