2. 2INTRODUCTION
Volume 4 Issue 17• May 2015
CLAUDIA MAK
Creative Director &
Head of Design
DANNY LEMAR
Editor-in-Chief
PEYTON DIX
Asst. Editor-in-ChiefCHRIS GARCIA
Photo Director
RIANA ODIN
Living Editor
CHRISTABEL FRYE
A&E Editor
CHELSEA TREMBLAY
Romance Editor
ANDREA PALAGI
Style Editor
CAITLYN BUDNICK
Head Copy Editor
HANNAH PERRIN+
RIVKA HERRERA
YMtv Directors
CHRSTIAN LOPEZ
Marketing Director
Layout Design by CLAUDIA MAK
Copy Editors JACQUELYN MARR, PAULINA PASCUAL, KELSEY PERKINS, JAMIE KRAVITZ, DIANA DILORETO, ISABELLA DIONNE
Marketing KATJA VUJIĆ, SYDNEY HANNIBAL, KATHY BAIK, EVAN MCCRORY
YMtv RIVKA HERRERA, HANNAH PERRIN, BRITNI BIRT, MARIA SANTORA, KATHLEEN HOWES, SYDNEY DRUMMOND, ZEKE ST.JOHN, SEAMUS
MCGORRAY, STEPHANIE PUMILIA, SAVANNAH STRANGE, SHAWNIE WEN, LEILANI THOMAS, AMELIA FABIANO, NORMAN OLIVER, ZOE DAVANZO,
RAE PECKHAM, LLOYD MALLISON, HARRIS RUBENSTEIN, JACK CAPATORTO, JACKSON DAVIS, JENNI LEAHY, SOPHIE SCHOENFELD
MATTHEW MULLEN
Managing Editor
MADELINE BILIS+
KAREN MORALES
Web Editors
HALEY SHERIF
Asst. Creative DirectorPIMPLOY PHONGSIRIVECH
Art Director
PERI LAPIDUS
Head of Beauty &
Talent Manager
Editorial Credits: SCOTCH AND SODA, LURE, LIPSTICK, AMERICAN APPAREL
Special Thanks: MANDY DARNELL, RACHEL PEARSON, KATE HARANIS AND THE DENTERLEIN TEAM, THE VERB HOTEL
ARIELA RUDY
Asst. Head Copy Editor
PAULINE HEVIA
Editorial Stylist
LINDSEY GONZALEZ
Asst. A&E Editor
3. 3 INTRODUCTION
LETTER
FROM
THE
EDITOR
XO,
Well… this is it. My very last “Letter From the Editor.”
I have spent months wondering what I would write, what
story I could share that would make an unforgettable farewell and,
in turn, make me remembered at Your Magazine for years to come as
the best editor-in-chief ever.
But as I sat down to hammer out the end to my story here
at Your Magazine, I realized that this wasn’t about me. It never has
been. This magazine—this product of hard work, careful planning,
and razor-sharp editing—belongs to every single talented person who
has contributed to making creative content and an inspirational aes-
thetic. I know it sounds redundant but I would like to remind the
staff that without them there would be no magazine. Thank you for
being part of our team, part of our family, and please continue to
create and innovate.
For some of us, it’s time to move on. In our editorial, "Bye!,"
we say goodbye to our senior staff members: the model-perfect edito-
rial stylist Pauline Hevia, the cooler-than-cool A&E editor Christa-
bel Frye, the light of my life and head copy editor Caitlyn Budnick,
and our creative director and head of design Claudia Mak. When I
joined Your Magazine, Claudia was my editor in the Romance sec-
tion. To work with her ever since has been the most positive experi-
ence. Thank you for everything, bb.
I would also like to thank someone who does not get enough
praise for the amount of work that he devotes to Your Magazine.
Matt Mullen, our managing editor, has held this publication together
every single month and makes every meeting a great place to be. One
day, I hope everyone I encounter in my career is as together and as
kind as Matt.
As I wrote in my very first letter, published in our January
2014 issue, “It’s time for a reinvention and change.” I was talking
about resolutions for the New Year (that are probably long dead), but
the sentiment applies here as I leave my title. I’m thrilled to formally
announce that our next editor-in-chief will be the phenomenal Pey-
ton Dix. Peyton has more vision, more style, and more class than I
could ever imagine having. She has been the mind and hand behind
some of our most bold and stimulating content, giving me full con-
fidence that she will, no doubt, continue to lead the magazine into
territory that is even more exciting and fresh.
So perhaps this won’t be my last letter ever. When I’m editor-
in-chief of Vogue or GQ (or both! HA!), I will always look to Your
Magazine for the fondest memories. Thank you for giving me, not
only something to be proud of, but also the opportunity to work
with a team that possesses brilliance and humor. This has meant the
world to me.
DANNY LEMAR
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
7. 7 ROMANCE
I SAT HOLDING MY ROOMMATE’S HAND,
continuously adjusting my position to make the best of the
uncomfortable chair. I could feel slight tremors going through
her fingers like little bumps on a road, but she tried her best to
stay steady. I flashed a less-than-toothy smile at her, assuring
her everything was alright.
“Hey,” said the not-so-strange stranger sitting next to
me. “Wanna hear something funny?”
“Anything,” I replied, trying to break the tension.
“Over the summer, my co-workers made me watch a
documentary about a guy with a 132 pound scrotum.”
My roommate and I both laughed, probably too loudly,
before looking at each other awkwardly.
Just then, a woman emerged from behind a wooden
door and began to stumble over a name. “Ch-Christab—?”
“That’s me,” I said before she could finish.
“Come with me,” she said as she turned her body back
towards the door.
I stood and trailed behind her, and entered into the first
of three rooms I would go in that day. I had hoped someone
would wake me up, tell me that my life wasn’t really becoming
a deleted scene from Gossip Girl.
No one woke me up.
One night in early September, my new(ish) roommates
and I decided to throw a housewarming party for ourselves.
We had punch, we had red Solo cups, we had ping pong balls,
we had a cardboard cutout of Obama and bright orange traf-
fic cones. Not to brag, but we had set things up to get weird.
The party went as any party does, and it would have
been damned if I had not kept up my history of sloppily mak-
ing out with a not-so-strange stranger. And since a guy I had a
flirtationship with had decided to surface at the party, I went
with it.
Drink after drink, the night continued and somehow
we ended up making out on top of an orange traffic cone.
Hand-in-hand, we kicked everyone out of my room and
closed the door.
The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my
head and a knot in my stomach. I found $20 in my bra, then
remembered I had made my one-night partner give it to me
for Plan B. Just in case, of course.
I climbed out of bed and forced myself down to CVS to
spend $40 that probably wasn’t necessary. When I got home,
I ate a bagel and swallowed the small pill, then allowed my
hangover to lull me back to sleep—it was easier than I had
been the night before.
My first year at Emerson seemed to be eating the life
away from me, my college junior self not used to the academ-
ic rigor that was an education where the professors actually
cared. I was tired all the time. I would wake up, go to school,
go home, and crash. It was a never ending cycle, but it made a
month and a half go by rather quickly.
On the Monday after a weekend full of tequila, I decid-
ed two weeks had been long enough without a visit from my
monthly friend. I made an appointment with Health Services
on campus and went through the day, patiently waiting for
2:00 p.m. to roll around.
I finally arrived at the 3rd floor of Union Bank, my
phone buzzing with texts of encouragement saying things like
don’t even worry about it, or you’re definitely not pregnant. I
knew that I wasn’t—I had taken Plan B. This was just a pre-
caution, to put my mind at ease.
I couldn’t help but be nervous, though, as I sat alone in
the waiting room, spinning my phone and tapping my foot
until a nurse called my name.
“Christabel?” she said, questioning the pronunciation
like most people do the first time they read my name.
I stood without saying a word, following the woman in
the white coat to a small room.
Despite having the form I filled out in front of her, she
looked at me and said, “What brings you in today?”
“My period’s late,” I replied. “I’d like to take a preg-
nancy test.”
She handed me a cup and pointed to a bathroom, “Just
REARRANGING THE PIECES OF MY ABORTION, NINETEEN MONTHS LATER
8. 8ROMANCE
go right in there. Pee in the cup, and put it in the metal door
when you’re finished.”
I nodded then walked into the bathroom and took a
deep breath, unintentionally inhaling a big whiff of cheap
bathroom cleaner. I followed her directions and went back to
the office where I continued to spin my phone.
“I forgot to ask you,” she said a few minutes later as
she walked back into the room, closing the door behind her.
“What did you want the result to be?”
“Negative, obviously,” I said, almost chuckling at the
prospect of being excited to have a baby with a year left of
college.
“Well, it is positive. You are pregnant, but you do have
options.”
My ears started ringing; my hands started shaking; my
stomach was turning over and over and over again. I started to
hyperventilate, I started to cry. I had to call my mom, I had to
text my roommate, I had to call, I had to text.
While the nurse was trying to comfort me, I shook her
off and said, “I have to call my mom.”
“Okay,” she said. “But maybe after that we can put the
phone away?”
I mumbled an “okay” back to her, not paying attention
to what she was saying. I hadn’t even told my mom that I was
going to get tested. Hell, I hadn’t even told her I was sexually
active (jump cut to that scene in Juno).
She answered me on the second ring.
“Mom,” I said, attempting to breathe as deeply as pos-
sible without breaking down in tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
Please don’t be mad.”
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked. “I won’t be mad.”
“I-I—” the extremely slight composure I had held for
20 seconds decided to run away and hide at that point, “I’m
pregnant. I’m so sorry. Mom, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be
mad.”
She sighed on the other end of the phone, “It’s okay
honey, I’m not mad. How do you know?”
I explained where I was to the best of my ability before
hanging up, and turning to the nurse.
Suddenly, my emotions jumped to the side. As the nurse
started pulling out pamphlet after cliché pamphlet, complete
with stock photos of smiling women explaining which each
of my options were, I said, “No. I know what I have to do. I
can’t have a baby.”
She nodded her head, walking me through the process
of calling Women’s Health Services in Brookline, making an
appointment for that Friday. When I couldn’t talk anymore,
she took the phone and talked for me. The nurse gave me her
email address and walked me to the door, before giving me an
awkward hug and saying, “It’s going to be okay.”
