Shopping the "Ladies' Section" Gives Me All the Feels

I have sweater dressing agita. It all started back in September: the weather was turning and I found myself coming off a closet-cleaning rampage that left me sans half a hefty bag of last year's layers. I started shopping around, flirtatiously weighing the pros and cons of this knit versus that knit. How was the ribbing on this hem? Those sleeves? Can I settle for a wool/acrylic blend? A marked yearning for a camel cashmere jumper took root, so I sought out the perfect one and found J.Crew's Collection Cashmere Boyfriend Sweater. I headed to the store's Soho (women's) boutique and asked where I might find it.

"Is it a women's sweater?"

Ok, I guess I can forgive that. Someone might not know the J.Crew boutiques in Soho are (unfortunately) segregated by sex. But if I've memorized the name of the item I'm looking for, don't we think I know where I am? Anyway, I confess to the sales associate that I am indeed hunting down a ladies' jumper and proceed to the back, where she thinks I might find it, though she can't say for sure. A huge sale is going on and piles of cashmere, merino wool and cotton-cashmere blends are littered across every table and bench in sight. I show the sweater to another associate (I've saved a picture of it on my phone), who declares it to be sold out. I rifle through more piles of dejected merchandise, feeling slightly insidious as I do so, as if violating the women around me by forcing my man shoulders into a half-zip mockneck that's less forgiving than anticipated.

Eventually I find my sweater, albeit in the wrong color, and the small fits nicely. I resign myself to scoping out the brand's Fifth Avenue location later in the week.

"Do you know her size?"

It's another sales associate, this time a man—presumably a gay man, one who is small, like me. I let him know that it's for me and suppress the urge to be like, "Really?" Maybe America is too PC after all. It doesn't matter—they don't have the camel. Now I'm on this nebulous quest with no end in sight, but that's beside the point. The moral of the story is (or is intended to be): dividing stores by sex is stupid, especially during sweater season, especially when it's a "boyfriend sweater."

Simon Doonan summed up my shopping life in one of his recent trend pieces for Slate: "I grabbed a ladies’ size large and inspected it for bust darts. There were none. Et voilà! Unisex!"

I just get really sick of having to remind people that I know my own body—my waist size, my chest size, what have you. I wish people would stop dividing things straight down the middle as if that's normal or realistic and I'm the one who's lost my way. My favorite sweater is the one I'm wearing in the picture, a ladies' large from the COS capsule collection at Opening Ceremony a season or two back. It fits wonderfully and is gorgeous and I die. And I look like such a dude in it, right? I'm practically a Gap ad—not that that matters or is what I'm going for, really I'm just lazy.

Anyway, that's my gripe. I'll let you know if I find any good sweaters. Let me know in the comments or via Twitter or what have you—do you have these same issues? Or does the cheese stand alone? (Mm, cheese.)

THE OTHER F WORD

By which I mean "femme" – though some might say "faggy". Let's dish about the recent men's shows, sex, and the science of self-expression.

A few weeks ago I asked my mom to help me choose which black lipstick selfie would be the cutest choice for Instagram. She laughed and said, "My sister and I used to do that." It was like I was five years old again, sneaking into my parent's bathroom to marvel at the sea of compacts laid out on the counter and the powder-caked puffy heads of makeup brushes—except this time, I wasn't afraid of getting caught.

When people ask me what my blog is about, what the focus is, I always feel left in the lurch. It seems wrong to say I’m a menswear blog, not just because I post about other stuff, too, but...“menswear”? Really? I'm coming around to calling it a "queer men's style site." When I was a kid I had no other associations for that word—queer—outside of its rhyming with “smear”, but nowadays there's something like comfort in the term. I like that it says other. I like that it suggests something amorphous, something unexpected, something that deviates. I like the idea that you can use it as a verb and a noun. I like that it's open and inclusive and ambiguous. “To identify as ‘queer’ is to be at ease with your own masculinity and femininity,” said writer Rohin Guha in his viral essay, On Gay Male Privilege. “You’re not constantly having to fear for your own gender expression.”

There was a time when the idea of sharing that side of myself that likes to play with makeup would have terrified me and made me feel unbelievably vulnerable. Now I'm broadcasting it to not just my mom, but to two thousand strangers on three or four different social networks. It's a bit self-indulgent, admittedly, but I'm just glad that the stigma associated with being open about what makes me different—or, really, the same as any eight-year-old girl—has dissipated.

