As I wandered near the site of New York City’s Sex and the City premiere yesterday, dodging small bands of women united by a common interest in over-accessorizing for daytime (and being in my way), I found myself compiling a list of people and things that owe much of their current popularity to said show:

Manolo Blahnik
The concept of brunch
Cosmopolitans
Clubs Bungalow 8 and Bed
Cupcakes
The Rabbit
The word fabulous
Retardedly over-thought outfits

Next on my list was “bitching about men”, and I stopped myself short. SATC, I’ll give you credit for the context (brunch, obvs) but you don’t get credit for this one. I should know, I’m a woman, and I’ve been gabbing about men since long before Sex was a twinkle in HBO’s eye.

I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon more recently, as romantic relationships take a more prominent and permanent place in the lives of my friends. Casual dating, serious dating, sleeping around, moving in together, some crazy folks getting married, yadda yadda yadda. Whatever the situation, women have a need (which sometimes borders on the obsessive and pathological) to compare notes and share war stories. Read More »

They’re hideous, but clearly Uggs aren’t going anywhere. I own and love them, and wear them regularly from November to March.

Practical as these babies may be for me, I cannot think of any reason why men should own them. I wouldn’t even bother arguing this point aside from the unfortunate reality that I’ve seen it, both on campus in the Midwest and at subway entrances in the city.

Guys are wearing the classic-style Uggs, and apparently seem to think that’s okay. I do not believe I am the only one who finds this shocking, appalling, and more than a little disgusting.

Maybe it’s because so many guys are anti-Ugg that I can’t wrap my head around the idea of original Uggs for men. The only saving grace for the brand is that they do make legitimate leather boots and shoes that don’t look like the stereotypical Uggs. This does not relate to the pet peeve in question. We’re talking the original pull-on shearling boots. That men just don’t need.

It’s as frivolous as a guy wearing Manolo Blahnik running shoes. Something just doesn’t quite add up. Read More »

I find myself sitting in a squishy rolly contraption that resembles more of a throne than an office desk chair, but I’m feeling far from royal. First day at this internship, and I’m already wondering what the hell I was thinking signing up for such summer suicide.

Granted, for someone on the outside looking in, I had it made, and I’ll even admit I was super psyched when I first got the internship. Who wouldn’t want to work for a famous three-letter music television channel? As a silly little girl from Maryland whose favorite pastimes included uh, watching tumbleweeds blow and working at the local Dairy Queen (stop laughing), this internship was huge.

Having just finished my first year of college, (and mind you, worked my ass off) I was finally going to live in the big city free of parents, midterms, and tumbleweeds.

But now, here I was, first day and I already wanted to run back to mommy and maybe dip a cone or two. It was only eleven AM and my feet ached from running all over Manhattan fetching scones from this coffee shop and soy milk lattes from that café. I looked down at my Jessica Simpson gold pumps (on sale via Macy’s) which no longer seemed so posh next to the other intern’s (Sasha? Or maybe it was Sara’s?) Manolo Blahniks. Read More »