There’s no doubt: the onesie pajama had a moment in 2013. Traditionally onesies have been considered sleepwear for children only, but these one-piece PJs became hip for adults this year.
Even I got swept up in onesie fever. I broke down and bought this stripped, footless one-piece from Target and it made me a believer. The whole peeing in the middle of the night thing is definitely a pain in the ass, but I’m willing to overlook that because, somehow, my onesie helps me sleep better. Seriously, they are magical.
Let’s take a look back at the onesie’s miraculous journey from reviled Christmas gift to must-have wardrobe staple.
Photographer, Roberto Schmidt, who took the now infamous pic of Michelle Obama looking mortified while Barack Obama, British Prime Minister David Cameron and Danish Prime Minister Helle Thorning Schmidt posed for a selfie at Nelson Mandela’s memorial service, is coming to the first lady’s defense.
“Photos can lie,” writes Schmidt on the AFP blog. “In reality, just a few seconds earlier the first lady was herself joking with those around her, Cameron and Schmidt included. Her stern look was captured by chance.” Keep reading »
Oh, the irony. Leave it to the French to come up with a way to put an end to rude customers. we all know it’s easy to be ornery before you’ve had your morning caffeine infusion, but the the Petite Syrah café in Nice has developed a brilliant way to condition their customers not to be assholes: you pay based on your attitude. Ordering “a coffee, please” and accepting it with a “thank you” will run you about $1.95, while just asking for “a coffee” will bump your cost up to almost $10. That’s nearly an $8 incentive to be polite! Coffeehouse owner, Fabrice Pepino started the shop’s politeness payment policy as a joke, but he says it caught on with the clientele:
“I know people say that French service can be rude but it’s also true that customers can be rude when they’re busy. It’s our way of saying ‘keep calm and carry on…. What started out as a joke to poke fun at the stressed-out lunchtime crowd has had an amazing effect on people’s politeness levels…Most of my customers are regulars and they just see the funny side and exaggerate their politeness.They started calling me ‘your greatness’ when they saw the sign.”
We can only hope that Starbucks takes note and follows suit. [Gawker]
In his new project, 12 SHOES for 12 LOVERS, artist Sebastian Errazuriz puts all of his past relationships on display as a collection of shoes. “When I started this process I never imagined where it would end up, it’s been infinitely more complex, revealing and difficult than I thought,” said Errazuriz, whose Shoes are currently on display in Miami. Well,I would think so.
His Shoes, with names like “The Rock,” “The Boss,” “The Virgin,” “The Hot Bitch,” “The Gold Digger” and the “Cry Baby” include personal photos and stories in which Errazuriz reveals “a glimpse of each relationship and in the process exposes himself to scrutiny and judgment.” (He also shares intimate details, which I’m sure they’re thrilled about.) The women’s names have been changed to protect their identities, but I’m sure they know who they are. And now, you will spend the rest of the day imagining what you would look like as a high heel. I think the shoe version of me would definitely have a face. After the jump, you can see a couple more of Errazuriz’s Shoes, I mean exes. [Laughing Squid] Keep reading »
I hate the term holiday blues. I think that’s because when I was 19, December rolled around and I fell into a full-blown depression, complete with sleepless nights, loss of appetite and thoughts of suicide. The holiday blues sound like an uptempo jazz standard compared to the nightmarish thoughts blaring in my head. I’m hardly the only college student who has teetered on the brink of a breakdown. It’s practically a cliche to experience some sort of mental and emotional suffering when you’re that age. But at the time, it didn’t feel like a cliche. It felt like the fight of my life, the recovery from which, with the help of therapy, was an epic journey up from an underworld I feared I might inhabit for the rest of my life. Months later, sitting in my therapist’s office, trying to solve a Rubick’s Cube that she kept on her desk, I clicked one row of orange squares together and felt a spark of hope. I woke up the next morning and thought, What’s for breakfast? I knew I was doing a lot better — at least enough to begin to function again.
I’ve never suffered another episode of depression, but ever since then, I’ve never experienced a happy holiday season either. I know that this is a particularly difficult time of year for many people. Especially those who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder or those who are grappling with more tangible hardships like financial struggles or a death in the family. I wish I could say I had a definitive reason to feel so meh in December. It’s much harder to pin down my discomfort around this time of year because it’s not related to my external circumstances — I have a wonderful family, great friends, a happy relationship and a job I love. I have much to be grateful and joyous about and I know it. The thing is, I consider myself a more-or-less happy person — at least for big pockets of time year-round. I understand how to access joy more often as I get older — positive thoughts, low expectations, balance. Even still, at this time of year, despite my best efforts, despite all my blessings, I find myself hanging on tight and crossing my fingers that I don’t spiral into darkness again. Keep reading »
When Argentinian filmmaker Paula Schargodsky found herself 35, single and accidentally having slept through her last uncoupled friend’s wedding, she knew there was something “she didn’t want to face.” As the only single one left in her circle, she decided to make a documentary film about the “questions [she was struggling] to answer” about the expiration date on female freedom. Schargodsky used “systematically kept” footage of her “love stories and breakups,” her “friends with their boyfriends, then husbands, then pregnant bellies” from the last 10 years to explore the question: “Can social mandates be disregarded, or is my extended youth finally coming to its end?” Keep reading »
“I’m not a real social-media person. I’m not on Twitter … I try not to read too much online because I always get my feelings hurt, even if someone’s flattering you. Like somebody tweeting, ‘Call me crazy, but I think Amy Poehler’s attractive.’ And you’re like, ‘OK? Thank you?’ Or like someone writing, ‘I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that I’d have sex with Amy Poehler.’…The amount of Instagram selfies seems crazy out-of-control…The idea of, ‘This is my face and everyone needs to see it all the time,’ is so far from the privacy that people used to seek. Now everyone acts the way ’80s performance artists used to act. Everybody’s Karen Finley. Everybody’s like, ‘This is my vagina! I’m gonna put shit all over me and take pictures!’…When I was a kid, you’d go to a party or a punk rock show and you’d have fun, and you’d bring a camera, and you’d take pictures, and those pictures would stay inside the camera…Pictures were an addition to the experience. Now the picture is the experience. If I’m hanging out with a friend, and they take a picture of me, it’s like ‘Ugh.’ I mean, I hate looking at pictures of myself. It immediately takes me out of the experience.”
–Amy Poehler explains her social media aversion in Paper magazine. God, I can relate. And I’m not famous. Mean internet comments have made me cry and I almost never tweet because I’m too long-winded for 140 characters. It’s good to know I’m not the only one. As far as the selfies, I understand her stance, but often enjoy looking at others’ selfies out of sheer fascination, horror or even admiration. But she’s right in the sense that performance artist Karen Finley is best enjoyed live. For those of you who’ve never seen her, she’s famous for shoving a yam up her ass on stage and covering her naked body in stuff like honey and feathers. It’s quite captivating. [Paper Magazine]
Most women don’t regularly find themselves compelled to touch a dirty pair of men’s underwear (I don’t even want to think about those unidentified streaks and neither do you!), but perhaps that’s for the best. A new study published in the Journal of Consumer Psychology found that touching “sexually laden stimuli” (read as: men’s boxers), made women more willing to take big financial risks such as throwing money away on gambling or dropping major ducats on big-ticket items or just overspending on little ones. (Surprise! Heterosexual men behaved similarly after touching women’s bras.) Keep reading »