LET'S CALL BULLSHIT ON CHANEL

Let me start this off by saying that I'm using this specific incidence of racial insensitivity as a sort of jumping off point for a lot of thoughts I've been having thanks to Jezebel round-ups of racist teens on Twitter. No, seriously.

Who wore it more racistly? At left, Caroline de Maigret closes the Chanel show; on the right, Karlie Kloss walks in the Victoria's Secret fashion show.

So the Chanel couture show was "Cowboys & Indians" themed, a racially blind trope that's been played out for the better part of a century—how are we not over this yet? Maybe it's because Karl Lagerfeld isn't from these here parts, but the big uproar is over the headdresses worn by two models to close the show. Now, this isn't a discrete incidence of misappropriation as it applies to Native American cultures—this shit happens pretty frequently. There was a huge uproar at the Victoria's Secret fashion show last year when model Karlie Kloss was sent down the runway in a headdress. "[It's] a marginalized image that exposes a preconceived, inaccurate depiction of a historical event," noted one writer*, referring to Kloss's intended 'Calendar Girl' representation of Thanksgiving. "It also fails to acknowledge the persecution and violence that subsequently occurred." *I had this quote incorrectly attributed before and have subsequently lost the fuck out of it somewhere on the internet. Will keep looking—do let me know if it's yours!

You appropriate something when you rob it of its specific sociocultural context, thereby claiming it for yourself. What does the phrase "Native American headdress" mean in American popular culture at this point? What does "Navajo print" mean? Well, now they mean nothing. They are props to sell Shell majority stakeholders' wives ten-thousand dollar purses.

Why was Chanel even doing this whole Dallas-themed thing in the first place, you ask? "American stores and clients ensured the success of [Coco] Chanel’s comeback—a mutual love affair symbolized by her being awarded, in 1957, the Neiman Marcus Award for Distinguished Service in the Field of Fashion, which she traveled to Dallas to receive." In other words, it was really a watershed moment in Cowboys and Indians history and thank God Karl Lagerfeld took the time to commemorate it with this. "Historically, Ralph Lauren has owned this fashion territory," said Style.com's Nicole Phelps, noting that, "Lagerfeld seized upon it with gusto but also with characteristic deftness." To which I say: characteristic deftness or *cultural deafness*?? ZING. She then quotes Lagerfeld himself saying, "It's a reinvention of something I don't really know, but that I like to play with." No shit? Then say you were inspired by Fievel Goes West, motherfucker—not history.

HELLA GAY THO

Last week a friend of mine lamented that my blog "used to be gay," but was of late, "just fashion and interiors." I was taken aback—and I also felt a little bit guilty. I really haven't had time to sit down and tackle pretty much anything that's been on my mind recently, and not just because I have a 9-5 job to get through first. (And by 'get through' I mean 'give 110% to', don't get me wrong.) Then I read this piece that Rashida Jones wrote for Glamour.com, of all things, and I was all like, "Hell yeah, I wanna do more shit like this!" And then I was all like, *aneurysm* because I don't even know where I'd begin. I have like, six vlogs in me at this point just waiting to get out, but every time I think "I could do that now!" I just end up masturbating because fuuuuck, dude, doing shit takes so much effort and what if I forget my point halfway through my diatribe against OKCupid and then I'm just this guy who's been sitting alone in his room all afternoon talking to himself in front of a computer?

I am aware that more "gay" content has been less frequently updated than some might like and that not everyone wants to hear about how I'm wearing mittens for winter or why I'm repotting my baby cactus farm. But I'm working on it. I swear. And in the meantime, yes, I'm going to write about my #supercute bedroom makeover ideas because I like decorating my bedroom and obsessively think about it in between checking my Instagram to see if any hot Asian guys liked my selfies. (I make these jokes on purpose, I'm telling you.) Here's some proof that this blog is still a gay blog:

Ok, that's all—a brief update to let you know what's on my mind. And read that Rashida Jones piece I linked to! You won't regret it. (Even though it's not gay.) Photo Bruce Weber for CR Fashion Book.

