Life, pop culture, Rambles, Things I Like


Time for another round of I’m Out of Ideas For This Week and On A Time Crisis! Oh wait, it’s called what? Really? That’s a bit of a sloppy name. Who thought of that? I did? Ugh, whatever. Nevermind, it’s time for Things That Are Happening RN!!

1). BLAHG: I’m obsessed with making header images for my blog. I spent a good hour just goofing around, finding the perfect font that says “Sexy, but approachable” mixed with “Never f*cking talk to me.” And I think I really found it. S.T.U.N.N.I.N.G. I also made a matching banner for my Twitter, which some people might consider a low point but I consider it more of a stepping stone to madness. Which I guess isn’t…better.

2). Katy Perry: Katy Perry made a perfume that’s called “Mad Love,” which is supposedly related to her “Mad Potion” perfume. HOWEVER “Mad love” is actually a Taylor Swift song lyric, as in “Baby now we got bad blood, you know we used to be mad love” (or idk; I don’t know the lyrics by heart). This is SHADE CITY because “Bad Blood” is allegedly about Katy Perry and how she stole dancers from Taylor’s tour and they both fought over John Mayer. A) You can’t steal dancers; they’re people. The last time someone stole a person, it resulted in SLAVERY. B) Why are we fighting over John Mayer? Just find a charismatic homeless person—same effect.

3). Taylor Swift: was dating Calvin Harris—now dating Tom Hiddleston. I realized that when T-Swizzle doesn’t have any new music for me to consume, I really find her very annoying. I don’t think that anyone can deny that she’s a musical powerhouse, but it also serves the alternative purpose of distracting me from her kind of awful personality. But Swiftie 4 life.

4). Bathing suits: I bought swimsuits from Old Navy yesterday. SALEEEEE. But there’s no more vulnerable of a moment than when you’re trying on a bathing suit under the harsh fluorescent lights of your local Old Navy. It really tests the strength of your character, and my character has the solidity of cheesecake.

5). COLOR: I’m really into lime-green and goldenrod-yellow lately. Usually these are some of my least favorite colors—omg I also forgot; I used purple in one of my Wunderkindof banner mockups (for when we’ve moved out of the summer themes) and I HATE purple. What is getting into me??

6). FASHUN: Do you ever buy one article of clothing and suddenly envision an entire capsule collection of your new style? I bought a tie-dye sweatshirt online the other day and it sent me on a science-nerd/grunchy hippie/clean grunge/second-hottest-kid-in-space-camp journey, for which I’m currently living. It’s really amazing what a piece of clothing can do for you.

7). DOG BLANKY: My sister put a picture of our dog onto a blanket and it’s massive and the best thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

8). OITNB: I’m two episodes in but I’m already exhausted. I wish no one else liked it because now I feel like I’m forced to watch it so that I can be a part of the cultural zeitgeist.

I could go on but I love stopping lists at the number 8 because it reaaaaaaaally (I almost forgot the second “L” and then realized, “What the fuck does it matter? I used like seven “A”s) undercuts any sort of expectation you might’ve had for me. And I’m nothing if not excellent at circumventing the expectations heaped upon me.

I werked out my arms today and instead of feeling “buff y ripped” I just feel tired.



Sometimes writing everyday is hard. I know I make it look effortless and easy and chic, but sometimes it’s a real witch-with-a-b to think of topics all day erryday. So even though today is not the last Friday of the year, it’s the second-to-last Fashion Friday of the season—omg stop queen ily—so here is an in-depth, scientific analysis of all the fashion trends—every single one—of the last year.

LOVED: the early ‘00s influence

Watching so many angsty teens in flannels and high ponytails makes me feel like a kid again, watching All That.


LOATHED: those plastic chokers

There’s homage, and then there’s carnage. Please, girls and gays, stop wearing those plastic, expandable chokers. Let some things die.

LOVED: white sneakers

There’s just something so chic about a pair of white sneakers. They go with almost everything and kind of class up your outfit.

LOATHED: cleaning those white sneakers

I bought a pair of white Converse high-tops like five years ago, so by the time the white sneaker trend was in full swing, mine looked like they had gone through The Amazing Race. I tried to re-bleach them, but that didn’t really work out.

LOVED: Athleisure in general.

Socially acceptable gymwear? Adidas track pants? I’m so down. I’m like 50/50 on joggers—I own two pairs, I’m such a fake—but in general, I’m a big fan of athleisure.

LOATHED: Health goth.

We get it, you’re angsty and love wearing oversized black shirts with large, white Adidas logos. Please go away now.

LOVED: Boxy cuts.

I think boxy cuts are awesome and really frame the silhouette in a great way. Plus, they—for guys at least—create a broad upper body and narrower lower body, which gives you more of a V-shape than you might normally have. 

LOATHED: Those longline t-shirts.

They don’t work on Justin Bieber; they don’t work on you. Really longline stuff just looks bad, in my opinion. I’m a total fan of elongating the torso a little, but do it on a stretcher, the old-fashioned way.


LOVED: Olive greens and khaki.

I look really good in olive greens and khakis. I think it’s because my coloring is so light, that sometimes really black-blacks and dark colors make me look ghostly. Neutral-ish dark tones have the same sick contrast, without giving me Caspar le Ghost feels.

LOATHED: Camouflage.

Just because I haven’t found something in camouflage that suits me and/or makes me look cool and not self-conscious. Also, like, who are you hiding from??


