




Thanksgiving is never particularly interesting to me because I can’t remember a point in my life when I was enthused about giant turkeys and hams, and coming down with strep throat this year made it even less culinarily exciting. (Vegan chicken soup from a can anyone? I couldn’t even make pie.) HOWEVER, french toast is definitely one of those holidays-only breakfasts, and Sunday after Thanksgiving when you’ve got leftover pumpkin challah-type-bread is more than enough of a special occasion.
In my experience, the keys to really great french toast are using an originally very soft and fluffy bread (challah, babka, brioche) that is slightly stale (otherwise it’ll fall to mush the second you get it wet) and cut very thick, using more milk/cream than eggs, a very hot pan, and way more butter than I ever feel comfortable using. (It’s for special occasions. It’s totally fine. And in reality it probably adds up to a tablespoon max, but seems massive.)
Anyhow. Above: pumpkin bread French toast. Continuing my disgusting eternal compulsive obsession with mascarpone, there’s hazelnut butter and mascarpone between the two slices, and of course it’s all covered with cinnamon and maple syrup.
Dinosaurs are for boys (girls allowed)
This amused me a lot, largely because I was totally obsessed with dinosaurs as a kid. This probably had more to do with my mother’s vague distaste for Barbies and obsession with encouraging me to do sciencey stuff (who else remembers this book? this book was basically the coolest thing ever, I hope I still have the magnet from it sitting around somewhere. I think this thing entertained me for years.) but like, really, I kind of think it’s hilarious reading all this analysis on dinosaurs being gendered — but the comments + edits to the post bring up a lot of great talking points, like about SEO and the necessity of including these things often because of demand (people googling ‘dinosaurs’ and ‘girls’) and other marketing-type concerns, and also about how unfair this sort of gendering is to boys also. Is there a “Bratz dolls for boys” section? No, didn’t think so.
Anyhow, the point of this is basically that dinosaurs are totally awesome and that all of mine got on really well with all of my Barbies and also my rock collection and pieces of whatever toy kitchen set I had and probably some art supplies too, and I am totally okay with that.
Karen O rocking gold shoulderblades from Bijules, which are pretty much awesome. Now just to find wearable-and-affordable-for-normal-life versions incorporated into a dress… H+M, why do you fail me? Seriously haven’t been able to find any decent versions of the INTENSE SHOULDERS of the past few seasons at any of my usual cheapy stores this season yet. [via nitrolicious]

Given my unnatural obsession with temp tats, I’m in love with these script ones by the renowned Scott Campbell for vending machines at Art Basel Miami, which I’m hearing is actually supposedly pretty cool. Granted I’m usually more into wash-off unicorns, dinosaurs, rainbows, and skulls, but you have to admit these are rad. [via gnarlitude]




As per Monday usual, last night’s dinner — you can tell I’m still in a fall mood and continuing my obsession with squash, shiitake mushrooms, pecans, and orzo/barley salads. We started out with pumpkin bread crostini (ha, ha, I can give toast a fancy name too) with cherry butter, carmelized onions, and goat brie, and for dinner I made an orange-glazed chilean seabass with mashed butternut squash and a pecan-mushroom-corn whole grain orzo pilaf. Also, you know, half a bottle of a peppery Malbec. A+.
Also in this week’s experiments? Marshmallows, from scratch, which made my whole kitchen a goey, confectioners-sugar-coated mess and yielded some slightly-more-gelatinous-than-expected results, but ultimately was more or less a success. Fun fact: I went into every bodega in a 5 block radius trying to find corn syrup and confectioner’s sugar. Every single one - we’re talking mouse poop beer-and-cigarettes-and-hard-rolls-with-butter bodegas, kids, not like, organic groceires - had agave syrup and stevia, but nobody had good old Karo syrup. Which in theory is kind of awesome — it’s great knowing I can buy spelt flour and organic unbleached tampons downstairs, and I still got all the sugary junk at Tops — but I mean, seriously. Oh, Williamsburg.
Macha & Bedhead covering Cher, which somehow I’d never heard before. The autotune is completely hilarious and I think its incongruity here here (on a sleepy ‘indietronica’/’slowcore’ track circa Y2K) points out just how accustomed + oblivious we’ve gotten to hearing that on female vocals and more upbeat dance/hip hop tracks.