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THE ART OF BEING IDLE

"A mind adrift in a sea of its own making is far more interesting than a mind following a trail of hyperlinks."

Over the weekend I read this beautifully written essay on Kinfolk. It grapples with the idea of really, truly disconnecting—not necessarily in a tech sense...more like allowing yourself to do absolutely nothing. It's a really interesting thing to think about. Even when I'm doing something so basic as reading a book I can be hyper aware of the act in and of itself; what it looks like and the image I'm projecting by doing it. Like, instead of reading this book should I Instagram it next to a bowl of artisanal granola? Do I have any artisanal granola? Can I make my own, really quickly? Maybe I should buy a book on how to make artisanal granola at home and read that. In all seriousness I find it often really difficult to get lost in a good book. Every time I reach a new chapter it's like, ok, finished that portion—what's next? Am I continuing on? How many pages is that? Just being and forgetting is a kind of challenge. Just going to bed and not going to bed after I check all the apps on my phone ("Only two new likes!? You're all sluts") requires a good bit of will power.

And I'll own up to being a bit compulsive about these things. I routinely check on my stats here and there, all over the place. Who favorited my tweet? Has anyone pinned anything from my blog? Do I have any new Facebook fans? I can't even remember what life was like before I had all these running tallies going in my mind, which I guess is this weird side effect of digitization. Everything is quantified, everything is stats. Worth—even self-worth—can feel like little more than a numbers game.

YOUNG ADULT

The other morning I refilled my MetroCard in under half an hour. This might not seem extraordinary, but it was a BFD for me. You see, I usually charge my MetroCard and can't ever remember the correct billing address for whichever credit card I'm using, so I end up getting my zip code wrong over and over (and over.) But this time I had actual, real money in my bank account and the good sense to use my debit card. (I have never forgotten my pin, knock on wood.) I felt so adult-ish. I'd sort-of budgeted for a need in my life, and not a need like a vintage fringed Navajo vest because "I just feel like it's so me," but a real necessity, you know?

But then I realized I'm almost thirty. Ok, so I'm 26, but in gay years that makes me...117. And in my mind I feel like I'm just coming out of my teens. In terms of life-preparedness I'm somewhere between the beginning part of Lost In Translation where ScarJo is just sort of picking her butt in a hotel room (except I'm single) and that scene in Bridesmaids where Maya Rudolph shits herself in the middle of the street (except I'm single). All is not lost, though. I've compiled here a list of thirteen things I know about myself/have learned about myself/have come to terms with about myself so that I can feel like some degree of progress has been made over the last two and a half decades. (Holy fuck, two and a half decades! *shits self in street*)

Beyond Iconography

It's the thick of the summer sale season here in NYC and pretty much every major retailer is discounting last season's leftovers to the point that we mere ho'mortals (that didn't work at all, did it?) can finally get our hands on Dries, Jil, Thom...names, darling, names. Accordingly, I made my bi-quarterly pilgrimage to Barneys last week and found a Commes des Garçons coat I'd seen some months before for 70% off. I couldn't resist and, despite the need for some basic alterations, was on the street in it the next day.

It's a great coat, the kind of evergreen "investment piece" a person can be found chanting about any time they're sweatily clutching an AmEx. But that's neither here nor there for this post, in which I actually want to talk about the fact that the coat makes me look kind of Hasidic. That first day I wore it, within an hour of putting it on, someone actually said to me, "from the back I thought you were an Orthodox Jewish person."

And you know what? I was kind of into it.

This isn't the first time I've gotten the Hasidic comparison—this outfit, I think the hat in particular, almost always elicits that reaction from someone. It got me thinking about a post I read some months back on Style Salvage, an interview with London-based designer Nicomede Talavera. Talavera's last collection (pictured, below) drew heavily on inspiration from Muslim students and I couldn't help but wonder (#SATC #CarrieMoment #OMGshoes) if designers and stylists and, really, menswear as a whole might be turning to Middle Eastern religious garb for a perspective that's not just new and fresh, but increasingly vital to a globalized dialogue on modern-day dressing.

I know, it's kind of a leap from my Japanese designer coat to the increasing influence that Middle Eastern religious garments are possibly having on Western menswear designers, but bear with me. While Talavera's amazing show drew explicit references to the nuances of Muslim dress (plus, clogs!) other designers have started to play with proportion and silhouette in a way that moves apparent religious influences beyond iconography and the trappings of Catholicism.

