"Sometimes it's just easier to be snarky. It's certainly my default position more than I'd like to admit. Really, what's so wrong with being earnest or trying too hard? I remember once joking that Hathaway seemed like a not-so-great hang—but once I removed my snark-colored glasses, she was, dare I say, delightful."
The Supreme Court on Monday issued a ruling in the Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission case, siding with the baker who refused to make a wedding cake for a same-sex couple.
While LGBTQ+ groups pointed out that the Court acknowledged their rights, they also noted something that was noticeably missing—Monday’s ruling was neither a hit or an advance for our current civil rights laws, as many expected it would be...
But what exactly does it mean for the LGBTQ community and religious freedom going forward? And what does it mean that the decision was “narrow"?
"To me, that bag was a sign that I'd made it. I was a young magazine assistant at Jane in late nineties, basking in the glow of New York City and being part of a world that I had grown up dreaming about from my bedroom in Indiana. I may have had the cool job, but that didn't mean I always felt cool. Oh, but that chic black nylon bag with the small—but instantly recognizable—black and white label made me feel like I belonged. I'm 42 now, and I can still vividly remember the feeling like it was yesterday."
"The conversation was an uncomfortable watch, albeit an important one. Two decades have passed, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't look back and reflect on what happened in hopes of learning from the situation. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be Clinton's point of view.
Yes, it's great that he has supported women in many ways during his political career, but that doesn't absolve him from bad behavior, especially as it relates to Lewinsky. Doing good work and behaving inappropriately are two things that can be true at the same time. But the defensive and smug tone of his responses indicates to me that Clinton is unchanged in looking at the role he played in the situation.
And that's incredibly disheartening.
As women, we can continue to tell our stories, to speak our truth, to call out bad behavior that has been tolerated for far too long. But when men, especially leaders, refuse to acknowledge their own roles in the culture of harassment, progress will come much more slowly."
"This situation will feel all too familiar to many women. Who among us hasn't sat in a meeting and been talked over by a man with a terrible idea? It's some next-level mansplaining, what Bateman is doing here. Does he really think he needs to explain the dynamics of a set to a woman who's worked in the industry for 60 years? Apparently, yes. Then there's the fact that Walter seems to feel compelled to be the one to diffuse the situation and "let it go" when none of this was her doing in the first place. That rings so true to the female experience as well."
"Because she's an American, Markle automatically feels like one of us. She's older than Harry (who she's publicly noted is also a feminist); she's from a mixed-race background; and she's (gasp!) divorced. She worked her way to a successful acting career and has an entrepreneurial spirit that led her to launch her own lifestyle site, The Tig. This is a girl who was fighting for gender equality at age 11and has spoken on the issue at the U.N. She is basically ticking off modern-princess boxes faster than we can come up with them.
But then there's that pesky rub: She's had to give a lot of this up in order to marry Harry."
"If you watch television, go on the Internet, or are just engaged in the world, you know that it's Mother's Day season. It probably feels pretty innocuous to many of you, if not completely annoying. I know it did for me—until my mom died suddenly in January of 2014. Then Mother's Day changed forever.
The Mother's Day Industrial Complex is vast and all-consuming from April to early May each year. Every commercial. Every email from a brand. Every gift guide on your favorite website. Every special episode of TV. (Hell, even The Handmaid's Tale was maternally themed last week.) They all just become painful triggers after your mom dies, reminders of a relationship that you can no longer celebrate the way you'd like to. My first motherless Mother's Day came just a few short months after losing my mom, and I wasn't ready for it in any way. I was still wracked with a grief I wasn't sure would ever lessen and trying to figure out how to get through my day-to-day life. How was I going to cope on a day dedicated to moms?"
But by the final season, the show found its way back to its original DNA as (spoilers ahead) the gang worked together to take down the biggest bad of all and save themselves from a life in jail in the process. As the series came to a close, we knew not everyone would make it out alive—that David Rosen scene was rough—and that Fitz and Olivia were the romantic endgame all along. But given the twists and turns that Scandal has always been famous for, it was incredibly unclear where Rhimes would eventually leave us.
