Dakota Fanning and Elle Fanning — they’re young, they’re talented and they’re so, so pretty. Both sisters have incredible careers and great style (and are at least three years away from the legal drinking limit). Both of them make me feel like I haven’t accomplished squat with my life. Thanks Fannings, I’m depressed now.
But! Anyway! We’ve picked some of the Fanning’s best looks, and picked our favorites. Agree or disagree with our choices? Let us know in the comments!
What were you doing 20 years ago today? Perhaps preparing to watch a new NBC drama called “Sisters”?
It was two decades ago that the Emmy-winning series premiered, earning critical acclaim and a loyal fanbase, while helping to launch the careers of up-and-comers like Ashley Judd and Paul Rudd. The series also earned a certain TV pilot veteran his shot at another TV drama that would send him on the path to big-screen stardom and an Oscar. Keep reading »
I was 14 and I was having slippery feelings. I was having them for Roelle, the sophomore with giant tits who told me she liked my shirt, before crawling under a wool blanket to make out with her boyfriend on the front lawn of the high school. I was having them for Eleanor, who told me it was her dad’s birthday the three times I asked her to hang out. I was even having them for Colleen, who was only 4’7”, and who ate her height in Taco Bell tacos, and who therefore smelled like she had been bathing in a vat of expired salsa. Keep reading »
When we were kids, my younger brother Greg drove me bonkers. His favorite activity was lying like a corpse on my bed while I screamed, “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” until I finally dragged him into the hallway. He also liked hiding, then jumping out and scaring me. He wailed like a cat in an imitation of my singing in the shower. I found out he read my diary. (How? By reading his.)
But we were still fiercely protective of each other, especially as the only Chinese kids in a neighborhood rampant with racism, and as we got older, we became more friends than squabbling siblings, banding together against our nagging parents and their disapproval of our non-traditional pursuits (book writing for me, screenwriting for him). But it was when I was going through the toughest time in my life that Greg became not just my ally but my voice of reason, my Cassandra, the one person I knew who was unafraid to tell me the truth. Keep reading »
It strikes me as interesting that a short but sweet essay on the benefits of having a sister, called “Why Sisterly Chats Make People Happier,” has been one of the most popular articles on The New York Times website for over a week. The essay is in response to a recent Brigham Young University study which claims that men who have sisters are happier than those who don’t. The essay’s author, linguist Deborah Tannen, expands the discussion to theorize that this is because women, and thus sisters, are more talkative, so they are better at communicating … Keep reading »
In a dream world, where my uterus wasn’t running out of time, childbirth was painless, and kids behaved like angels, I would have four kids: three girls, one boy. Unfortunately, in the real world, my son, having grown up surrounded by girls, would be viewed as “less sexy” by women as an adult. That’s according to a study conducted at the University of Texas and published in the journal Psychological Science, which says that men who grow up with a lot of female siblings will have less sex as adults. Keep reading »
It was just my sister, my boyfriend and me at the tapas bar. Over Spanish food and mojitos, we were laughing and drinking. Like any night I can liberate her from small, crying children, I considered it a success. Then my boyfriend rose to head to the restroom and my sister lurched her head across the table. “I’ll make this quick,” she said her voice lowered. “I have to tell you something.” She then divulged a suburban marital drama and asked me for advice. My poor boyfriend was exiled to the bar for privacy and then deposited at home by himself. The sisters had things to discuss.
I’ve long considered my older sisters to be my closest confidantes. Heck, the three of them practically raised me. When your family is as screwed-up as mine, that’s what happens. But that night at the tapas bar was the first time I didn’t just feel like the little sister, but the friend too. Keep reading »
My big sister’s favorite game to play with me as a child was a simple one that I’ll just call “Lure John into the dark basement, then race up the stairs and lock the door.” It was a game that I always lost, and she always won. I’d beg her to open the door, and she’d just cackle. My sister had a wicked snicker. She wasn’t sadistic. This was just the law of the jungle. The price I paid for her not smothering me in the cradle. The door would eventually open like her arms and her laughter would be a sprinkler on a summer day, soaking us both. So we’d both end up laughing, and there would be no grudges. Because there really aren’t any grudges between brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters are as close as peanut butter and jelly. Keep reading »
I’d like to say I don’t know why you’re letting him back into your life and bask in that ignorance, but I do know why. You’re almost 35 now and want nothing more than a flesh-and-blood child of your own with a man you love—more than you wanted that master’s degree, that great job you have, that beautiful house you bought with your own money or that strong, athletic body you worked so hard to get back after he broke your heart the last time and ran off with someone else. Keep reading »