The Givenchy show below is a good example, especially when considered against these sneaky iPhone pics I grabbed of a taxi driver's ensemble—while priestly vestments may have been the jumping off point for Italian Tisci, the way he played with layering creates a strikingly similar effect, no? The same thing could be said of the two guys below that (via The Sartorialist, left; and Tommy Ton, right.) The longer shirt is the biggest thing I'm seeing #trend right now—it's oftentimes dress length, but definitely a shirt, so I feel like it's coming from this same religious influence. Siki Im SS13 has some more good examples of this kind of fusion.

And then we're back to the Hasidic influence, which is basically any look that involves wearing lots of black, long coats and a big, wide-brim hat. You can see my CDG coat (sort of) in that top left-hand pic; and then there's another view of my Official Jewish Outfit to the right of that. Below that we have a look from designer Lucie Vincini's RCA graduate collection, an explicit runway reference to traditional Jewish dress. (Another look from this collection is the first image in this post.) If you take a look at her entire collection you can see she's working through that collision of traditional cultural garments with streetwear and other urban influences, something Talavera speaks to as well.

It's an interesting dialogue to watch unfurl on a runway—and, of course, on the street—and hopefully one that's just beginning. After Vincini's look we have an iPhone snap I grabbed of a Jewish man on the street next to a guy I shot for #streetstyle, not necessarily in traditional Jewish garb, but you can see the similarities there and with Justin Chung's photo of Liam Goslett below that.

It feels like maybe now is the time for "traditional menswear" and the dominant Western patriarchy to realize its strained grip on relevance. The mainstreaming of Middle-East-meets-West style is great since I don't think fashion should exist in a cultural vacuum, or that designers should allow form to trump function to such a degree that one forgets that garments can have meaning and social relevance. Also, I'm really looking forward to playing with proportions for fall! Have you been noting this same kind of religious influence on menswear?

P.S. If I misspoke unknowingly at any point in the post about the way someone is dressed and/or what religion someone might be, please let me (kindly) know in the comments! It wasn't intentional, I assure you, and I'd love to get it right.

PRIDE & THE PROBLEM WITH "NORMAL"

I've blogged it before, but this Tim Walker shot is just so money.

DOMA was just overturned and we're headed into Pride weekend here in New York, which means it's time for some #deepthoughts and a healthy dose of swearing...

Conventional. Traditional. Normal. These words stand diametrically opposed to my understanding of queer identity. Not because queer people are walking around wondering to themselves, "How can I be more oUtRagEoUs?!" but because straight people have more or less always been like, "You frighten us, now we shall stone you to death!" Clothing and other facets of self-presentation have always been an important component of identity to queer peoples, either for purposes of more fulfilling self-expression or as a form of discreet coding to let other "deviants" know you were of a kind. Because I process everything in my world through the lens of (men's) fashion, I wanted to start this off by parsing through some reactions to the recent menswear shows and their wider implications.

DRESSING TO FEEL BETTER

"You need to learn to say no to senseless rhythms and schizophrenia. Something fast, something that is supposed to change your personality, your tastes...you have to learn to refuse this mechanism..." - designer Christophe Lemaire talks to Apartamento magazine.

ON OWNING MY SEXUALITY

This outfit is what your grandmother might good-humoredly refer to as a “getup.” I think the effect achieved is a sort of Hasidic/Japanese cultural mash-up as reinterpreted by Mary-Kate Olsen. One guy actually said to me, “Shalom,” in passing. It’s a look not tied to any particular expression of my sexuality, a look that says, “I don’t need you to want to have sex with me. I don’t need to be conventionally attractive to feel good about myself!” And I owned that. I felt that. Until my train arrived and as I stepped onto the car, I saw the cute guy I’d given my number to some months before.