I immediately regretted telling anyone that I was going
to take a pregnancy test, because they all searched for answers
like a nosy suburban mom after she finds out her daughter’s
ex-boyfriend’s lab partner’s cousin is gay. I didn’t want to tell
them, I didn’t want to tell anyone, I just wanted to get it over
with, to get to Friday.
After going back and forth, I decided I had to tell the
not-so-strange stranger from that fateful September night.
It was a warm Tuesday afternoon in October when we
met on top of the hill in the Boston Common. As the sun
shined down, I answered questions like, “How could this hap-
pen? Are you sure it was me? What are you going to do?”
I told him I was having surgery that Friday, and that I
expected him to pay half the bill.
“Surgery? What do you mean...?”
“An abortion, you dumb ass. I just...don’t want to say
it,” I remember saying to him.
“Oh,” he said, relieved. “I want to come with you.”
I looked at him, shocked, and said, “You really don’t
have to do that.”
“I want to,” he said. “I think I need to.”
All of my friends that knew said I was doing the right
thing; even my friend who had a child of her own said I was
doing the right thing. The logical part of me knew that it was
the right thing.
But a very small part of me struggled to believe this.
That’s what lead me to doing probably the worst thing some-
one can do when getting an abortion. I googled “post abor-
tion syndrome,” or PAS.
Scores of religious websites donned my screen, page af-
ter page of people saying I would have a form of PTSD from
making this decision about my life. I read it and let the words
soak into my brain. They jumped off the page and slapped
me in the face, making me feel overwhelmed with guilt and
sadness. I had never felt as alone as I did in my room in the
early hours of that Wednesday, tears hitting the keyboard and
9. 9 ROMANCE
rolling onto the bed where the very deed had been done.
Wednesday passed and I sat holding my stomach,
thinking about what was in there: a cluster of cells made up of
half of me. And about what wasn’t in there: chocolate covered
strawberries.
Before I knew it, Friday had arrived and I was sitting
in a cab on my way to the clinic at 6:30 a.m. I followed the
directions: wear comfortable clothes and shoes, don’t eat or
drink anything for 12 hours before the surgery, bring $600,
don’t pee before you come.
So there we were, sitting in the uncomfortable chairs
in an uncomfortable position in an uncomfortable situation,
waiting for what seemed like forever.
They called my name and I entered the first room, a
quick therapy session.
“Is anyone making you be here by anything other than
your free will?” a short haired woman asked me.
“No,” I replied.
She continued to rattle off questions until she let me go.
Then another woman came to get me, squeezing my arm for
blood pressure and taking samples of my blood.
After I left the examination room, I sat down in the
waiting room again. Next to my roommate, holding her hand.
The third and final woman came out.
“Christabel?” she said in a clear, confident voice. I got
up and followed her, trying my hardest not to look back.
She led me into a dimly-lit room where the main fea-
ture was an elevator. She pressed “B” for basement and asked
me what I was studying in school. The elevator dinged before
I could answer, and she walked out the metallic doors into a
sterile looking hallway. The carpeted floors from upstairs had
been replaced with teal vinyl, and the walls were painted a
stark white. She led me to a bathroom and instructed me to
undress and put on one of the dresses from a basket on the
floor. I picked the first one, an autumnal floral smock which
was obviously hand sewn, folded my clothes neatly, left the
bathroom and handed them to the woman.
I walked in bare feet to another room. It was as clean as
the hallway, with everything neatly arranged around an OB/
GYN exam table. A doctor stood in the room alone, distracted
by her own affairs. When I walked in she greeted me, without
a smile, and guided me to the table. Another woman, the an-
esthesiologist, walked in and searched for a vein while another
nurse asked me how I was doing. I absentmindedly said, “All
right,” and stared up at the bright light shining down on me.
The anesthesiologist leaned over and blocked my view of the
light, placing a mask over my face and said, “I’m going to
count down from 10, and you should fall right asleep. 10, 9,
8, 7….”
I woke up in a leather chair, drunk on anesthesia. I
shook myself back into reality to the best of my ability, and
shouted obscenities at the nurse in the room until she came
to my side.
“I wanna go…” I mumbled to her, waiting for her re-
sponse. She handed me a packet and a paper bag with pain-
killers and a prescription for birth control and antibiotics.
Oh, and a pamphlet about Plan B.
“Have you heard of Plan B?” she asked me. “You should
keep it in mind.”
My anesthetized self couldn’t help but laugh.
It took almost a year for me to come to terms with my
abortion. Despite being surrounded by supportive friends, I
felt like I was on a deserted island, where everyone could see
me struggling to build shelter, but no one could reach me. My
heart kept breaking, and every time I would pick up the pieces
it would all fall apart again. One day I would call myself self-
ish for suctioning out my cluster of cells, the next I would feel
selfish for even thinking that it was my cluster of cells. One
thing was for certain, though, I thought about it all the time.
For months afterwards, I would feel wrong if I hadn’t cried at
least once in a day. My hormones were adjusting to the birth
control and to not being pregnant, placing me in the middle
of a sandstorm.
But eventually my heart stopped breaking. My brain
stopped needing to comfort my heart, because I realized that
I had made the right decision. I struggle to feed myself and
keep myself healthy, I let my emotions get the best of me. I’m
still a kid. While young people can make great mothers and
fathers, I just realized that it wasn’t for me. Instead of raising a
child before I’m ready, I want to wait until I know I’m ready.
That time just isn’t now.
10. 10ROMANCE
I WONDER HOW MANY 1940s housewives sat at their
kitchen tables, glasses of iced tea sweating perfect O’s on the table,
thumbing through their copy of Good Housekeeping, wishing that
instead of reading about bed linens, they could be learning how to
also achieve perfect O’s.
Back in 1885 when Good Housekeeping was born, women had
made decent headway in the publication world. Decent by standards
of people who still couldn’t vote, at least. However, they definitely
weren’t writing about sex. Sex was very hush hush for centuries, and
when discussed was solely a man’s topic (aside from Sappho. Thanks,
girl.) But progress was progress.
In 1784 the United States saw its first unisex magazine,
Gentlemen and Ladies’ Country Magazine, which specifically request-
ed submissions by female writers. In 1829, Frances Wright managed
to publish an article about birth control (a wildly radical topic of the
day). Jane Cunningham Croly became the first woman to obtain a
desk job at a major newspaper, first sitting in her office chair of tri-
umph in 1859. Unfortunately at this time, women were still largely
encouraged to write from home and use pseudonyms.
As the publication industry grew larger under William
Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer, more women were recruited
for writing positions. While stories of national importance and im-
pact were reserved for men, women were asked to sensationalize,
write about social life, and pen advice columns.
So basically, women could write about everyone else’s prob-
lems but their own.
Women sat by as Playboy and Penthouse gained popularity and
money by having an open, fluid dialogue about sexuality—a dia-
logue women were absolutely not allowed to have. Instead, they were
expected to read cooking and cleaning advice. Then one day in the
1960s, a woman spoke up—Helen Gurley Brown.
Brown, who had just released her autobiographical novel Sex
and the Single Girl, chose to revamp the general interest magazine
Cosmopolitan to open the sex dialogue to women. According to
Brown, “I wanted to tell the truth: that sex is one of the three best
things out there, and I don't even know what the other two are." Her
first issue as editor-in-chief discussed birth control, which still (130
years later) is a scandalous and taboo topic. Later issues focused on
ways to meet, please, and keep men (married or not).
BY CHELSEA TREMBLAY
ICONS BY ROGER CASTILLEJO OLAN, SANTIAGO
ARIAS, AND LE GARAGE STUDIO
11. 11 ROMANCE
While Brown helped create an open platform for women’s
sexuality, catapulting the discussion forward and fueling the era’s sex-
ual revolution, the value of her contribution only went so far. Once
society accepted female sexuality as an actual possibility, Cosmo’s
purpose as a liberator faded away. It instead became a beacon of fe-
male insecurity and inequality: how to be sexier, thinner, and more
pleasurable to him.
In 1966, Lynn Barber showed the world a new way for wom-
en to write about sex. For seven years she interviewed celebrities
about their most intimate sexual desires for UK Penthouse, earning
the nickname “Demon Barber.” She gained a reputation as one of
Britain’s harshest interviewers and was one of the few women around
the globe writing for a male interest magazine. Thanks to Barber, we
now know that Salvador Dali had a particular fondness for fondling
himself, especially with androgynous onlookers.
Also thanks to her, we are able to consider women just as ca-
pable, witty, and intimidating as male reporters.A London billboard
once read “Doner kebabs. Tequila slammers. Being interviewed by
Lynn Barber: You know you’ll pay.”
While Brown and Barber no doubt made strides, there was
something missing from their dialogue: how women could reclaim
sexuality for themselves, not for their men.
Candace Bushnell, known for her column-turned-TV-show
Sex and the City, transitioned the sex perspective to reflect that wom-
en enjoy sex for themselves. From 1994 to 1996, Bushnell shared
stories of sexual ambiguity with the world in the New York Observer.
She told her audience that it was okay for women to seek out casual
sex for the purpose of fulfilling their own needs (not men's), and the
show depicted that message to millions of women within the next
decade.
However, readers still had no publication to turn to when
they needed answers instead of inspiration and good stories.
Enter today’s feminist writers.
Gabrielle Moss, associate lifestyle editor for the online me-
dia site Bustle, spoke with me about the modern writing climate for
women and why their voices are important—and why writing about
sex in particular is important.
“Progressives say we’ve already accomplished equality and that
we don’t need to write about it [sex] anymore, but that’s not true for
everyone everywhere,” says Moss. “I enjoy writing about the grosser
side of sex—the things that I thought made me a disgusting human,
but then people write to me saying, ‘Oh, that happens to me, too.’”
Open discussions about intimacy do more than break down
barriers for female writers; they open doors for their female readers.
Now audiences have the ability to talk about the not-so-pretty things
that would never make it to print in Cosmo—topics such as butt hair,
semen drippage, and queefing. While many consider this informa-
tion oversharing, some women take comfort in knowing that they’re
not alone in these circumstances.
“I would have questioned the value [of sex writing] before I
began writing so much of it,” says Moss. “But now I see that there
are lots of things about the body we’re taught to think are wrong and
that we’ve been taught to shame. I figure there’s no value in keeping
this information to myself if it can instead be helping someone else.