Turns out, it was a pretty satisfying place. While it took place in D.C., Scandalwas never really a show about politics like, say, The West Wing. But when the series did hit on issues, it was often in the service of some wish fulfillment. That was all too clear in the series finale as the first female President Mellie Grant, a Republican, signs gun control legislation. Or when the press helps take down a corrupt faction of the U.S. government.
When the latest cover of Paper magazine was released yesterday afternoon, I—like many others—had to do a double take when I saw the name Christina Aguilera printed across a close-up shot of a freckly, bare-faced blond. My internal monologue rambled through the stages of recognition: "Wait, who? No, it couldn't be. Christina has freckles?!? She looks so pretty. I never thought I'd see the day."
The public image of Christina Aguilera—the one she's mostly stuck to since she burst onto the music scene in 1999 with "Genie in a Bottle"—has been one in which makeup plays a big part. She has definitely been a "go big or go home" girl when it comes to beauty, long a fan of dramatic eyelashes, contouring, and a bold red lip. And that camp vibe is part of what makes Christina, Christina. The Papercover and coinciding photos inside, however, indicate that perhaps a different Aguilera era is upon us, and that new music is likely on the way. This isn't the first time we've seen a pop star take this route prior to a musical shift. See: Taylor Swift's brow-heavy Wonderland cover where she ditched her famed winged eyeliner and red lipstick.
It makes sense. Like a huge chunk of the country, ER was appointment television for me. During my freshman year in college, my friends and I viewed NBC's Must-See TV as our pre-party time; we'd head out as soon as we emotionally recovered from the drama of that night's episode. And back when the show's reruns ran on TBS during the late nineties and early aughts, I'd often find myself sucked back in. But even that was a very long time ago. So, what exactly is it about an almost 25-year-old drama that makes it so appealing to brand-new viewers in 2018?
After revisiting a number of episodes from season one, there are a few things that stand out immediately. First, I was struck by the diversity of characters. As you can imagine, creating a big city emergency room involves a lot of people, which includes numerous guest stars and background roles. It's a pleasant revelation that there's representation across the board, in both ethnicity and gender. While initially the main cast is predominantly white—Wyle, Clooney, Margulies, Anthony Edwards, Sherry Stringfield—it's clear that Eriq LaSalle's Dr. Peter Benton is anything but a token character. There are women and people of color—including women of color—in almost every scene. Frankly, you'd be hard-pressed to find that level of diversity in a lot of shows on air right now in 2018. When Frances McDormand spoke at the Oscars about "inclusion riders", this is the kind of set one could imagine seeing as a result. ER was just doing it back in 1994.
For die-hard sports fans like me, the Olympics is the pinnacle of broadcast sporting events: Two weeks of watching the best athletes in the world compete against one another for what represents the ultimate athletic achievement—an Olympic gold medal. I live for the personal tales of struggle and sacrifice, carefully packaged together by NBC to tug at our heartstrings, and unabashedly tear up every time the Star-Spangled Banner plays as a champion takes the podium. And that sentiment is in no way mine alone.
The Olympics represent a (increasingly rare) moment where we can feel united as a nation, screaming our hearts out from the couch about sports we might not even have followed before. (Curling, anyone?) The experience of the Games is one of collective pride—and sometimes shared heartbreak. Even if you've never played a sport in your life, you can imagine how you would feel in that moment, wearing that medal. We feel that the athletes are ours. For the length of the Olympiad, they are part of our family."
But this year's Winter Olympics come with some emotional baggage, even for the most casual sports fan. We're now living in a post–Larry Nassar world—one where we've been exposed to the dark underbelly of one particular athletic system that is now undergoing a massive reckoning. Nassar, a former USA Gymnastics doctor has now been convicted on multiple counts of criminal sexual misconduct, and will spend the rest of his life in jail. As part of his sentencing process, America bore witness to hundreds of survivors who came forward to share their stories. I personally spent hours upon hours watching their testimonies and weeping as research for our Glamour story. I know that I am forever changed. Aren’t we all? And how can America not be forced to reckon with that experience in the context of a new procession of Olympic hopefuls?