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The New Masculinity

Photos Pete Oliviëra // jacket Crossroads Trading // t-shirt OAKNYC // necklace vintage // skirt-pants Beacons Closet // boots Forfex

As a gay man, I've always been wary of gender ambiguity in my wardrobe. I know what you're thinking - 'you wear ladypants all the time! the whole point of your blog is encouraging us to shop both sides of the aisle!' And yes, some people may see my style as fairly androgynous, but I think I generally play it safe. I often fall back on gender-conforming (or conventional-sex-reaffirming? words!) looks that help me "blend in" rather than stand out, because I already feel feminine and therefore, in our society, vulnerable. Clothing is armor; it can be transgressive and transformative – in good ways and bad. Blending in vs. standing out is a choice we’re privileged with making in this culture and lately, I've found myself getting bored with blending in. Part of this is seasonal - I've been wearing the same things all winter and they are so boring and I am so ready to be able to play dress-up again and not worry about whether or not two pairs of tights will fit under my pants and will I actually end up taking off my sweater at any point during the day?

That being said, I am taking baby steps. I'm not really interested in flamboyance for the sake of flamboyance, or attention for the sake of attention. Full-on drag has never held a particular appeal, though a really gorgeous pair of heels is always tempting. What I'm saying is you won't find me walking down the street in a tie-dyed baby doll dress with Jeremy Scott platforms, um, ever. As I approach the idea of incorporating skirts into my wardrobe, I am  dead set on maintaining my aesthetic and remaining true to my inspirations, which means more Audrey Hepburn and less Lady Gaga. But the outfit! Ok, enough extemporizing: what is going on here?

For the first day of Reimagine: Suiting (that's not an official name, I just made it up), I've paired a thrifted boy's blazer (I'm so Carla Bruni right now) with one of my favorite OAK tees (yes, I'm wearing these virtually non-stop) a vintage statement necklace, and the pièce de résistance, a vintage Jean Paul Gaultier skant. WTF? That's right, this enchantingly weird item is a woman's pair of pants from Jean Paul Gaultier that I'm wearing backwards so that they form a sort of "skant" - a skirt pant, like a skort, you know? Totally normal. Calm down. Worn "correctly," the pant-looking part faces forward and then the extra fabric covers up your backside. I really like the way it looks worn this way, though, and that it brings to mind a Japanese sushi chef's apron. The only problem is that the fly is in the back, of course, but heeeeyo.

I see this garment as "gender non-relational," because whichever sex you are, there's really no relationship between your body and it's construction. It's actually pretty confusing to put on, honestly, but I roll with it. For the rest of this week I'll be sharing some other "skirtfits" and talking about how they make me feel, because this is my online style diary and you can't see it but, 'Why didn't Jimmy ask me to Prom???' is scribbled all over the front.

Disclaimer: I don't think this is necessary, necessarily (!), but this post does not mean that I'll only be wearing skirts from here on out. Ha! I just wanted to set aside a week where I could talk about something new I'm considering. Finding myself comfortable wearing any sort of skirt in public is kind of a big deal for this Southern transplant. While it may seem like nothing to a lot of people in NYC, especially in the LGBT community, it's something I want to be able to do in a way that isn't sensationalist, and that doesn't compromise my standards. But the most important thing, as ever when getting dressed, is just to have fun and not take it too seriously!*

*Also: to push secret queer agenda.

How are y'all looking to switch up your look for Spring? Any man readers out there trying on skirts?

5 BLOGS THAT ARE KILLING PRINT

I should subtitle this, 'for me', because I don't mean to imply that I've done any research or statistical analysis - that would be ridiculous. The other night I was at a blogger dinner, conversing with someone who said something along the lines of, "I don't want to be a blogger when I'm 40," as he thought that would be kind of silly. He mentioned hoping to get a job at a magazine and I couldn't help but think to myself: you want to jump ship from digital to print? Really?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: blogs are an ever-evolving and almost limitless platform for content. What we can achieve through them is limited only by our gumption and skill sets (and/or budget). Web design is changing (almost always for the better, less Facebook) at a delightfully rapid pace, diversifying the ways content can be shared and compartmentalized online and for mobile devices (iPad reference! I know technology!) This can be couched in the rhetoric of a digital revolution, or we can just tacitly accept the fact that it's What's Next. Duh.

As for print...my magazine buying habits have changed dramatically over the past few years and everyone reading this, whether you are an avid consumer/borderline hoarder of printed matter like me, or a casual Us-Weekly-in-the-checkout-line-picker-upper, knows that it's the internet's fault. Because the internet is a bish like that. These are the blogs that have entered my life and, in one way or another, to some degree, killed print for me. Just a little bit. And P.S. yes these are all fashion-y blogs because I don't read anything else or care about it bluh whatever. Photo Stevie Dance for Shop-Ghost.