Not all sex writing is revolutionary, but a lot of stuff can open eyes
and help women accept themselves. So it’s important we keep it up”
Of course, a girl can’t write about menstrual cups and con-
doms stuck in buttholes without catching a little flack.
“Men surely tell me I’m disgusting,” laughs Moss. “They tweet
me saying ‘she’s disgusting,’ but interestingly, women never do. Some
people just think of sex writing as frivolous, but I think it’s important
to feminism.”
When wondering why men don’t have the same culture of on-
line sharing, Moss responded, “Men always have written about sex—
they’ve had centuries of literature to share their sex lives. Women
don’t have that literary history, it’s our turn now.”
To read some of today’s (brutally honest) female sex writers,
check out Bustle, The Frisky, and Nerve.
"Some people just
think of sex writing
as frivolous, but I
think it’s important
to feminism.”
12. D E F I N
I N G
T H E
F U C K
B O Y
BY ANTHONY MASTRACCI
PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRIS GARCIA
MODEL: MATTHEW CHAUBY
13. EVERY YEAR,trend words flow through conversations both verbally and digitally. Some stick around, just ask your
bae, but others aren't so dope; I literally cannot even express how many trendy words aren't winning because with time, they
just aren’t on fleek.
“Fuck boy” is the newest of these buzzwords.
The conversation about "fuck boy" has been loud and debated among different groups of people who attribute different
meanings to the word based on their own genders, sexual orientations, life experiences, etc. But the question remains: what
the fuck is a "fuck boy?"
We at Your Mag conducted a social survey of about 80 men and women in person and through Tinder, to gain per-
spective on the way people perceive this new trend word. After collecting various opinions, we composed one solid, detailed
definition of this new creature who seems to be trolling the masses.
fuck boy: /fuk boi/ (n)
• a smooth talker who initially comes across as nice, but doesn't really have respect for you, has nothing to offer, and
relies on charm to make it through life
• one who asks for nudes at 3:00 a.m.
• one who pretends to be interested but whose only motive is sex
• a houseboy or “pet”
• one who is too thirsty
• one whose greatest accomplishment in college is how much alcohol he consumed in one night
• one who always wants others to know the state of his penis
• one who wonders what another would be doing if they were there right now ;)
• one who always unnecessarily, awkwardly sexualizes the conversation
• one who expresses sudden, vulgar opinions about you upon rejection
Basically, a fuck boy is a boy who just wants to fuck. And he doesn’t care who it’s with, what he has to do to make it
happen, or where it goes down. He probably has an intricate excuse about why he doesn’t use a condom. And if you accept his
advances, don’t expect a text tomorrow because he will be back at it in his natural habitat (i.e. online).
13 ROMANCE
15. 15 ROMANCE
I AM IN LOVE. I am in a healthy, happy romantic re-
lationship with another human. The good news is: it was a
seamless, obstacle-free road to get here. The bad news is: I’m
lying. But what I’ve learned along the real, rocky road is some-
thing I’ll take with me forever.
I met Janelle Levesque ‘16 during a drunken St.
Patrick’s Day weekend, and we became friends instantly. We
stayed up late together, talking about everything. We went on
adventures—she showed me her favorite spots in Boston since
it was my first semester here, places that have now cemented
themselves into my heart and will always make me think of
her.
The start of my Emerson experience was amazing, and
meeting Janelle was just brown sugar on top of a cinnamon
bun life. I arrived in Boston full of anticipation, and all my ex-
pectations were exceeded. My classes were stimulating. I made
friends quickly. I loved my job. I immersed myself in various
clubs and projects. My relationship with Janelle was flourish-
ing. I was genuinely and unwaveringly happy for perhaps the
first time in my life.
Like many people, maintaining happiness is not easy
for me. I recently reread 10 years of my journal entries, and
there were repeating patterns throughout. One theme was:
“I wish I could bottle up the happiness I feel now and take
it out whenever I want, because I know that it won’t last.”
Throughout my life, I would experience periods of extreme
happiness. Everything was beautiful! Wonderful! Fun!exciting!
I would jump out of bed, ready for anything. Until, without
warning, a dark cloud of despair would swoop in and cover
my entire being, nearly paralyzing my limbs and brain, and
making it hard to communicate or find enjoyment in any-
thing. Nothing and no one, especially myself, would be good
enough. I would either be gripped with anxiety, finding it
hard to breathe, or I would feel so heavy that breathing would
be all that I could do.
Spring 2014, however, proceeded without a glitch.
Everything was beautiful! Wonderful! Fun!Exciting! I was
happy with myself, the people around me, school, and, best
of all, I was completely in love with Janelle.
When the semester ended, things began to deteriorate.
My classes ended and my friends went home. I was used to
being in the North Carolina countryside, running around in
the sun naked, jumping into raging rivers, and singing around
campfires. But I stayed in Boston and lived in a building sur-
rounded by concrete and cars. I was very unhappy.
Beyond these factors that, presumably, I could con-
trol, the dark cloud returned. Janelle and I stayed together,
even though she moved back to her parents’ house outside of
Boston. Suddenly, our visits were often full of fighting and
tears instead of curiosity and laughter.
Looking back, I was so embarrassingly and tragically
wrong. Yes, Janelle is not perfect. Not every single fight we
had was entirely my fault. But the problem was that I wanted
her to be perfect. I thought she could be. I thought that I
could be. I thought that our relationship could be, and should
be, perfect. Everything was a zero sum game again, and the
more I tried to make things perfect, the more horrible things
were. I wanted her to show me the utmost affection, love,
and respect at all times, while simultaneously giving me the
perfect amount of personal space. She couldn’t win. Any in-
security she expressed and any bad moods became indicators
of the imperfections of our relationship. I didn’t want to hear
about problems she had with me, because it meant that she
was accusing me of being imperfect and tainting our poten-
tially perfect relationship. I was already unhappy enough with
myself, so hearing anything less than complete positivity from
Janelle put me over the edge.
I scrutinized myself ferociously. Am I girly enough for
her? Funny enough? Smart enough? Good enough in bed?
Why doesn’t she seem happy today? It must be my fault, so I
am going to be miserable while she questions what is wrong.
What is wrong? Everything. Everything is wrong, but I am
going to make everything PERFECT, don’t worry.
While I didn’t consciously think these exact words then,
I certainly felt them, I can see how irrational they were in re-
flection now. I was making us both miserable, and I was con-
vinced that it was not my fault. No, I was the one fixing it. A
few times trying to be perfect got to be too much, and I tried
breaking up with her, only to come whirlwinding back in a
fit of tears, apologies, and feeble excuses. We both questioned
each other constantly. Why isn’t this working? What are we
doing wrong? Is it supposed to be this hard?
It was not all bad. It couldn’t have been, or we wouldn’t
have stayed together. And it’s not that I didn’t care, because
I always have. I was just so blinded by my own unhappiness
that I couldn’t see the big picture. We took weekend trips and
16. 16ROMANCE
had adventures. But the fun times were peppered with hys-
terical fights about petty issues that I blew up into horrifying
traumas.
Fall 2014 was equally tumultuous. I moved into an
apartment with strangers an hour away from Janelle. I worked
full time doing early morning shifts and I could still barely
afford rent, struggling with classes, and had no free time to
spend the few dollars I did have after bills. Any preexisting
problems with our relationship were worsened by stress. We
tried to navigate our relationship together, wondering if we
were better off as friends. We always had fun together and un-
derstood each other until the pressures of a romantic relation-
ship came into play. Underneath it all, we were best friends, so
were we better off being just that?
I broke up with Janelle in December. I honestly thought
it would be the last time. I was so unhappy, and I realized,
finally, that it was not because of her. I realized that she de-
served to be with someone who made her happy, and that
person was not me.
A month passed, and we remained friends…who still
hooked up. We established some space though, and I relaxed
without the label of an official relationship. I was still strug-
gling with myself and was upset that I had hurt her, but I
stopped judging myself from the eyes of another person. We
stopped fighting...and I stopped tearing myself apart every
day for starting yet another fight. I knew I was doing the right
thing. And as I healed, I felt myself learning how to love her
the right way.
I went home for half of Christmas break, anticipating
how beneficial space would be for us. In my mind, I would
arrive back in Boston and run straight into Janelle’s arms, after
we both had blissful breaks spent with our old friends and
family. We would save the first kiss of 2015 for each other. It
would be perfect.
Instead, Janelle barely returned my texts. Instead, she
told me she was fucking a girl I’ve always hated. Instead, my
New Year’s kiss was a boy with a beard, and then my best
friend from high school, and then a stranger, and then the
stranger’s girlfriend, until the entire party had been kissed by
an extremely drunk, extremely emotional me. I was devas-
tated. And I knew it was my fault. I had broken up with her
three times and complicated her life tremendously, instead of
treating her like the wonderful person she is. She needed a real
break from me, and the fact that I understood why she needed
it hurt. So I spent my break contemplating everything that
I LEARNED
TO CHOOSE
MY BATTLES.
ROMANTIC
RELATION-
SHIPS OFTEN
DEPEND ON
COMPROMISES.
17. 17 ROMANCE
with someone else if you dislike yourself, because you will feel
judged by two people instead of just you, no matter how gen-
tle the other person is. I eventually realized that my anxiety
about pleasing Janelle was based on nothing. She has always
encouraged me to be who I am and do what I want. She never
cared about my clothes or if my jokes fell flat, even though I
convinced myself that she did. The one person you are always
guaranteed to have is yourself, so it is crucial that you enjoy
your own company.
Dealing with mental issues while trying to maintain any
relationship, whether romantic, friendly, or even with fam-
ily, can be very difficult. Everyone deals with mental health
in their own way, so I won’t make any recommendations to
our readers beyond sharing my own experience. I do not have
an official diagnosis or a therapist, but I have done some re-
search and determined what triggers some of my dark cloud
symptoms. I’m still learning and figuring out what to do, but
realizing that preventative and reparative measures exist has
made a huge difference. Simple changes to my lifestyle, such
as practicing affirmative thinking, doing things that inspire or
relax me, eating clean, focusing on the present, and surround-
ing myself with people that lift me up have all contributed to
an overall healthier me. And that health translates to all my
relationships, especially my relationship with Janelle.