"Vanderpump Rules isn't typically a show one looks to for role models of any kind. The cast members drink heavily, cheat on each other often, fight like it's their job (which, I guess it literally is), and sometimes steal shades from a Sunglass Hut in Hawaii. Oh, and they occasionally work at S.U.R, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills star Lisa Vanderpump's West Hollywood lounge and restaurant. Watching Vanderpump Rules brings the same kind of joy people find in delicious soap operas, like Dallas or The Young and the Restless—which, ironically, one of the former cast members has starred in. (Remember Vail?)
So imagine my surprise this season when I found myself rooting for cast member Lala Kent. At first Lala wasn't somebody I'd consider a feminist role model for our times. She's a more recent addition to the cast—joining the show in season four as a recurring character—and initially she seemed to be filling the tried-and-true reality show (and soap opera) archetype of the pretty newcomer who arrives to stir up trouble. She wasn't afraid to flirt with whoever she wanted and she didn't back down from the show's own Mean Girls–like clique of Stassi, Katie, and Kristen. Though to be fair to them, Lala didn't endear herself when she chastised them for not "working on their summer bodies." Lala even walked away from the show for a chunk of last season after rumors (that continue, even now) that she's seeing a married man were brought up. (Recent reports claim he's now officially divorced and once previously filed for legal separation in 2015.)
We loyal fans have truly seen it all, especially when it comes to relationships. Der and Mer. Burke and Cristina. Meredith and the vet. Derek and Addie. Denny and Izzie. Alex and Izzie. Izzie and George. (I'm still annoyed about that one.) Callie and George. Arizona and Callie. McSteamy and Lexie. Jackson and April. April and that paramedic she left at the altar. Bailey and Ben. Alex and Jo...seriously, the limit does not exist when it comes to couples on this show.
But there is one pairing that reigns supreme: Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang.
Derek "McDreamy" Shepard may have been Meredith's great love, but her "person" will always be Cristina—and vice versa. And that's not just because (spoiler!) Derek's dead. Like many great relationships that have come before, these two (played by Ellen Pompeo and Sandra Oh) got serious over cocktails. I can't even imagine calling someone your "person" not being a part of the vernacular, and it's all thanks to Yang and Grey.
Across the country yesterday, millions of Americans voted in local elections. Some, such as the gubernatorial race in Virginia, had garnered major national coverage. But most had not. I felt a little left out of the mix as there were none here in my hometown of Indianapolis, where I had recently relocated to from New York City.
I have loved voting in every election since I turned 18 and have tried to be a pretty involved citizen most of the time. At the very least, I make sure I'm well-informed on the issues. I canvassed for Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012. And 2016 basically broke me, like so many others.
I was not some reluctant supporter of Hillary Clinton as a reaction to the horrors of Donald Trump. I truly loved and believed in my candidate. I used my social platforms to push out her message and spent countless hours calling voters in swing states. When she lost, a wave of grief rocked me in a way I hadn't experienced since the sudden loss of my mom in 2014.
Over the course of this year, I've cried a lot and raged even more. I'm usually an avid reader, but I can barely get through a book. Even my move back to the Midwest was not unrelated. I wanted to be on the ground to help support candidates and organizations, like Planned Parenthood, that reflect my values…in a state (though not city, thanks Indy!) that is almost always red.
So it was with great trepidation that I tuned in to the election results last night, as I'm pretty sure 2016 left many of us with some kind of electoral PTSD. No, we weren't electing a president and these were not the all-important 2018 midterms. But these races might give us a clue about what we're facing when they arrive.
From the sidelines to the studio, our favorite female sports journalists deliver stats and interview players and coaches with ease and finesse. They also happen to look flawless at the same time. Here's how they do it.
If you would have asked me when I was 25 if I would ever willingly inject botulism into my face, I would have laughed. Even as a beauty editor, I just couldn't see myself personally EVER wanting to go there.