Jump the cut to find out which five blogs I'm talking about! Do it!

ON BEING A FASHION BLOGGER

photo Ari Park // coat Uniqlo (seen here) // scarf vintage (seen here) // beanie H&M (seen here) // jeans Cheap Monday (seen here) // glasses Warby Parker (seen here and here) // shoes vintage (seen here)

You guys, this is a really serious post. Look at how pensive I am on that rooftop. That's how serious this is!

Jokes about blogger poses aside...I really feel the time is now for a post articulating a certain frustration with the role of the Fashion Blogger. Two articles I read recently have led me here, both from fashion journalists I've followed for some time and whose opinions I respect: one, from BuzzFeed Shift editor Amy Odell, asks where fashion will find its next Bryanboy - aka its Next Big Thing; the other, by Suzy Menkes, takes a closer look at that ultimate arena for the self-made style star, outside the venues where collections are shown during Fashion Week. Odell talks to a few blogging stalwarts regarding the future of the nascent occupation, all of whom say things developed naturally for them, with apparently a good bit of luck thrown in. Hark to this giant effing block quote from Odell that I can't bring myself to cut down to size:

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PERSONAL STYLE VS. THE INTERNET

The other day I thought to myself, "That guy's outfit is so Tumblr." A strange sentiment on the surface, but as I got to thinking about personal style and the internet it occurred to me that the symbiosis between online style stars and the omnipresent photographers that celebrate them has created a chicken and egg situation with far-reaching repercussions. Are these people popular because they're photographed so much, or are they photographed so much because they're popular? More than that, what does their popularity mean for the sizable audience digesting their de facto style creeds on a million different dashboards?

Image-based platforms for social interaction have inevitably wound up as tools for sociocultural coding, providing a visual demarcation of who gets It and who's from Florida. You can see it in Pinterest's evolution beyond its humble beginnings as an online scrapbook and content-bookmarking service; the site now serves as a portal into a world of rough-luxe Scandinavian cabins, artisanal fig tartines and fireplace-adjacent thoroughbred labradors. The same can be said of Tumblr, with its users' adherence to an aesthetic equation that drives the popularity of most images on the blogging platform. Conformity can come as no surprise - what else could be the end result of 10,000 reblogs? Is Tumblr more of a collective digestive system than anything else?

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ON BEING A GIRL, BY A WOMAN

Y'all didn't think I'd let Girls Week come to a close without actually featuring the wit and wisdom of an actual, real-live girl did you? Of course not! So I Googled, "girl" and compiled some feedback on being a woman from a mash-up of Wikipedia entries probably written by women. Joke! I asked one of my best friends from college, Nicole, if she would mind contributing a piece about what it means to be a girl. Considering the pointed use of the term as the title of grown woman Lena Dunham's hit show, and further considering that show's second season debut as the impetus for this entire themed week, I feel it's only fitting to analyze the conditions of its usage and ask what it feels like to be a girl vs. a woman (in a man's world?) Graphic obviously from Texts From Hillary. P.S. Hillary 2016.

About four or five years ago, a male friend told me to turn on my TV because there was a girl talking about the presidential election. I fumbled for the remote. I'd seen a few adorable videos with children exploring their early political interests and singing parody songs about the election, so I was excited to hear what this girl had to say. When I flipped to CNN, my eyes popped when I realized that this girl was actually a middle-aged woman with a Ph.D in foreign policy. I'd expected to see a little kid and instead I was watching an incredibly articulate adult. To me, girl meant child and to my friend, girl meant female. That's when I started paying attention to the usage of girl versus woman.

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I'M EVERY WOMAN (ON TV)

Or, my self as a tapestry of ladies...but not in a serial killer way!