While it is wonderful, my relationship with Janelle is
still not perfect. But the problems we have are normal, mun-
dane issues that are easily fixed with a compromise or a kiss.
And we are happy. Janelle has always been a positive presence
in my life, to the best of her own ability, and I have always
cared about her. But it wasn’t until I cared about myself, that I
was able to be a good girlfriend. Maybe life is a learning curve,
and this was a big one for me. I’m not sure what happened,
what clicked in my brain and made me realize how lucky I am
to have someone who accepts me, that I am not the worst per-
son in the world, but can’t be the best either, and that perfec-
tion is just an illusion that makes us all unhappy. Maybe it was
almost losing my best friend. Maybe I just grew up. Whatever
it was, it made me realize that romance is appreciating all the
things that make your partner human. Romance is accepting
another person and celebrating them as they are, and celebrat-
ing yourself as you are. I don’t have all the answers, if I have
any at all, and that is okay. The adventure of going through
life, especially with a companion by your side, is the gift we
have been given. And I will enjoy it from now on.
had happened, and giving her enough space so that maybe,
maybe, she wouldn’t come out of this hating my guts.
I came back to Boston after barely speaking to Janelle,
extremely humbled, and ready to be good. I wanted to be a
good friend to the girl that I had hurt so badly, and good to
myself. What I really wanted was for Janelle to be my girl-
friend again, but after my reflections, it was the last thing I
expected.
Luckily, shockingly, after working out some kinks, she
gave me one more chance. This chance was an ode to Janelle’s
empathy and forgiving nature, a tribute to the passion that
was always part of our relationship despite the bad times, and
proof of the friendship we maintained through the turmoil of
trying to make a romantic relationship work. I will be forever
grateful for this last chance because our relationship has been
a blessing since.
So what have I learned? First, I learned that striving for
perfection ruins everything, because perfection is a myth. And
maybe that is just the beauty of it—the biggest messes make
the best stories, the hardest struggles are the most rewarding.
Life can get tough, but that’s what make the good times so
good.
I learned to choose my battles. Romantic relation-
ships often depend on compromises. If you are happy, and
if you care about the person you are with, the compromises
you make won’t feel like much of a sacrifice. They will simply
demonstrate that you both care enough to meet in the middle.
I learned that sometimes your instincts are worth listen-
ing to. Janelle and I always wanted to be near each other in
a way that we tried to explain through the tough patches of
our relationship. It was a constant battle between what we felt
and what actually worked. Once I was able to work through
my own issues, and we learned how to listen to each other,
the instincts we had made sense and allowed us to truly enjoy
each other like we had always wanted to.
I learned that a miserable lifestyle is never worth it.
Even if you think you need your job to pay rent, it is never
worth waking up far too early, angry, every morning. There
is always another option for a young, able-bodied American
in 2015. Quitting the job I hated and refusing to work shitty
hours at my next job was one of my best decisions yet. And
I invited one of my best friends to move in and split my rent
in half, bringing warmth to my previously lonely apartment.
Finally, most importantly, I learned that the greatest
love of all really is loving yourself. It is impossible to be happy
18. VS.
HOW MUCH TO DRINK
Liquid courage is cool and gives you something to
do during the date, but it’s easy to go overboard. Alternate
one drink with a glass of water to keep level and also be
mindful of trips to the restroom.
TOPICS OF DISCUSSION
It’s okay to jump around and be spontaneous. If the
conversation is natural, it shouldn’t have any real organiza-
tion. And it goes without saying to remember to, in turn,
listen.
KISS
Not encouraged on the first date. The second date
exists in a strange world of its own, so save it for the third.
By then you should be standing on pretty solid ground,
even if it feels like you’re walking on air.
THE
JOB
INTERVIEW
THE
FIRST
DATE
FIRST DATE
BY DANNY LEMAR
19. PREPARATION
Pay close attention to details. People are su-
perficial creatures, especially in a one-on-one setting.
Start top to bottom: your hair to your eyebrows to
your lips, then continue south. If you'll feel your best
plucked and groomed, go for it. If you know you
can rock a "just-woke-up-like-this" look, then by all
means, muss it up. Outside beauty with nothing in-
side gets boring. What makes you beautiful is confi-
dence. Make an empowering playlist for when you're
getting ready and do some stretches. If you still feel
your nerves making you quake, repeat some posi-
tive affirmations in the mirror (It sounds silly, but it
works). Try Ugly Betty's mantra: "I am a attractive,
intelligent, confident business person." Because you
are.
TOPICS OF DISCUSSION
Feel free to talk yourself up. Some sage advice
is to steer clear of things which you feel negatively
about. Focus on what you’re interested in and ask
questions about what you want to know more about.
Take full advantage of the opportunity to really get
to know the person sitting across from you, whether
a potential lover or a future employer.
LASTING IMPRESSION
Leave with a sense that you have done all you
could have. Remember to extend the offer to fol-
low up. You might not be their cup of tea, and they
might not be yours. But life goes on.
WHAT TO BRING
Pack a hard copy of your most updated ré-
sumé and a cover letter, even if you didn’t have to
write one. It’s good practice to know your reasons
for wanting this job inside and out, as to avoid any
sense that you just showed up to this out of nowhere.
TOPICS OF DISCUSSION
This will depend on the interview. Make sure
to anticipate what you might be asked (you know
yourself best) and try to include smooth segues
throughout. Full sentences, please.
HANDSHAKE
Really grip on there with just enough charisma
to be memorable. Maintain eye contact the whole
time. And then let them go.
JOB INTERVIEW
21. Explore the fashion frontier this summer by incorporating
fringe into your wardrobe. Fringe is an easy way to give
a playful update to dresses, jackets, vests—you name it.
Fringed clothing has come and in and out of style throughout
fashion history, and, fortunately for us, the frilled trimming is
back, and super easy to find.
Native Americans were some of the first people to wear
fringe. They wore fringe for practical reasons like repelling wa-
ter or for symbolic reasons that varied depending on the tribe.
Many would embellish fringe with shells and beads, which
would create sounds during dance rituals.
In the 1920s, designer Madeleine Vionnet helped to
popularize fringe in mainstream fashion by creating fringed
frocks ubiquitous with the flappers of the era. The move-
ment of fringe paired well with high-energy Charleston danc-
ing. However, fringe was too impractical during the Great
Depression and World War II due to its excessive use of fab-
ric. Fringe had a rock ‘n’ roll makeover in the late ‘50s thanks
to Elvis Presley. In the ‘60s, musicians like Jimi Hendrix and
Roger Daltrey from The Who rocked fringed ensembles dur-
ing their performances.
Today, designers draw from the glamorous ‘20s and the
badass, rock ‘n’ roll aesthetic of the ‘60s with their fringed
fringe de force
BY MEGAN CATHEY
designs. During the Proenza Schouler Spring/Summer 2015
show, designers Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez sent
out elegant gowns with fringed bottoms that swayed with the
models' movement. Alberta Ferretti made a nod to the ‘60s
with fringed suede dresses, vests, and bags. Celebrities like
Alexa Chung, Gwen Stefani, and Kate Moss are all fringe fans,
on and off the red carpet.
Fringe has trickled down to mass retailers like Topshop,
Zara, Free People, and Urban Outfitters, making fringe acces-
sible for all of us. With fringe, you can embrace either your
bohemian or glamorous side. Feel like Daisy Buchanan in a
fringed cocktail dress, or keep it casual with fringed tank top
or kimono. Add some swish to your step with a fringed skirt.
For the beach or pool, try out new waters with a fringed bikini
top.
An easy way to rock fringe is with accessories. A back-
pack with fringe is super practical, as well as stylish. A fringed
crossbody bag or clutch is a foolproof way to dip your toes
into the trend. For shoes, try a pair of fringed ankle booties,
or sandals with fringe detailing. When wearing fringe, keep
the rest of your outfit simple. That way, the fringe can make
a statement.
21 STYLE
22. 22STYLE
GOD BLESS
This is perhaps our favorite First Lady look.
From the bright fuschia gloves to the check-
ered pattern on this stunning A-line overcoat,
right down to the metal detail on the belt that
cinches it all at the waist, everything about
this outfit makes us want to follow in our First
Lady’s footsteps (which must also be chic con-
sidering the kickass knee-high stiletto boots
she’s wearing.)
She never says no to neutrals. Michelle
waves hello to the people of the United
States while all wrapped up in a tan knee
-length wool coat with a matching high-
waisted wool skirt. We the people ap-
plaud this refreshing take on First Lady
formal wear (pant suits aren’t always the
answer).
Hawaii will never be the same af-
ter Michelle makes a splash in
the Aloha State with this silky
multicolored,multi-patterned trop-
ical tank dress. This outfit truly
shows that the First Lady can dress
to impress in and out of the conti-
nental United States. Also, look at
those precious orange kitten heels!
Oh my palazzo! Not only does
Michelle make a statement in these
high waisted pants, she pairs them
with a white blazer on top of a
white cropped button up top for a
no-fear, all-white look. Go bold or
go home, that’s the Obama way.
Ah, here our fashionable First Lady
goes for a pretty pastel, secret gar-
den, first day of spring look in a
flouncy mid-length front button
dress. This look gives us a softer
side of Michelle that we can’t get
enough of.
23. 23 STYLE
Hi there poppy-colored pant suit!
Michelle sports a very un-stuffy
version of the classic First Lady
pant suit tied at the waist with a
patterned silk scarf and bottomed
off with matching pleather flats.
THE FIRST LADY
OF FASHION
BY ANDREA PALAGI
PHOTO ART BY EMMA YOUNG
Michelle spreads the holiday cheer
in this short sleeve skirt suit that
leaves her shimmering from head
to toe. Between the color, the collar,
the three statement buttons, and
the mock pockets, this outfit puts a
modern twist on the skirt suit.
Okay, okay! We just can’t get enough of
the First Lady and these white palazzo
pants. This time, Michelle goes for a more
casual look by pairing these goddess-like
pants with a mustard yellow, floral em-
broidered cardigan. We’re not even mad
that she’s an outfit repeater because she
looks so good!
Say hello to the First Lady in
the sexiest presidential LBD
that we’ve ever seen. Michelle
shows off her shoulders in this
off the shoulder, floor length
gown. This neckline creates
the perfect frame for the state-
ment necklace of the century
that ensures all eyes are on her
(sorry Mr. President!)
