Today, more husbands count on their wives to bring home a significant share of the family wealth; nearly one in four women now earns more than her husband. With this, men have options to leave a negative work environment, change careers, take more career risks, and be more involved with their children.
“The findings of the ‘Lipstick Index” may initially seem incongruous, but beware: their explanations are compelling. Each time the credit crunch bites harder, the sales of such items as lipsticks and bottles of bubbly jump another notch, history apparently shows. And, true to form, while Australians’ overall spending wilts, sales of L’Oreal Paris lipsticks have increased by 54 per cent (from last April to this), according to AC Nielsen figures.”—
Apparently sales of lipstick, costume jewellery and champagne are up as people try to treat themselves to ‘small luxuries’ to razz up old outfits due to financial strife. But surely you don’t need to ask AC Neilsen about that; just talk to my friend whose rent was increased by $200 PER WEEK.
$200 per week??? Say it isn’t so! Rents have gone up around $100 per week in my suburb in the past year. I’m hoping my landlord will only push mine up $50 come the end of my lease in September. Although even that will be nasty.
Neck, back, shoulder, left arm - the whole caboodle.
In that time, I’ve…
- Read the latest issue of Cosmopolitan (the best, most content-filled one I’ve read in a while)… - and the latest issue of Australian Vogue, which featured the best article I’ve read in a women’s magazine in ages (and no, my standards aren’t dropping due to painkillers). About turning 40, it was by Antonella Gambotto-Burke, who I was delighted to see is a fellow Aussie (more unusual than you would think in a magazine like Vogue). I have found myself a new writer to admire. FYI, the article on the difficulty of finding a partner was much less horrific and more intelligent than I expected also. - Watched a whole lot of trash TV, including my first episodes of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, How to Look Good Naked (Carson is awesome!) and Bindi: The Jungle Girl (she wasn’t so bad, either - on second thoughts, maybe my standards are slipping - the Antonella Gambotto article really was excellent, though!). - On a related note, learned who this year’s Big Brother cast were (hate Nobbi, and Brigitte, and Terrance) and dreamt I was one of them throughout a particularly painful and patchy-sleeped night. - Also discovered that I quite like television news (I normally get my news off the web, and through newspapers when at work).
Am hoping I’m on the mend now, although am still struggling to walk more than around 50 metres.
“Is the ocean of short writing the web has generated due to our minds are getting dumber and incapable of paying attention to long articles, as Carr worries, or is it because we finally have a new vehicle and market place for loads of short things, whereas in the past it short was unprofitable to produce in such quantity? I doubt the former and suspect the latter is the better explanation.”— Will We Let Google Makes Us Smarter?, Kevin Kelly, in response to Nick Carr’s much talked about piece in the Atlantic, “Is Google Making Us Stupid?”. (via kapookababy)
“I don’t want to be ‘sort of dating’ someone. I don’t want to be ‘kinda hanging out’ with someone. I don’t want to spend a lot of energy suppressing my feelings so I appear uninvolved. I want to be involved. I want to be sleeping with someone I know I’ll see again because they’ve already demonstrated to me that they’re trustworthy and honorable — and into me.”—
He’s Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt & Liz Tuccillo (via babybitch)
Wow. I’ve always been derisive of that book, but I actually agree with this.
“Of course, this is partly women’s fault. Ain’t it always. We’re the ones who continually vote for old ugly dudes on the Men I’d Like To Fuck lists, as though females are somehow blind to male pulchritude. We’re the ones who’ve written much of the slathering copy about Har Mar - and doesn’t that just make all the little boys feel good about themselves? Hey! Chicks dig the ugly shit! I can just keep on going with my little hip-hop belly! And conversely, it’s us chicks who are the first ones to hissy-fit if some girl makes it to the page without being properly airbrushed first. Focus-group femmes pretend to want ‘real’ chicks in magazines, and then curl their lips and go ‘Oh. My. God. Did you SEE the SIZE of her ass! She’s like one of those rap guys’ girlfriends!’ when some bitch bigger than a 12 struts her stuff on a magazine mock-up. Feh.”—Via Amp (via gauntlet)
You should do a story about blacks in the usa why r we looked down on by all races were ever u go, u no your black
Well, it’s true that that’s the kind of story I would write, and it’s always nice when someone gets your “brand" right (Scott didn’t quite achieve that in the aforementioned link ;)), but I’m kind of baffled as to what moved someone on the other side of the world to email me a story idea, from their mobile phone of all places, without introducing themselves or explaining why.