How many witchy gothy studded ripped black-lipstick-and-boobies-in-the-forest editorials can I post? A lot. And I’m totally okay with that. I-D Winter 09, via TFS.
Times Online | 'Girls can follow fashion without compromising intelligence'
BREAKING NEWS, LADIES!!!!!! THE UK NEWSMEDIA HAS DETERMINED THAT THERE ACTUALLY ISN’T A NEGATIVE CORRELATION BETWEEN OUR OUR SHOE COLLECTIONS AND OUR IQ’S!!
the new yorker | ariel levy - lift and separate
But, if feminism becomes a politics of identity, it can safely be drained of ideology. Identity politics isn’t much concerned with abstract ideals, like justice. It’s a version of the old spoils system: align yourself with other members of a group—Irish, Italian, women, or whatever—and try to get a bigger slice of the resources that are being allocated. If a demand for revolution is tamed into a simple insistence on representation, then one woman is as good as another. You could have, in a sense, feminism without feminists. You could have, for example, Leslie Sanchez or Sarah Palin.
Ariel Levy’s commentary in The New Yorker about the identity politics of American feminism (focused on representation and an empty sense of community rather than valid social change) manages to bring up a number of vague points + issues I’ve been mulling about for a while.
Identity politics is always a huge part of any social movement; ‘we share something and are similarly disadvantaged’ is a great motivation for cooperation (and, we might note, a great motivation for marketing and advertising, as well.) Yet there’s a strange trajectory of the development of these — from bonding mechanism, to motivator, to, as is the point of the article and a big part of my discomfort with all of these things, something which ultimately leads to division, exclusion, and conflict.
It’s unsettling to think about the fact that obviously on some level Sarah Palin and Leslie Sanchez clearly agree that there are inequalities between men and women that they feel the desire to change, and understand that ‘feminism’ is responsible for many of the opportunities they have had in their lifetime — they just don’t want anyone to think they’re man-hating bra-burning dykes, because as we know, all women and men who care about women’s equality are by default man-hating bra-burning dykes. But don’t I reject that notion too, in a different way? I mean, hell, the posts here that aren’t about feminism and sociology and internet marketing or whatever are about $800 shoes and lipstick, and I don’t think that ‘cancels’ anything or ‘indicates’ any sort of ‘oppression’ or ‘shallowness’. I completely get off on being as glib as possible about being feminist and femme at the same time, and I think they only strengthen each other’s case. I just choose that dirty f-word as part of my identity; I just still align myself with that label, because over years it’s provided me with frames through which I was able to make sense of what I perceived as injustice.
It’s immediately obvious that identifying with any sort of -ism or demographic is more of a social/identity/marketing tactic than any real indicator of personal ideals or actions; Palin/McCain’s campaign spin largely consisted of appealing to empty signifiers of being “American” and “patriotic” and “traditionaly, essentially catering to people who align themselves with “nationalism” in the same way I would align with “liberal” or “feminist.” (I grew up in America, I want the best for this country, I have strong ideas about what it should be doing, which is certainly more ‘patriotic’ than total apathy. And yet I’m pretty sure the right would see me as a terrorist-loving bra-burning blasphemous traitor - an anti-nationalist, for them a dirty word, for me a concept of papers in some sociology class of yore - in the same way that I am tempted to condemn Sarah Palin as an anti-feminist figurehead of backasswards idea about women.)
Yet strangely, Palin’s expectation of support from all women who want to ‘break the glass ceiling’ IS, essentially, catering to its own twisted version of feminist identity politics, the notion that a demographic will bond together for a common cause, with the demographic being ‘women,’ and the cause being ‘having a woman in the White House.’ It is why my conservative father expressed indignant surprise (“I thought you would like her because you’re into that feminist stuff”) when I told him angrily that I strongly disagreed with all of Sarah Palin’s politics and on a personal level thought she was insane and not that bright; it’s what all this hoopla about Gloria Steinem’s rejection of Palin was about, and that impossibly brilliant little SNL bit which I’m still laughing at today. It’s the reason her “co-opting feminist dialogue” and reframing it as nationalist and conservative is so infuriating — because to some extent, SOMETHING is shared. (And because sometimes, she’s - I hate to say it - kind of right.)
Palin’s (and my father’s) expectation of female-but-not-feminist support is based on this (conscious or otherwise) decision to separate ‘wanting equality and opportunity’ from ‘being part of a movement.’ Jezebel brings up the infurating assumption in the 2008 elections that “men had the luxury of choosing candidates they actually agree with but women had to vote with their vaginas” — yet this wasn’t entirely some assumption that women are lazy or stupid. It’s an assumption that women’s rights is an important part of the identity of, presumably, a plurality of American women (since apparently the McCain campaign thought it would help win an election) despite the fact that most of those would reject the term ‘feminism’ and want to be ‘traditional.’ What traditions are we speaking about here? What rights? What feminism? Where did this incredibly bizarre double-blind come from? When did we split up into bra-burning radicals versus attractive and religious governor-moms from Alaska? Somehow Tina Fey and Palin’s absolute physical similarlity appeals to me as a metaphor here but I can’t quite put together how, and speaking of Tina, Mean Girls somehow factors in as well.
Levy’s self-critical notes about how we like to imagine the 50’s as a time where no women worked brings in the necessary metacriticism of feminism that Sanchez apparently chose to phrase as an attack rather than a constructive critique. Because isn’t the inverse of the ‘feminism without feminists problem’ that those of us who DO align ourselves as feminists may also find ourselves blind to reality? In other words, are ‘radicals’ now feminists without feminism? Is self-defining as ‘feminist’ in some ways an easy way out and a way to avoid any real issues, as pathetic as girls who swear off that dirty term for the sake of it sounding too aggressive, unsexy, and extreme — an easy way for me to identify and align with other similarly-minded men and women rather than actually create change? To what extent is my incorporation of “feminism” as an aspect of “liberal” identity politics part of the whole problem?
I’ve gotten riled up about a number of recent studies and their surrounding media ‘blaming feminism’ for ‘women’s rising unhappiness’ — a valid point (“hey, guys, it’s not all unicorns and rainbows, oh shit!”) which Levy makes more tactfully when she mentions that for many women, working isn’t an empowered choice but a financial necessity, especially in the current economy. Why, instead of analyzing this as a side effect of change and working to find explanations and solutions, do we chose to “blame feminism” or “defend” it? I hate to say that there is a grain of truth in the rants of asinine ‘pro-patriarchy’ or ‘men’s rights’ groups when they criticize feminists for ‘taking all criticism as a personal attack’ — but while they usually bring that up with some crap about estrogen and our natural imbalances and whatever, isn’t it possible that there is something else at the core of this? If this is so deeply tied to our personal identities, and thereby to the identity politics of the movement with which we align, is it hardly any surprise that critiques end up being so personally infuriating?
At the end of the day, despite the radical differences in our politics and my lack of support for their careers, don’t Sarah Palin, Lady Gaga, the rest of the “oh god no, we’re not feminists!” world, and I still share the same idea that women can, like, do important things too? And what does that say about any of this?
Cracks — directed by Jordan Scott, daughter of Ridley Scott (who we all know directed my secret favourite Blade Runner)… and in which the love of my life Eva Green (really, read that interview, how can you not think she’s the most amazing thing ever?) plays some sort of oversexed glamorous boarding school teacher in what seems to be a lesbian-lolita-lord-of-the-flies drama of totally epic scenery, costuming, creepiness, and pretentious complexity. Though I supposed one could bemoan the lack of incestuous Parisian ménage à trois (and I doubt she’ll be cooking ratatouille in a chiffon dressing gown while Louis Garrell eats a banana in nothing but a green velvet blazer)… still looks like it’ll be interesting.