Michelle isn’t afraid of a little (or a
lot of) pattern. Her presidential se-
cret: muted colors and a classic cut.
With this look, the First Lady gives
off a vintage vibe in a black and
white floral patterned dress with a
gold trim with a cropped buttonless
blazer to match.
37. 37 STYLE
BY KAREN MORALES
PHOTO ART BY CHRIS GARCIA
SHIFT DRESSES
Easy to slip on and easy to lift up and...what? Get your minds
out of the gutter. Simply lifting up your dress to go to the
bathroom is a lot easier than fumbling with a shorts' button
in time to catch Drake perform at the next stage. They're cute
and easy to dance around in. We recommend pairing a color-
ful, graphic print shift dress that falls mid-thigh with cool
Nike sneakers and funky sunglasses.
DENIM JUMPER
Both cheeky and classic, and probably not what your
basic festivalgoer would wear. Not to be confused with denim
overalls, a denim jumper is essentially a denim mini dress.
Wear a sleeveless jumper and a sheer button-up with bell
sleeves, or an off-shoulder crop top underneath. Don't forget
sandals and a floppy hat for the sun.
SILKY SHORTS
Wearing flouncy silk or chiffon material shorts is the
closest you can get to wearing pajamas to a concert without
looking ridiculous. Brandy Melville pairs are extremely com-
fortable and do not suffocate your legs in the summer heat.
They look great with a vintage band tee and strappy gladiator
sandals that stop below the knee.
PALAZZO PANTS
While skinny jeans can be too restricting, with palazzo
pants, you can feel the breeze swish around your legs as you
party it up to your favorite band. Because they’re so loose and
wide-legged, you get the look of a maxi skirt, but with the
flexibility of pants. A pair of high-waisted floral palazzo pants
with a flared hem are deliciously retro. They look great with
any type of crop top and comfortable wedge heel sandals.
TO FESTIVAL STYLE
MUSIC FESTIVAL SEASONis in full swing
and events like Coachella, Bonnaroo, and The
Governors Ball are centerpieces for fashion inspira-
tion. Millions tuned in to Instagram to see what
their favorite celebrities wore to Coachella this
year, creating the incentive for brands like H&M
to launch Coachella clothing lines and cash in on
the festival style craze.
Although we at Your Mag can get behind
the idea of looking fabulous while attending a
music festival, (hello photo ops!) we think festi-
val style has gone a little too far the last few years.
Unfortunately, the point of these events, which is
to enjoy live music, gets lost in the mess of wacky
and offensive getups that festivalgoers concoct.
We want to move past the overzealous fringe,
tie-dye, and face paint. Not to mention the ram-
pant cultural appropriation of festival participants
who wear Native American headdresses and Hindu
Bindis because they look "cool."
If you've committed these fashion faux pas
in the past and would like to repent, we forgive
you. But only if you’re willing to try these fresh
outfit ideas for any upcoming gigs you're planning
to attend this summer.
1.
2.
3.
4.
39. ARE YOU A PAJAMA GUY?Or are you one of those who go to bed in exactly what you
wore to the gym? For some of you, you catch your Z’s in your birthday suit, and depending on your
workout plan, you might have the wrong gym. But, let’s say you do wear jammies—what kind are
you wearing?
I have yet to see any sartorial sleepwear in the halls of my dormitory. I am, in a way, relieved I
am not experiencing any FOMO as I’ve left all of my pajama suits at home in fear of ridicule from
my peers, but mostly the frat lords. But, I contest, why aren’t the frat lords wearing pajama suits?
The way I see it, all collegiate affairs should begin in pajama suits, if not end in them. We
must forego the gym wear, the nakedness, and put on some regalia that suggest more than to procre-
ate (yet, I spit on those who think that pajama suits suggest the opposite of reproduction). Pajama
suits may not exactly allude to more mini pajama suits, but they do suggest: I want to sleep here…
as in, O-V-E-R. Slip not on a banana, but into some negligée and into your sheets.
This Christmas Eve, I received a text from my father that read: Did you want pajamas? Um…
would I ever turn down a pajama suit? I have experienced 18 wonderful, pajama filled holidays.
I long for them. I was not aware that my 19th, my first year unhoused meant unclothed as well.
Everyone should rest seriously. As seriously as they would feel if they lost a year of Christmas Eve
pajamas. Recognize the importance of being earnest in your relationship with your sheets and invest
in them because good style never sleeps.
How do I take my rest seriously? How do I dress for my sheets, you catechize? I am not cam-
paigning that you sell your third leg to afford a velvet robe à la Hugh Hefner, because your third
leg is required to sport such a costume and you should never spend a dollar to get someone in bed.
I am urging you to indulge in how you sleep. Have a fiesta for your siesta. Brooks Brothers has not
stopped selling PJ suits. Sleepy Jones can be an avenue for those who enjoy suits with patterns that
are not a snooze fest, also providing sleeping boxers and knit tees alike. Shop H&M and J.Crew for
sleeping joggers if you are the gym short sleeper reaper. And if you snooze in the nude, any clothing
store can provide you with slumberland getup.
I have since received a pajama suit as a birthday gift from a dear friend and quickly forgot-
ten the stigma that I should not wear my suit in fear of swirlies. How high school, I’m in Slumber
College now.
Oh, and joke’s on you frat lords, I have never slept better.
39 STYLE
41. 41 LIVING
IN THE EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY, it was
believed that alcohol was tearing families apart, causing cor-
ruption, and increasing crime rates. The Anti-Saloon League
and the Women’s Christian Temperance Union strongly ad-
vocated the ban of liquor, persuading others that it cultivated
ungodly atmospheres and actions. The people complained,
and the government listened.
On Jan. 16, 1919, the 18th amendment was ratified.
A year later, alcohol disappeared from the shelves completely.
Reverend Billy Sunday, a “dryist,” described this victory by
saying, “The reign of tears is over. The slums will soon be a
memory. We will turn our prisons into factories and our jails
into storehouses and corncribs. Men will walk upright now,
women will smile and children will laugh. Hell will be forever
for rent.”
While he and other “dryists” rejoiced, bootleggers and
mobsters united. Secret rooms were built. Deathly moonshine
concoctions were brewed.
The speakeasy was born.
Technically, it was never illegal to consume alcohol dur-
ing Prohibition. The amendment merely banned the manu-
facturing, transporting, and sale of alcohol. However, people’s
home stashes dried up quickly, clearly leaving only one op-
tion: buying it illegally.
Speakeasies provided this market. Supposedly the term
came from owners urging customers to “speak easy” about
these illegal, secret locations. They came in all shapes and
sizes; some were literally two chairs and a bottle of whiskey.
Others were more akin to upscale jazz clubs with live mu-
sic and stage shows. One famous speakeasy, 21, in New York
City, had a hidden wine cellar and mechanical bar that would
disappear during police raids.
Recently, speakeasies have resurfaced around the coun-
try (without the charm of being arrested for going). There’s
just something about crime—and the roaring ‘20s—that fas-
cinates us. Perhaps it’s the allure of the glamorous lifestyle
associated with rebellion. Perhaps it’s our love of recycling
what used to be in fashion. Boston joined this revival and you
too can now experience the lite version of Prohibition. Simply
take the red line to Davis Square and try finding Saloon.
Like traditional speakeasies, Saloon was not created
to be easily discovered. Tucked beneath a sign for the Davis
Square Theater, this bar is virtually undetectable. There is no
sign or street side window looking into a crowded bar. There
is only a doorman wearing a long peacoat, suspenders, and
sporting a curled mustache.
Once you get past him, you are ushered through a door
that couldn’t possibly lead to chic Boston nightlife. But at the
end of that narrow hallway and dimly-lit staircase, there’s the
loud hum of buzzed conversation and music. Oddly, it’s mod-
ern music, but I guess historical restoration can only go so far.
Late on a Saturday night, Saloon is packed from wall
to wall. Shockingly, the attentive bartenders—also in sus-
penders—are quick to quench everyone's thirst. During
Prohibition, the modern cocktail was born; where as it was
popular to drink alcohol straight up before the 18th amend-
ment, speakeasies popularized the use of mixers in order to
mask the taste of their cheaply-made alcohol. Saloon reflects
both of those styles with drinks like The Stranger (rye whis-
key, Benedictine, and Green Chartreuse) and the Hamilton
Daiquiri (white rum, maraschino liqueur, mint syrup, and
lime).
During Prohibition, speakeasies did not cater to the
lower class. Sneaking liquor was a risky and costly business,
so patrons did not have the luxury of drinking for a bargain.
Saloon’s prices reflects these times: two cocktails will cost you
about $30 with tip.
Although the interior screams bourgeoisie and high-
end flapper dresses, most people appeared to be in their mid-
twenties and were dressed rather casually. Some drank from
tumblers garnished with mint sprigs or raisins, while others
drank Colt-45 from cans. Saloon seemingly caters to anyone
who is willing to pay for a drink—just like a true American
speakeasy.
TURN TO THE NEXT PAGE TO LEARN HOW TO MAKE
A CUSTOM COCKTAIL FROM SALOON
42. DEATH
WISH
EGG WHITE
ANATOMY OF A
ANGOSTURA BITTERS
1/2 oz MONTENEGRO AMARO
2 oz TEQUILA
3/4 oz RAISIN SYRUP
1/2 oz LIME
COURTESTY OF DERRICK,
BARTENDER AT SALOON
43. 43 LIVING
SEVERAL MOMENTSin Boston’s storied past are a few
of the weirder anecdotes in Northeast United States history.
In 1919, a molasses tank burst on a blistering North End day,
killing 21 and injuring 150. During the 19th century, surger-
ies were conducted before crowds at Massachusetts General
Hospital. Dubbed the “Ether Dome,” the lesser known site
has become the city’s strangest historic landmark.
Still located at MGH, the Ether Dome began as an
medical theater between 1821 and 1867. Surgeons would
perform operations before a regularly packed group of curious
onlookers—a medical coliseum. This was before the advent of
anesthesias; the challenge and reason for spectators was to see
how quickly doctors could amputate a limb. Scottish surgeon
Robert Liston was world renowned in the 19th century for his
ability to saw off a leg in under three minutes.
