So, I know some of you are “wedding people” … I am not. Can you help me out though? Is this (maxi) dress appropriate for a wedding at a lake? (Placid, if you’re keeping score.) I included a detail image so you can see the print. It’s fine if it’s not okay, I have time to buy something else.
Perfume to dance class. I don’t even care if you wear perfume to the gym. But perfume in the dance class isn’t right. It’s a small enclosed space with little to no ventilation, we’re close together, and the whole class is pretty intense, meaning a lot of heavy-ish breathing. In other words, the people around you don’t want to inhale your perfume the whole time. It results in burning eyes and sneezing.
That is all.
I am ugly as sin when I work out. 5-10 minutes in my entire face is as red as anything you’ve ever seen and stays that red until a good 30-60 minutes after my work out. Like, it looks like I’m five minutes from a heart attack or just exploding. Honestly, whether or not I’m wearing make up during the workout is the least of my physical appearance woes.
In honor of the inimitable Ms. Stritch, let’s all take a moment to remember that this happened, and it was glorious!
I marked my calendar for the day Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me came to Netflix streaming. It was never my intention to wait this long to see it, but sadly it was only in the theaters in my town for a couple of weeks. Needless to say, this film was everything an Elaine Stritch fangirl hoped it would be. If you’re a Stritch fan yourself, or even if you just suspect you might be, I implore you to see this film. I know you don’t need them, but here are five good reasons you should watch this ASAP:
- She’s incredibly talented. You know this already, I know you do, but I think it’s important every now and again to stop and appreciate talent like her’s. Not only is she a triple threat, but she’s about a half year from 90* and still performing. The least we can do to honor her talent and life-long commitment to the craft is watch this doc.
- She’s fascinating. I mean you see her in her fur coat and big glasses and generally think “Well, she’s interesting!” but that really pales in comparison to some of the stories she shares in the film. Her two dates with President Kennedy come to mind…
- She’s everything women are taught not to be. Elaine Stritch is loud, speaks her mind, does things the way she wants and is absolutely unabashed about all of it. And she’s incredibly successful. This film serves as an 80-minute reminder that your success and happiness are absolutely not dependent on your ability or willingness to fit yourself into an assigned set of expectations and rules.
- It’s honest and raw. It’s a documentary, so you assume it will be honest, but this certainly could have been edited in a “sugar-coated” way. Ms. Stritch is getting old and is dealing with (physical, emotional and mental) issues many people deal with as they age. There are moments in the film where it would have been easy for Chiemi Karasawa to flinch. To stop rolling, to pan the camera away or to edit strategically. She doesn’t. As such you, the viewer, are forced to confront the fact that we’re all heading towards similar fates, regardless of who we are, or the details of our lives.
- Elaine Stritch doesn’t wear pants. Bear with me. I’m not saying “see this film to see Elaine Stritch without pants.” I’m saying “This woman has achieved what so many of us see as just a pipedream.” I know there are many (many) people on Tumblr who would love to live in a society where pants were simply an option. This woman has created that society. It is a one-person society and for this I both envy and admire her.
*For clarity, she is nearly 90 now, not at the time of filming.
One more time … in honor of this lovely woman who, at 89 years old, still left us too soon.
So I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to pop culture: I’m sorry for creating this unstoppable monster. Seven years after I typed that fateful phrase, I’d like to join Kazan and Green in calling for the death of the “Patriarchal Lie” of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope. I would welcome its erasure from public discourse. I’d applaud an end to articles about its countless different permutations. Let’s all try to write better, more nuanced and multidimensional female characters: women with rich inner lives and complicated emotions and total autonomy, who might strum ukuleles or dance in the rain even when there are no men around to marvel at their free-spiritedness. But in the meantime, Manic Pixies, it’s time to put you to rest.
-Nathan Rabin, coiner of the phrase “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” in Salon column: I’m sorry for coining the phrase “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”
Yes! Thank you! I remember how someone once listed Clementine from Eternal Sunshine as a MPDG, completely ignoring the fact that she tells Joel right away that she’s not going to save him, etc. The same can be said for Zooey’s character in 500 Days. She calls him out on his idealizing of her. [SPOILER] It’s the reason she leaves him in the end.
I remember a lot of people online unfairly dismissing Ruby Sparks as such. “Oh, it’s just some MPDG movie, but written by a woman.” SUCH bullshit. If you saw the movie, if you actually took the time to watch BEFORE passing judgment, it would be quite clear (to an even remotely perceptive viewer) that she was attempting to highlight how ludicrous the idea of the MPDG is. She had this male lead, a writer, making feeble, not-so-artful, attempts to write a MPDG character and it didn’t work. Each attempt lead to some other unacceptable, occasionally disastrous, end. I sometimes wonder how many people who would have really loved this film, didn’t see it because other, louder, people wrote it off from the get-go.
And nothing feels more patronizing than LinkedIn demanding I congratulate other people on their new jobs. Or kindly letting me know “16% of your network found new jobs.” Yeah, LinkedIn? Fuck you.