LOVED: Man jewelry.

I can’t rock it, but I totally admire it. I have complete sausage fingers, so rings scare the shit out of me, but I had a roommate—Sebastien—who was so good at wearing tasteful rings. Maybe one day I’ll invest in the Big and Tall version of some cool rings and rock that.

LOATHED: Fedoras.

Please. Stop. It’s worse than that time that I wore a newsboy cap. It was just once, but it was such a rough time for everyone.

To wrap up, I’ll detail my 2015 fashion journey.

Lumberjack prep–> Heterosexual athleisure–> Summertime (aka tank tops)–> Good-boy bad-boy flannels–> Darkness, a memoir–> Angst, an autobiography–> Sweatpants, a history.





When I came out as a God-fearing homosexual in the spring of 2011, I was confused. Now, in the winter of 2015, I’m still confused. I’m confused about what the fuck I was wearing back then.

Before I came out, I dressed in mom jeans and graphic tees. Frankly, my style has only improved a modicum since then, so really this blog post is redundant, but it was really bad back then. Head to toe. H2T.

After coming out of the closet, I turned around, looked at that closet and went, “Wtf? I need a wardrobe overhaul” and like any young gay on a budget and a quest for justice, I went to my local H&M and promptly spent all my summer job money on scratchy sweaters, my first denim shirt, my first denim jorts—what my sisters would call “The Beginning of the End” or the Apocalypse—and countless horrifyingly bright-colored articles of clothing.

But it wasn’t just the H&M overload. As I said before, it was a H2T catastrophe. My hair was brutally cut, my face was breaking out so badly it was swimming halfway across the Bay from Alcatraz, and my eyebrows. Oh lord. Those brows.


When I tell people that I plucked my eyebrows to high Heaven, I don’t think they really believe me. But you guys believe me, right? I thought it was so cute to have plucked eyebrows, so I might’ve gotten a little tweezers-eager.

But the moment that always springs to mind when I picture my high school H&M style was one day in senior year. We—me and some “friends” from “high school”—went to the city—Manhattan, because I’m classy and a suburb slut—for a “fun day out.” We ate Shake Shack and walked around Central Park, eventually doing a photoshoot in front of the Jackie O Reservoir.

Picture this. We’ll start from the T.


Bright purple lace-up Vans. A hint of neon-pink socks with a daring, electric-blue leopard print. Bright yellow corduroy pants. Zebra-print tech gloves. Brown leather jacket zipped up to my neck over a forest-green sweatshirt. Big gray scarf wrapped around my neck. Two ghostly imprints of eyebrows. And to top it all off—The Hat.

The Hat was a purchase from Amazon when a demon took my credit card and my body and went on a shopping rampage. It was a knitted, unisex—I use that term loosely—“one size fits all”—I use that phrase very loosely—unicorn wool hat with dangly ties ending in pink poofs. It became an unfortunate fixture in my life at that time, and is something I very much regret.  


She literally made me put this in the post just so that everyone knows that we don’t look like that anymore.

I wore it a lot, and only semi-ironically. In the latter half of my high school years, I became very into unicorns. I saw it as a “Yeah, I’m reclaiming the stigma”/ “I’ll take it myself before you can turn it against me” social stance, also unicorns are very interesting animals. I fucking hate horses, by the way.

It was also during that time that I was in the flush of my first blog. “The Amazing Unicorn Files” was a brief snapshot of an attention-seeking monster, and I’m not talking about Lindsay Lohan. It was me. Or a version of me.

Screen Shot 2015-11-23 at 11.34.34 PM

On TAUF, which I never called it, so idk why I’m starting now, I was a wildly sassy—a term I absolutely loathe—freak of neon nature. I look upon that blog, and that boy, fondly, but with the careful distance you give a low-budget reality star on a talk show. Respectful, but very wary.

I think in ten years, I might be embarrassed by the atrocious way I dressed in high school—I’m sure that 30-year-old me will also be embarrassed by 20-year-old me—but I kind of treat him like a little brother that I have to protect from bullies. Not that I was ever physically beaten up. Not that it wouldn’t be totally unwarranted. Not because I was gay; just because I was kind of a disaster towards people.

But the Unicorn Hat—Muffin was her/his name—is something that I’m going to spin into a very heavy-handed metaphor. It’s something that embarrassing and endearing. It’s something that I don’t fit into anymore—I have a big head—but it’s something I can’t bear to throw away. It’s something I store away in my closet, safe and hidden.

The Unicorn Hat is my younger self. In case you were lost.

And my past shouldn’t just be my past, although frankly those eyebrows can stay lost. I’m so earth-toned and toned down and “mature” and “elegant” now that it’s easy to forget that I used to be a human tie-dye. I used to dress in scratchy, papery H&M pants and wear colors that didn’t so much pop as scream. And I was fearless in a school that largely treated me like an exhibit in a zoo.


But that freaky, dorky, overenthusiastic kid was brave and bold and took fashion risks and was unabashedly himself. In the wake of me being comfortable in my sexuality and lax in the warm embrace of relative exception, I forgot what it was like to be comfortable in being uncomfortable. I forgot what it was like to live on the tightrope and be daring. And that’s not something I think that I—or anyone—should forget. And sometimes it takes eyebrows like that of a 2002 prostitute and a unicorn hat to realize that.