“Artists raise their kids differently … We have art around the house, we have books, we go to plays, we talk. Our focus is art and painting and dress-up and singing. It’s what we love. So I think you can see how artists in some way raise other artists.”—
Angelina Jolie: Wow, who knew I might kindasorta like her an eetsy bitsy bit for half a nanosecond? (via supernice)
What I don’t like about this is the way she assumes she and Brad (and People Like Them) are the only ones who do this. My parents weren’t “artists”, and I experienced most of the above.
Great article by Tumblr’s own very talented Jean Hannah Edelstein. (Incidently, the magazine it was published in is produced by a friend of a friend. I’ve never met him, but my friend raves about how great he - and the magazine, Bad Idea - is.)
I fell in love with Britney Spears on a cold winter’s day in the December of my 18th year. I was shopping for accessories in a tatty store for teenagers; she was dancing through the halls of a high school in a sexy uniform on a large flat-screen television suspended above a rack of Christmas earrings with flashing red-and-green lights.
It is not, I will mention here, as a small caveat, that my affection for Britney Spears was ever romantic – or at least not very much. Rather, my worship of her was heroic. Britney Spears, I decided, embodied all of the possibility of my young female life. In my case these possibilities had been trampled over by the ambitions of my parents in a not dissimilar way from that in which Britney’s infamous mother Lynn had guided her daughter’s career with an iron fist. The path my parents selected didn’t involve nearly as exciting a wardrobe though: without consulting me too much, they carefully moulded my life with the ultimate aim being the receipt of a respectable undergraduate degree, instead of a Video Music Award. Adolescent, I necessarily resented it.
“A Yale University study this year found that the average woman starts to experience discrimination when she becomes thirteen pounds overweight, while an average man can be nearly 70 pounds past a six-pack before his size interferes with his relationships or his work.”—
“…although heterosexuality has the power of all dominant cultures to mark all unmarked spaces as its own, so that everybody becomes straight by default, full membership of this elite grouping can require certain badges of affiliation. Popular culture rewards two versions of younger heterosexuality - display of sexual activity in line with dominant norms and the establishment of publicly recognised couples.”— Gargi Bhattacharya. Sexuality and Society: An Introduction.
all the sad young gossip girls has been doing the rounds on Tumblr today, but that’s not the reason I’m posting about it. I’m posting about it because it’s luminous genius.
This site brings the Gossip Girl universe to life, through fan-manufactured found objects that intersect the world of Constance Billard and St Judes with our own. It is beautiful, insightful and gently witty. If you like Gossip Girl, it’s a must read.
“Looks cheesy, definitely will see this. Because, hey, it’s practically the story of my LIFE!”—
- lovepuppy on the He’s Just Not That Into You movie.
There’s probably some truth in that for us all, but I’ve found from experience and observation that most of the time, the guys who aren’t that into us are the ones we’re only interested in for sport or entertainment or social expectation to be partnered anyway.
The important ones - the one who make our hearts flutter and sing - are far more likely to be reciprocal, simply because the best emotional/physical/intellectual connections tend to be.
It’s a shame they don’t come around more often, though.
is what Carrie Bradshaw said today in the movie true? That women come to this city looking for the big “L” - either Love … or Labels?
Because that’s not why I came here.
Why did you come to New York?
Honestly, if I was on a quest to find love, New York would be one of the last places I’d move to (it’s full of interesting, intelligent people, but it also strikes me as a bit of a singles city). In fact, last year, when I was looking into moving there, one of the reasons I thought it might be “the right time” was that I was (am) young enough to not need to be seriously thinking about settling down.
As for labels, how many people can afford them after rent, food and bills?
But to answer Julia’s question, if I were to move to New York (and hopefully some day I will), it would be for the city’s unsurpassed energy, its people, its endless array of things to do, and the great career opportunities that abound there.
Definitely not racism. She’s just “not from this planet” beautiful. Here at worked we looked at every page.
I will concede that celebrity babies do tend to be prettier than regular babies (just as celebrity adults tend to be prettier than regular adults) - see Milla Jovovich's bub and gorgeous little Suri Cruise for further examples - but I think the obsession with Shiloh stems more from perceptions about her parents than her own merits. Which isn’t to say she’s not gorgeous, just that she’s been hyped beyond what anyone can live up to.