Hansel + Gretel in Vogue 2009, photographed by Annie Leibowitz, and featuring Lily Cole and, naturally, Lady Gaga as the witch. Well then!
listening to: an experiment on the bird in the air pump







As is the case far too often, I can’t read very much at all of Annette Pehrsson’s blog, Hymn for the Cigarettes, but I love her calm, muted, soft-focus photos. Also, she appears to have (or have access to) an awful lot of adorable kittens, which I’m not going to complain about.
brooklyn fail
You know, I started out writing this long-ass ranty intellectual post about why NY Mag’s feature on the ‘Brooklyn scene’ and the Dirty Projectors and how, like, this guy Todd P is totally changing the world got really under my skin and somehow made me kinda depressed. Like about how they DO actually start to get to this good point they make about Brooklyn as a self-sustaining micro-economy of NYU, Vassar, and Oberlin grads who buy 7”s and beer and all hang out at the same places and work at the same venues and play in bands and are secretly depressed about the fact that the internet and the recession meant that their jobs of being a rockstar/journalist/wealthy a+r guy at some cool-ass label/writer/artist/whatever just genuinely aren’t options that exist in the world anymore but here’s this option, seriously, to hang out and exist in this little bubble (challenge, friends: how many people in this photo do you know? point proven) that fuels itself and does feel vibrant and alive and community-ish when everything else is stagnant.
But about how despite getting to that, it’s just awkward to talk about a ‘New York scene’ in this other-y way (“let’s write an article about hipsters for the 47823th time”)… or even about how living in a moldy cheap prewar Bushwick brownstone crammed to the brim with band practices isn’t, like, ‘a big deal’ (speaking of which, anyone want one? I’m subletting my room. no, seriously.)… or my endless rant about blogs vs magazines and how even the bloggiest of forward-thinking NYC magazines seems awfully pedantic and behind things in comparison…. or just about how downright cringe-worthy and off-base that list of “40 songs that define the Brooklyn sound” was and why for some reason that made me really, really sad about the death of media and the music industry and Brooklyn and THE WHOLE UNIVERSE or whatever, all at once.
Then I realised that, yes, sometimes the only appropriate reaction is snark and between that and, natch, the comments on the articles themselves (“The sound of right now? I’d suggest a quick use of the fact-checking machine called google…Some of the songs are from 2006 and 2007. That’s like 4 lifetimes in indie-band terms.” or “This list seems as telling a commentary on contemporary journalism as it is Brooklyn’s music scene…. Yeah… Brooklyn… we get it. What else.”), I got nothin’.
Sigh.