Now I laugh at my twenty-something self -- about that and so very many other things I thought I knew as absolute truths back then. HA to the fact that I thought I was going to marry and live happily ever after with the emotionally unavailable guy I was hopelessly in love with during most of my twenties. We would be so divorced by now. HA to the fact that I thought my body was going to stay like that forever. And HA to the fact that I never thought I would want to do crazy cosmetic things to my face.
And really Botox isn't THAT crazy. I wouldn't be mad at a filler at this point. But a girl's gotta start somewhere. And if I was going to put botulism in my face, I was going to go to the best -- Dr. Fredric Brandt. Obviously, this is an amazing perk of my job and one that I unabashedly took advantage of...
Today marks the 40th anniversary of the historic Roe v. Wade decision by the Supreme Court. You know the one stated that women had the right to an abortion "free of interference by the State." Or perhaps you don't. A recent Pew Research Center study showed that just 44 percent of those under 30 polled knew that the case was about abortion; 16 percent thought it dealt with desegregation; and 41 percent either say it involved another issue or didn't know. Wow.
Even if you didn't know before exactly what the landmark Supreme Court ruling was about (until now!), chances are you do have an opinion on the abortion issue. It is one that divides our nation, even more acutely during election cycles, and especially during this fall when many male politicians had rather interesting things to say on the matter. (Legitimate rape anyone?) But some recent research shows we may not be as far apart on many facets of the matter as it would appear at first glance. And it, in some part, come down to labels.
Remember that HuffPo piece last year that everyone you've ever met emailed, Facebooked and Tweeted called "Why You're Not Married?" Reasons included: You're a bitch, you're shallow, and you're a slut. It sparked much debate and discussion and now the author, Tracy McMillan, has expanded her list into a book.
Let me start by saying that I am 36, incredibly single and a person who would like to get married or at least find a nice boyfriend. That said, I have never read a relationship book in my life. I scoffed at The Rules and wouldn't even think about reading He's Just Not That Into You. But this one, I read and LOVED. For one, Tracy is a writer by trade‚ from TV news to Mad Men‚ so she knows how to turn a phrase. She's quick, snarky and ultimately, in my opinion, very wise. Also, she's not preachy. Tracy doesn't claim to be perfect in relationships (she's been married three times) but she does feel like your best friend having a real "get a grip" conversation with you. I basically want to give this book to every single girlfriend I have. Each chapter breaks down what she means when she says "You're a bitch" or "You're a liar", gives some real-life scenarios of these behaviors in action and then some ways to work on changing them.
I'm pretty sure vanity saved my life.
It all started with a raised reddish spot on my chest that peeked out each time I wore a V-neck. After trying every bump-eradicating skincare product I could think of, I realized it wasn't going away. So, seeing as my ridiculously fair-skinned self was also long overdue for a mole check, I made an appointment with my dermatologist. Turns out I will be forever grateful for that silly spot. While it was benign, my doctor found a small mole on my right thigh that was much darker than the others. It was edged up next to a freckle I'd had since I was a kid.
A week after my appointment and scrape biopsy, I got a call you know never comes with good news: The doctor himself was on the other end. My chest was fine; the spot on my thigh was the dreaded M word: melanoma. Cue the waterworks. At my desk. In the middle of the office. The doctor was talking and all that was going through my head were memories of my childhood friend Tricia who had lost a battle with melanoma six years ago at the age of 29. I thought about how I haven't left the house without sunscreen on for years and years, but tormented myself over my reckless (and painful) attempts to get tan as a teenager. Maybe this was my own fault! But I quickly pulled myself together, whipped out my notepad, and asked the good doctor to start from the top.
I'm sprawled out on all fours, my hands sliding off the back of a sweat-soaked exercise mat as I desperately try to shift my legs back and forth behind me in a torturous series of moves called "mountain climbers." I'm flailing, dripping, red-faced, and gasping for breath. This may very well be the least graceful or attractive I've ever looked. Questions are running through my head at a pace as rapid as my pulse: Am I having a heart attack? Have I sweat out 14 pounds yet? How did I get here?