Do the other kids get tabloid covers? Webpage features that run for 14 pages devoted to the blessed 2nd anniversary of their birth?
Holy mother, can they just not have those twins?
I don’t think it’s about racism; I think it’s about the fact that she’s the genetic progeny of two people popularly considered the most beautiful man and woman on earth (not a belief I personally share, but…). Accordingly, Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt is genetically superior to us all, and deserves 14-page 2nd birthday celebrations.
“But what a TV show will not tell you, no matter how many episodes you watch in a row, is that the people you meet here will only like you or want to help you as long as they can believe themselves to be better — more talented or more successful or richer or smarter — than you. The people you meet here will pretend to be your friends as long as it’s convenient for them or as long as it’s consistent with the versions of themselves they’re performing every day. The people you meet here will never hesitate to say things about you in print that they’d never say to your face. They have made a bargain. They will do whatever it takes to stay here. You came here because you thought you had a lot in common with them, and the thing is, you do. But those things aren’t the things about yourself that you like.”—
This seems to be the view a lot of the New Yorkers I’ve met have about NYC, and its prevalence suggests they’re not wrong. Certainly, a couple of the New Yorkers I’ve met have fulfilled the above to a ‘T’ (although I find it’s more “what can you offer me” than “am I more talented, successful, smart, etc?”).
At the same time, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such kindness and hospitality as I’ve seen amongst New Yorkers. These are people who, if they like you, will offer to take you out to lunch, to dinner, send you agents and editor details - hell, even offer you their apartment for the week.
The problem with google analytics is that it’s so easy to get creeped out by the ways people end up at your site (namely, incoming links and search terms). There are some things you I just don’t want to know.
Tonight, as I was walking home from the CBD, a guy of my approximate age tried to spark up a conversation with me.
Nothing too unusual about that. It happens to most of us. And like most women would in my situation, I deflected his attempts, answering his questions with short, low-on-detail responses, and (reasonably) politely refusing his offer of a drink.
He seemed confused — he was a bit (a lot) of a looker, so perhaps being turned down was an unusual occurrence for him — and asked me why.
And I said — because I’d been thinking about this for the last kilometre or so, even before he approached me, as I rapidly made my way through sparsely populated urban tunnels and avoided eye-contact with those I passed — that in one of the writers’ festival panels I’d attended today (starring Sam de Brito and Emily Maguire), de Brito had spoken about the few days he spent dressed as a woman back in 2006, and how he’d finally understood the way women feared for their safety on a near daily basis (indeed, even when walking home from the train station at night, I always hold my keys in my hand). As de Brito put it, a man’s greatest fear is that a woman will laugh at him. A woman’s greatest fear is that a man will kill her.
I think he thought I was a bit crazy after that. Although to be fair, I did tell him that no, I didn’t think he was going to kill me, that he struck me as very charming.
Later on, as I finally came upon a taxi, I wondered (in an almost Carrie Bradshaw-esque way) if it was sad indictment on me and my closed-off nature that I couldn’t accept a drink from such an attractive, sane-seeming stranger. No wonder I was single, if I was so adept at deflecting the attention of men!
Thinking about it further, though, I decided that a lot of it (most of it?) was about the circumstances in which he’d made his move. If he’d approached me in a bar a few hours earlier, I would have been much more open to conversation. I would have had the drink, flirted a little.
But walking home at 2am through near deserted streets (and soon-to-be deserted ones), because the trains are down, the buses are only running once an hour and the taxis are all going in the wrong direction, my — like most women’s, I would imagine — defenses were up. My focus was on getting home as quickly as possible, and attracting as little attention to myself as possible. I literally sped past the burly guys in their heavy metal t-shirts and the drunk, louty high school students, glad that (unlike de Brito in his brief turn as a woman, who said that for the first time he crossed the street when he saw other men) I was wearing flats, not heels. And I should add, it’s not like the streets were full of women walking home – quite the opposite, actually.
So, it was a vulnerable situation. And on previous occasions when I’ve had men approaching me whilst walking home, there usually has been a genuine possibility of menace there. Is it any wonder my instinct is to deflect when thrown identifying questions about my name, occupation or, indeed, where I live.
I wish the situation were different, or that I was different — and like I said, if it had happened in a bar three hours earlier, I think both it and I would have been (had it happened at a friend’s party, I’d probably be swooning at my good luck) — but it was the wrong time, and definitely the wrong place.
Would any Tumblr readers have responded differently?