During this time, ether was primarily used by social-
ites as a giggle-inducing narcotic. The only pain relief patients
were offered was a chug of whiskey or a club to the head—a
knockout blow. This was practiced until 1846 when Edward
Abbott received ether vapors before a tumor was removed
in his neck. A stunned audience observed William Morton
administer the drug and John Warren work on the unrespon-
sive subject. Abbott reported no pain and medical history was
made.
The Ether Dome is available to public view when it’s
not hosting meetings and lectures. As was popular during the
Antebellum era, the amphitheater was designed in a Greek-
revival style. Its white walls, wooden floors, and staggering
natural light—on a cloudless day—give the Ether Dome
an antique aesthetic, transporting visitors to an earlier age.
Horror fanatics will appreciate its unsettling vibe. Art enthu-
siasts will marvel at a 19th century period oil painting made
during a reenactment from 2000.
Also on display are early surgical tools, a complete skel-
eton, and an authentic mummy of Padihershef. The Egyptian
artifact was donated to the hospital in 1823, and is on exhibit
in its full, painted coffin. Anyone who has been to the Mutter
Museum in Philadelphia can expect a similar experience.
The Ether Dome is open Monday through Friday be-
tween 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. Admission is free and the mu-
seum is easily accessible from the Red Line Charles/MGH T
stop. 55 Fruit St., Boston, MA 02114
THE PECULIAR, BIZARRE SPECTACLE OF
BY KYLE EDWARDS
B O S T O N ' S
E T H E R
D O M E
45. 45 LIVING
I HAVE NEVER BEEN particularly susceptible to peer
pressure. Even though it meant stifling my high school social life,
I wouldn’t hesitate to pass on the murky depths of a red Solo cup,
and sometimes even the parties themselves. Growing up, even my
musical preferences could not be molded by my friends’ influences.
My iPod may have been filled with Top 40 songs like everyone else’s,
but with music from 30 to 40 years before the existence of Limewire
downloads and bewigged pop stars. Yet when my friends Annie
Loppert ‘16, a design technology major, and Paige McCarthy ‘16,
a communication disorders major, pushed me to join their trendy
workout class Pure Barre, I lost my usually steadfast footing.
Maybe it was the dust gathering on my sneakers, or maybe
the Instagram Paige recently posted of her flawless six-pack abs that
convinced me; either way, I found myself agreeing to test out a class.
To my credit, however, my efforts to resist were admirable.
“I don’t want to pay for a class before I even know if I like it,”
I explained to Paige and Annie with feigned frugal regret. At a steep
$23 per individual class or $100 for your first month of unlimited
classes, I felt this a reasonable limitation for a college student. No
fitness membership is cheap, but Pure Barre on Newbury Street—or
at any of its locations— will make you sweat just looking at their
pricing menu.
Lucky, or not, for me, Paige has earned the title of LTB girl.
The acronym stands for the Pure Barre motto “lift, tone, burn” and
is the name of its student ambassadors. Considering the strength and
motivation needed to even take the class, let alone be noticeably pro-
ficient at it, earning the title is a major accomplishment. For Paige,
the title is a testament to her dedication and skill. For her friends, it
means getting a free first class and a friendly face to help introduce
the unique movements taught at Pure Barre. For me specifically, it
meant the evaporation of the one legitimate reason I had to duck my
friends’ invites.
As I took my place on the floor, I thought my suspicions
about the group workout class were confirmed. Women of varying
ages filled the studio in overpriced yoga clothing. As they stretched
and preened before the wall of mirrors, I noticed not one hand bare
of polish, and an abundance of glittering bangles, diamond rings,
and blowouts. I never knew a real, worthwhile form of exercise that
allowed so much jewelry and makeup.
Moments after the double glass doors shut, sealing us in for
the next hour, I understood my mistake.
The instructor entered and put on a headset microphone
similar to what you might see on a mega-church preacher. When
she cranked the upbeat music, everyone leapt to their feet. When
she instructed everyone to tuck, press, or squeeze their seat, they
quickly complied. Over the weeks that I would return to this hellish
nightmare, I would come to recognize its unique language—even if I
could not always get my body to understand it. To tuck is to squeeze
in your lower abs to the point where it juts your hips forward. A press
works the upper abs and is achieved by squeezing your core as if you
were about to receive a blow to the gut. To get the lengthened muscle
tone of a ballet dancer, Pure Barre has you complete hundreds of
squats while standing on your tip-toes with hips tucked under while
grabbing the ballet barre mounted on the wall and leaning your up-
per body back fully. The seat, I should have guessed, is a euphemism
for the butt I sat on for the many months before Pure Barre started
kicking it.
The class is structured around four different areas of the body.
After the brief warm-up, you complete a series of small, repetitive
movements for your arms and back, thighs, “seat,” and abs. The tran-
sitions are fluid, allow no time for recovery, and never seem to occur
until a few minutes after you’re sure you will puke from the searing
pain. That first class was so much of a whirlwind I was left without
the strength to fake a smile at the instructor who asked about my ex-
perience. I was aware of both Annie and Paige watching me with ex-
pectant smiles, eager to gauge my reaction to the class Annie repeat-
edly assured me was “addicting.” The face I gave them assured her I
did not feel the same way. At least, not initially. After wobbling to
the T, I pulled out my phone and tweeted, “Pure Barre is the devil.”
Two days later I was laying in bed waiting for my body to re-
cover from the torture I put it through. Despite the lactic acid aches
ravaging the better parts of me, the pull to return to Pure Barre was
relentless. It’s a strange phenomenon to hate something so purely
with every fiber of your being, literally, while also being drawn to it.
The intensity of the class earned my respect, and even though I was
easily the most pitiful person in the class, I felt compelled to go again
and get better. I signed up for my first month of Pure Barre that day.
After completing my first month, I can’t regard my relation-
ship with Pure Barre as having improved significantly from the first
painful class I endured. When asked, I still explain the experience
of taking a class as the most torturous hour of fitness I have ever
encountered. I continue to put myself through it, however, because
even better than the physical improvements is the undeniable satis-
faction of accomplishing something so challenging and so far out-
side of my comfort zone. My goal has always been to just finish the
class, and struggling through each round of 60 minute masochism
has proven quite addictive. Just don’t try to get me to admit I like it.
47. 47 LIVING
in Boston, so I headed out to enjoy the warm weather.
Shopping my way down Newbury Street, I decided to stop
at Amorino for a cold treat. I opened the door of the tiny
café and my eyes widened, devouring the enticing display of
creamy gelato. Perfectly whipped, it rested in large tubs inside
a glass freezer. Like a child, I leaned over the clear case, mouth
watering, trying to decide what flavors to choose.
Once I’d announced my order, a woman wrapped in
a black apron with a matching chef’s hat, scooped out dol-
lops of decadent chocolate and smooth raspberry. Grasping
a waffle cone with one hand, she brushed the gelato along its
edges, shaping red and brown petals out of my chosen flavors.
I smiled as I took the cone from her, hesitating a moment be-
fore licking up one of the petals. The raspberry and chocolate
melted in my mouth, as though I’d just bit into a rich choco-
late truffle. I closed my eyes to better savor the taste. This was
just what I needed.
Amorino’s Italian gelato made its way to Boston on
March 26, when owner Léa Sasportes set up shop in Back Bay.
Located on 249 Newbury Street, the small shop has seating
for around 20 in a warm café setting. It’s the perfect place to
escape from the summer heat by grabbing a cone with friends.
The intimate setting is also great for sharing a cup of gelato
with a loved one.
The Boston location features 23 gelato varieties plus one
specialty flavor each month. The store also sells a variety of
teas, frappés, macarons, waffles, crêpes, breakfast items, and,
in the warmer months, granitas, or Italian ice. But their signa-
ture flower-shaped scoop is a must for any first time buyers.
Although this store may be the first time many have
tasted Amorino, this Newbury newcomer has a history as rich
as its gelato. In 2002, childhood friends Cristiano Sereni and
Paolo Benassi opened the first Amorino in the heart of Paris
on Ile St. Louis. In an effort to produce the best Italian ge-
lato, Sereni and Benassi sought out natural and organic in-
gredients from reputable suppliers and oversaw every step of
production.
Instantly, their product was a hit, and their shop be-
came a hotspot during the Parisian summers. Stores began
popping up all throughout the city, and today there are a total
of 56 stores throughout France. Eventually, Amorino reached
beyond French borders, establishing locations in a number of
different European countries like Italy, Spain, and England.
More recently, Amorino has taken up roots in the
United States, opening two stores in New York in 2011.
Currently, there are six US locations, with Boston being the
newest addition, and Chicago planning to join the ranks in
the coming months.
Even as the chain has traveled overseas, its emphasis on
natural products and careful production remain at the fore-
front of the company. Founders Sereni and Benassi ensure
their gelato is churned daily in a traditional Italian fashion
under the watchful eye of trained chefs. The recipes they use
allow the gelato to mature slowly, letting the flavor reach its
full potential. The combination of fresh free-range organic
eggs with the highest grade whole milk and the deletion of
coloring agents and artificial flavors keeps Amorino’s gelato
wholly authentic and absolutely delicious.
In order to ensure this quality in each of their shops, lo-
cally and internationally, Amorino has their products shipped
to its stores. This way, customers can enjoy the same quality of
gelato no matter where they decide to buy.
The Newbury Street location is open from 7:30 a.m.
to 10 p.m. daily, with extended hours on the weekend. This
authentic and delectable Italian gelato is sure to prove an ir-
resistible summer treat.
SPRING HAD
RELUCTANTLY SPRUNG
54. 54ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
need to stand up, we need to get serious. Let’s take action, let’s take
down rape culture, ya’ll,” said Laci Green as she concluded her talk
at Emerson College last April, with adoring applause from the audi-
ence and an anthem of encouragement. The 25-year-old stood at
the podium beaming with her signature wide-frame glasses and dirty
blond curls.
Taking down rape culture sounds like a daunting task. Green,
however, has laid the groundwork and aims to inspire and educate
people to become advocates of a culture of consensual and positive
sex.
There didn’t use to be many places in the vast corners of the
interweb where one could find videos about secret vagina facts,
“MAGICAL MULTIPLE ORGASMS,” lesbian sex, the truth about
“pulling out,” and labias, to become better educated (sex-ucated?).