As the title and subtitle of this post imply, I've always found a lot to identify with in female TV characters. As early as middle school, when I was a vulnerable young boy realizing I had crushes on all the other boys, I found vicarious empowerment in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (as did a lot of gays). Those formative years also saw me cheering for Gilmore Girls's Paris Geller, an insensitive overachiever whose demanding personality was tinged with social desperation. I was never actually a bossy know-it-all, but I wanted to be. Then I realized how much smarter other people already were and I quit while I was ahead. Well, behind. You get my point. Since then I've found myself in a host of lady characters, from Miranda Hobbes to Liz Lemon, and with the second season of HBO's Girls set to premiere this Sunday, I thought it would be nice to do a quick roundup of a few standouts...

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ORIGINAL CONTENT

The Man Repeller shot by Vanessa Jackman

Lately I've been thinking a lot about original content. What is it? How do you create it? Why isn't there more of it? Debaters seem to get hung up on creation vs. curation vs. consumption. A blog can be everything and nothing; it can be sharply edited, wholly original and beautifully designed. Or it can be an unhinged pictorial f*ckfest, a.k.a. the Tumblr of any bored teen, inevitably publishing under the username "nuclearchanukah," or "crackponies" or something. Sometimes the photolog blogs are totally awesome repositories of otherwise easily missed gems (Stuff and Nonsense, Maryam Nassir Zadeh). They are wordless compendiums, purposefully detached from their creators and expressly for the purpose of curating links and images. Other times the blogs that really take off rely solely on sharing their favorite finds from around the web, slickly edited together (Honestly...WTF). A mix is oftentimes nice to find and a nice mix is what I strive for on this blog - hopefully that doesn't come as a surprise to my readers! Said mix is a big sticking point though, as "stolen inspiration" is digital piracy to some and simply sharing to others.

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DADDY BLOGGING

photo Carissa Gallo

I wrote an entry for the Huffington Post's Gay Voices blog that was published last week - you may have seen me tweet about it? Called The Future Perfect: Planning for Parental Bliss (the title is a link! click click!), it details my pre-parenthood planning obsession. Wait, what? A sample, for the lazy:

"I like to imagine how I'll raise my family and I, like anyone who looks forward to having children, like to imagine how much better behaved my kids will be than all the rest, whose parents have obviously not taken to the Kosher organic sugarless gluten-free family miracle diet I saw on Pinterest."

The piece is written tongue firmly in cheek, but I hope the emotion behind the words isn't taken for granted. One of my biggest concerns as "gay parenthood" becomes an increasingly common term thrown about in mainstream American sociopolitical discourse is that popular attitudes towards it will be shaped by the oftentimes flippant mainstream media representations of same-sex parenting. Take, for instance, new Fox sitcom The New Normal. In the first ten minutes of the pilot episode the gay male couple around which the show revolves meets with a designer baby consultant who recommends, "VIP egg files"; one future father then asks for, "a skinny, blonde child who doesn't cry. Is this extra?" I'm not sure how the show has progressed, because I was honestly too overcome with the urge to take a crap all over the guy's face to keep watching. How many representations of gay male fathers are out there right now in primetime? On Fox? Not enough to let this exploitative b*s waddle into the popular imagination, that's how many. But, I digress...I want to make this a positive post!

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TWENTYFIVEYRSOLD

I am twenty-five years old today and I honestly don't know how to feel about it. My mom tells me I'm basically still in her womb and have nothing to worry about - time is on my side! - but all I can think about is (cry with me here) where I feel like I should be according to Sex and the City. I'm pretty sure this a legitimate disorder that Lena Dunham's Girls seeks to rectify, but for me, it's too little too late. I can't help but recall that scene from Carrie's thirty-fifth birthday party where she's sitting alone at her dinner table, waiting for her friends to arrive, and the woman behind her is having a party too - celebrating the big 2-5.

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ARE WE INTERNET ENTREPRENEURS?

photo Garance Doré

Another one to file under, "I've been thinking about this for awhile," and I'm suddenly feeling called to action by a post this week at The Man Repeller. Blogger Leandra Medine's To Buy or DIY entry raised a critical point about thinking in the digital age re: the collective consciousness forums of Pinterest and Tumblr. The contemporary lexicon is constantly being modified with new ways to describe the act of non-thinking: we "reblog" and "repin," "retweet" and "share." We've all been given the chance to act as "curators" and "editors" - or have we? The most salient point raised in Medine's post, for me, was this idea that we are the, "Entrepreneurial Generation" (forgive all the quotes in this piece.) My question is: are we really, or do we just say we are? And what would that really mean?

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