Green changed that with the creation of her YouTube channel
Sex+. She started making videos as early as 2008 when YouTube
was uncharted territory. By 2012, the year after she graduated U.C.
Berkeley, Green’s videos were getting over 100,000 views. Today Sex+
has 1,300,369 subscribers and receives thousands of views each day.
Green is also the star of MTV’s web series Braless.
“I was really driven to use the internet as a platform to have
conversations with people about the things that I thought were im-
portant in the world,” Green said in her 2013 video “DRAW MY
LIFE.” Her content ranges from creating a culture of consent, femi-
nism, positive body image, relationships, gender and sexuality, to just
having really good sex.
One can say her sensational web presence triggered, or at least
helped, a positive sex revolution and has broken down the walls of
“acceptable” sex talk. Her quirky humor and ingenuity has brought
her deserved attention from the media and Internet users. The core
of her audience is college-aged teens and young adults. Green has
sparked a much needed public interest in sex education in public
schools—or the lack thereof.
Time Magazine recently published an online series called
“Why Schools Can’t Teach Sex Ed,” which cited Laci Green as a
helpful resource for teens to seek information. The piece noted that
L A C I
G R E E N ' S
SEXUAL
EDUCATION
L E G A C Y
BY JESSICA COLAROSSI
“WE
55. nearly 80 percent of sexually active teens aged 15-17 had sex for the
first time with no formal sexual education. Studies have also found
that 10 percent of young women who had their first sexual experi-
ence in their teenage years said it was not their choice.
Green moved to California at the age of 12 and attended
public high school in the San Francisco Bay Area which taught
“abstinence only” sex education (though it is illegal in the state of
California, as it is in 21 other states). She experienced first-hand the
flaws in the education system and witnessed multiple forms of law
breaking as far as sexual health goes.
“There were a lot of things that happened in my life...I’ve had
a lot of experiences with really blatant misogyny and rape culture,”
Green told me recently. “All the things I talk about are really personal
to me and that’s why I’m talking about them.”
Recent CDC literature also showed that 43.9 percent of wom-
en have experienced some form of unwanted sexual violence that was
not rape and 23.4 percent of men have experienced the same. Public
health experts agree both sexes need education on appropriate behav-
ior, education is necessary to create a culture of consent.
“The main thing I try to encourage people to do is to be
aware, and then use that awareness, spread it and speak up about it.
Using your voice is the most important thing,” said Green. “There’s
power in those voices and there’s power in numbers.”
In the past couple of years she has sprung up on ABC, Doctor
Phil, Huffington Post, Atlantic Magazine and more. Her video “WHY
I’M A FEMINIST… *gasp*” went viral last April when it was shared
on social media and web-curation site Upworthy.
Laci received a certification in dating violence and rape crisis
counseling from the state of California when she was 20 years old
and graduated with a degree in legal studies with an emphasis on
rape and sexual assault in 2011. According to her site, Green has
spent over 10,000 hours working hands-on in the field including
crisis counseling at a family violence resource center, serving on the
ACLU's Board of Directors, working on various reproductive health
campaigns, and initiated peer-led sexual education groups in bay area
high schools. Her first job was with Planned Parenthood as a sex edu-
cation vlogger. She was also a science writer and host for Discovery
News from 2012-2014 and brought their YouTube channel to
1,000,000 subscribers. All the while, Green was posting YouTube
videos on Sex+ every week. In 2012 Green also started giving discus-
sions on college campuses, like the one she gave at Emerson, and is
continuing her tour across North America. Green spoke at over 30
colleges for sexual assault awareness month this April.
“Knowing that there are people out there who felt as alone
and isolated and confused, or without a place to get their questions
answered, as I felt, is definitely my strongest motivation,” said Green.
“I want to be a resource for them.”
Green became the host of MTV's first original YouTube chan-
nel, Braless, in November 2014. The show examines gender, race, and
sexuality issues in pop culture. A prominent example she gave dur-
ing her campus discussion was Robin Thicke’s hit “Blurred Lines,”
which is a song about sexually assaulting women and is considered
controversial.
Green traced this idea of “sex commodification” to gender
roles—which dictate how people of each gender should act and what
their place is within a society. People are taught from a young age
that sex is something that can be owed or earned. In traditional gen-
der stereotyping, this can be translated to meaning a man feels en-
titled to sex from a woman. In reality, as Green explains, only a verbal
and enthusiastic “yes means yes”—this does not include silence and
is not valid if a person is impaired by drugs or alcohol.
“We need more people to be advocates,” said Green. “We are
gonna’ become the system, we are in training to be the system! So in
order to change the systems we need to change it from the inside out.
That starts with trying to get to people and trying to educate people
before it’s too late.”
“ALL THE THINGS I TALK
ABOUT ARE REALLY
PERSONAL TO ME AND
THAT’S WHY I’M TALKING
ABOUT THEM.”
55 ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
56. 56ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
A
R
ASACOMMUNITYof aspiring artists, film-
makers, writers, painters, musicians, and actors,
what we all have in common within Emerson’s
community is an overwhelming desire to leave a
mark upon the world, to communicate our souls
through imagery, music, literature, and count-
less other mediums. In an attempt to understand
how the work of other artists inspires the future
generation of storytellers, I interviewed various
members of the Emerson community to discov-
er how and what art has inspired them. This is
what they had to say.
MATT BENSON '18, VMA
What piece of art inspires you?
I am really inspired by the painting, Irises, by Van Gogh.
I think that it has the perfect shade of green and the contrast be-
tween light and dark is incredible. It shows emotion and move-
ment, even though it’s a painting.
What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?
Hal Ashby’s 1971 film, Harold and Maude, is one of my
top five favorite films. I love how the characters feel tremendous
losses but still hold onto their morals, refusing to be corrupted
by the sadness and troubles of the world.
What piece of art is extremely important to your life?
Wes Anderson’s Rushmore. I think it was probably the
movie that inspired my whimsical, childlike, and wondrous
style of filmmaking and has influenced exactly what I would
like to portray in my own films. Like Ashby’s characters, those
in Rushmore stay good-hearted even when they suffer so much.
They all have the heart to overcome the cynicism of the world.
LIZA WAGNER '18, VMA
What piece of art inspires you?
The “Runaway” music video by Kanye West. It’s a 30
minute music video for his entire album, My Beautiful Dark
Twisted Fantasy. He stars in it, and did the cinematography
as well.
What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?
The Breakfast Club is the movie that made me want to
make movies. Because of it, I want to make a film about a
group of strangers who are able to connect with each other
emotionally. Watching The Breakfast Club is also the moment I
realized I wanted to impact society through film.
What piece of art is extremely important to your life?
My dad once painted a scene of Heaven filled with a
bunch of celebrities. It has been hanging in my house forever
and to me it represents that creativity that has been present in
my life since I was a child.
WHAT
IS
57. 57 ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
A
R PAUL HOOVER '15, THEATRE STUDIES
What piece of art inspires you?
Needles and Opium, a theatrical performance written and di-
rected by Robert Lepage. His work, this play in particular, inspires
me because of his ability to take dazzling special effects far beyond the
imagination of the common man and use them to tell a simple, true
story that we can all relate to. As a theatre director, he fulfills his basic
duty of storytelling in a larger-than-life way that is so uniquely his.
What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?
When I was in seventh grade I received the Queen Greatest Hits
album for Christmas. Those tracks are some of the most listened to
on my iPod today. Imagine if Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, and Handel
decided to start a rock band: and you’ve got Queen. Each man in that
band had the musical knowledge and the talent to rival those great
composers, and they played right into the zeitgeist of their day.
What piece of art is extremely important to your life?
I think that the artistic medium of today is television. I’d say
that Mad Men is one of the most important series in ushering in the
platinum age of television. Very fitting that an homage to the past is
such an important catalyst that has shown us just what TV is capable
of today.
?
BY CASSANDRA MARTINEZ
PROFESSOR WENDY WALTERS, AFRICAN AMERICAN LITERATURE
What piece of art inspires you?
I’m inspired by Ralph Ellison’s great novel, Invisible Man, because the
writing is so beautiful. Ellison captures an entire sweep of American history
in gorgeous literary form. His novel reminds me of why I love both history
and literature.
What piece of art moves you or has had a profound impact on you?
Claudia Rankine’s poetry book, Citizen: An American Lyric, locates
the pain and trouble of our contemporary moment in poetic precision. Yet
her work also reminds us that this is not a new story. Her book ends with
two images of a painting from 1840, JMW Turner’s Slaveship.
What piece of art is extremely important in your life?
The above painting is important for me in the ways that contem-
porary black poets and novelists (such as Claudia Rankine and Michelle
Cliff) have incorporated it into their own literary art. Slaveship is also in the
permanent collection at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
59. where Michael Christmas is the only rapper who puts it
on the map, one may wonder: where exactly are all the
rappers in Boston?
Hiding in the depths of a Piano Row basement
room, a group of students meet to discuss their organiza-
tion’s goals, talk over the daily agenda, and, most impor-
tantly, spit some freestyles. Emerson’s Rap and Hip-Hop
Society was only founded this year. A first of its kind: the
Society crew meets weekly to discuss hip-hop and offer
critique to each other’s raps. Founders Carlyle Thomes ‘15
and Sean Clampett ‘15 sought to create a group where
rappers, producers, and rap enthusiasts could find a home
at Emerson.
“The fact that there were four or five a capella groups
and no rap or hip-hop groups [at Emerson] surprised me.
I would see people standing in circles freestyling at parties
so I knew there had to be other people on campus that
would join and be down for the cause,” says Clampett.
Thomes shared the same sentiments and was com-
pletely on board when Sean came to him with the idea,
“We knew the school was filled with talented artists and
we wanted to bring rappers together in order to make
connections, improve our skills, and just enjoy hip-hop
music.”
The organization has grown in all sorts of ways
since last semester, but primarily in the members’ rapping
abilities.
“It’s amazing that in a two-month span you could
notice improvement from everybody, especially the
younger guys. Before they were nervous to freestyle in
front of 10 people, but now by the end of second semester
people are jumping in and wanting to be the first to go,”
says Clampett.
“It’s a judgment-free zone so if you freestyle
a whole verse about Pokémon, or repeat words for a
few lines, or even stop and start over, there’s no look-
ing down upon anyone for doing any of that,” says
Clampett.
As the co-founders approach graduation, they
have shared what they expect the future of Society
should be with the younger members. To name a few,
SGA recognition, booking performance spaces on
campus, and inviting more people to join at organiza-
tion fairs would help Society grow into permanence at
Emerson.
“I want Society to really grow into a well-respect-
ed, recognized organization at the college. I think Sean
and I have formed a good base for the other members
to build off of, and I expect them to really make Society
into something important. I think the possibilities for
the group are endless once it extends to more of the
Emerson community,” says Thomes.
Society definitely implicates an expansion of the
rap scene at Emerson and, with its exponential growth
and the music coming out of the organization, it could
even help the Boston rap scene grow.
“By bringing artists from all over the country and
world together, the variety of sounds coming out of the
group could begin to define a sound for rap music in
this city. For now it is only at Emerson, but in the fu-
ture I would want to see Society’s artists expanding their
reach throughout the entire city, and giving Emerson
and Boston a hip-hop/rap scene that has been lacking
up until now,” says Thomes.
So could Society help bring Boston to the fore-
front of the national rap scene? Very possibly so, but
until then, these hooligans will keep the breadth of
their raps to the basement, patiently waiting to pounce
on Boston at a decisive moment.
IN A CITY
59 ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
60. 60ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
EDC NEW YORK
WHAT: This festival is held in the MetLife Stadium, and
it’s described as a “twenty-first century carnival”—basically,
it’s all six senses intensified. With dance/EDM/dubstep style
music, light shows, art displays, carnival rides, and paid
dancers and performers, it’s great for someone who wants to
go wild for two days straight.
WHEN: May 23 & 24
WHERE: MetLife Stadium, East Rutherford, New Jersey
BIGGEST NAMES: Bassnectar, Benny Benassi, Calvin
Harris, Kaskade, Tiesto, Umek
GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $229
VOLUNTEERING: You can email volunteers@insomniac.
com for volunteer information. Make sure to specify you’re
inquiring about the New York festival, because there are mul-
tiple EDC festivals across the U.S.
HANDS
BEHIND
THE
BANDS
GRANITE STATE MUSIC FESTIVAL
WHAT: This festival functions as a nonprofit organization
that raises money for music and arts related efforts in the
state of New Hampshire—it was founded by a group of local
musicians and music fans. Featuring local music, an artisan
marketplace, and a solar powered beer garden, it’s a great
festival for a great cause. You can’t camp on the actual fes-
tival grounds, but there are plenty of nearby campgrounds
to choose from, as well as a varied selection of nearby hotels.
WHEN: June 20 & June 21
WHERE: Concord, New Hampshire
BIGGEST NAMES: The lineup is unannounced, but it’ll
include “local and national musicians.”
GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $40 IN ADVANCE,
$60 AT THE GATE
VOLUNTEERING: Volunteers will work in 2-3 hour shifts
and receive free admission; you can go to http://nhgsa.com/
volunteergranite-state-music-festival/ or email the volunteer
coordinator, Lisa Jackson at lisa@nhgsa.com
Summer is almost here, which also
meansthatfestivalseasonisuponus.Ifthere’s
one summer activity that is universally loved
and appreciated, it’s music festivals. Music
festivals unite groups of people in a unique
way and foster a community connected by
mutual love of live music. However, not all
of us have hundreds to shell out on tickets.
That’s where volunteering comes in! Most
festivals offer free admission to volunteers,
and it’s a great option for anyone who loves
music but can’t afford the festival lifestyle.
BY KATJA VUJIĆ
PHOTO BY CHRIS GARCIA
61. 61 ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
NEWPORT FOLK FESTIVAL
WHAT: The Newport Folk Festival is pretty historically sig-
nificant—it was first founded in 1959 and has continued to
grow ever since. It’s been really prominent within the folk
music scene, although it now incorporates genres like indie,
rock, and reggae, too. They’ve got a great mix of tradition and
innovation, and the Newport Folk Festival Foundation is run
as a nonprofit to benefit music education and collaboration.
You can’t camp on the grounds, but there are campgrounds
available nearby, and of course plenty of hotels.
WHEN: July 24-26
WHERE: Fort Adams, Newport, Rhode Island
BIGGEST NAMES: Iron & Wine, Brandi Carlile, Shakey
Graves, Sturgill Simpson, First Aid Kit
GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: UNAVAILABLE
VOLUNTEERING: You can email Lauren Carson at lcar-
son@cleanwater.org for volunteering information.
THE FRENDLY GATHERING
WHAT: The Frendly Gathering is best described as the most
Vermont festival you could imagine. Camping is allowed and
encouraged,asissustainabilityandrespectfortheenvironment
as well as other festival attendees. It’s a BYOB event, though
they don’t allow glass bottles in order to protect bare feet. The
festival is based around the “10 Anchors of Frendship”: pas-
sion, mutual accountability, collaboration, humility, honesty,
integrity, inclusivity, selflessness, revelry, and respect. Needless
to say, the vibe of the music is decidedly indie.
WHEN: June 26 & 27
WHERE: Timber Ridge, Vermont
BIGGEST NAMES: Mac Demarco, Twiddle, Valerie June,
Spirit Family Reunion, Sleepy Man, Rob Garza, Moon Hooch
GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $139
VOLUNTEERING: You can fill out a volunteer form on the
Frendly Gathering website at http://www.frendlygathering.
com/volunteer/. They require a $75 deposit, which will be
refunded post-festival, and you’ll be assigned to a crew with a
specific job. There will be volunteer training to attend.
SOLID SOUND FESTIVAL
WHAT: Solid Sound is all about the nature and the music.
They have a campsite of their own for a cost, and there are
also hotels and state campsites nearby. You can come and
go at your leisure as long as your wristband stays on, and
attendees can also enjoy art installations!
WHEN: June 26-28
WHERE: North Adams, Massachusetts
BIGGEST NAMES: Wilco, Shabazz Palaces, Charles
Lloyd Quartet, Taj Mahal, Mac Demarco, Real Estate
GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $149
VOLUNTEERING: You can fill out a volunteer form on
the Solid Sound website. You’ll work either one 10-hour
shift or two 5-hour shifts over the course of the festival in
exchange for free admission and a cool T-shirt!
GATHERING OF THE VIBES
WHAT: Gathering of the Vibes started twenty years ago
as “Deadhead Heaven—a Gathering of the Tribe.” It was
founded after Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead died and
basically started as a void filler that grew into a really cool
music festival. Camping and hotels are both available, and
it has the same environmentally conscious and respectful
values as many of the more camping-based festivals.
WHEN: July 30-August 2
WHERE: Bridgeport, Connecticut
BIGGEST NAMES: Wilco, Ben Harper & the Innocent
Criminals, Weezer, The String Cheese Incident
GA FULL FEST TICKET PRICES: $225
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62. 62ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT 62ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
BUT WHAT ABOUT BOISE?
A REVIEW OF CITY BY CITY, EDITED BY KEITH GESSEN AND STEPHEN SQUIBB
BY MATT MULLEN
ILLUSTRATION BY PIMPLOY PHONGSIRIVECH
63. 63 ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT63 ARTS + ENTERTAINMENT
n+1, the Brooklyn-based quarterly journal of
culture, politics, and literature was named for an algebraic ex-
pression of redundancy: N+1, meaning when a system fails,
there is a backup in place. Founding editor Chad Harbach
elaborated to Harvard Magazine in 2010:
“Keith [Gessen, another founding editor] and I were
talking, and he kept saying, ‘Why would we start a magazine
when there are already so many out there?’ And I said, jok-
ingly, ‘N+1’—whatever exists, there is always something vital
that has to be added or we wouldn’t feel anything lacking in
this world.”
The idea of redundancy is interesting when considering
the journal’s newest collection of essays, some of which origi-
nally appeared on the n+1 pages. The essays in City by City
explore the past, present, and future of cities across the nation,
ranging from Fresno to Boise to Atlanta. Why redundancy?
Because this book is the opposite of redundant: it is a needed,
practically exhilarating voice in a cultural conversation that has
a habit of dismissing the states (and cities) in between New
York and California.
The premise for City by City is simple: one essay about
one city. Subtle and shape-shifting, the pieces blend the per-
sonal and historical, the theoretical and the anecdotal. They
are part memoir, part travelogue, and part—the introduction
notes—Depression-era WPA guide. Many, for me, were an in-
troduction to places that previously existed as nothing more
than points on a map. (Growing up outside New York City,
I thought Pennsylvania was the Midwest). I had never even
heard of Williston, North Dakota, but now I can tell you
about the hydrofracking situation there. These essays give us
context: we learn how Fresno came to be, why Atlanta's traffic
is so bad, and about Milwaukee’s socialist past, among myriad
other things. Don’t mistake this for an American studies text-
book—many of the essays here are intimate, sometimes even
confessional. But all are thoroughly researched and educative
in spirit. You can think of City by City as a shrewd local—say,
your cool older cousin—taking you by the arm and giving
you a tour of his neighborhood, eager to point out the good
and the not-so-good alike.
Indeed, all of the essays were written by those who were
either raised in, spent significant time in, or currently live in
the city at hand. This alone does not lend the work authentic-
ity; rather these writers are forceful and searing in their ob-
servations. Take this evocative passage from Simone Landon’s
“Saving Detroit:”
“Rust is the metaphor most often used to describe
Detroit’s extinct industry, and the rust really does tinge even
the muntins of the windows of the shattered parts factories,
their panes long since smashed. But on the blocks and blocks
of once-residential city streets, the deterioration is due less to
rust than to char: dozens of blighted, burned-out houses lost
to neglect or arson, the rest on the brink of catching fire.”
The authors in this collection are not only geographi-
cally diverse but distinct in their voices and styles, making the
entire reading sensation pleasantly chaotic. Of course, some
pieces stand out more than others. Boston’s chapter, an inter-
view with Steve Meacham, a community organizer who fo-
cuses on housing, felt preachy and exasperated at times. Some
essays, and their cities, quickly slipped through the cracks of
my memory. But no matter. Taken as a whole, City by City is a
meandering, thought-provoking road trip through parts both
known and unknown.
City by City, out May 12 from n+1 / Faber and Faber
